Volunteer Log Stardate 2005

The high rising triangle snow-capped mountain stands high in the sky. Its roc-like head is decorated with crystal ornaments, glittering like the sun and moon, in the lower part of the peak, colourful rainbows are inlaid, while the jade-like eyebrows are swaying in the central part of the mountain. Climbing up this worldis highest peak is the ultimate goal of mountaineering expeditions and adventurers all over the world. To see its majestic appearance is the lifelong wish of tourists both at home and abroad.

So reads the brochure of the Qomolangma National Nataure Preserve (or the State Nature Reserve depending on which page you read). I wouldn't say it was a lifelong wish - certainly I'd been interested - I can remember Coronation Day 1953 and I once attended a presentation by Chris Bonnington, but Mt Everest (or Sagarmatha as the Nepalis call it)was somewhere other people went. But here I was, 60 miles away and yet still not sure whether I was going to reach Base Camp.

Tenzing (how appropriate) had driven us through the check point (please show your passports - only three more checks to go)and had parked up at a guest house on the highway waiting for other vehicles to set off in the same direction - safety in numbers if we were going to get stuck.

While we were waiting there was time to photograph the view across the road - from right to left, Cho Oyu (6th highest) Lhotse(4th highest) Everest (highest) floating in the clouds.

Oh well, if this was going to be the nearest we got, it would have been worth it.

Suddenly two Land Cruisers swept out of the courtyard and Pinsok shouted 'Get in'. We were soon on a thrill a minute off-road ride which took us along river valleys, above gorges, through small mud-brick villages, to more checkpoints, up 1 in 3 grassy slopes (to escape the mud), through the mud where it couldn't be avoided, into hairy situations when we met a truck coming the other way and just to prove that we were in another world, past a nomad village complete with yak hair tents and yaks.

After three hours we came across one of the highest traffic jams on earth - the tourists had stopped to take photos - yes we could see a white rocky triangle - just.

Just a little further on we stopped at the village (a monastery, the monastery guest house and a few houses)of Rongphu. We were shown to our room, shown the loo with a view to end all views (over the top of the plastic sheet round the oblong hole)and welcomed into the very cosy dining room with Tibetan sofas lining the walls and a dung fired stove in the centre. The wind had blown up as it does most afternoons in those parts and it was the coldest weather we had experience - we were after all at 5000metre.

This is Rongphu from the monastery - the guest house is on the right round the courtyard.

After a wander round the monastery we escaped to the warmth and a bowl of noodles. The room filled up with a band of international travellers and the conversation flowed (not the beer - not going to risk dehydration at ths height). We retired quite early, hoping for a sunrise to remember the next day.

It was a vain hope, wrong time of year, but by 9 o'clock we were ready for a lift to the tented village a couple of kilometres up the road from where we would walk the last three kilometres to Base Camp. We hadn't walked very far when Pinsok approached - he'd borrowed a bike and was coming to check up on us. He actually cycled the 3km, waited a while and when we didn't turn up,cycled back and met us taking photos. We carried on, sometimes in shade, sometimes in bright sunshine as the road twisted from side to side of the valley over the glacial moraine (I tried to think what I'd learnt about glaciers in geography - Miss Cartledge would have been very disappointed at the little I'd retained, but she might have enjoyed this blog - she told us great stories after her summer holiday travels).

Although several pony carts passed us with waving passengers, we were quite happy stopping to take photos and make the most of the 3 kilometre walk. After about an hour, the cloud ahead started to part and bit by bit the highest land on earth began to appear.

We couldn't believe how fortunate we had been with the weather (this is supposed to be the 'wet and cloudy' season in Tibet) and this was unbelievable.(Until the next day when Pinsok told us the clouds lifted every day about 11!)

We strode down the slope to the last checkpoint (patrolled by the Frontier Defence Guard) and showed our passports - only people with another permit and a guide are allowed further.

After the inevitable picture with the sign - I had to keep my promise that I would wear my Boro t-shirt - and Roz even made me take off my jacket to prove it (it wasn't cold) we walked up a small shale hill covered in prayer flags and took 'close-ups' (well,as near as we were going to get).

