Madeleine Graham Blake

PHOTOGRAPHYPHOTOGRAPHY

Uh oh…

by | Feb 26, 2015 | , ,

Xi’an 1

Have you ever had that feeling in your gut gut that something is amiss? I don’t mean the big adrenaline producing “thunk”, more a gentle “oh, you hoo…” So that you are inclined to not pay attention, even though? That kind.

A few minutes later, like five, and five more miles down the highway, the “you hoo” gets so agitated so that now it is an “uh oh” and you are moved to action. Because, a nano second before “you hoo” became “uh oh”, you KNEW exactly what the problem was going to be. And it’s a doozie!

But let’s back up. I flew into Xi’an this morning, and found the little hotel near the airport that I booked on booking.com in the wee hours of this morning. It’s fine, although a bit tricky to find, tucked into a project looking neighborhood. But it is near the airport. The reviews online were favorable, and since I need to be at the airport by 6 am, it is perfect. The couple who run it it are both helpful and nice…and, as it turns out, they will drive me to the airport for free in the morning. Can’t beat that!

One of the first things I do when near electricity is start charging batteries. It seems to take forever to charge here, and no time at all to discharge. So, because of this ritual, I immediately figured out I left my iPad cable in Lijiang. Un-fucking-believable! I probably have about two hours left on my iPad for the rest of my trip (more than two weeks). So, as you might imagine, this has put me in a boohoo kind of mood.

It is only noon, and since I am near to this wonderful old city of Xi’an, a place which has nice memories of going to see the astonishing terra-cotta warriors, I decided to make something of my layover. After weighing the complications of getting the right buses when I cannot read Chinese, I decide to hire a taxi to drive into the heart of the city so I can visit the Bell Tower. From there I can just mosey around till I need to catch a cab back out to the burbs.

I grab a card from the front desk that has the name, address and telephone number for the hotel. The hotel owner has offered to take me to a place where I can get a cab, so we head out, but once the front door opened, I realize I better add a layer. It is cold. I return to the room, don my wonderful alpaca sweater, and off we go. I am so glad I brought this sweater. It is a keeper.

Getting a cab here is a strange event. The owner drove about a mile, then we got out and crossed a very busy intersection with a lane like a free way exit that we had to navigate. After a few more such crossings, we end up actually on the freeway a bit down from that exit, so that now the only cabs passing us will be headed toward Xi’an, which is about 25 km of heavy traffic away through ghastly industrial development. Three cabs pull over to vie for the fare, the hotel man acting as my agent. After sending those away, a forth comes and the price is right, 60 Y, so I get in.

Feeling quite together in terms of my little day adventure, I settle in for what turns out to be a really long, unpleasant ride. For starters, on the back of the front passenger headrest, leaning about a foot from my face, is a monitor—dead. All I see is my face reflecting back––very close. Yeah, there is the ugly stuff flashing past the side window, but is not worth a kink in the neck to look at. So I find my self looking down, which pretty much sends me inward.

I begin pondering my memory blips and this is a scary place for me.  Yesterday, when were driving from Hongpo Village to Ligiang, a Beatles song, sung in Chinese, was playing on the radio. It was a really famous, very familiar one, for which I couldn’t for the life of me remember any of the lyrics, or, for that matter, the title. Freaked me out just that I was struggling so hard. Breathe, and let it go. Later, as I was trying assiduously to practice non judgement regarding my painful observations of what is going on here in terms of development, Let It Be came into focus. Kinda perfect, eh. Anyway, it is at this moment, thinking about memory, that the little “you hoo” is morphing.

Oh shit! I start looking through my wallet, my phone purse, my pockets and then I search again.

Have you figured it out? Yup. I am flying down the highway, with a taxi driver who speaks no English, in a huge city where English speakers are rare, and I neither speak nor read Chinese, nor do I have the card with the hotel name and address. I couldn’t identify one road from another let alone direction. I only have my cash wallet, my hidden money belt, my flip phone, and my little camera. I am traveling light, for once. Too, light.

