Tibet: Meeting the Cloud in My Heart

📍 Lhasa · 👁 1 reads · ❤️ 27 likes

May Day is almost here. Even though the pandemic isn't quite over, I'm already thinking about getting out for some fresh air nearby. After reading one travelogue and guide after another, I feel like writing something too. So let me reminisce about that trip to Tibet I took years ago, and it's a good chance to organize my photos.

A Solo Journey

Date: April 27 – May 8, 2018

Places: Chengdu – Lhasa – Nyingchi – Mount Everest

Accommodation: stayed at a friend's place in Lhasa, hotels and tents elsewhere

Expenses: not too sure, mostly entrance fees and the cost of a tour from Lhasa to Everest

Other: ID card is very important; you get checked everywhere. It's best to keep a scanned copy on your phone, just in case, if you lose it...

I also drank Rhodiola for a week before going.

Many people want to go to Tibet. Some make it, some give up, and some want to go again. Back in college, I made plans with many friends to go together, but for various reasons, nothing ever came of it.

Since my father was a soldier in Tibet back in the 80s, I often flipped through his photos as a kid and listened to his stories about Lhasa. Visiting Lhasa was a must-do in my life. Plus, a few friends were working there, so I went. And of course, I was brave enough to go alone.

Traveling solo, for safety I chose to fly directly from Chengdu to Lhasa, even though that meant missing a lot of scenery. I woke up early, planning to sleep on the plane, but I was too excited and ended up gazing at mountains the whole way. With my limited literary skill, all I can say is: in front of our motherland's majestic landscapes, we are so tiny. Each mountain seemed no different from the next, yet each one held my gaze so firmly I couldn't look away.

Blue skies and white clouds—so different from Chengdu. I was thankful not to get altitude sickness, and really grateful that my friend Langlang waited to pick me up at the airport. Otherwise, with my terrible sense of direction, I'd probably have taken ages to find the Potala Palace.

I was dragged off to eat first with another elementary school friend, Yue'er, and then told to stay put in Lhasa for a couple of days before doing anything else, even without altitude sickness. Deep down, I strongly suspected they were just busy with work and didn't have time to accompany me, afraid I'd wander off on my own.

In the afternoon, accompanied by Yue'er (who just arrived in Lhasa and knew nothing), I strolled around Barkhor Street, checked in at Makye Ame, and visited Jokhang Temple. Now I have to mention another friend, Xiaofeifei, who was on duty in Barkhor Street and couldn't move from his post. He told me to walk counterclockwise for a few minutes to find him. I had no idea what I'd do when I found him—he was working, and I wasn't carrying any Sichuan snacks on me.

I walked clockwise with the crowd, snapping photos all the way. The Tibetan clothing was gorgeous—it felt like every shot was a fashion show. When I got to the foot of Makye Ame, I ran into Feifei on duty. He told me to find a spot by the roadside and wait for him to get off work. Instantly, I decided he couldn't be my guide: the Makye Ame check-in spot was right there, and he didn't even suggest I order a pot of butter tea and sit inside to wait. So, guide candidate rejected.

Inside, the place was full of young travelers from elsewhere. Downstairs was packed, so I squeezed upstairs and shared a table. I ordered a pot of butter tea; Yue'er didn't like it, but I loved it. The couple sharing the table didn't like theirs either and gave me their pot. Two pots, different flavors—I had quite the appetite!

Langlang came after work to take us to dinner. Feifei was still on duty, so we wandered over to Jokhang Temple to look around and pay homage. Well... in the end, I don't think we waited for Feifei to finish work before heading off to eat.

The next day, I slept in. In the afternoon, Langlang and his wife Xiaohua had the day off and took me to see the Potala Palace. We didn't go inside—tickets require queuing from 6 a.m., and a lazy person like me gave up on that idea.

We went wild for hours in the square, gazing at this thousand-year-old palace, imagining its former glory, the people who lived there, the events that took place. History pushes us forward, but I also wanted to feel the yesterday of ancient people.

Not far from the Potala Palace, there was a small place—might be Qianfo Mountain? Very few visitors, just a few locals turning prayer wheels and a stupa.

At noon, I lazily got up, maybe planning to wander around the Potala. Then Langlang came back and said he didn't have to work that afternoon, so he'd take me to see Yamdrok Lake. We checked the car, gassed up, and set off.

The scenery along the way was beautiful. Plenty of people were on the road, all on self-driving trips, full of joy. With an unprofessional guide, it was all about enjoying the views. We had lunch on the way; vegetables were really expensive—a small plate of bok choy seemed to cost over 30 yuan.

