last days in lhasa
June 2007
A week-long journey from Nepal's border with Tibet
along the Friendship Highway has brought me to Lhasa.
En route I've gorged on mountains, monasteries, and
momos filled with minced yak steak.
Arriving in Lhasa came as something of a shock. For the first few minutes it reminded me of any other rapidly expanding Chinese city, with street upon street of gleaming retail establishments. Finally, I saw it. The physical manifestation of all things Tibetan. A deserted beacon. An icon. The Potala Palace is Lhasa. Everything else falls away into insignificance.
Except, perhaps, the Jokhang. Unlike the Potala, the Jokhang throbs with life: pilgrims prostrate against its walls, monks carve great slabs of butter to fuel lamps, and tourists snap away at Barkhor Square from the roof of this, the most important temple in Tibet.
The Tibetan quarter of modern Lhasa occupies less than five percent of the sprawling city. Yet, incredibly, it remains sufficiently large to enable one to wander happily down labyrinthine alleys, watching monks playing pool, artists painting thankas, and sculptors carving foot-high Buddha statues for a nearby monastery.
With the exception of a handful of shops selling genuine antiques, the majority of stalls are stuffed full of pseudo-artifacts produced in neighbouring China and Nepal. One fascinating exception is Dropenling, which actively encourages and supports Tibetan artisans. If you are planning to visit Lhasa, and would like to help keep traditional arts alive, this is the place to visit.
Tomorrow I fly to Delhi. In two days I'll embark on a journey to the final destination in this Himalayan trilogy: Zanskar.
Arriving in Lhasa came as something of a shock. For the first few minutes it reminded me of any other rapidly expanding Chinese city, with street upon street of gleaming retail establishments. Finally, I saw it. The physical manifestation of all things Tibetan. A deserted beacon. An icon. The Potala Palace is Lhasa. Everything else falls away into insignificance.
Except, perhaps, the Jokhang. Unlike the Potala, the Jokhang throbs with life: pilgrims prostrate against its walls, monks carve great slabs of butter to fuel lamps, and tourists snap away at Barkhor Square from the roof of this, the most important temple in Tibet.
The Tibetan quarter of modern Lhasa occupies less than five percent of the sprawling city. Yet, incredibly, it remains sufficiently large to enable one to wander happily down labyrinthine alleys, watching monks playing pool, artists painting thankas, and sculptors carving foot-high Buddha statues for a nearby monastery.
With the exception of a handful of shops selling genuine antiques, the majority of stalls are stuffed full of pseudo-artifacts produced in neighbouring China and Nepal. One fascinating exception is Dropenling, which actively encourages and supports Tibetan artisans. If you are planning to visit Lhasa, and would like to help keep traditional arts alive, this is the place to visit.
Tomorrow I fly to Delhi. In two days I'll embark on a journey to the final destination in this Himalayan trilogy: Zanskar.