 

Mama Espinosa and My Arrival in Hongpo Village

by | Feb 25, 2015 | , ,

Dolma arranged for me to ride with a distant cousin, who was coming from Lijiang, through Shangri-La and going to Hongpo Village. How fortunate for me. No changing buses in Deqin, and there is the possibility of photo stops. His charge is about $50, but for a private car taking me the seven hour drive straight to the village, it feels like a deal.

Once again, I find myself with a slow driver. I glance at the speedometer to see exactly how slow we are traveling, but it’s needle lay peacefully on zero, and doesn’t budge no matter our speed. I am embarrassed to say I called Dolma because I thought he was tired. It turns out he just likes to drive slowly. Of course, I am a pedal to metal the person, so it is exasperating to go so slowly. In reality, no car sickness, and I can see a lot.

The trip is a hard one.

I cannot ignore what the Chinese are doing…just about everywhere. It is actually infuriating me. Dolma told me the road to Deqin had improved and now it is very good. Even the dangerous road to Hongpo is paved and stable. A light should have turned on when Dolma mentioned the upgrade, but it didn’t.

Vastly improved in terms of ease of travel is an understatement on par with saying there are a lot of people in China. The countryside is basically unrecognizable from my previous sojourn on the only road to Hongpo. Since the road has both been straightened and leveled, the terrain has had to make the adjustments…to hell with any natural beauty or the fact that people live in the area. Just put up a giant bridge over a gully and let the people continue to live there, never mind they now live like trolls under the bridge looking at piles of gravel. No big deal. Nobody is displaced.

Even the wonderful loop in the river that I photographed the first time around is now walled off so no one can see it unless they pay the exorbitant entry fee. The river is an extraordinarily beautiful jade green, and I have been looking forward to rephotographing this scene ever since I saw the color. It would have been a stunning image and in reality worth the entry fee. But, I’ll be damned if I am going to support the bastards who deny the public such a wonder.

Improvements on the main road to Deqin and Hongpo Village. Hmm...any erosion induced problems on the horizon?

Improvements on the main road to Deqin and Hongpo Village. Hmm…any erosion induced problems on the horizon?

The further we travel, the more angry I feel. Gorgeous Tibetan dwellings, with terraced fields cascading down the steep mountain slopes, once looked out across the river to a mountain side marred only by a few people trails and a thin shelf for the rural highway. Now it is nuts. Rubble and tunnels and mudslides and ugly bridges and ridiculous massive landslide control contraptions and dugout hillsides, many blasted with some kind of binder (bentonite?) greet them when they look outside. There is no getting away from it. This work goes on for the entire the length of the new road (hours of driving). It is the price to pay for ease of travel. 

The time and expense has been enormous. Mountains sliced and ground, wherever the need, then an attempt is made to tame the shale-like, unstable insides so that the main feature of this region are the containment structures. The remaining rubble from the demolitions are left in place,  enormous piles of ugliness. Did I mention this is the Snow Mountain National Park? It should be spectacularly beautiful.

Mine, but what kind I do not know. I saw at least seven of these huge operations on my drive out.

Mine, but what kind I do not know. I saw at least seven of these huge operations on my drive out.

And then the slag heaps. Ah, the slag heaps. Of course! Mining. Thus the destruction of an extremely beautiful—and very Tibetan— world. There is gold in them thar hills. And other valuable minerals.

When my husband was traveling in Baja, Mexico in the 1980’s, there was a gas shortage. The hangout was Mama Espinosa’s, where the best lobster tacos in the world could be had. A giant RV pulled into her gas station, and insisted on getting gas. The driver argued that she surely has some she was holding onto for herself, and when she refused to sell him any, because there was none, he drove off in a fury, She turned to Tupper and said, “When we had bad roads, we had good people. Now that we have good roads,we have bad people.”