We then set off back and with the cloud slowly closing in behind us we finally, exhausted, reached the tented street, where we were to meet Pinsok and Tenzing, who were - not around, though the car was still there. Tenzing was helping another driver with a mechanical problem and Pinsok seemed to have been checking out places for lunch - he took us to a comfortable tent with Tibetan sofas, where the menu was noodles or noodles and the sign outside said 'Hotel Everest' or 'Snowland Summit' or 'Sherpa Lodge' or something similar - it wasn't the 'Hotel California', but that was there as well!

After lunch we staggered to the car, out of the car and into the room and fell fast asleep. Later, comfortable in the cosy dining room, we started a discussion with Pintok about Buddhist philosophy. Having thought I'd understood quite a bit, I'd become befuddled by deities (but they don't have a god)and praying pilgrims (they don't pray to the Buddha). I'm still confused, but Pintok spoke very earnestly (and attracted attention from other tourists).

The next morning we set off for our last day in Tibet. Returning over the by now even muddier road, with one stop for a last look (around 11am and two hours away from Rongphu)at the 'mother goddess of the universe' we had a short lunch stop then began the long gradual drive over another 5000m pass

followed by a sudden drop off the plateau, down a road twisting through a gorge covered in green. At one point it looked as though a line had been drawn with a ruler to show the rain where to start and stop-dry to the north, wet to the south.

The Chinese are doing a lot of construction work on this part of the 'Friendship Highway' - creating ducts for the waterfalls and supporting walls for the embankments. There is so much work that the road is closed for most daylight hours. At 4.30 we reached the one-street town of Nyalam where we joined with the passengers of many other Land Cruisers to fill the coffers of the town's restaurants (particularly the one with an English menu) for three hours while we waited for permisson to pass. By the time we left - almost a grand prix style start and Tenzing was very clever - he was ready while many drivers were still at their tea - it was pouring and for most of the way we could not appreciate the steepness of the gorge or the raging river at the bottom (probably a good thing).

We were glad to arrive at the customs town of Zhangmu - very Chinese, but clinging to the hillside for all the world like Runswick Bay - and the drop in height made for a very good night's sleep.

Next morning we were queuing in the rain for Chinese customs by 9am. Safely through,we met up with Tenzing again and having negotiated a very difficult situation with a truck coming the other way, made our way down to the border. The weather was clearing, but we still couldn't see to the bottom of the gorge until almost at the point at which it is the border, crossed by the Chinese built 'Friendship Bridge'. (Tibet is on the right, Nepal on the left bank).

As the Tibetan Land Cruisers have to stop here, we piled out into the waiting arms of many would-be porters, but our own travel company rep was there waiting and steered us over the bridge, through immigration and into another vehicle for the four hour trip back to Kathmandu, reminding us on the way that the time in Nepal was 9am!

By the time we stopped for daal bhaat at a restaurant overlooking the paddy fields and the river, it felt very good to be back on the 'wet side'. The monsoon had made everything fresh and green as the brightest paint in the paintbox; waterfalls were cascading down the gorge, mostly safely channelled under the road;and the colours of the women's clothes as they went about their business in the villages by the side of river were a stark contrast to the more sombre dresses of their Tibetan sisters.

Next year the world will be invited to China for the Olympics. I don't know whether Tibet will remain 'traditional' for the tourists or whether the 21st century will take over completely, but I'm glad I went this year before the secret is out!

Leaving Lhasa behind us, hoping to find more of the atmosphere of the Tibetan quarter and less of the plastic palm trees and fluorescent lights of the Chinese sector, we set out west along the southern bank of the Yarlung Tsangpo river (it's more commonly known as the Bramhaputra).

After a short stop for Tensing to buy his breakfast (chappati with yak meat)we were soon driving through a variety of landscapes - the 2km wide river (oh how I've missed proper water), snow-topped mountains, sandstone cliffs eroding into sand dunes and desert and smooth green hills that reminded me of driving up the A74 to Scotland.


