Day 4: South Face at Tarboche I could hardly sleep last night it was so cold, even with my down sleeping bag and three layers of clothes. It doesn't help that the wind blows so strongly it sounds like a landslide every five minutes. I scolded myself for not filling my water bottle with boiling water last night to defrost my toes at the bottom of my sleeping bag. I was afraid I'd wake up in a soggy sleeping bag -- not fun.
Today we made a stop at Zutrul Phug gompa, which houses the '"Cave of Miracles." According to our guide, this cave is said to have been constructed by Milarepa himself. Milarepa was a Buddhist poet-saint who spent part of his life on religious hermitage in the caves of Mt. Kailash. Dorje explained that Milarepa had created this particular cave by simply hoisting a boulder onto his shoulders and settling it into some other rocks. We were shown the imprints of Milarepa's hands and head where he lifted the rock. Outside, above the cave, an oily stain covered in barley grains was Milarepa's footprint where he had adjusted the height of the roof.
You would think that once you've seen one gompa, you have seen them all -- not so. On our tour around Lake Manasarovar, we visited four main gompas. Each reflected hints of the sect they belong to. Figures of Sakyamuni Buddha and Padmasambhava, hailed as the founder of Tibetan Buddhism, were at every altar. Several of the older figurines were hidden in Lake Manasarovar during the Cultural Revolution. Unfortunately, many of the original sacred texts and figures were lost forever.
The gompas were breathtaking in a rustic way, but it was sad to see their state of disrepair. The Chinese government funded the monasteries' reconstruction following the destruction of the 1950s, but now the government has abandoned them. Also, there are rarely more than 10 monks living and caring for the gompa.
Now the Chinese government has bigger priorities associated with free market enterprising and keeping Tibet's nomads in check. The government is building settlements for the nomads. It seems like a pretty first-class thing to do, but it leads to overgrazing by the nomads' herds of goats, sheep, etc. It also makes it easier for the government to track down anyone distributing Dalai Lama paraphernalia, as these people travel with the nomads. Even we had to hand over our books for a cursory search at the Nepal-Tibet border.
It was another hour or so until we reached the teashop that marked the end of our kora. We had a celebratory Pepsi before being driven back to Tarboche for the Saga Dawa Festival.
This festival celebrates the anniversary of Sakyamuni Buddha's birth, death and enlightenment, which all happened on the same date throughout his lifetime. The big event consists of erecting a huge flagpole entangled with prayer flags for the New Year. Gowa explained to us that how this pole is brought upright determines the future wellbeing of the universe. Pretty tough call.
Over the last few days, the sacred site of Tarboche turned into some sort of kora-ers Woodstock -- well, minus the sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. There are dozens upon dozens of multicolored tents set up in the valley shadowed by Mt. Kailash, then there are these dust storms that completely overtake the valley. This had everyone making "Dune" allusions as we waited for the giant sandworm to come rumbling through the valley.
We took a small walk to the festival grounds and got a preview of the next day's events. The flagpole was clothed in yak hide and resting on a stand which lifted the pole to a 20-degree angle. Rudimentary convenience stores were operated from the dozen truck beds parked around the festival area. We met some young Englishmen who had been living off instant noodles for the last week. The two guys looked like beanpoles, so we shared our snack. They couldn't believe we had peanut butter.
"Skippy peanut butter!" they said. "Now that's heaven."
Day 5: Saga Dawa Festival - Day 7: Kathmandu
My first encounter with the Saga Dawa festival did not bode well, as Gowa woke us up far too early to make sure we got to the festival on time. This is a huge event in Tibetan Buddhism and everyone who was anyone would be there. In addition to celebrating the New Year, it seemed to us this must have also been a courting event -- everyone was dressed to the nines. We noticed Gowa had washed and slicked back his hair, shaved, and as he passed us, we definitely caught a whiff of cologne. All the Tibetans had on their finest clothes -- which usually meant traditional dresses for the women and suits for the men, even if they were slightly too big or dusty. One woman was even completing a kora in high heels worn with doily-esque white socks.
As for me, I was a lost cause. My naturally curly hair was now straight, completely matted by wind and dust. Who needs a straightening iron when you can just not wash your hair for a week? I did the best damage control I could -- I even slicked on some deodorant. It was totally fruitless since body-odor-causing bacteria can't grow at this altitude, but it made me feel better.
The big hubbub of the festival came in the form of Hindu Swami Chidanand, also known as Swami Muniji, and 150 members of his entourage. The region's head monk had invited them to the festival. With them was a famous Indian dancer, whose name I didn't catch, but was the only Indian dancer to have received two of these extremely prestigious Indian dancing awards. She explained to the crowd that it was her life's ambition to dance for the Lord Shiva and his wife Parvati at the base of Mt. Kailash.
Finally, the flagpole was tugged into its final position with a little help from a nearby truck. Traditionally, the hoisting is done with manpower but hey, we've got horsepower now. Everyone threw their wind-horses and barley flour into the air, crying, "So, so, so!" We did a kora around the newly upright flagpole and whipped out our cameras to get photos. Some of the other foreigners had camera lenses about a foot long which can zoom like, 20 billion times over, while I just had my dinky digital Canon.
For some reason, I became subject to some of these fancy camera lenses. I guess it was because my face says Tibetan but my body, decked out in the top trekking garb, screams foreigner. By the third tourist motioning to take my picture, I began thinking about charging them.
After the impromptu photo shoot, my dad and I checked out the miles of local vendors selling Tibetan antiques and jewelry for anywhere between $2 to $200. Never ask the price of anything unless you're up for a fight, or else you'll never get out alive.
Though I was more than happy to give my feet a break, the drive back to Kathmandu was an unpleasant adventure. We were happy to cross the famous Friendship Bridge back into Nepal and civilization. Or so I thought.
I had a great time rediscovering fresh mango lassis, flush toilets and the Internet, but once the novelty of these things wore off, I couldn't help but miss the simple and spiritual lifestyle surrounding Kailash. As much as I had craved pad thai and tropical weather, I actually had time to see and think about my life. In fact, time demanded reflection and mindfulness about things in the absence of Facebook to check or disheartening news reports to watch.
Now I have to dive back into the real world and hope its fast pace brings me to the year 2014 soon. 2014 is the next Year of the Horse, where any one outer kora equals 13 bonus koras. Since 13 koras is what it takes to trek the inner kora of Mt. Kailash, I'm looking forward to my next visit. That gives me eight years to accrue some sins for atonement. So, I guess that means I'll be working double-time.
Sources:
Allix & Vilmorin. "The Rivers of the Mandala."
Thurman & Wise. "Circling the Sacred Mountain: A Spiritual Adventure."
Tsewang Lama. "Kailash Mandala: A Pilgrim's Trekking Guide."
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