______________

Once in the village, I feel a shift. Hongpo is far enough up the mountain that the destruction below can be left below…at least for now. The new paved road doesn’t lead all the way to Ah Mo’s house, but the driver stops a (curious) villager and asks after her. Soon Yangtso and Yongdon Drolma (now very tall) appear. I get my money ready. I have decided to pay him a bit extra as there were no passengers to pick up in Deqin. Picking up an extra person traveling a short distance is how drivers plump their coffers. I present him with the bills, but he won’t accept them! I am flabbergasted, but such a fuss is being made of my arrival and my giant suitcase, that I rush off to help carry my burdens.

It is delightful to be here, and memories are flooding back. The season for my visit is different, but as we traipse down the little alleyways, things feel familiar. Except the house is so different that I do not recognize it. We enter from a different side, down concrete steps to an enclosed courtyard. The once great room, with the stove that had the pipe ending about seven feet from the ceiling and a dirt floor, is now three rooms, fully floored and there is a grand entry. The kitchen has the stove, but with proper ventilation. WOW!

They have waited for me to arrive before eating, so as soon as I freshened up (used the TOILET, a real porcelain squat toilet instead of the field), I am ushered into the kitchen and treated to boiled mutton, tofu and rice. It’s not bad at all, in fact the meat is quite tender.  Since there is no one who speaks English here, there is no after dinner conversation for me. I am tired, and a bit sick from the altitude, so I am pleased to be shown my quarters. I have a room to myself, and it is the same room where Dawa Drolma, Dolma, and Yongson Drolma and I slept on my first visit.

Very nice to be “home”.

Harbin, day 1

by | Feb 16, 2015 | , ,

A force to be reckoned with, I once again was overwhelmed by the prevailing winds. I think in the long run, all will be well, but for now, I am still recovering from both WN and Harbin. Do I say it was a grand mistake? Well, it simply is what it is, but I would certainly not (NEVER EVER) duplicate the experience.

I cannot blame it on WN, as all of the tours booked the same venues. I had concluded that, since I had communicated that I only wanted to see the ice sculptures, and that I wanted time to photograph them, and that he kept pushing all of the other venues, it must be a government thing. He must HAVE to stick to the established tour route. maybe, but I doubt it. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a kickback involved at the shops, or that somehow favor was gained. I will never know. I do know that I spent most of my time, and a lot of money, going places that not only did I not want to see, they were devastating to my sensibilities. Usury, of both human and animal worlds.

WN is a fairly good sized man, not fat at all, but thick and muscular, and relatively tall. I neglected to ask if he is Chinese, now that I think about it. He certainly acted quintessentially male Chinese, as my prejudices define it. Very dominant, very forceful, very talkative, very loud, and very pushy. The first thing we did was go to the bank, where I changed my money. Then before a step further was taken, he had me pay him IN FULL. Hmm, this is the guy who was counseling never to pay anyone in China up front. He had an itinerary and all of the gate fees figured out. the gondola to Sun Island, where we were to see the Russian village. As it turned out, only the Russian village, then right back over on the gondola to see the ice swimmers. “Wonderful, yes. Very good, very good.” Three, maybe four, swimmers came out and dove into a seriously cold body of water, one that freezes over when the circulating pump is off. That was it, except for a bathing suit attired couple with whom one could pay to have their photo taken. It was a freak show. The best part was the roasted sweet potato. I bought the steaming tubers, one for each of us, altho I did not see WN ever eat his!

Now, it is important to mention that WN was charging $90 for each day, which would have been just fine if he would have done what I wanted. Also, I believe he was honestly well intended and he was truly helpful in practical matters, like going the next day to get my real train ticket without the burden of dragging my luggage. However, the next day after a couple of hours of some actually interesting sightseeing, he told me he had to leave because his boss called. When I suggested that I should not pay the whole day rate, ” my goodness, my goodness, look what I have done for you. I got your ticket.” occurred. Here again, not really black and white, because he made himself available by phone, and once back in Beijing, he was very helpful in getting me to the correct airport. But I am certainly getting ahead of my story.

Did I mention the van? $100/day for a heated van. I now know for sure, the driver did not get all the money, but, hey, a guy’s gotta make a living! Really. I agreed, and that is fine. The van was there when we needed it, and it truly was warm. Mind you, the temperatures were -14F. Fortunately it is a dry cold.

