Lhasa is the strangest place I have ever been. Stranger than Rustenburg, stranger than Fish Hoek; in fact it's even stranger than something resort mogul Sol Kerzner could have dreamt up and then built.
One reason Lhasa is strange is because it's foreign.
There was a time when being foreign would always mean that a place was strange, but that was before globalisation and cheap air travel, which helped to spread McDonald's and Starbucks around the globe like some awful virus; now hardly any foreign places are strange. Except Lhasa.
There are a variety of reasons, apart from being foreign, why Lhasa is strange. At just under 4 000m, the altitude has to be a factor. At this sort of altitude, oxygen deprivation is inclined to play games with your perceptions and, at least initially, your ability to function effectively.
The symptoms of altitude sickness include sleeplessness, shortness of breath and dizziness, most of which can be avoided by taking altitude tablets.
For this reason it is really important to take Lhasa gradually; you will have to devote the first day or two to adapting to the altitude. If you don't pace yourself, even if you feel fine, you are likely to be one of the five percent of visitors who have to be urgently flown out of Lhasa to lower terrain. Anyway, taking it easy for the first few days is fine, as you can stroll around and get a feel for this strange place.
Both times that I visited the city I spent the first day in a state of minor depression. This may have reflected the need to adapt to the altitude, or to the rather oppressive religiosity of the place, or to the oppressive and pervasive presence of the Chinese.
While the altitude problem settled down after a day or so, the oppressive religiosity didn't and the oppressiveness of the Chinese presence seemed to get worse. It is, of course, strange in itself to complain about religion in relation to Lhasa; for tourists who are not heading on to nearby Everest, much of the attraction of the place is its history and culture.
And a very key part of this history and culture is Tibetan Buddhism, which is evident in the seemingly ages-old lifestyle of current-day Tibetans, with its heavy emphasis on pilgrimage, praying and prostrating before some or other very important religious site. But the juxtaposition of this ancient way of life with the gaudy modernity of the dominant Chinese way of life in this city seems to make both much grubbier and stranger than they would be if they were kept entirely separate.
Even in the few short years between my first and second visit to Lhasa, it was evident that the Han Chinese had asserted an even greater hold over the city.
Since July 2006 the daily arrival of the train from Beijing has significantly speeded up the pace at which the Chinese are able to populate the region.
The train not only brings about 800 Chinese a day, but also allows for a much more efficient transport system for goods, which encourages more Han immigrants.
In Lhasa, the Chinese, who now own most of the businesses in the city and appear to hold most of the government jobs, significantly outnumber Tibetans.
Unsurprisingly, neither side deals gracefully with the situation. The Tibetans are deeply resentful, in a peaceful Buddhist-sort of way, which seems to require that nothing effective be done to address the situation. Being effective against the might of the Chinese forces would, of course, be a considerable achievement. On the other hand, the Chinese immigrants seem to represent the worst stereotypical aspects of the Chinese population.
The resentment, of which they are no doubt aware, appears to increase their determination to be gaudy and domineering.
The interaction between these two forces plays out constantly in Lhasa's street life, and the ubiquitous and menacing army and police force of the Chinese government are watching it all closely. And while you are there, they will be watching you.
Once you have caught your breath, the first stop should be the landmark Potala Palace, built in the 17th century by the fifth Dalai Lama.
This multipurpose structure was the home to every subsequent Dalai Lama until the 14th Dalai Lama escaped from the Chinese occupation forces in 1959.
For the 300 years in between, it served as the administrative centre and seat of the Buddhist-run government, as well as a monastery that houses a vast array of chapels.
Today it functions mainly as a museum, but it also attracts hundreds of Tibetan pilgrims every day. They can be seen praying at the statutes and chortens (multi-tiered monuments that usually contain sacred objects) throughout the palace.
Amazingly, and unlike many of the lesser monasteries in Tibet, the 1 000-room building survived the destructive forces unleashed during the Cultural Revolution. This was reportedly due to the efforts of former premier Zhou Enlai.
A tour of this majestic 13-storey building (only 70 of its 1 000 rooms are open to the public) begins at the open rooftop. So while you are catching your breath and recovering from the climb up to more than 4 000m, you will have a great opportunity to study the layout of the city below and see how it nestles into the surrounding mountains.
Then you begin the descent, in a clockwise direction, through the various chapels and reception halls, down through the palace, floor by floor. The dim lighting depends heavily on candles, which, until very recently, were made from heavy smelling yak butter that pervaded the entire building. The lighting adds to the sense of strangeness - as well as making a structure that looks magnificent from the outside feel quite dingy inside. Rather like the impressive Egyptian pyramids.
