30 June 2006 * Jomda

I'm sitting on the broad Jin Gom or "floor boxes" forming a large L in the corner of Gadrön (Tara's #6 sister) & Tsewang Rinzin's kitchen. Gadrön & Tara chat while the TV shows a troupe of little girls dancing in red boots and one-sleeved puffy white dresses. They're celebrating the inauguration of the Qinghai-Tibet railway. Tibet welcomes all of China to come visit the mysterious, happy, friendly, colorful land of gods. Just jump on the train!

The nomads stand with broad smiles next to their yaks midst green flower-filled fields, holding scarves of welcome. But we don't see the foreground photo:
• a valley torn to shreds by a mega-mining operation
• exhaust staining the air while tailings, sediment, and trash spread everywhere
• nomads scavenging the fringes in search of better pasture

Meanwhile, an old lady devoutly spins her Mani wheel next to the railway.

*       *       *
Yesterday was a trip of trips. We checked out of the Golden River and found ourselves trying to get our heavy suitcases up onto the top of the yellow bus that was to carry us to Jomda.

A happy mix of Chinese and Tibetans took flight up the paved highway to Toba, chatting, laughing, smoking, singing, eating, spitting, and checking cell phones as we rocked and rolled down the road.

We passed through hills, canyons, fields, forests, and hamlets, gradually climbing to the strange wild truck-stop town of Toba. Bus stopped. Everybody piled off into a raucous grimy restaurant. Wok fires roaring, dishes clattering, dust, smoke, flies, and the obligatory dog chained at the back door.

One delicious lunch of fried green beans with peppers and cabbage mélange soup later, we were off again. That's when our adventure began. Before long, we outran the paved highway. Our driver, an artist at the wheel, gunned the engine and plied the red mud ruts.

We crawled up 4450 m Lhazhi La, all the while watching endless gangs of road crews chipping stone, building the mandatory gutters by hand and mortar, kilometer after kilometer all the long way up the mountain. It's a major road-building operation, incredible in terms of the sheer labor required to carve a stable path through this wild land. I wonder whether this road will require constant maintenance.

We bogged down in one rutted mud canyon and everyone had to get off. Driver busted up the slope and we happily climbed back on. Approaching the highest slopes we found them to be covered in purple shrubs all a-bloom. As we crossed the high pass, travelers shouted a cheerful Lha Gyel Lo! and tossed prayer papers to the wind.

We descended into a rolling landscape of high peaks and broad meadows. When the rear-right bus tire blew, we took the opportunity to wander a field of buttercups, Tibetan yams, and lovely little blue flowers.


Bus re-wheeled, we headed for the next pass. On the other side, we encountered the beginnings of a large copper mining operation. We heard the copper reserves in that area rank among the largest in the world. So, the Chinese are building a new mining town to house the army of miners who will wield the machinery of massive exploitation. Already, the valley is filled with heaps of rock, haphazardly sifted and dumped next to piles of trash and rusting machinery. A happy billboard announces the future site of the planned town. What was once a beautiful pasture for nomad herders is now a wrecked wasteland, around which nomads must now steer their herds to higher upland slopes.


Will the mining operation clean up after itself? Or, will they strip the land and leave a massive mess in their wake? I'd like to know.

27-June-2006 * Chamdo

Am I dreaming, or are we really in Chamdo?! Here I crouch on our bed in the Jin Chuan Binguan (Golden River Hotel). Beside me Tessa is busy in her journal, while Tara channel-surfs Tibetan TV. Somehow we wound up here after spending last night in a clean little room next to the Chengdu Airport. This morning broke clear and fresh after an overnight rain. We hurriedly packed our stuff, grabbed some steamed buns, and made our way to the airport…wondering whether today's flight would be canceled like yesterday's.

But they let us board. And the plane took off. And before long we found ourselves sailing over cloud and snow-clad mountain ranges. I saw majestic Minyak Gangkar soaring above the rest, like a powerful sovereign, reigning over the entire region.

We made our descent from cruising altitude in less than 17 minutes because Bangda Airfiled is so high. The long white runway splits a broad treeless wind-swept valley. The thin air was a balmy 8° this June day, rather chilly after the muggy sweaty 30s we'd experienced for the past two weeks in Chengdu. But the eroded, cracked concrete and deserted mud dwellings near the terminal spoke of a bitter cold desolation that sweeps through this valley in winter.

Our adventure began when we stepped onto the bus. I got to sit in the back, which proved to be great fun as we bumped, twisted, and swerved our way down the 120 km road to Chamdo. From broad flower-strewn meadows with nomads tending herds of yak, sheep, and goats we descended through hairpin twists into a steep deep canyon decked in green and yellow terraces and ornamented with the cheery pine & rammed-earth dwellings of the canyon farmers. Lower still, we reached the Mekong River, red with silt and rushing through iron rocks and rusty earth. Bright green plots of barley and hot-house watermelon farms were interspersed with lovely green poplar groves, hydro power projects, army bases, small mining operations, and what appeared to be a concrete factory running full-bore.



