Nepal and Tibet

A new day! A new destination! What a day we have ahead of us! Today we are to fly to Tibet over the Himalayas. We have an early rise and an early departure to the airport. All of us are excited at the prospect of seeing Everest at close range from the plane. Planes usually fly at a height of approximately 10 000 metres and with Everest being 8 848 metres, we will not be far above the summit. Our guide manages to get us seats on the left hand side of the plane, which is the Everest side. Within minute after take-off, we are up above the clouds and there above us are the tops of the mountains that surround Kathmandu which until now, have been hidden from view by the clouds of the monsoon season, which is just beginning. We soon level off and fly right alongside the world's highest mountain range, hardly able to take our eyes off the peaks. We ask the flight attendant to tell us when Everest comes into view. She goes into the cockpit and, on her return, tells us that the captain will announce it when he sees Everest.

Before long there we see it, the massif looms above the others with a majesty, which is awe inspiring. All the passengers are on the left hand side of the plane, not wanting to miss a second of the scenery. This will be the only time I will ever see the summit properly. The day is so clear, we can see the green of the valley in the same view at the summit. We hope and pray that next week, the weather will be kind enough to allow us to see the world's highest mountain from the ground as well.

The plane banks to the left and we make our way very close to the peak. Here we cross the range and immediately feel we are in a different world. The northern side of the range is just at the end of its dry season. We see way down below us barren mountain slopes, brown folds of velvet as far as the eye can see. Way down in the narrow valleys, the colours are verdant green and gold. The canola is in flower. This interspersed with the barley, which is the Tibetan staple crop, displays a patchwork quilt of colour from above.

We swoop down quite dramatically into the long Kyi Chu Valley, which is home to the Gonkar International Airport and land on what is one of the world's longest runways. We exit the plane onto the tarmac and I try to remember not to rush. We are told that to do so will result in our first experience of breathlessness due to the high altitude. We have all religiously taken our Diamox for the last twenty-four hours to alleviate the symptoms of altitude sickness and already we are all a-tingle. These tablets cause tingling in the fingers and toes but I'm experiencing them all over - not unpleasant. We soon learn to call them "tingle tablets". We do feel breathless almost immediately because we are now at approximately 3 800 metres above sea level, higher than we have ever been before and considering altitude over 2 500 metres affects most people to some extent, we are bound to experience some ill effects. The light is very bright and glary just as we have been told it would be. Robert has forgotten his sunglasses. They are packed in the suitcase so he has to put up with it. Soon we are through the formalities and on our way to the bus, which will take us on the two-hour plus ride into the capital, Lhasa.

We are the unlucky ones who score the seat over the wheel. I have my knees up under my chin all the way into town. This is the ride I have dreaded because I have read about the Tibetan drivers and the way they drive along this road in particular but, not to worry, our little man takes it very steadily so I am happy and relaxed as I take in the scenery. For most of the way we follow a river so it is a pleasant if unspectacular drive. We notice that most of the buildings are modern brick structures erected by the Chinese although, here and there are Tibetan homes with their trapezoid shaped windows and fluttering prayer flags. We see Tibetans walking beside the roads as well. They wear their distinctive national costumes. The Chinese dress as Westerners. Young girls can be seen in their mini-skirts or jeans - no chiongsams of ancient times or even the more recent Mao pyjamas. We do have a comfort stop near a religious site where a giant statue of Buddah has been carved out of a stone cliff-face centuries ago. It is garishly coloured and covered in prayer flags.

One of the first buildings we see as we enter the city is the Potala Palace, sitting majestically on a hill dominating Lhasa. Somehow this huge building escaped ruin during the Cultural Revolution, which is not the norm. Thousands and thousands of Buddhist temples lie in ruin all over the Tibetan region at the hands of the Communists.

We do not stop until we come to the Bank of China in the city where we can change travellers' cheques into Chinese yuan. I stay outside with the bus whilst everyone else goes into the bank. It seems to take them ages but I have a good time getting an overall first impression of what looks to be a modern city. I am amazed at the obvious wealth of the people compared to the Nepalese and compared to what I have imagined Lhasa would be like but perhaps the enclosed grounds of a bank is not the place to make these observations. The customers arrive in Volvos and Mercedes and late model Land Cruisers . They are well dressed and business-like.

On our way to the hotel, at last, we pass the golden yak statues, which the Chinese built to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the "liberation of Tibet" in 1991. It is farcical to think that during the unveiling, the authorities banned all foreign journalists and contained all foreign visitors in their hotel rooms. We continue on towards the old Tibetan centre of this city, which is for all the world like the Chinese cities we saw on our trip just one year ago.

We do not know what to expect as we pull up outside our hotel. The hotel is not the hotel we were advised it would be so we have not been able to do our homework on this one. The hotel has the same name as the valley we have just driven through, the Kyi Chu Hotel. We have nothing to worry about. First impressions are good. We are seated in the reception area and given a welcome cup of green tea. The staff treats us well. The foyer is decorated in true Tibetan style, richly coloured from floor to ceiling. A beautifully carved incense burner is emitting lazy, blue wisps of smoke, which fill the air with spicy aromas.