Arrival at Harbin

by | Feb 16, 2015 | , ,

Henry wrote the address of my hotel in Chinese script, so I could get a taxi.  Meanwhile, WN, my guide booked online, had written emphatically NOT to trust the taxi drivers.  I should put my luggage in the back seat of the taxi, and not pay til I had removed my luggage and the driver had printed a receipt. I should also get the price before hand, so he would not charge too much at the end. Harbin, according to WN, is a den of iniquity. Taxi drivers will drive off, stealing luggage before you can get to the trunk to remove it.

At the Harbin train station, Henry’s mother offered to help me get a cab. So we, with her three year old in tow, headed to the taxi gate. HA!  A line to put all lines to shame. An extremely lovely woman, she stayed with me for a bit, and scoffed at WN’s concern about the cab driving off with my luggage.  ” Who would want what is in your bag, anyway,”  she queried, looking at my size. As she had Rory, with her, it seemed insane to ask her to wait with me, so, with many thanks for her help, she soon dissappeared into the nebula of Harbinites returning hone to celebrate New Years.

After at hour or so, I finally found my self at the head of the line, ready to do the cabdash. I slung open the backseat door, and threw my stuff in, and jumped in the front seat.  This unlucky driver ridiculed me to waiting passengrs.  But, hey, I couldn’t understand! The driver was basically furious with me for putting my luggage in the back seat. He could not pick up addition passengers, thereby losing money. I found this out because I called WN, so he could talk to the driver. No matter, we got to the hotel, and check in was a breeze.

The Ibis hotel is, I think, a Danish outfit. Small, but well thought out.  Still…the hard beds of China, and I was very grateful for my blow-up mattress. The staff were very helpful. Enough English was spoken, and, coupled with pantomime, we communicated quite adequately. I would recommend for the budget minded.

And on to Harbin

by | Feb 16, 2015 | ,

First let me say that the miserable little hotel near the train station redeemed itself with the breakfast that was included in the fee. It was great. There was Western fare available, but who would want that when all kinds of savory goodies were available. I opted for seaweed, which was excellent, and some veriform tofu noodles, and a tofu custard. All of these had wonderful spices and sauces. So despite the foot prints on the wall, and the oddness of the place, I’d go there again for the food!

And it was an easy roll to the train station.

There is a procedure for taking the train. First you go to the ticket office. For my train, I was instructd by the online railway booking agent to go to any gate, from 5-20. So spotting the numbered windows, I braved the lines: phenomenal crowds of people and luggage pushing toward the buiding like one giant amoeba. Heading toward window 19, I and my (ridiculous amount of) luggage made it, only to find that that was NOT the ticket office, it was the entry door. So off to the ticket office, a healthy jaunt away with more crowds doing the Chinese que.  The agent had warned that some officials will not take your confirmation.  They will tell you ” no good”, but, they said, be confident that your confirmation voucher is valid. If you should be denied, just go to another window and continue til you have success.

Fortunately I had no such problems (in either direction). I returned to the entrance and immediately after being permitted to enter, was greeted with an X-ray security check — for which I was completely unprepared. Throwing my heavy roll-on onto the conveyor belt, I then struggled to off load my back pack.  Meanwhile the carry-on with iPad and all my paper work was sliding through the X-ray machine with no one, at least not me, on the receiving end. Oh well, it was fine. I gathered it all together, and was on my way.

My next challenge was to find the correct waiting room. The Beijing Train Station is enormous. Thre are many huge waiting areas, with more waiting areas behind them. The elegantly attired railway officials were all quite helpful. Showing them my ticket, first class, they were courteous in getting me to the right places. I do beleive first class helps.

Of course I could not read my ticket, or more realistically put, I didn’t know how to read it. I would show a porter, who would point down the platform. I’d  hustle down seven cars or so, and repeat my ritual to the next porter, who would also point down the platform. I mean WAY down the platform. Had to be at least a quarter mile. I finally stepped into a car and asked if I could sit down. No no no. So I showed my ticket to the close-by passengers, and they pointed back one car.