Although we passed our destination,Samye, on the other side of the river, we weren't going across in the little rowing boat ferry, but over an hour further on to the bridge and then back along the other bank.
On this part of the journey we crossed our first pass (fairly low for starters, but still decorated with prayer flags), met our first herd of yaks

and had our first puncture, though we didn't know that until the next morning.
Once we had found our room in the monastery guest house, been given our thermos of hot water and discovered that the loos on the roof were the best bet, Pinsok took us round the monastery and we discovered how much he knew about the many statues which were beginning to befuddle us.

We also took a couple of turns round the kora - cloisters with prayer wheels all the way round. Afterwards we wandered round the extensive grounds of the monastery, going in many small, lovingly tended chapels. We found the student monks debating in a quiet walled garden - definitely not for the tourists!-and I was amazed by the wildlife - I somehow hadn't expected so many birds, and they were very tame - and a hoopoe posed especially for me.
The following morning (once the puncture was fixed) we set off in the car up a hair-pin road through the sand until we reached a hidden oasis - a meadow with cows, sheep and goats, a stream driving water-prayerwheels, boulders carved with mantras and a view right back down to the river and beyond.

We climbed further up and reached a nunnery, where nuns were playing instruments and chanting, while others were preparing food and one elderly nun was supervising some reconstruction work. Some of the mud built houses of the nuns were equipped with solar panels and a satellite dish. Pinsok took some prayer flags further up the hill and added them to the mass of colours. After we made our way back down to the car and enjoyed freshly cooked noodles, we set off back to Tsetang the town by the bridge, where we were going to spend two nights.
Although we drove through the Tibetan quarter, it seemed it was more like a tenth - the town was new, Chinese and intent on spreading up the valley. While there was some confusion at our hotel-Yarlung, Yalong- it turned out to be the same-we were sitting in a driverless car, when we were approached by the PSB (Peoples' Security Bureau) - four of them - fortunately Tensing spotted them and we were saved from having to make explanations. One (the only?) good thing about the town was the Nepali restaurant - we had excellent daal bhaat for one meal. Outside our hotel were green plastic palm trees with red coconuts - obviously a new strain of the blue ones in Lhasa-but we really did wonder if we were in Blackpool when the street light columns began flashing rhythmically once it grew dark. The town was surrounded by flag-decked hills in a complete contrast to the man-made structures, but this scene from our hotel window summed everything up.

The next day (Tuesday by now) we travelled down the valley to see one of Tibet's first buildings, originally a castle, but now a small temple mostly dating from 1982. The three monks spent much of the time we were there trying out new ring-tones on their mobiles. As it perches, Rhine-like, on a rock, there is the option of a ride up the hill - on a pony, a yak or a camel! (We walked).

There were several commercial ventures on the way and at the top - crystals, rattling rocks and fossils, bunches of juniper to put in the incense burner, prayer flags and small paper mantras to fling over the edge of the hill. Pinsok was very good at this, but we started talking about pollution and he turned out to have very strong views about conservation and talked about the deforestation in his home area.

The other sights for the day were a monastery destroyed in the Cultural Revolution, but now being restored and the tombs of the early kings of Tibet - now mounds surrounded by runs and one temple on the tomb of King Songsten Gampo - a name I learnt (his statue was also in the Tandruk monastery we'd seen earlier and it was his castle we'd been to)together those of his two wives - one Chinese - Wencheng -and one Nepali-Brikhuti.

After a busy day there was only one thing to do - back to the hotel to enjoy our space age shower (I am missing hot water more than ever after a week of luxury!)
Wednesday was a travelling day. All the way back along the river valley towards Lhasa, then up a 4800m pass for a view of what might have been a turquoise lake (it was blue) called Yamdrok Tso, all the way back down(the same way, through a quite dramatic gorge,across a desert and then back west again to Gyantse. Yes it was a convoluted route, because the road round the lake, which would have led us to Gyantse without going round the other three sides of the oblong was 'under construction'. It was 'under construction' three years ago when Roz was in Tibet-conspiracy theory - is there something that someone doesn't want us to see?-like a lake that is being destroyed as its waters are drained for power? (only a guess - probably way off the mark).
The road up to the viewing point was spectacular but slow. We followed a caravan, just about overtok several cyclists and waited for a sheep-jam. We also had plenty of time to admire the view on the way up as we had a puncture,

but arriving safely, we joined a whole carpark full of tourists. And the view was worth Tensing's hard work.