We follow the porter up to our room on the third floor. Five steps and I have "had it". I need to stop to get my breath back. My legs ache unbelievably. We finally make it to our rooms and I wonder how often I'll have to negotiate those stairs. The room is lovely and overlooks the hotel garden. Through the prayer flags on the tops of the buildings, across the city, we can see the brown mountains we shall soon become accustomed to. This hotel is much nicer than the Garuda in Kathmandu. In fact, the room is spacious and well decorated and, thank God, the bathroom is very modern with a shower screen, something we have done without in Kathmandu. The toilet tissue is soft and white, not the hot pink crepe paper rolls, which Robert calls 'monkey bum pink', which adorned the toilets in the Garuda. The beds feel marginally softer too. The area though, has yet to be explored. This neighbourhood will be hard pushed to compete with the area around the Garuda. So far everything we have seen in Lhasa has been very Chinese looking but considering that there are more Chinese in the city now than Tibetans that's not so remarkable. Since the "Liberation of Tibet" by the Chinese in the 1950's, the Chinese have been restructuring the city and demolishing many of the old Tibetan areas. We are told we are lucky to be seeing the city now before its unique culture is gone forever.

The Tibetans are still oppressed at the hands of the Chinese. It is very difficult for a Tibetan to find employment. Any jobs given to them are of the most menial type. Our Tibetan guide, Karma, who has been with us since he met us at the airport, tells us the only job his wife can find is that of a street sweeper. He also tells us his story. As a teenager, he made the difficult decision to escape over the mountains into India. He and a group of friends chose the dead of winter for the journey with dire consequences. Some of his friends suffered badly from frostbite and they were constantly hungry. They finally made it to Dharamsala, in north- western India, which is now the home of the Dalai Lama. He attended one of the schools that had been set up by the Dalai Lama for refugees from Tibet. He studied English and Chinese. He had an interview with the Dalai Lama who advised him to return to Tibet so he could help his people. He suggested he try to find a job as a teacher because, in this way, he could try to help to deliver the Tibetans out of oppression. Reluctantly, Karma returned. He told us how he was very nearly caught crossing the border back into Tibet and felt it was only a miracle that saved him. He finally returned to his home. A short time later, Chinese soldiers arrived at his door. Somehow they knew of his escape and he was arrested and spent several months in jail where he was tortured. He said it was a terrible experience. His eyes fill with tears as he remembers.

He has tried to find employment in the public school system but the Chinese will only employ Chinese. He has found a part-time job in a private school teaching English. During the summer months, he works as a guide. He tells us that his brother was a Tibetan soldier and was very badly tortured at the hands of the Chinese for six years. He had both his legs broken and finally came home to them a cripple. He cannot work, so Karma has to keep him and his family as well as his own wife and two little girls. Karma is only thirty-four. I'm sure, if he were to write a book to tell his story, it would sell and perhaps help him financially. He fears for the future of his two daughters. His situation is desperate. Our guide has been using him as a guide for many years now so knows the story is genuine. He later shows us where he lives, in a very small Tibetan house in a cluster of tiny houses in an old suburb at the foot of the Potala Palace. With more and more Chinese arriving in Tibet, the chances for a better life are growing slimmer and slimmer. Since the building of the dam on the Yangtze River and the subsequent flooding of much of the valley, there are many displaced Han Chinese who have been financially encouraged by the Chinese government to relocate to Tibet.

We really enjoyed our trip to China last year and, in general, found them a friendly bunch but here in Tibet, we see them from a different perspective and we do not so much like what we see. Genocide is an ugly word. They certainly have put their mark on Lhasa, though, because, what we can see of it during our stay, it appears to be a thriving, modern Chinese metropolis.

We give ourselves just enough time to settle in and we are off again. We wander down the street and around the corner into the Tibetan area of the city. We are suddenly transported from the modern Chinese city into the Third World. The street reeks of poverty and many other things besides. This crowded place is lined with little dark shops and street-side stalls. Just at the entrance to the street is a meat stall. It is impossible to call it a butcher shop. There is a bloody table covered in hunks of fat, tripe and other unrecognisable "cuts" of meat. There is an umbrella shading it from the afternoon sun. A woman stands by waving dirty rags over the top of it to keep away the flies. A bit further on a woman is sewing on her machine right on the footpath -no fancy overheads. There is everything any Tibetan would want, for sale in this street from beds and mattresses to hardware to fruit, vegetables and clothing. The hawkers try to latch onto us repeatedly call "Tashi Delai! Tashi Delai!" - "Hello! Hello!" No matter how many times we say no and shake our heads they still continue, pushing prayer wheels, jewellery, and other bits and pieces into our faces. Beggars are even more insistent, and unlike any other place we have ever visited, they try to hold on to us as we pass. Perhaps their plight is more desperate. During our time in Tibet, we give to beggars often. What else can we do?