Well what a delight. When it became clear where I was to sit, a Chinese boy clambered over his mother and took the seat next to me, thrilled that there was an American on board. So this 12 year old, Henry, became my seat mate. I gotta admit it was nice to be speaking with someone fluent in English. He had lived in Colorado, and being one of those kids who just assumes your his best friend, we chatted and played games all of the way to Harbin, and eight hour trip. He did teach me a lot about my iPhone. Although now, of course, I have forgotten.

MEETING GYI’AN

by | Feb 12, 2015 | ,

Dawa Drolma (my traveling partner)’s best friend from university works in Shangri-la, and she was thrilled to be able to meet up with her. Abby, a designated American name from school, is a charming young woman and it was a pleasure to have her helpful presence. Also a former student of Michelle’s, she spoke a fair amount of English. She and Dawa Drolma were, indeed, very close and it was quite interesting to observe the sweetness of their reunion. Abby, whose name is Dolma, is quite fashionable, and by the time we parted ways, Dawa’s wardrobe had taken on an air of glitzy chic.  They were like sisters…teenage sisters. Annoying and charming at the same time.

Dolma asked if we would like to visit her village, and I, of course, jumped at the chance. A home visit, especially staying a noght or so with a local, beats the tourist path anyday. She told me she had two sisters living with her mother, one of whom was blind. Also, that her father and mother had separated, and as a result, when her eldest sister married, her husband came to live with her in her mother’s home. Usually, a married woman goes to live with her husband’s family. In this case, because the household was lacking a male, it was considered diminished in social stature and perhaps even unstable. ???? The house was now blessed with the indomitable energy of two children, Dolma’s niece, ????, about 4, and her nephew, ????, 8?.

Of course, the significance of these details didn’t register with me. I was pleased that I had purchased some Nivea creme for myself, and as I hadn’t used any, I had a gift for this blind girl.  Shallow concern, but innocent.

We had a lovely few days exploring the Kham village of Hongpo. Situated along at the base of a sacred mountain along a few mile stretch of a beautiful tributary, walnut trees grow alongside prickly pear cactus, and the stream bubbles gently down the hillside.  The village is well situated, with a culvert-like diversion heading right past most dwellings, so water is easily accessible, altho if one lives downstream, as my friends do, then it behooves one to arrise early so as to get un polluted water. The have devised an interesting way of pputting a stick in water to create a little spout.  Then the kettle is positioned so the water goes right in and the pot does not have to be submerged.  Clever.

The ride to the village had been breathtaking, both in scenery and in terror. While the main road from ShangriLa was well maintained, even paved with cobblestones for many miles over the pass ( just think of the people laying those stones), the road to Hongpo village was a frightening affair…especially when one looked back across a traverse to see a thin shell of pavement held up by a few sticks. Never mind that the road was simply a narrow shelf zig-zagging up a sheer, rubbly drop-off.

I spent several days photographing the village and meeting Dolma’s neighbors. Oddly, there was no blind sister. Since Dolma had gone out of her way to tell me about her, there was a quiet gaping hole, but something kept me from asking about her.

Finally, the last afternoon of our stay, Dolma asked me if I would like to meet Gyi’an. “Of course,” I said. And I was truly looking forward to the introduction. We, Dolma, Dawa Drolma, and I went out behind the house, past the pig sty to the animals cribs, and a pathetic, thin person emerged, wearing a hat with a very long duck bill. The sight was disturbing and confusing. Then Dolma explained she lived there. Still confused, I caught a glimpse of her face and didn’t believe what I saw. It was a very brief glance, and I imagined that I had been mistaken. But I had not. One of Gyi’an’s eyes protruded out of the socket, a shiny translucent mass about the size of a golf ball. Her other eye was a goopy glob of total blindness. Otherwise a beautiful eighteen year old, Gyi’an was a freak. And one in agony. The bulging eye caused searing pain unless she was perfectly still.