The way back down was simpler.

When we reached the valley again we stopped at a workshop to check the tyres. We were very near the bridge over the river, so Roz and I wandered over to admire the view. 'Lonely Planet' warns against taking photos of bridges - now we know why! We walked past the first guard, who actually moved back a pace to let us pass, then we stopped to look upstream. The guard from the other side of the bridge came across and started saying how welcome we were on his bridge and how he was sure the large camera round Roz's neck was really only a toy -well he could have been saying anything - we took no chances, just walked back to the car.

After passing through the steep sided gorge with cliffs displaying all their rock strata in multicoloured diagonal stripes, we turned left past a hill which we were told was used for sky burials (no vultures to be seen)and found ourselves in a mini-Sahara.

The patterns of the dunes and the occasional straggling hardy plant were very interesting as was Pinsok's repetition of his fears for the future of the land. Just a thougt - he always chose places away from the crowd to air his views - probably sensible. When a pony cart filled with juniper branches and carrying a family of three trotted past we wondered how far they had to travel to find this fuel/food and how often they made the journey. As we continued through several small villages, we were met by several groups of children all holding out their hands and shouting 'Money' - these were clearly the most disadvantaged people we had seen so far. We had heard that some Tibetans had been moved from their homes to less favourable agricultural areas for the development of towns, but moving these people anywhere would have been an improvement.

By early evening we arrived at Gyantse and just had time to settle in to another very comfortable room before it was time to find another Nepali restaurant - noodles? fried rice? sweet and sour? - Tibetans are big meat eaters, largely because of the shortage of agricultural land (the staple food is tsampa - roasted barley flour mixed with water or yak milk)so there wasn't always a great deal of choice, but it was always tasty.

This town was smaller than Lhasa and Tsetang and although there were still Chinese signs above the shops, they were more reminiscent of Nepali open-fronted shops and there was a more provincial feel to the place. The purpose of the visit was for us to see the monastery (what else?) and the Kumbum - a wedding cake of a building with (if its name is to be believed)1000 images. It certainly took us a long time to spiral round the seven floors as the rooms grew smaller, and the statues seemed to grow bigger.

Eventually we had had our fill of images and it was time to set off for the relatively short journey to Tibet's second city, Shigatse. Although there were still signs of continued development, the city looked rather run down and tired when compared to the Chinese parts ofLhasa and Tsetang. However, we found a lively and colourful vegetable market (plenty of plastic covered market gardens in the valleys) and a cyber cafe where cigarettes were handed out to those who wanted them (everyone except us, it seemed).

At the hotel we were tempted by the sign for the health spa and massage parlour,

but I didn't fancy having my ear pulled out and we were rather a long way from the sea for seafood putty. (These seemed quite harmless though when we saw a 'foot bottom massage' advertised in Zhangmu a few days later)

I've made fun of Nepali English on several occasions, but Chinese English has had us rolling round our rooms in each hotel. Looking in the hotel handbooks, we discovered inventories and price lists of compensation for damage to the various articles. Fair enough, but we just had to hope we didn't damage the prinking table in Tsetang or the peep in Gyantse, because we didn't know what they were. We were fine about 'no birds, domestic animals....are allowed to be brought into the rooms' but the bit missing in the middle is 'or other insanity articles' and we were a bit concerned somone might include us in that category. We were also suspicious that our hosts knew more about us than was necessary because in one room we read 'Drinking excessively, making great noise or playing recorder loudly in the hotel is forbidden'. How did they know we both play the recorder?

Back to Shigatse. Roz had been to the Tashilhunpo monastery before and knew there was a lot to see, so we had aranged to spend two nights here, giving us a break on the first afternoon and a whole day to explore. On the first evenng we went to a Tibetan restaurant where we met an American couple we'd aready spoken to at lunch (as there is basically one tourist route, we kept meeting different groups all along the way - very few Brits, many French, a sprinkling from every other European nation and a few Americans). We spent a very pleasant mealtime with them and now we are able to say we had dinner with Father Christmas's brother. I can't remember the guy's name,but his wife is Chrissie and she told us that his bushy white beard and eyebrows and snowy hair make many children (including in Mongolia, where they had just been to a water resources conference)ask if he is 'the Christmas man'. She never says 'yes' but admits it's his brother! Even more impressive was the fact that back at home in Indiana, where they work at the university, the couple know the Dalai Lama's brother and Chrissie worked with his sister-in-law on community legal projects.

