our pilgrimage to tibet

8/8/2019 Our Pilgrimage to Tibet

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Our

Pilgrimage to

Tibet

By

Michael & Margaret Erlewine


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This Book is Dedicated

To my Kids:

IotisMichael Anne

MayMichael Andrew


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An ebook from

Startypes.com315 Marion Avenue

Big Rapids, Michigan 49307Fist published 1998

Michael Erlewine 1998

ISBN 978-0-9794970-0-1

All rights reserved. No part of the publicationmay be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

system, or transmitted, in any form or by anymeans, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,recording, or otherwise, without the prior

permission of the publisher.

Cover photo by Margaret Erlewine.

Photos mostly by Margaret Erlewine. Some byMichael Erlewine or Kate White.


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This book is dedicated to

The Venerable

Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche


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Table of Contents

Preface by Michael Erlewine .................. 11Our Visit to Find the 17th Karmapa ..... 13Getting Ready to Go .......................... 20Passports, Visas, and Cash ............... 21

The Overseas Flight ................................ 28Tokyo ................................................. 30Hong Kong! ........................................ 31Hong Kong To Kathmandu ................. 36We Arrive in Kathmandu ......................... 37The First Day in KTM ......................... 44To the Airport and on to Tibet ............. 50

Gonghar Airport ...................................... 51Our Guides: Pemba and Tashi ........... 51The Tara Shrine ................................. 55The Tara Shrine ................................. 56Altitude Sickness ................................ 58

In Lhasa: The Jokhang ........................... 62On To Tsurphu ......................................... 67

Monks and Ceremonies ..................... 72The Ramoche Oracle ......................... 77

The Karmapa............................................ 81The Road to Tsurphu Monastery ........ 93With the Karmapa .............................. 94Dropon Dechen Rinpoche .................. 96H.H. the 17th Karmapa ...................... 97A Typical Tibetan Bathroom (for two) 110

Samye and Chimpuk ............................. 111The Boat to Samye Monastery ......... 112Main Gompa at Samye .................... 118Climbing to the Caves ...................... 119By Horseback to Chimpuk ................ 119


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Cave of Guru Rinpoche ........................ 126Guru Rinpoche Statue ...................... 127

Abandoned Village Sekhang Zhirka . 132Lumo Durtr Naga Cemetary ........... 133Walking in the Clouds ...................... 135The Cave Where We Are Headed .... 138Inside Guru Rinpoches Cave........... 140Yeshe Tsogyal ................................. 144

Leaving Tibet ......................................... 146Leaving Tibet: Gonghar Airport ........ 146Waiting for the Plane ........................ 152

The Food in Tibet: An Opinion ............. 153Bhadrapur and Bharitpur ...................... 160

Entering the Jungle .......................... 169Bhadrapur and Mirik ............................. 173

The Kalachakra Stupa ...................... 178Very Venerable Bokar Rinpoche ...... 182Ralang and Gyaltsap, Rinpoche ........... 183

His Eminence Gyaltsap Rinpoche .... 188Rumtek Monastery ................................ 189

Rumtek to Darjeeling ........................ 191Darjeeling ......................................... 194Kalu Rinpoche .................................. 196Driving in the 3rd World ......................... 200The Mountain Roads ........................ 205Strike: Bhadrapur to Biratnagar ........ 209

Pullahari ................................................. 216Khenpo Lodro Namgyal ................... 220

The Last Days ........................................ 222The Great Swayambu Stupa ............ 224Boudha ............................................. 227


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Happy Valley .................................... 232Monks ..................................................... 237

Escorting a Monk to America ........... 238Tibetan Astrology .................................. 243Margaret Erlewines Notes ................... 245

We're Going to Tibet! ....................... 245Tulung Valley ................................... 249The Road to Tsurphu ....................... 251His Holiness, the 17th Karmapa ....... 254

The Tsurphu Foundation .................. 257After the Interviews .......................... 259The Protector Shrine ........................ 260A Young Monk .................................. 262

Shel-Drak ............................................... 264Still a Long Way to Go ..................... 270

Notes by Michael Andrew ..................... 274OUR TRIP TO TIBET ....................... 274

