Sad Lhasa

Lhasa is a sad city. The fact that it was the center of Tibetan Buddhism and is still a very sacred place did not cheer us up all that much. It's a busy town, with Jokhang Temple, one of Tibet's holiest shrines and the spiritual heart of the city, in the middle of it. It's golden-roofed Temple is surrounded by the Barkhor kora (pilgrim circuit), lined with all manner of shops and stalls selling prayer flags, holy scriptures, jewelry and an assortment of other Tibetian goods together in a festive atmosphere.

Nearby the temple is Beijing Donglu, the major street that runs through town. Its sidewalks are filled with the smells of yak butter, goat meat, and incense among others. Beggers and monks sit against the walls, along with the spittle, garbage and dried urine left behind by others. These sites look familiar to us, having walked similar streets in Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia, and with this experience behind us, we continued on.

As uncomfortable as it is to walk through such human hardships, what nailed down our impression of Lhasa came when we visited Potala Square, a wide-open public space facing the magnificent Potala Palace. Sitting in the square opposite the huge icon of Tibetian culture stands a towering sculpture of "public art". The Chinese characters written down its side are forever engraved to read "Tibet Peace and Liberation Commemorative Monument".

In another words, the Chinese honestly believe that they have "saved" Tibet from the evils of religion and their feudalistic past and have brought them infrastructure in the form of hospitals, schools, roads and the like. As we stood in the square, a large group of Chinese Army soldiers joyfully took snapshots of each other in front of the monument. It was a symbolic image, with no doubt as to who ruled this land. Across the street, running the length of the outer walls of the Potala Palace hung two huge red banners celebrating the 100th birthday of Den Xiaoping. One of them said "Celebrate [the birthday] with the people of Tibet and continue to prosper". This must be a slap in the face to the Tibetians who come to prostrate themselves daily in front of the Palace.

Before 1950, when the Red Army invaded Tibet, Dalai Lama 14th and a hundred thousand Tibetans fled with him to India. More than one million of the Tibetans who remained in their homeland were massacred, Potala Palace, a huge social and governmental infrastructure, had been alive with thousands of people. Now the Potala is essentially the Chinese government's booty museum, managed by a handful monks and a Chinese staff. The palace lacked any voices or signs of life, sitting empty and dead. Looking down from the roof of this grand building to the ruins below we imagined how it once was alive with Tibetan life.

Tibet and Tibetan Buddhism are now a brand name in the global tourism industry and attract a wide variety of foreign visitors (including us!). The trend and popularity also extends to large numbers of the ruling class Han Chinese, who are enjoying the freedom of travel as their wealth increases. One could imagine that the standard of living among Tibetans would also increase along with the tourism money pouring in, but that was, unfortunately, not evident to us at all. Our observations, rather, reminded us of the fate of the Native Americans, or that of the Ainu tribe in Japan.

What seems to never change is Tibetans' faith in Buddhism, Dalai Lama, and the gods symbolized in their mountains and lakes. I would like to believe that their never-changing faith is the shining light among them.