Dolma’s mom asked me to photograph the blind girl, and thinking she wanted to include Gyi’an in the family album, as it were, I worked with the waning light of the last day we were there, positioning her cap just so to make a very nice picture camouflaging her deformity. When I showed it to ________ , Dolma’s mom, she emphatically indicated “no.” She wanted me to photograph Gyi’an’s blind eyes and show the photos to western doctors to see if they could help.

This was quite remarkable, as tradition has it that Western doctors should never be consulted. Had Giy’an had seen an ophthalmologist when she was four, her glaucoma could have been successfully treated. But, for whatever reason,  __________ had changed her mind. It was now that Gyi’an’s mom was ready to look outward, for she asked me to bring Gyi’an’s plight to the attention of the western world.

Heading to Shangri-La

by | Jan 19, 2015 | ,

On my second trip to Asia, Michelle arranged to have me travel with a young student of hers, Dawa Drolma. Extremely intelligent, she was, of course, equally provincial. From a small village in Qinghai Province, she graduated from Qinghai Normal University* in Xining, a very large city in the far west of China, but she had no travel experience. She did, however, speak English very well.  It was a tough job for her in many ways.  The Chinese spoken in the regions where we spent much of our time was difficult for her to understand, so communication was exhausting. As her main task was to function as translator, it must have been quite frustrating.  Also, we encountered some strange happenings that could only befall illiterate strangers…us!  But those stories will come later in the story.

Yunnan Province is rich with the remnants of many indigenous cultures.  In China, there are 55 ethnic groups co-residing with the predominant Han Chinese, and 25 of these can be found in Yunnan. Wanting to see  cultural diversity, the trip was planned accordingly, dipping south west into the lowland rice and tea regions, where the Yi, Naxi, Bai, and Mosuo societies can be found*.  Bordering Vietnam, Laos, and Burma, this canyon-filled landscape is verdant and lush, with the vast diversification of natural species gracing a habitat that has plenty of water and sun.  But in the northwest, Yunnan borders the Tibetan Autonomous Region, the place most of us call Tibet. It is this part of China where we find the Diqin Plateau and mountains soaring to the heavens.  Kawagebo Peak ascends a mighty 22,110 ft (6,740 m).

On my itinerary of “must sees” was a town called Shangri-La, basking at an altitude of well over 10,000 ft. It is supposedly the paradise James Hilton referred to in his 1933 novel, Lost Horizon, but I was attracted to it because of its historical Tibetan town.  As it turns out, Dawa Drolma’s very best friend from college lives there. Visiting Dolma turned out to be life changing

 

read more…

Three weeks to go.

by | Jan 19, 2015 | ,

Departure time is drawing near. I think that I have most of my thing in order now. The list is realistic, albeit, a bit long. Which can be interpreted to mean: I have more than I was hoping to take. The big space taker is, of course, my bed. But I feel safe, and that is good. The little mattress is insulated, and full length which is an improvement over the 3/4 version from my last trip. My new Nemo sleeping bag is “so far, so good”. It is made for side sleepers, and I am trusting it will be more comfortable for me than the semi-mummy, which freaked me out! Claustrophobia. Not good.

I will be putting the suitcase in the belly of the plane, which is always a risk. But, I just couldn’t fit my bed AND spare boots in my carry on. Winter make a difference, even though I will be wearing my snow boots and carrying my coat. Not having everything with me means packing my little back pack differently. I need to rearrange a few things to accommodate a possible delay in the arrival of my big bag. Hmm. Long undies and an extra shirt, all medications, and of course, hat gloves and cameras.

Speaking of which, I think I will bring the two little guys: the lumix wide angle and the Fuji stereo cameras. If I have room, I’ll add the Canon with the 200. It is so hard to travel light!

I bought some Chlorella/Spirulina, which should help out with the possible lack of greens, and I have some turkey jerky for nibbles. I suspect it may be difficult for me to eat out on my own. My dietary restrictions will undoubtedly create a challenge or two, not to mention the language barrier. (I could make myself nervous and cancel the trip if I think much about this!!!)