Traveling Suggestions .......................... 277Quick Guidelines for Asia Trip .......... 285Water ............................................... 285Food ................................................. 286Important Items ................................ 287Sleeping ........................................... 289Personal Hygiene ............................. 289Printed Stuff ..................................... 292Luggage ........................................... 293First-aid Kit ....................................... 294Doctor-related Medicines ................. 296

Michael Erlewine ................................... 298A Brief Bio of Michael Erlewine ........ 299Example Astro*Image Card .............. 300Personal Astrology Readings ........... 301The Heart Center House ................. 301


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Heart Center Library ......................... 302All-Music Guide / All-Movie Guide .... 303Heart Center Meditation Room ......... 305Heart Center Symbol ........................ 307Music Career .................................... 308Email: ............................................... 311


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Preface by Michael ErlewineThat first trip to Tibet over ten years ago was alife-changing event for me and my family.Being asked by my dharma teacher of manyyears to stop what I was doing, take a leavefrom my business, and go to Tibet, all withinabout a month, was mind boggling to say the

least. It turned my life upside down.Of course we would go. I had asked myteacher for years in every interview if there wasanything special he wanted me to do and healways responded that I should just keep onpracticing meditation and so on. It had becomeroutine that there was nothing in particular hewanted me to do, and then this: go to Tibet andsoon.


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And my wife and I could not just up and leavethe kids. After all, we had never even had a

babysitter in all these years and we had fourkids. That should tell you something. So ofcourse, we had to take the kids with us, at leastthree of them.

This is the story of our pilgrimage to Tibet tosee the 17th Gyalwa Karmapa, Ugyen TrinleyDorje, the actual golden child that the movie

The Golden Child was based on. In theprocess, we visited many of the sacred cavesand monasteries in Western Tibet.

Margaret and I made a second trip to Tibet in2004, this time accompanied by our teacherVen. Khenpo Karthar, Rinpoche, but that wouldbe another story. I hope you enjoy this one.


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Our Visit to Find the 17th Karmapa

By Michael ErlewineAlthough today it seems like some far offdream, only a few short weeks ago I was highin the mountains of Tibet at Tsurphu Monastery(the seat of the Karma Kagyu Lineage), whereI met His Holiness Urgyen Trinley Dorje, the17th Gyalwa Karmapa. All of this is even moreremarkable since my friends know that I hate

airplanes and seldom travel far from my homein mid-Michigan. Although I have beeninterested in Buddhism for many years, I neverseriously considered going to Tibet. Thensuddenly, in less than a month, I am in Tibet,along with my wife, two daughters, and youngson. How does such an event happen to amiddle-aged businessman? It happens whenyour lama tells you to go to Tibet as soon aswe could manage it. Here is our story:

My wife and I are long-time students of KhenpoKarthar, Rinpoche, the abbot of KTD (KarmaTriyana Dhamachakra) Monastery. Rinpochewas sent to the U.S. in the mid 1970s by HisHoliness, Rigpe Dorje, the 16th Karmapa, to

represent the Karma Kagyu Lineage in theUnited States. Just as the Dalai Lama is thehead of the Gelugpa sect of Tibetan Buddhism,so the Gyalwa Karmapa is the head of theKarma Kagyu Lineage. And incidentally, theKarmapas lineage (stemming from Marpa andMilarepa) is the older lineage, with HisHoliness the Karmapa representing the first

tulku (reincarnated lama) in the history of Tibet,


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and all other reincarnations of this sort beingsubsequent to the Karmapas.

Ven. Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche

The Karma Kagyu lineage comes from the AdiBuddha Vajradhara, who imparted teachings tothe Indian saint Tilopa, who in turn taught (alsoin India) his student Naropa. Marpa, theTibetan translator, traveled to India andreceived these teachings from Naropa, andbrought them to Tibet, where he imparted them

to his main student Milarepa (Tibets greatestyogi). Milarepa went on to teach his studentGampopa, who taught the first Karmapa(Dusum Khyenpa). The entire line of theKarmapas (17 incarnations) have beensuccessive reincarnations of that sameessence. In fact the lineage today representsan unbroken chain of students and teachers

that culminates in the young 17th Karmapa,who resides in Tibet. The Karmapa is the


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reincarnation around which the movie TheGolden Child was based.