It may seem strange that in a travelogue about Tibet I haven't mentioned the Dalai Lama except to say that we went to his summer palace, but that's how it is - he isn't mentioned! It's appropriate to raise this issue now because Tashilhunpo monastery is the seat of the Panchen Lama, the 'second -in-command' and while we saw no photos of the 14th Dalai Lama, we did see many photos of the 10th Panchen Lama who died in 1989. His picture was often accompanied by that of a youg boy - his reincarnation, the 11th Panchen Lama (as chosen by the Chinese - the original choice is somewhere in China - allegedly). In the monastery in Shigatse we saw the photos that we had seen before but also photos of the 11th Panchen Lama as he will be now - a teenager.

There were several temples and assembly halls within the monastery - the winding lanes and passages making it difficlt to follow the arrows accurately - but in the centre there was a large courtyard where tourist, monks and pilgrims mixed. This Tibetan group were pleased to have a rest - it was very hot.

In the afternoon we walked round the outside of the monastery along the prayerwheel lined kora. It took us up the hilside behind the monastery and past groups of mani stones and yak skulls - a reminder that Tibetan Buddhism is still linked to the ancient Bon religion.

Day 11 (Sunday)found us leaving Shigatse for Shergar (yes, alive and well and living in Tibet!) via another monastery in Sakya. My greatest memory of Sakya was not the temple, but the large yak hair coats hanging for sale on the street corner - I'm glad I didn't meet anyone wearing one!

Having entered the Chomolongma (Quomolongma in Chinese) National Preserve at the top of another high pass, we felt we were gradually acclimatising for the final frontier.

Shergar turned out to be a one-street town with a surprisingly comfortable hotel just off the main road. We weren't the only guests that night - the London - Kuala Lumpur Expedition 2007 (celebrating the 50th anniversary of Malaysian Independence)stopped off with more than a dozen cars and many drivers and supporters from a host of different countries.

We went to bed that night with the knowledge that the road to Everest was 'under construction' - in readiness for taking the Olympic flame there next year, we're told. (Point of information: This week Nepal has reduced the cost of permits to climb Everest in the low season by 75% -anything to do with the fear that more and more people - like us-will travel to the mountan from the 'easier' northern side, especially when they can drive all the way?)The alternative was a 'short cut' - translate as 3 hours of off road driving - but it was very muddy and we would have to wait until the next day to see if we could go - would it be a case of so near and yet so far?

Any comments expressed in this blog are definitely my own - I've no idea what VSO thinks about the Tibet/China situation, but I certainly wouldn't like to get them into trouble!

As I was writing the last blog, the longest spell of continuous rain since I have been here was just starting. I know Nepal's floods have been mentioned on British news broadcasts and there have been many homes destroyed, people killed in landslides or by swollen rivers and crops devastated. I spent two days in Pokhara where it had been raining for five days (but with less tragic results because of its situation)and when I met Roz the following weekend she was really leased to escape as the rain still hadn't stopped. Unfortunately during the four days we waited for our Chinese visas, the weather turned very wet in Kathmandu and we spent quite alot of time with our noses in our holiday reading.

One of our Kathmandu based education volunteers works for an NGO that operates in the terai. Against VSO wishes he went down there with some coleagues at the time the floods were hitting hardest. These are just two of the photos he posted for us to try to appreciate the real situation.


The situation is improving in some areas but other areas are just getting their heaviest rainfall. Last Thursday Simara airport was closed for several hours because of flooding and the area was the hardest hit that day, though the gravel beds don't look as though they running with water now. I came back by road,a journey that was made more interesting by the numerous waterfalls that have appeared.

To link the wet season in Nepal with the wet season in Tibet now seems ridiculous. We were advised that August was 'the wet season' but the amount expected is so small, in comparison with monsoon and we had heavy rain one night in Lhasa and a quick shower one morning when we were on the road. The contrast was brought home very sharply as we came down from the plateau on our last day. Within a few minutes we had driven from dry, brown, rocky scenery to a lush green gorge with a thundering river (we couldn't see it properly that night because of very heavy mist, but the following morning it was revealed in all its beauty.

