21 August, 1998 - Travel day.

A morning flight into Lhasa, with the typical wait at the airport, while the logistics were sorted out. The bus ride into Lhasa was a long one. The Lhasa airport is actually 2 hours away from Lhasa, across the river. The river was at a seasonal flood level, and the only usable bridge was a military bridge far upstream. The people did not seem to be much concerned about the flood, even though it was over the road in several places. Life along the river went on, with some farm animals grazing on islands in the middle of the flood. Boats continued to ply the waters. This one looks like a dredge or sea vegetable harvester of some sort. On the bus, my fellow tourists are unusually quiet. Are they all as tired as I, or is it the fascination of a new country? We made several stops along the way. One, to take pictures of a rural village, and another, to visit a shrine that had been carved and painted into the side of a mountain. When we finally arrived at the hotel, we were greeted by a performance by a local Tibetan group of dancers and musicians. We were told that we would be given prayer shawls as gifts, but it seems there was a mix-up, and all the shawls were given to the bus that arrived before us instead. We were later handed a shawl as we walked into the restaurant for lunch. As I was relaxing during the meal, I happened to look up and see the Potala Palace through the lace curtain on the window. Outside the restaurant, we met the most persistent group of beggars we ever encountered. These three boys gave 70 people the feeling of 'running the gauntlet'.

22 August, 1998 Lhasa, Xizang Zizhiqu province, China (formerly known as the Tibetan Autonomous Region)

Very tired - moving slowly. Constant sinus headache. Spent all day yesterday in bed. Able to get up some today, but not moving or thinking very fast. Strange metallic taste in mouth.

Lhasa is smaller, growing slower than China. Only one gantry crane spotted so far. Tibetan people appear clean and happy. Many horns honking - traffic is more like China two years ago. Two-wheeled farm tractors pulling trailers again a common sight in the city. Simple engine - Boiling water jacket - not used in USA since early this century.

I haven't seen much that I would consider Tibetan. City architecture definitely shows Chinese influence. Restaurants and businesses are mostly Chinese. Chinese military presence everywhere. Quick glance thru the gates of a military base as the bus passes by shows clean, well-maintained buildings, neatly mowed lawns. A real contrast to the dust and mud everywhere else. It's clear the Chinese want their soldiers to be happy serving in Tibet. Electrical outlets are 220V, but different than in the rest of China - flat blade contacts, splayed at an angle, with the ground pin above the 'open' side of the hot pair. Our guide, Susanne, is a Chinese resident of Lhasa. She refers to the Tibetans as 'they', and appears to demean them often.

I'm looking forward to this afternoon's visit to a Tibetan medical school. Maybe I'll get some help for this headache!

Massive traffic jam this morning, trying to get to the monastery, along with 20,000 Tibetans, for the festival. Some people found the energy to get out and walk the last 5km. I chose to stay on the bus and rest. The busloads of Tibetans did not seem to be the least bit upset by the delay. Families with their kids all dressed up for the festival. When we finally progressed a bit, I caught a glance of the monastery we were seeking. It still looked a long way off, and it was definitely at a much higher altitude than the city. Those who chose to walk were going to get more exercise than they had expected.

When we has all returned to the hotel, we set off again to visit a 'typical' Tibetan home. On the way there, our guide apologized for the crowding, saying that 'for political reasons, they don't want anyone talking about the Dalai Lama, or the central government. So there is only one family that is approved to receive foreign visitors.' In other cities, we had divided up, so that 70 people were not invading one family's home. We later found out that the home we visited was that of a government official. The home itself was quite well appointed, with hand-painted decorations on some of the furniture. We were served sweet yak-butter tea, as well as watermelon (everywhere!) and candy. Through a translator, our hostess answered questions for us, but was so overwhelmed by our visit, she couldn't remember any of the questions she wanted to ask! As we left, I was struck by the contrast between the neat, clean interior of the home, and the street scene just outside the front door. Is this typical? Across the street, prayer flags flew from the corner of a neighbor's house.