We arrived in Chamdo, crossed the Dza Chu River and found ourselves dropped off on a street side. Then one of our fellow passengers stepped up to help us out. He helped us find a hotel and later, we shared a lunch of delicious yak mo-mos and potato crispers. Our friend is studying economics in college, but he wants to make movies. He commented that all the movies and music videos of Tibet show nothing but beautiful scenery and happy dancing people. They never show the other aspects of life here.

When we parted company, I made the wish to meet again…I really liked him and hope he finds excellent success in his search for fulfillment.

The streets of Chamdo are a blur of beeping taxis and staring Tibetans. Everywhere, they stare at me and Tessa in amazement, their fierce bright eyes wide in wonder. But our lungs and hearts are a bit stressed, so we're laying up in the hotel to chill our heels 'til tomorrow.

24-June-2006 * Chengdu

We went to the home of Yue Chi-Meng for a cooking lesson+lunch. Chi-Meng lives a simple life with his wife and son. Their front entry is graced by ripening bunches of grapes and a cluster of bamboo. Inside, their simple living room contains a couch, computer, wall map of China, and a Chairman Mao calligraphy calendar. Their ground-level apartment also includes 2 bedrooms and a washroom. The kitchen is strung out along the narrow back porch, where Chi-Meng spends a lot of his time concocting delicacies.

I watched with interest as he prepared Fish Fragrance Eggplant Slices, Sweet & Sour Peppered Chicken, Chicken with Tea Stick Mushrooms, Sweet & Sour Pork Spare Ribs, Stir-fried Red Long Beans, Cold Green Beans with Ginger & Garlic, and Tomato-Egg Soup. Chi-Meng's cooking is wonderful, careful, patient, casual, skillful, and delicious.



Chi-Meng's wife was very shy, never speaking to me directly. But she was eager to show us her son's beautiful calligraphy. He, a 1st-year high school student, spends only an hour or so per week practicing calligraphy. But when he was younger, it was more like an hour a day, from the age of six.

He got out his brush and paper after lunch, and took a long few minutes to bring his mind to focus while dipping and shaping his brush in just the right amount of ink. Then he began to paint the black words on white paper. Copying from those of a Tang Dynasty emperor, who had written an essay of congratulations to the monk Tang Shan, of Journey to the West fame.

22 June 2006 * Chengdu

Tseten Dorje

We met Tseten Dorje in the Tibetan restaurant where he prepared "pofato" and yak meat momos, sweet tea, and tsampa for us. He's 24 years old, from Lhasa. A friendly open-faced man with lots of freckles, intelligent and bright.

Tseten Dorje warned of the Ganze thieves who operate in gangs after dark in Chengdu's Tibetan quarter. He told of one theft of his new cell phone by a motorcycle-riding thief: grabbed his phone and sped away, leaving Tseten stunned and speechless.

Ku-Ku

Ku-Ku says she is over 80 years old. She also presents herself as a fortune teller. Short, round, smiling, smoking, short-haired Tibetan woman. She said she had lived on the street since she was a girl Tessa's age.

We had met her before in Tseten's restaurant, when she came through asking for money. We have her 5 yuan and some mo-mos. This time, when she saw us wandering the Aba district, she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into her tiny home -- a singe, windowless room with two beds. Her clothes and stuff piled haphazardly everywhere. Cigarettes on the bed.

Ku-Ku wanted to tell my fortune. She said would life to the age of 89. She said my mouth was harsh by my heart is good. She said I had a lot of obstacles and financial problems in my late 30s.

Then she warned us not to wander carelessly in the Aba district. Thieves were lurking and would take notice of us. We bid Ku-Ku good-bye and left that strange scattered street, suddenly suspicious of everyone.

Master Ye

Into a tea garden along Jing Li, sailed Master Ye, dressed in pure white silk and black cotton shoes. He displayed his fan, calligraphed with the words Zhang Shi Chu (Elder Teacher Emerges), flapping it along his face. His thin white hair and wispy beard serve to enhance his already magnetic charisma.

Master Ye wanted to chat. He was interested in all people and activities around him. He told me he had many students from many countries around the world. He then proceeded to show me his photos. He said he's famous because he appears in TV ads.

Then, suddenly, he flipped out his fan to cover his face. People were trying to neak-shoot photos of Master Ye from the street. We saw them lurking behind the bamboo screen, holding their cameras at the ready. Master Ye did not want to be photographed without consent.

Me

Where is your home town?

M.Y.