Over the last 20 years, Khenpo Rinpoche andanother Rinpoche (Bardor Tulku, Rinpoche)have worked to build an extensive monasterycomplex near Woodstock, in upstate NewYork, including a vast shrine hall, an 11-footgold Buddha, and even a traditional 3-yearretreat center (one for men and another for

women). A visit to the KTD monastery, high onMeads Mountain, is an unforgettableexperience.

Each year we journey from our home inMichigan to KTD Monastery for a 10-dayintensive teaching that Khenpo Rinpoche offersto senior students. Now in something like itseighteenth year, it is a chance for the studentsto practice and be together and to receiveRinpoches teaching. In recent years, KhenpoRinpoche has been giving advancedMahamudra teachings, not because westudents are particularly ready for theseteachings, but because (as Rinpoche puts it), ifhe is to teach this material (due to his age), it

will have to be now.During our stay there this last July (1997), wehad requested and received permission for apersonal interview with Rinpoche. At thatinterview, I had outlined certain fairly severebusiness problems that I had been goingthrough over the last year or two. Working witha translator, I laid out my questions and

Rinpoche began to answer.


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But after less than a minute, he just stopped,looked at us, and declared that he was not

going to answer further himself, and that,instead, we should take these questions to HisHoliness, the 17th Karmapa and ask himdirectly. Karmapa would be able to answer ourquestions.

We all looked at each other in amazement,because His Holiness could only be found at

Tsurphu Monastery, deep in the reaches ofTibet. I mumbled something to Rinpocheabout, well, perhaps next year, next spring orsomething, but Rinpoche said: No, thisSummer, as soon as you can arrange it. Bythis time, Khenpo Rinpoche had a great smileon his face as if he were very, very happy forus. We were speechless. He then went on to

speak about impermanence, how life is short,and that none of us know the time or manner ofour death. He was directing us to go to Tibetsoon, this very summer.

Talk about turning your world upside down. Mego to Tibet? What a novel idea! I almost nevertravel and had never seriously thought of going

there. I had always said, a little smugly Iconfess, that I was interested in the Buddhismin Tibetan Buddhism and not particularly inthe Tibetan culture. Anyway, I left that interviewin a daze, my head spinning, but also knowingthat I had better go home and pack my bags.Rinpoche wants us to go to Tibet, I mused.

For years I had worked with Khenpo Rinpoche

and each year during our personal interview, Iwould always ask him if there was anything


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particular I should be doing. Aside fromencouraging me to keep practicing, he never

gave any specific direction. I was always a littledisappointed that there was not eversomething more specific he wanted me to do.And now this. Rinpoche had just told me to goto Tibet, and, this summer. It was already mid-July. After the surprise cleared away, we knewthat we were pumped.

In fact, we were so charged up that we wentout and climbed to the top of the localmountain that same night, something we hadnever done in all the years we had beencoming to the monastery. Starting about 7 PM,with the Sun already dimming, most of myfamily climbed to the top and surveyed thevalley in the distance below us, with all of the

twinkling lights, later coming down themountain in complete darkness. Our headswere right. We were good to go and when wereturned from the teaching to Michigan, wemanaged to prepare and take off within amonth of our directive from Rinpoche. Fromthat first day, we were as good as gone toTibet.


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Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche (left)Lodro Nyima RinpocheAt Mt. Wu Tai Shan in China


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Getting Ready to GoWhat a busy time it was. Suddenly we hadeverything to do and little time to do it in. Thefirst thing we did was to attempt to book ticketswithin a month. In that short time, we had toget passports, visas, a tour set up,inoculations, etc.