The things that I am missing are the gifts. Kid stuff I have, but the important presents for the adults I don’t.  What to bring?

the iPad

by | Jan 8, 2015 | ,

So, I think I am finally near the end of the shopping spree.  Just the sleeping bag stuff left to get.  I’ll make a list before I go, and then it will be fun to see what I actually needed as compared to what I thought I needed.

At this moment very moment, I am futzing with the final toy — an iPad. This is a big deal. A lot of consideration went into the decision to get this thing, with serious thoughts about going over to the enemy.  There is a PC pad that is really a computer…and the benefit is that I could download my photos to it, play a dvd etc.  Still, I am a Mac person, and the workings are familiar.  So the iPad it is.

I will need to figure out a few things, like redo and undo. (Where is my command z?) And how do I move the cursor using the keyboard?  But this is trivial. That I can maintain my writing while on the trip is key. I will be alone a lot, and in a place where no one speaks English; it is important for me to have a “job”. Writing it will be.

Hmm. I think I will put a few of the DVDs I did for the western folklife center on the iPad.  Then I can show my friends OUR traditional herding culture! Fun

 

 

 

The big question

by | Dec 24, 2014 | , ,

There are many reasons why I am going to China in February, the majority of which I have yet to discover. Perhaps by the end of the journey, I will have a better understanding of WHY I am going, but right now I don’t. I only know that I am.

This question comes up with most people who learn of my adventure, and I don’t really know what to say. The trip is a big undertaking and in some ways quite unreasonable. I am sixty six, I have broken bones in both feet, and I speak not a word of Tibetan. My command of the mandarin language is limited to saying “I do not speak Mandarin very well” and “hello.” And, to boot, whilst I will be visiting people whom I have met, I am traveling by myself!

One friend suggested it was the extreme nature of the trip that makes it appealing. Although I have found myself in trying circumstances in my travels, I don’t actively search them out. Plus, more and more, I like things to be easy and comfortable. Another pal questioned whether it was a deeper exploration of Buddhism or maybe a sociological study. Partially. My husband said matter-of-factly “you are going to visit your friends.” While this is true, there are unquestionably more comfortable times of the year to do so.

Certainly, attending Losar, the high Tibetan holiday celebrated over a 16 day period starting February 19, is an important part of this journey. I want to be with my friends at this time when they are deep in their Tibetan world, free to be who they are — engrossed in pageantry of their beliefs. And, it will be extraordinary to experience Tibetan Buddhism in full swing. I expect it to be wild. Giant brass horns (akin to diggerydos), drums, and chanting, strange costumes and exotic dancing. So, yes, there is an interest, but I don’t think it is what drives me.

Curiosity, that old friend, has an important role (but, of course!). How do these Tibetan friends of mine live in the winter? What do they do with themselves. In summer their daily tasks are nonstop. Simply getting water is a chore. The eldest son’s wife in one family I will visit again was always up before dawn, walking to the pasture miles up the road to milk the yaks, then returning to prepare breakfast for everyone. Then back to the pasture. This is life. The butter needs churning; the cheese must be made; dung, yak and sheep, must be gathered for fuel; wool must be gotten, combed, and spun to yarn; homespun wool is sewn into sacks to carry the barley which will be ground into tsampa. On and on. But in winter it is cold…VERY COLD. In one home I visited on my second trip, I saw only a tiny wood burning stove, exhaust pipe not even rising to the ceiling, let alone through it. The stove was used for cooking, at least in the summer. But, nothing I saw could heat the great room in which the stove was pitifully central. How do they live in the cold? I will see. For this house is one where I will stay for six days.

________________________________

12/24/14. Tonight I celebrated Merry Festivas Eve sharing a crab dinner with dear friends Sharon and Helen. When the conversation got around to my pending trip, new ideas merged into consciousness relating to the “why.” One is that I need to be out of my comfort zone to feel like I am alive. This is true, within certain parameters, albeit I am not certain sub-freezing temperatures are within those parameters. And the other, which resonates deeply, is that of trust. I am compelled–nay, closer to obsessed–by the desire to take this journey, and, because the passion is there, I can simply trust that it the right path.

I like this last one. 🙂