Potala Palace as seen from the Yak HotelI thought I would backfill some of the stuff that happened in Tibet. Tibet is China by the way. I wish those French dudes who extinguished the torch and those adrenaline junkie hippies who hung their sign on the Golden Gate Bridge would have realized that. Embarrassing the Chinese on a worldwide scale is a horrible way to effect change. It also means I get stuck in a cut rate Hong Kong hotel waiting for a visa to get into the mainland. But that is a different story.
As I wrote earlier, Tibet was sweet. We stayed at the Yak hotel in Lhasa. It was sunny there. A day in Lhasa went like this.
Wake up. Be happy that you don’t have a splitting headache from altitude sickness.
Go to the rooftop restaurant for funky eggs and powdered coffee. Enjoy the view of the Dalai Lama’s palace through the smoke rising from the rooftops.
Take a shower. Hope the hot water holds out.
Meet your clueless but really fun Chinese “guide”. Appoint someone to negotiate the agenda for the day (everything is a negotiation with the Chinese).
Buy altitude sickness pills.
Follow the guide around looking for rental bikes. Start to get annoyed when she can’t find any.
Finally get some bikes. Test the brakes. Decide they suck but there are no other bikes around.
Jump into crazy Lhasa traffic on the way to the first attraction. Be happy that you have experience riding in Shanghai.
Enjoy the Dalai Lama’s summer palace. Try to figure out what the heck the guide is talking about, then ignore.
Feel a little ripped off when the security guard comes over to tell you that your guide has no idea what she is talking about.
Feel better when your guide gets super pumped about the Dalai Lama’s flower garden and asks you to take her photo (with a crazy Chinese pose).
Jump back into crazy traffic to the next attraction. Eat a lot of dust from dump trucks.
Stop for food at a Tibetan joint along side the road. Enjoy yak meat and noodle soup for 8. Pick up the tab (3 dollars).
Arrive at a monastery.
Play with beggar kids.
Realize the place is closed. Convince an old monk to let you check out the place where they pound drums and blow those big horns.
Decide to ride bikes up to another monastery at the top of a hill.
Realize that riding a crappy Tibetan bike up a hill sucks. Grab onto a passing truck full of monks for a tow.
Get stared at for 20 minutes until your forearm is burning from hanging on.
Arrive at the monastery.
Feel ripped off again when you find out it is closed. Tell your “guide” when she arrives 30 minutes later.
Enjoy the view of Lhasa anyway.
Play “no brakes” on the way down the hill (first one to use brakes loses).
Say goodbye to your awesome guide.
Eat pretty good yak based food and horrible Tibetan beer at the hotel.
Decide to go to the little Tibetan bar in the alley.
Get waylaid by a loud crowd outside the hotel.
Take pictures of Chinese cops confiscating a Tibetan street vendor’s food cart.
Get nervous when the crowd starts yelling at the cops. Stop taking pictures when the cops start looking at you.
Leave.
Enter the Tibetan bar.
Order scotch that they don’t have. Feel better when the mom instructs the 9 year old girl to go get the whisky from an undisclosed location in the darkened alley.
Drink beer and play cards while the little girl runs for scotch.
Feel good that you are paying a week’s rent for the bar.
Teach the little girl how to play hearts while you drink the scotch.
Get hungry.
Go outside and buy several unidentified things on sticks from a guy with a grill.
Ask the little girl if you can play with her plastic helicopter while your “food” is grilling.
Aim poorly. Fly the helicopter into the side of the bar.
Watch plastic explode in all directions.
Feel as bad as a person can feel while she stares at the broken toy.
Tell the mom that you will pay for it.
Realize she won’t take your money because you have spent more in her pub than anyone in the last 3 months.
Forget the whole thing when the food guys yells at you that your grilled stuff is ready.
Finish the whisky.
Walk down the street for sight seeing.
See something going on in what looks like an upstairs bar.
Decide to go up.
Realize you are three white dudes in a beer joint/dance hall with about 500 Tibetans.
Assess.
Go to bar.
Order three beers.
Make friends instantly.
Get ushered to a table right next to the stage.
Enjoy a dancing yak.
Get invited to do a Tibetan version of the Macarena. Fail at learning the dance.
Get a little freaked out when the dudes won’t stop feeling the hair on your arm.
Tell each other it is a cultural thing and order more beer.