Although we made expensive airlinereservations right off, trying to bookinexpensive tickets took weeks of finagling.What a lot of time was wasted waiting for thoselong-shot cheap tickets to clear. In the end, wegave up and just paid the going rate, whichwas about $2000 per person from here toKathmandu. Passports, too, come in slow and

expedited forms. Here, too, we had to payextra to expedite the process. Even then, they

just came through in time. And for passports,you need up-to-date birth certificates, the oneswith an imprinted seal on them! It turns out thatsome of our certificates, while good years ago,no longer came up to specs. This precipitateda frantic search (and extra fees!) to get fresh

copies of what we already had and have themovernighted to us. The passport people justheld up everything until they got exactly thebirth certificates they required.

Inoculations were a mini-drama in themselves.What shots to get? What shots to ignore? Whatabout the wisdom of shots at all? We pulled all

the information we could get from books, theinternet, and local doctors, but they did notagree. We began calling disease control


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centers and national experts. One thing is forcertain: few people know the whole story about

getting immunizations for traveling to othercountries, although most local doctors firmlybelieve they know the facts. And we were on atight schedule too, because our 11-year oldhad not had all of his shots as a child.Somehow, we all got the shots we needed. Ibelieve I got five or six in one fine day. Some ofus got sick from them.

Passports, Visas, and Cash

Visas we left up to the tour guide inKathmandu, although we poked around on theinternet and scared ourselves good a couple oftimes.

As for the itinerary, that was pretty much left upto me. Aside from the shelf of books I boughton Tibet, India, and Nepal, I had access to acouple of sangha members with Tibet

experience. Forget about watching the latestmovies. Every night found me burning themidnight oil, trying to figure out a million


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angles. Lets see, there was the Tibetanlanguage, the medical supplies, the trekking

equipment, the pilgrimage spots, the maps tofind, the clothing the works.

Speaking of the Tibetan language, I got a fewbooks and made some laminated cheat-sheetsfor each member of our group. On a pocket-sized sheet, I listed all of the most importantphrases they would need, everything from

Please help me to Where is the bathroom?Then, on a second double-sided laminate, I putall of the elements of Tibetan grammar plushundreds of major verbs and nouns, everythingthey could need to piece together sentences.That took a lot of time, because I had to digestit all in order to condense it.

As for a list of what to take, I collated thesefrom all the books I had plus the experiences ofseveral sangha members, who had alreadybeen there.

In particular, Michael Doran of KTD Monastery,who had just returned from his first Asian trip,provided us the kind of practical advice wethirsted for. As for experience, we had the

invaluable and much needed help from AndyQuintlin and Ward Holmes, both Tibetanguides on occasion. It was Andy who helpedus get the tour setup. And Gloria Jones, wholives in Kathmandu, helped us in so manyways, in particular, when we were inKathmandu. She was always ready to help,when we needed her.

Their notes included things like You cantbring enough Kleenex! and Dont forget the


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Tucks pads. I boiled down all of these listsinto a master list of items that we had to

consider, which list was promptly ridiculed bymy 21-year old daughter (who was comingalong), who felt that she would just bring whatshe wanted to bring along. The list is postedelsewhere here.

I made many trips to K-Mart and Wal-Mart withlist in hand, snagging various items as they

presented themselves to me in the aisles. Mywife, who favors homeopathic and naturalremedies, worked on that end, while I madesure we had the allopathic items that would atleast address the symptoms. I collected thingslike laxatives, diarrhea medicine,antihistamines, and all those things we love tohate, until we need them.

As for clothing, we soon found that most of theold standard mail-order catalogs that used tocarry outdoor wear had kind of upscaled andnow had more preppy clothes than substance.Even old L.L. Bean is now selling dog bedsand Christmas wreaths, looking more andmore like a Pennys catalog. This forced us, for

some items, into hiking catalogs likePatagonia, Marmot and to whatever expeditionand outfitter stores we could find. It was fun,when the store cliff-jockey, who was telling youabout the advantages of this or that sockcombination, asked us Where are you going tobe hiking?, to answer Tibet. Their eyeswould bug out, despite their best efforts at self-

control. Not that we were going to do that muchclimbing.


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When it came to hiking and camping gear, wereally got sidetracked. I believe my wife

ordered some 10 different pair of hiking boots,9 of which she sent back. It took weeks tofigure the boot angle out and she went hiking,only once. I settled for a pair of comfortableNike hiking boots, rather than with the moreuncomfortable real thing. They worked fine forthe two times I really hiked. And socks. Youknow that everyone had to have some $14-a-pair hiking socks, which were in fact worth themoney.