Azure Fortress Mountain, where I freely roam from temple to temple, teaching Kung-Fu and Tai-Ji.

Me

How big are the spiders at Azure Fortress Mountain?

M.Y.

So large that their webs extend throughout the whole world.

Me

What kind of dreams do pandas dream?

M.Y.

Beautiful dreams.

Me

Is pollution natural?

M.Y.

The basic nature of pollution is natural. However, we should do our best to reduce pollution because of its damaging effects to health. We should heed the ancient Taoist maxim: 'Ching Jing Wu Wei' (Pure, Still, Without Artifice)

17 June 2006 * Azure Fortress Mountain

Between the soundtrack ski lift and the cotton-clad top-knotted monks and nuns, Azure Fortress Mountain is an amazing and bizarre mix of tourist trap and genuine Taoist temple complex, all strung out along stone pathways, plying an incredibly lush and diverse tropical forest.

This is a place where everything is for sale: locks for securing good luck to rusty chain railings; peeled cucumbers; plastic chili pepper necklaces, and sedan chair rides of the mountain on the sweating backs of the Maroon Gang.

13 June 2006 * Chengdu

1. The Panda's Dream

Redbird shouts from the human wiretree: "Yellowman! Yellowman!" I look to find yellowman with his dart straw hiding in a food grove. He sees me with his black longeyes, and he takes up his dartstraw. I must hide quickly. So, I slide down the food stalks…and…I can fly over whispering green leaves of bamboo, fly like Redbird.

But yellowman is following! I must swim. So I swim into a hidden pool, lined with Gladiolas, gold and orange. Bluefish points his fin….yellowman is lurking above the pool. I must hold my breath. But…I...must...breathe. Finally, I surface…and I hear the shout of the dart stick…startling me awake…and…I am in my pen, …resting on a flat soft wood platform. Tourists are clapping their hands.

2. Anniversary

It is one year since my mother died, and we've spent this day in Chengdu, mindful of mom/grand-mom throughout the activities of this day. We visited the Panda Research Base, which mom would have enjoyed. She would have taken us there if she could. It's a lovely panda zoo midst bamboo groves. We shot a lot of pictures, some of which would be suitable material for a Jacqueline painting.

We went to Tara's school, wandered through the student cafeteria with its orange plastic chairs, and we chatted with the International Program office staff. Mom would not have chosen either of these activities, nor would she have wanted to eat at the loud little TV-blaring street-side restaurant where we sampled wontons and noodle soup for lunch.

But mom would have enjoyed watching the World Cup game, Italy vs. Ghana, which we sat through back in our room. (Italy outclassed and outscored Ghana, 2-0.)

Mom would be very happy with Tessa, watching her so bright and interested: writing a nice letter to Ms. Waterfield and her SMS gang; completing her Kumon homework; starting to learn some Chinese as she grows and blossoms day-by-day. Mom never got the baby daughter she and Mason had hoped for, but she loved her grand and great grand daughters very much!

Tessa made the wish of aspiration for mom after we did our Chenrezi practice for her: "May she be reborn in the pure realm that daddy wants to go to, or may she even become a Buddha!"

10 June 2006 * Beijing

These impressions muddle my baffled mind:

• Dancing picture words everywhere
• Skanky grease alleyways
• The religion of shopping
• Scorpions on a stick, and skewered frogs, and snakes
• Ashamed to give an old beggar 20 Jiao
• Loudspeaker blaring, flag-trooping tour clutches trampling Forbidden City
• Everyone trying to sell a foreigner anything
• Beggars with strange limbs
• Beggars with weird skin
• Materialism rules supreme
• The emperor's throne is empty.

8 June 2006 * Air China

Black stone and white snow peaks filling the horizon, while below gaps in cloud reveal glimpses of lake, forest, and a scattered tangle of islands midst the navy sea. Our B767 rumbles across the Pacific fringe, but we have arrived in China already. Immediately upon boarding, we were engulfed by Jia-di Ge (bird language). Now, from every quarter, the chirping tangles with Boeing's rumble, a bubbling pot of expectations for this summer.

I know Tara shares my sense of bemused disbelief that we're actually…. *actually* …on our way, after so many days, weeks, months, years of anticipation. we're going to China and hopefully, we're going home, again, after seven years out of Tibet.

I must not leave behind the teachings from this past weekend. How fortunate for me to see the Very Venerable Mingyur Rinpoche in Vancouver, at Palpung Phende Kunkyab. He reminded me of Milarepa's advice. We could live on an island in the middle of a pure, unspoiled lake of delicious mineral water, but if we don't bother to take a drink, our thirst will never be quenched!

I wish I may remember again and again and again to turn toward the recognition of awareness. By doing so, may I ripen my mind stream for the benefit of every being and situation I encounter!