After crossing the Yarlung Tsangpo River, it started to rain, and traffic thinned out. A few cars pulled over to glimpse Yamdrok Lake from afar, planning to take a few photos and head back. The road was dangerous; we even saw a car that had flipped down the mountain at some point. Still, we persisted in going to the lake—after all, Tibet's weather is unpredictable.

In the end, though the rain stopped, the sky remained overcast. It was very late when we got back to Lhasa, and it started hailing.

I slept in again, and Xiaohua braided my hair. In the afternoon, Langlang made plans with friends to play games at an internet café, and I tagged along. It was boring, so I wandered off to the Potala Palace by myself. I'd believed what the internet said, and sure enough, people kept hitting on me all the way. One guy was so enthusiastic he seemed like a human trafficker, following me around. I was forced to stay under the watchful eyes of the PLA soldiers in the square for several hours until he left, then I moved on.

Some relatives from my hometown invited me for dinner at their place that evening. They were a decade older and I didn't know them well. After eating and chatting, they bought me tickets to the Princess Wencheng live show, and I went. I'm not usually into theatrical plays. The theater seemed not to be in the city center; it was on a hill, perhaps? The car parked at the foot, and we climbed hundreds of steps up. The seats were great—front row center, close to the stage—but the weather didn't cooperate. Just as the show started, it rained. We retreated to the back where there was cover, but the view wasn't as good. Hats off to the thousand performers who, in 90 minutes of heavy rain, brought to life this timeless tale and the beauty of Han-Tibetan relations.

With history in mind, I felt a touch of sadness. I hope Princess Wencheng truly lived as happily as depicted in the play. No place is far away under heaven; all places on earth can be home.

On May Day, Langlang officially had time off, and his friends in Nyingchi invited him to visit. Passing Maizhokunggar, we encountered several cars on the highway to Nyingchi that had gone the wrong way and were coming back against traffic to take the old road—it was both laughable and frustrating. The snowy scenery along the way was stunning, but bathrooms were truly scarce. I don't mind paying, but there have to be bathrooms!

At Mila Mountain Pass, elevation 5,013 meters, there was a traffic jam stretching several kilometers on the approach. The snow was thick. Langlang kept suggesting I get out and let him film me jumping from the car and sinking into the snow. I was tempted—as a southerner, I'd never seen so much snow—but I really needed to pee, and it was agonizing. When we were a few hundred meters from the pass, a bunch of people jumped out and sprinted to the bathroom; I was no exception. Coming out, I couldn't find the car, and my phone had no signal. Awkward. Luckily, Langlang and I, having grown up together for over twenty years, have a kind of telepathy. He couldn't stop, so he crawled slowly ahead while I chased after him. Finally, two kilometers past the pass, I spotted the white car pulled over on the roadside.

We turned off the highway to Basum Lake's heart-shaped island, an islet in the middle of the lake. Was it worth it? It didn't matter. When we went, it was under renovation. The peach blossoms in the village had wilted, but I could still imagine the splendor of the Peach Blossom Festival.

That evening we arrived in Nyingchi and ate a bunch of mushrooms whose names I can't remember. I hadn't washed my hair for days, and my braids were greasy. The guys went drinking—boring—so I wandered the streets alone and found a barber shop to undo my braids; I couldn't manage it myself.

Waking up, Nyingchi was a bit colder. The reckless me insisted on wearing a skirt. Langlang probably thought, 'I can't hit her, so what can I do?' He just felt relieved he'd brought an extra coat.

Driving along National Highway 318, I was extremely excited—it felt like I was on a Sichuan-Tibet road trip myself, and I didn't even feel cold. Sejila Mountain, elevation 4,728 meters, is said to offer views of sunrise, a sea of clouds, and Namcha Barwa on clear days. I saw none of that—and nobody else was around.

Lulang Forest sits deep in the mountains at over 4,000 meters, covered in spruce and pine trees. The weather was bad with thick fog, so we couldn't see much—a real pity. The original plan was to continue to Tongmai Bridge, but we decided against it since the driver was exhausted. In Lulang, of course we had to try the local specialty, stone pot chicken. It was delicious, and I'd recommend eating at a roadside farmhouse.

On the way back from Lulang to Nyingchi, going downhill, I dozed off in the car and felt dizzy. They blamed my cold—so unfair! Later, a guide told me that in high-altitude areas, falling asleep can easily lead to oxygen deprivation...

The main reason I went to Nyingchi was to see the Yarlung Tsangpo Grand Canyon. But Langlang only had three days off, and another friend said the canyon was full of bugs, which scared me into quietly following them back to Lhasa. On the way, I booked a Lhasa-to-Everest tour for the next day.

Up early, I met with the tour group to apply for a border permit, which took about two hours. Then the guide led us off, and the morning repeated my route from the afternoon of the 29th, heading to Yamdrok Lake. Along the way, the guide never stopped talking, giving all sorts of commentary. The weather was better than last time—blue skies, white clouds—so it was well worth it!