I had metal mirrors, mosquito head nets,Swiss-army knives, candles, flashlights,waterproof matches, hidden money pouches,Nalgene water bottles, and so on. About theonly thing we didnt take were decoder rings

and Ovaltine labels.But I really spent those late nights on theitinerary for our Tibetan journey. There beingno detailed map of Tibet available to me, Iphotocopied tiny section maps from VictorChans Tibet Handbook and pieced themtogether to create one large map of the areas

we were planning to visit. Then, with books inhand, I read and plotted out a path that I hopedwe could follow. Of course, the central point inthe journey was our visit to Tsurphu.Everything else after that was gravy. It was ahigh-energy time -- those weeks preparing forthe trip -- and visions of Tibet danced throughmy head.

The reaction of my family to the trip was mixedand changed with the weather. Most were


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against it right off, because they knew I wantedthem to go and that they were not really being

given a choice. I cant blame them. Our 11-year old was loathe to give up his friends andhabits and have to go anywhere. Pretty muchthe same response from our 15-year old. My21-year old daughter was more game, but shedidnt really say Yes! until Khenpo, Rinpochelooked her dead in the eye and said she shouldgo. She said, OK. As for my wife, she wentback and forth from being good to go todeclaring she just might not go at all. In theend, everyone happily got on board the plane.Not one of us has regretted the decision to go.

The nightmare of tickets, passports, visas,airport taxes, immigration, customs, and thelike, I will spare you for now, although I am

sure I could save any of you that are thinking ofgoing some suffering by giving details. Sufficeit to say that each of these many obstaclesappeared (at times) formidable, but wesweated and clawed our way through each andevery one, and there were many. For example,when we were dropped off at the airport with allof our baggage to begin our trip, we found that

our flight had been cancelled due to a largestorm in Chicago. All flights were off. So therewe were, some 50 miles from home, withblock-long lines of angry fliers, chaperoning oursix-foot-high pile of baggage and our ride longgone.

We tried everything to get to Chicago, where

our overseas flight was scheduled. We eventried to rent a car and drive to Chicago, but we


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had too much luggage for one car (for that longa drive) and the time was short.

In the end, there was nothing we could do butrent the largest car they had and stuff all ourgear (and ourselves) into it and drive the hourback to our home town to await a flight thefollowing day. Talk about anticlimactic. Weslunk back to town, didnt tell anyone we wereback, and pretended we were not home for 24-

hours. We hardly spoke to one another, butjust kind of held our breath and waited for thetime to pass.

Up early the next day, we caught that plane toChicago and from there one to Tokyo, to HongKong, and on to Kathmandu, until we werefinally on board the one-hour flight fromKathmandu to Lhasa in Tibet. There we were,in the sky over Tibet, gazing on Mt. Everest.But I am getting ahead of myself.

Our First View of he Himalayas


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The Overseas Flight

The 12-hour flight from Chicago to Tokyo isprobably something best left not described. It ispart of the price any traveler pays who wants tovisit Asia. There is no way around it, so you

just have to bite the bullet and ride it out. Likemost of the other flyers, we did not fly FirstClass and we eyed those much wider seats aswe filed back to the economy section of the

plane where there are about 11 seats to a row,configured 3-5-3. And these seats are noroomier than those coach seats on smalleraircraft. When the guy in front of you reclineshis seat, you have very little space betweenhim and your nose. If you could make all of theeconomy-class seats suddenly vanish, youwould be in very close company with a few

hundred people.

Pretty much, you have to kind of hold still for12 hours. Trying to get comfortable is a wasteof time. You dont get comfortable; you just getthrough the experience and that takes time. Inthe end, the best position was to just sit in theseat and close your eyes. Trying to find the

right angle to sleep never worked out.And I underestimated how cold the air-conditioning would be on the plane and left mycoat and shoes (I had on sandals) in the storedluggage. Luckily I had an extra pair of socks.Even so, my head was always cold from thehissing air above, although I grabbed aboutevery blanket and pillow I could find.

