Lhasa, June 9, ‘07

It’s my last day in Lhasa. Time seems to fly and I sometimes feel I can barely keep up; it is like holding on to it by the tip of a rope. A week has passed since I left NY and arrived in Beijing. Since then the days have been filled with new impressions at a speed that, at times, has made it hard to digest them all. When evening comes and I think I will write I am either too overwhelmed or completely exhausted or both.

This evening, though exhausted and with a pounding headache from the altitude, I forced myself out to get a bite to eat at the Islam Restaurant around the corner from my guesthouse. It is my second time and only locals seem to come here, which is what I like about it. I can sit by the window looking out at the people and activities in front of what is Lhasa’s only mosque. The entrance is a rather unusual one, with a big gate decorated in traditional Tibetan style and inscribed with words in Arabic, Tibetan and Chinese.

I have ordered Muslim tea and some noodles. The former is a strange concoction of tea leaves, large sugar cubes, dates and some other unfamiliar fruit that I do not recognize. So far it only tastes of hot sugary water.

A monk sits down in front of me. Although he does not look me in the eyes when he smiles, it is nice to have some company. He starts chanting. Actually it is more like a humming sound. I like it. Ha! There we go, I caught his eye. He smiles as he gets served his steaming hot soup. I wonder if I should attempt to talk to him, but something tells me that monks do not talk when they eat here. Food should be eaten in silence. Outside the mosque, women are selling vegetables while the men hang around chatting. My newfound friend, the monk, receives a second bowl of steaming hot soup, identical to the first that he just started. He slurps. They do that a lot around here. The young waiter keeps filling up my teacup with water so it is constantly overflowing. It is starting to acquire an interesting taste. Though awfully sweet I quite like it. The monk spots some white girls outside our window. He looks at me and laughs and points outside. The girls look back curiously and then move on and disappear.

There is something fascinating about this place and its people. At first glance it appears as a perfect peaceful and spiritual place. Peaceful it certainly is. Tibetans seem only to give you friendly welcoming smiles. But after a while I cannot but notice the unspoken tension here. No one talks about it. If one lives in the bliss of ignorance one could easily travel through without ever understanding what this place really is. However, the basic fact that you cannot find a single picture of the 14^th Dalai Lama should make one start questioning things. The bookstore I went to earlier today only sold books about Tibet written by Chinese authors and my local guide here has never seen a copy of the Lonely Planet for Tibet before. It contains a foreword written by the Dalai Lama and some details of the history that I guess the Chinese did not particularly agree with and so they thought it best to ban it. Ban it might be a strong word, but there is not a single place in China that would be selling it.

My silent friend is about to leave and so it is time for me too to go back to my guesthouse to pack up and get some rest before the long drive tomorrow. I am leaving for Gyantse and going up to an altitude of approximately 5000m on the way. From now the ascent starts till we reach our highest point at the Mt Everest Base Camp. Stocked up with oxygen and some local herbal mix in tiny medical flasks I am ready for new adventures.