Monks and Yaks

Today started early, largely because the beds in this five-star hotel are like pool tables. In all other respects, excellent place. Best hotel (probably) in all of Tibet.

Piled into the van and took off for Drepung Monestary, the largest surviving Buddhist monestary in Tibet, with over 300 monks. The place is huge, and is built into the side of a mountain. Climbed hundreds of stairs getting to the top.

Used to be over 500 monks in this place, which was a periodic stop for the Dalai Lama, pre-Cultural Revolution days. But Uncle Mao had his own ideas about religion, and in 1959 he sent most of the Tibetan monks packing back to their farms, and put the Dalai Lama on the run (still is). Since then, things have loosened up a little bit, and Buddhist observance is everywhere. Walking down the streets, one sees hundreds of people in traditional dress swinging prayer wheels, or stopping on the sidewalk in front of monestaries or statues of Buddha to prostrate and mumble prayers. In the monestary, of course, it is rampant.

The monestary is on several levels, each one of which contains a chapel of sorts. Lots of angry looking statues with bug-eyes and a fog of incense everywhere. Monks are, of course, all around. They wear burgundy/red robes with safron scarves. All ages. We stuck around for the noon-time "chant" in one of the upper level rooms. The most bizarre experience imaginable. A troll-like grumbling voice in a monotone recites some kind of cantation over and over again. The monks, all arrayed down rows seated cross-legged seem to only be paying partial attention. But they have the clapping in unison down pretty well. Alice in Wonderland stuff. We were all pretty amazed.

Left the monestary and went to lunch, which brings me to . . . yaks. Yes, yak butter, yak steak, yak pizza (no sh*t), yak curry, and my personal favorite: yak meatballs. In case you don't already know, yaks are huge, ungainly creatures covered with long hair. Mostly they are still grazing in the very high pastures right now, so we haven't seen many. But yak butter is a currency around here. Worshippers bring tubs of it to the monestaries to leave as offerings. It's in everything. In the countryside, people use dried yak dung to heat their "houses" (so to speak).

The yak and the monk are central to this society, which has been dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century by our friends the Chinese. PRC soldiers are everywhere, but no one is belligerent. This is an extremely friendly and peaceful place. The constant eye of the CHinese military might be a small part of that.

So, dinner later on tonite at another yak diner, and then yak pancakes and tea for breakfast in the morning. Tomorrow, more monks and the Dalai Lama's winter palace. Saw it from the road today. Magnificent.

Na maste