And the in-flight movies in theory make sense,but they were not really good movies and they


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ended up reminding me of the times when Iwake up after falling asleep watching television

when I have a fever something flickering onand on. And the earphones, when they worked,were not much help against the roar of theplane. I am almost done here, with just thefood to comment on.

The food is really funny. In the beginning, whenthe flight is young, you get a smart menu card

outlining the meals you will be served duringyour long flight. Hey, it looks pretty good onpaper, something to look forward to. But I hada hard time identifying the food that was servedwith the list on the menu. Is this greengelatinous blob really the Creamed SpinachSouffl Could it be?

A greater mistake was to request vegetarianmeals or what the flight attendants call SpecialMeals. Does someone in this row have aspecial meal, they would ask. That would beme. The problem is that we did not getvegetarian meals, but someones (who for sureis not a vegetarian) idea of a vegetarian meal.For the most part, they were inedible, but we

ate them. Meals, no matter how bad, are oneof the highlights of these long flights. Mealsand bathroom trips are about all the diversionyou get. But from now on, I will take thestandard meal, meat and all. At least it isrecognizable.

It is a great kindness that (like life itself) thefarther into these long flights you are, the faster

time seems to pass. You just kind of give up,let go, and get there.


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Tokyo

After more than 12 hours of flying, we landed inTokyo, where we had several hours to wait forour flight to Hong Kong. One futile effort wemade was the one where we tried to getoutside the enclosed airport terminal andbreathe some fresh air, not an easy task. Youcannot just walk outside or even out on anobservation deck and breathe real Japanese

air. To go outside, you have to go throughcustoms and immigration, apply for atemporary visa and have your passportsstamped accordingly. We decided to do this.After a long time of form filling and linestanding, we got to go outside to the terminalentrance. And there we stood, while anendless line of huge Toyota buses roared past

smoking us with their exhaust. But we werebrave and probably lasted some 30 minutesbefore we could admit to ourselves that thisreally sucked and went back in and againthrough the long process of passports,immigration, etc.

And we were tired. Although it was light out, in

reality it was two or three in the morning by ourinternal clocks. There was just nowhere to restand our flight had been delayed. Finally wefound a small floor area behind a sign, wherewe piled our carry-on bags and tried to take afew minutes nap, only to awaken to aJapanese guard (worried perhaps that we werestreet people) asking if we had airline tickets.

We showed him our tickets and explained thatthe airlines had delayed our departure and that


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we were tired and had nowhere to rest. Heunderstood and left us alone.

Arriving in Hong Kong

Although the Tokyo airport is about as much ofJapan as we saw, I liked the feel of the slice ofJapan that we did see. Although definitelycurious about an American family on the road,they were polite and accorded us a sense ofspace and privacy. Everything about thatairport was squeaky clean. Hong Kong is adifferent story.

Hong Kong!

It was a night flight from Tokyo to Hong Kongand, as we approached the island, the hugebrightly-lit high-rise towers of Hong Kong roseout of the darkness like a setting from a sci-fimovie. I have never seen buildings placed so

close together in my life. The effect wassurreal. We didnt have the best experience in


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Hong Kong, so I probably should not say muchat all. I cant resist a few notes:

Our arrival there meant claiming our luggageand somehow getting it and us to a hotel in oneof the busiest cities in the world. There are14,000 taxis in Hong Kong. We also had to gothrough customs, obtain a visa, exchangemoney, and etc. It was quite late by the timewe found our way down the long ramp to the

outside of the airport, in search of a taxi. Andwe got off to a bad start.

As we came out of the terminal, a man rushedforward to solicit that we ride in his taxi. Hemotioned us to the side, where, behind adumpster, he had a mini-van parked. Jet-lagand tiredness did not help. We began to movetoward his vehicle, but I noticed that it was theonly one and had no taxi marks on it,whatsoever. Just then, my older daughtergrabbed my arm and said, No dad, the taxisare over here! And sure enough, a long row ofpeople queued up for taxis and a long line ofmatching taxis were up ahead. We would gothere.