Finally realize that you are supposed to go visit orphans the following day and get out of the yak dancing bar.
Head back the Yak Hotel.
Hope you don’t have altitude sickness but just don’t realize it from the whisky.
Enjoy a good night of sleep at 12,000 feet.
As I wrote earlier, Tibet was sweet. We stayed at the Yak hotel in Lhasa. It was sunny there. A day in Lhasa went like this.
Wake up. Be happy that you don’t have a splitting headache from altitude sickness.
Go to the rooftop restaurant for funky eggs and powdered coffee. Enjoy the view of the Dalai Lama’s palace through the smoke rising from the rooftops.
Take a shower. Hope the hot water holds out.
Meet your clueless but really fun Chinese “guide”. Appoint someone to negotiate the agenda for the day (everything is a negotiation with the Chinese).
Buy altitude sickness pills.
Follow the guide around looking for rental bikes. Start to get annoyed when she can’t find any.
Finally get some bikes. Test the brakes. Decide they suck but there are no other bikes around.
Jump into crazy Lhasa traffic on the way to the first attraction. Be happy that you have experience riding in Shanghai.
Enjoy the Dalai Lama’s summer palace. Try to figure out what the heck the guide is talking about, then ignore.
Feel a little ripped off when the security guard comes over to tell you that your guide has no idea what she is talking about.
Feel better when your guide gets super pumped about the Dalai Lama’s flower garden and asks you to take her photo (with a crazy Chinese pose).
Jump back into crazy traffic to the next attraction. Eat a lot of dust from dump trucks.
Stop for food at a Tibetan joint along side the road. Enjoy yak meat and noodle soup for 8. Pick up the tab (3 dollars).
Arrive at a monastery.
Play with beggar kids.
Realize the place is closed. Convince an old monk to let you check out the place where they pound drums and blow those big horns.
Decide to ride bikes up to another monastery at the top of a hill.
Realize that riding a crappy Tibetan bike up a hill sucks. Grab onto a passing truck full of monks for a tow.
Get stared at for 20 minutes until your forearm is burning from hanging on.
Arrive at the monastery.
Feel ripped off again when you find out it is closed. Tell your “guide” when she arrives 30 minutes later.
Enjoy the view of Lhasa anyway.
Play “no brakes” on the way down the hill (first one to use brakes loses).
Say goodbye to your awesome guide.
Eat pretty good yak based food and horrible Tibetan beer at the hotel.
Decide to go to the little Tibetan bar in the alley.
Get waylaid by a loud crowd outside the hotel.
Take pictures of Chinese cops confiscating a Tibetan street vendor’s food cart.
Get nervous when the crowd starts yelling at the cops. Stop taking pictures when the cops start looking at you.
Leave.
Enter the Tibetan bar.
Order scotch that they don’t have. Feel better when the mom instructs the 9 year old girl to go get the whisky from an undisclosed location in the darkened alley.
Drink beer and play cards while the little girl runs for scotch.
Feel good that you are paying a week’s rent for the bar.
Teach the little girl how to play hearts while you drink the scotch.
Get hungry.
Go outside and buy several unidentified things on sticks from a guy with a grill.
Ask the little girl if you can play with her plastic helicopter while your “food” is grilling.
Aim poorly. Fly the helicopter into the side of the bar.
Watch plastic explode in all directions.
Feel as bad as a person can feel while she stares at the broken toy.
Tell the mom that you will pay for it.
Realize she won’t take your money because you have spent more in her pub than anyone in the last 3 months.
Forget the whole thing when the food guys yells at you that your grilled stuff is ready.
Finish the whisky.
Walk down the street for sight seeing.
See something going on in what looks like an upstairs bar.
Decide to go up.
Realize you are three white dudes in a beer joint/dance hall with about 500 Tibetans.
Assess.
Go to bar.
Order three beers.
Make friends instantly.
Get ushered to a table right next to the stage.
Enjoy a dancing yak.
Get invited to do a Tibetan version of the Macarena. Fail at learning the dance.
Get a little freaked out when the dudes won’t stop feeling the hair on your arm.
Tell each other it is a cultural thing and order more beer.
Finally realize that you are supposed to go visit orphans the following day and get out of the yak dancing bar.
Head back the Yak Hotel.
Hope you don’t have altitude sickness but just don’t realize it from the whisky.
Enjoy a good night of sleep at 12,000 feet.