The chapels house ancient artefacts, ornate burial chortens and golden bejeweled statues of various Buddhist incarnations, some of modest dimensions, some less so. There are pilgrims everywhere praying and, despite looking remarkably poor, placing donations all along their route.
After about an hour it starts to become a little tedious; for those not familiar with the detail of Buddhism, there is a certain sameness about it all. And there is the increasingly unsettling realisation that the enormous amounts of gold and jewels seem horribly out of place in contrast to the apparent near-destitution of the pilgrims.
It is evident from the old living quarters that the generations of Dalai Lamas and their monks lived frugally but, such is the importance of religion in their lives, they seem to have spared no expense when it came to celebrating Buddha.
The largest of the jewel-encrusted chortens, the one containing the remains of the fifth Dalai Lama, is made of 3 700 kg of gold. It begins to make the Vatican look understated.
After your stint at the Potala you deserve a treat, so head off to the Barkhor area - pass the People's Park, opposite the palace, as quickly as you can, unless of course you want to play on the dodgem cars there or gaze on the monument that celebrates the "liberation" of Tibet by China in 1959. If you don't feel up to the 1km walk to the Barkhor, the best way to get there is by cycle-rickshaw.
The Barkhor is the only remaining Tibetan area of the city. It is a wonderful series of cobbled alleyways of houses, shops, restaurants and, strangely, lots of rather seedy-looking pool halls, where teenage monks seem to spend an inordinate amount of time. Many of the restaurants have open terraces upstairs where you can sit and look down on the bustling Barkhor market.
An hour or two spent sipping some Tibetan beer or a whisky, while watching the pilgrims walking the Barkhor circuit clockwise, will be time very well spent. The focal point of the Barkhor is the Jokhang temple - the holiest temple for Tibetan Buddhists but, despite its enormous religious significance, it would be easy for tourists to pass it by. Easy except for the prostrate pilgrims at the front entrance. Many of these very devout pilgrims have walked hundreds of kilometres for the privilege of prostrating themselves and praying at these extremely important sites. The best time to visit the Jokhang is in the evening, when the monks are at prayer and you can hear Tibetan chanting in wonderful surroundings.
A bizarre part of the evening ceremony is the collection of donations from a large group of pilgrims who have been given the best seats in the temple in order to facilitate the collection process. The young monks collect huge wads of notes - each worth not much more than 20c.
My focus on this procedure was disrupted when I noticed a large rat making its way around the robes of one of the larger statues of Buddha at the back of the temple. Buddhists are not allowed to kill anything - including rats - and so rely on cats to keep the rat population under control.
Even though the rats damage the ancient manuscripts, the Tibetan Buddhists will not interfere with them. As we walked on through the temple's dingy, poorly lit chapels, I felt relieved to be shod in my walking boots and not the open-toed sandals some of the other tourists were wearing.
A walk to Chupsang nunnery, about 6km along the lower reaches of the mountains outside the city, is a useful way to get some exercise and see a slightly different aspect of Tibet's religious life.
Some of the nuns at Chupsang have been there since they were children. After a few wonderful hours in this peaceful setting we headed back to Lhasa. On our way we came upon a sky burial; we were asked to stop, for 30 minutes or so, at a reasonable distance from where the body had been laid out. We watched from afar as the vultures played their part in this very important aspect of the Tibetan cycle of life and death.
Further on we came across a prison. It seems that the Chinese government has located prisons or army barracks adjacent to many of the religious sites. Which, of course, contributes to the strangeness of this wonderful but rather sad country.
If You Go
- You will need a permit to get to Tibet. A South African travel agent can arrange this. Sure Millway Travel in Cape Town were very efficient.
- Remember the altitude tablets. Try to avoid using public toilets.
- The yak is ubiquitous in Tibet. Every part of the animal is used - the hide, horns, hair, milk, and meat. During life it provides milk and transport. When dead it is used for shelter, clothing and food. It is also used for restaurant names such as the Hard Yak Cafe at the appalling Lhasa Hotel. You probably won't enjoy the hot butter tea, which seems to be one of the main staples of the Tibetan diet. But the meat is pleasant and the yak bourguignon was quite a nice dish.
- Visiting religious sites is expensive, but your money goes towards their upkeep and ensures the pilgrims have free access to well cared for sites.
- If you have a choice, avoid the Lhasa Hotel. If you can afford top-end accommodation, go for the Brahmaputra Grand Hotel. At mid-range the Kyichu Hotel is great, friendly, comfortable and well-located.