Karola Glacier, at the border of Nagarze and Gyantse counties in Shannan Prefecture, sits at 5,560 meters. The movie 'Red River Valley' was filmed there, and part of the glacier was blasted at the time. Due to the greenhouse effect, the glacier is slowly shrinking—some things, however beautiful, we cannot hold onto.

When we reached Palcho Monastery, dark clouds suddenly gathered and hail started falling. The whole bus watched me, the only southerner, get really excited. I can't remember Palcho's stories—I was too busy watching the hail.

That night we stayed in Shigatse. The eight of us (including the guide-cum-driver) found a Sichuan restaurant run by an auntie from Chengdu, and the food was fantastic—so satisfying. At such high altitudes, washing hair or showering wasn't allowed, so we gathered to play cards in the evening, very simple games, especially with someone like me who barely knows the rules.

Let me introduce our little group—all very friendly folks. A middle-aged couple (born in the 60s), a post-90s young lady, three post-90s young guys, and our post-70s guide (also driver, camera-shy).

When we set off, a cool girl with awesome gear joined us at the last minute—I just admired from afar.

Along the way, there was no greenery in sight, only prayer flags everywhere. At noon, we stopped at a Sichuan restaurant by the road for some Zigong cuisine. It wasn't all that authentic, but the others ate with great relish.

The winding mountain road truly serpentines. The young guy from Zhejiang got carsick in the back, severe altitude sickness—we couldn't even mention the word 'vomit' for fear he'd lose it. We rested a while at the summit, then descended again. Arrived at Rongbuk Monastery.

Rongbuk Monastery, not far from the foot of Mount Everest, is the highest monastery in the world, with over a thousand years of history. The movie '2012' had scenes of Rongbuk. The guide let us explore on our own; the guys weren't interested, but the girls went click-crazy until the guide urged us on. Red and white walls with touches of yellow—absolutely beautiful.

We reached Everest Base Camp before dinner. The clouds in the sky were puffy, like cotton candy—I felt like jumping on them. Base camp sits at 5,200 meters, 19 km from Everest in a straight line. A few of us overestimated ourselves and wanted to walk to the mountain's base—just naive and fearless. At camp, we watched banner clouds and the golden sunset on the peak. We hiked another kilometer or two; the Zhejiang guy's altitude sickness got worse, so he and another lightly dressed guy turned back. The rest of us three pressed on, but we didn't get far. Further access was restricted to professional mountaineers only. Back in the tent, instant noodles never smelled so good. We each had a bowl, then played cards while waiting for the stars.

As for oxygen, we all bought some. I shared a canister with another young lady. Only one person in the group had altitude sickness, but we all used it at night for safety. In the middle of the night, I half-heard someone checking on us to make sure everyone was okay. If you're afraid of the cold or move around in your sleep, definitely bring a sleeping bag.

On the way back, everyone turned into a bunch of wild horses. It started when I lost my ID card and someone else found it, thus learning my real age. Nobody believed it. Only the guide knew earlier and had a laugh, saying he'd held it in the whole trip while others thought I was a girl born in '95 or '96—it had been tough to keep quiet. My bad!

That evening in Shigatse, we had a Tibetan-style hot pot, which was pretty good.

Passing through small villages, each with its own scenery. Back in Lhasa that night, we had a farewell dinner, drank some baijiu, and I probably got a little tipsy. Luckily, Langlang showed up just in time to drag me home.

April 26, 2020: While writing this travelogue, I forgot about the siege mission in my game—hope my alliance brothers will forgive me.

Travelogue Index

1. April 27: Chengdu – Lhasa – Barkhor Street – Makye Ame – Jokhang Temple

2. April 28: Potala Palace Square – Peaceful Liberation Monument – Yaowang Mountain – Zongjiao Lukang Park – Qianfo Mountain?

3. April 29: Lhasa – Yarlung Tsangpo River Valley – Yamdrok Lake

4. April 30: Potala Palace – Princess Wencheng Live Theater

5. May 1: Lhasa – Mila Mountain Pass – Basum Lake – Nyingchi

6. May 2: Nyingchi – Sejila Mountain – Lulang Forest

7. May 3: Nyingchi – Mila Mountain Pass – Lhasa

8. May 4: Lhasa – Yarlung Tsangpo River – Yamdrok Lake – Karola Glacier – Simila Holy Mountain – Palcho Monastery – Shigatse

9. May 5: Shigatse – Mount Everest National Park – winding mountain road – Rongbuk Monastery – Everest Base Camp

10. May 6: Everest – Tashilhunpo Monastery – Shigatse