But back to the beginning of the holiday. After an amazing flight over the Himalayas,again showing the change between the 'wet' and 'dry' sides, we landed at Lhasa airport. Not for the last time, Roz said 'This has changed in three years'. Unfortunately our driver had been delayed and for the first time we met with Chinese officialdom - our names weren't on the list! He eventually arrived with apologies, silk 'kata' scarves of welcome and the news that cars hadn't been able to reach Everest Base Camp because of the road conditions - oh well, we had almost two weeks to go before then!

After settling into our Nepali run hotel ('The Tibet Gorkha')with a very Tibetan feel, we set off to join the pilgrims and tourists making their way round the Barkhor - a circuit of the most important temple in Lhasa, the Jokhang. Many of the Tibetans were older women dressed in traditional dresses with aprons and hats, spinning their prayer wheels and muttering prayers as they walked, but there were also younger people - young men from the eastern part of Tibet with their hair in a traditional red braid and families with children wanting to reach the square where they could fly their kites.

The following morning our guide took us into the Jokhang -the first leg of monastery marathon. While the Tibetans were all lined up patiently to go round the building and its many chapels in a clockwise direction, tourists ('foreigners'as the guides called us, though many tourists are Chinese)were sent in a different door. I felt very uncomfortable and could understand the impatient pushing as the pilgrims tried to reach the statues or butter lamps. I was pleased when we reached the roof and could take a good look at the town and its most famous landmark,the Potala Palace.

After lunch (noodles and fried rice were the staple diet,with an occasional pancake and chips if they were on the menu!)we went to another monastery where the highlight is to watch the monks debating after their morning studies. There are many hand gestures that mean somone agrees or disagrees and plenty of swinging of prayer beads. We got the feeling that this debating was playing to the crowd (unlike what I had seen a couple of months ago in KTM and what we saw a few days later in Samye, where noone was watching).

Next day was monastery number three. The highlights for me here were the fabulous hangings. You had to pay to take photos inside the chapels (anything from 10 to 150 yuan)but here we were able to go on the roof and take photos through the open windows.

We had a new guide this day- we weren't impressed when she gave us a photo copy of the relevant page in the Lonely Planet guide (we had two copies with us)and pointed out where we were - it wouldn't work at Ormesby Hall!
In the afternoon we visited the summer palace of the Dalai Lama. The buildings were set in pleasant woodland and the outsides were beautifully decorated with familiar flowers. (We avoided the zoo).

We had read that English speaking monks were not always what they seemed and we began to wonder how strong the surveillance was when while we were in the Dalai Lama's private quarters Roz commented 'I wonder what would happen if I took a photo?' The words weren't out of her mouth when a 'monk?'from the next room appeared - were there hidden microphones?
Until then I had tried to ignore Roz's cynicism and conspiracy theories(she has been involved in Free Tibet activities for years), but I had to admit she might have a point.
That evening we walked in the opposite direction from our hotel and explored the local Muslim area, where there was a lively market around the main mosque. Among the interesting shops was this butter seller.

Yak butter is not only used with bread (in fact hardly ever) but for tea (I tried it but didn't like it-I stuck with the ever present jasmine tea) and even more importantly for the lamps which are kept burning in the temples. We saw many people walking round with Thermos flasks-they are filed with melted butter so that the lamps can be filled up. In the temples monks have the job of scraping out the hardened butter, which can then be re-used.
Other interesting shops we saw were the sewing shops where traditional headdresses and temple hangings were being made, a shop making prayer flags, a fair trade craft shop (I resisted the carpets this year), a monks' clothing shop (all maroon and orange), yak butchers, woolshops(every other business was run by a woman sitting in the doorway knitting)and vegetable stores spreading over the pavements. The most interesting store for many people seemed to be where a crowd had gathered round a window to watch what looked like a soap opera on a TV inside.
As it grew dark (after 9pm - 21/4 hours ahead of Nepal, so dark mornings and long evenings)the communication mast turned red and gold, the street lights came on (flashing neon colours up and down the columns)and the blue and yellow plastic coconut trees were illuminated. Roz again -'It wasn't like this three years ago'. We really didn't go into the internationally flashy high streets which could have been anywhere in the world unless we were on our way somewhere else, or in the car, but it was a completely different world and our experience after we left Lhasa showed it was definitely the shape of things to come.

