Lhasa
To Lhasa
The high altitude is back upon us in Lhasa, the capital of Tibet. Luckily we have had a little training, making the transition easier than otherwise. The airport is quite far from the city, so the busride is more than an hour. Luckily a tunnel has just been completed, saving 40 km (which would have been at least another hour). Unfortunately, the ventilation in the tunnel is already broken, filling the tunnel with smog. After the tunnel we drive along the Lhasa river, and soon the Potala, the winter palace of the Dalai Lama, can be seen in the distance, perched on top of its rock in the center of Lhasa.
I noted a strange effect of the altitude: with every step I felt the fillings of my bottom left molars “pull,” in a way difficult to ignore. We are quite dazed during the day, knocked out by two trivial flights of stairs and quite overwhelmed by the mixture of high altitude mountain retreat and noisy city that is Lhasa. We visited the Jokhang temple and walked the pilgrims’ route around it (noting ever present Chinese guards). The intimacy of the chapels is soothing amidst the bustling city. 
After catching up on some sleep (we had to get up at 4:30 for the Lhasa flight) we visit the first temple, the Jokhang, which is at the heart of the Tibetian part of Lhasa. Indeed, according to legend, the temple has to keep the heart of a demon under control. The main assembly hall of the Jokhang is very impressive, with multiple levels of balconies with light filtering in from the outside. It is also our first encounter with the reality of tourism in Lhasa: the huge majority is Chinese and totally shameless. We have a little chat with one of the monks who, together with a fellow monk and his cat keep an eye on things. He is looking forward to tomorrow’s festival, and so do we.
Our hotel, a charming backpacker affair with its quirks (none of them fatal), is situated next to an elementary school, and whenever we’re lazing around in our room (indulging NOT in Gide’s “L’immoraliste”, which was discussed extensively by a couple of French girls on the breakfast table next to ours, but in DUNE and a GAME OF THRONES) we hear the sounds of Chinese Instruction: A single adult voice bellowing syllables and a host of children’s voices screaming a repetition – all day long. Occasionally, there are songs. Drill rehearse! I wonder about the classroom-to-classroom interference.Today we find out that we are in time for the “Shötun” or “Yoghurt” Festival. This is an important celebration starting in nearby Drepung monastery and traveling to Sera monastery (other end of Lhasa). Both monasteries will unroll their big thangka (this is done only once a year), and it is recommended to get there at 6am to witness the unrolling. All busses, taxis and rikshas will loop between Lhasa, Drepung & Sera, the trick is to find a seat in the right one. Prediction: utter madness! Follow the masses! We decide to give it a shot.