On Sunday morning, we were hoping to visit the Potala palace, but we had been advised that Chinese visitors got the first pick of limited number of ticket each day. We knew from other volunteers that there was a complicated procedure of lining up at two different places the day before you wanted to visit, but our travel agent had said he would organise everything. Our guide redeemed herself by liaising with someone 'inside' and despite having to explain to the ticket collector that we had no tickets but had already been allowed so far into the palace ('Get your ticket the day before, next time!')we were able to wander round at our leisure (we took 2 hours,unlike the tour groups who were hustled round by Chinese speaking guides in 45 minutes). Our guides all explained to us that only Chinese speaking guides are allowed to guide round the Potala. One said that the guiding exam consisted of 20% describing a building and 80% the 'politics' - what guides could/should say/not say.

Despite the fact that most Tibetans don't go into the Potala, and it is no longer used as a temple (we were only allowed in a very small part of its 13 storeys-much less than on Roz's last visit)many pilgrims do walk round the complex on the 'kora' (the religious path like the one round the Jokhang) and prostrate themselves on the pavement in front of the building.

A longer 'kora' goes all the way round the central part of the city, linking several holy sites. On our last morning in Lhasa we finally managed to get up early(sleeplessness was the only symptom of acute mountain sickness (Lhasa is 3600metres asl)I suffered - and even then when I was really tired I could sleep)and left our hotel at 6am to join people passing the door on their way to the kora route.Unlike Nepal, most of Tibet does not wake up until 8 or 9 o'clock, so the main roads were very quiet. Eventually the woman we were following turned right down a lane which began to rise over the side of the hill where we knew the communcation tower was situated. The path was lit by butter lamps and led to one of the highlights of the visit. The cliff wall of the hill was covered in Buddhist paintings-Buddhas, signs and symbols,deities, mantras and about twenty people were prostrating in front of the wall.A notice told us that the paintings were kept fresh because families who could not afford all the death rituals of their relatives, gave money or paint for the upkeep of the wall and in return the worshippers offered prayers. It was too dark for photographs and it would have been intrusive to take pictures, but the sight and sound are locked into my video memory.

Further round the path we heard the morning devotions at a monastery (deep horn sounds, conch shells, drums and tinkling bells). Then we skirted the Potala palace and caught a glimpse of its reflection in the lake in the park where citizens were using modern plastic keep-fit equipment (none of the rustic wooden poles we have in England). We made our way back on a shortened route via the Barkhor and were very ready for breakfast just after 8am.

At 9am we met our guide for the rest of the trip. Pinsok -not sure how to spell it, but that's how we pronounced it and it means 'good faculties'- Tashi (good luck) -"all together it means 'may your dreams come true'" - was an interesting young man who added greatly to our tour with his insight into Buddhist philosophy (he'd studied in India), his political awareness (his home area was one of the first to be invaded and is now part of China rather than the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR), his education in Nepal(he speaks fluent Nepali, but very little Chinese - he's just gone back to language school and says he has reached Grade 3 and his humour and singing (George Michael and the inevitable John Denver were in his repetoire as well as duets with our driver (Tensing).

We were delighted to meet Pinsok because he brought back our passports whch had been retained for the permits for the rest of our visit. He shared our amusement at our 'Aliens' Travel Permit' and regularly referred to our 'planet'. When we had a space-age shower with music, lights and too many knobs and switches, in our hotel room in Tsetang, it became our vehicle and when we reached the top of a 5000+ pass, he suggested we were nearer home.

One friend had told us 'Tibet's all brown', Roz said she wondered if other places would have changed as much as Lhasa, another volunteer had raved about particular monasteries and there were still concerns about acute mountain sickness as we headed for Chomolungma (Everest to you), so as we set off in our personal Land Cruiser, I didn't know what to expect (to be continued)