Next, all of us and our luggage would not fit inone taxi, so we had to take two. Even then, ourbags hardly fit and the taxi trunks had toremain open for the ride to the hotel, with theattendant worries of maybe luggage flying outon the street. Then, the two cabs did not staytogether, again dividing my family. Hong Kongtaxis drive like mad and most of the drivers are

not at all friendly, sometimes scarily unfriendly.So, we hurtled through the streets of Kawloon


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at breakneck speed, with a driver that did notrespond to English.

The City of Hong Kong

The hotels in Hong Kong are exorbitantlyexpensive, with a single room going forbetween $200-$300 and little other choice. We

just had to pay. Once at the hotel, we went out

and walked through some of the shoppingdistrict -- side-by-side shops packed withelectronic gear, clothes, etc. Everything in


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Hong Kong seems jammed together. Thestreets have traffic on the opposite side to

America, so you really do have to look bothways. The many streets all had high-risebuildings placed back-to-back and theseserved as huge channels for the air thatmoved, like rivers, through them. As youwalked by a cross-street, you would be floodedby a tide of garbage smell and have to holdyour breath and get out of that intersectionbefore you dared to breathe again.Everywhere, everything is for sale.

It may be my imagination, but it is myimpression that the Chinese dont much likewesterners or, at least, Americans. I did notexperience anywhere else in Asia the coldnessthat I did from the folks in Hong Kong. Of

course, not all of them were like this. We didmeet one cab driver who took us under hiswing. In fact, we spent a number of hourshaving him drive us all over both Hong Kongand Kowloon to see the tourist sights. Wemade one long drive into the New Territories tothe largest Chinese Buddhist temple, where weexperienced the only peace and space in that

city. We also took a sampan boat into HongKong harbor and saw the boat people, anentire subculture that live there aboard theclosely moored boats. Apart from the outboardfumes and intermittent rain, the boat peoplewere fascinating.

Aside from the temple, I hardly remember the

sights, because what really impressed me, as Iwrote earlier, were how closely they couldplace high-rise buildings and the obvious


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discrepancy between the very rich and the verypoor. We saw some incredible tenements,

some quite old, some quite heartbreaking. Andwe wandered, by mistake, into the basement ofone building while looking for the Buddhistcenter we wanted to visit. The slice of life wesaw there haunts me still. Everywhere, peoplein sweat shops, stripped naked to the waist inthe heat, not smiling, heads down, working. Inevery crevice and corner, some kind of bed,the mini-home of an old person or caretaker.We had no business being in there was thelook I got from the many people we passed inthe steamy hallways. And we tried to get out ofthere.

We squeezed into a tiny elevator (not morethan four-foot square) and rode slowly up to

what we thought was the floor we wanted, onlyto have the doors open to a wall of steel. Noexit. And then the slow ride down. I have neverbeen more claustrophobic than on that elevatorand I prayed that it would not lose power andget stuck there.

That elevator summed up everything about my

experience of Hong Kong. Talk about a foreignplace. We just did not connect well with thatcity. In fact, for weeks afterward, whenever weencountered an impossible or gross situation,one of us would shout out Hong Kong! Mysincere apologies to the residents of HongKong, whom Im sure are wonderful, for myparticular experience. I wish it had been

different.


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Hong Kong To Kathmandu

After our Hong Kong experience, the 4-hourflight from there to Kathmandu came as awelcome experience. For one, suddenly wehad a mix of Asian peoples -- Chinese, Indian,Nepalese, and Tibetan. The flight attendantshad to announce everything in three languagesinstead of just Chinese and English, as on ourflight to Hong Kong. The seats were a little

scruffy and the food a bit funky, but theatmosphere on the flight was a lot more like aparty than we had experienced so far. We weregoing to Kathmandu! We sat next to a Nyingmamonk returning to his monastery and it turnsout that we knew some of the same people. Itwas a very nice time.


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We Arrive in Kathmandu

The flight from Hong Kong began to descendfrom the clouds into the beautiful Kathmanduvalley, and thus our first real view of Nepal. Inthe approaching twilight, we could still seeclearly the rich terraced green of the endlessrice paddies and fields below. As we got lower,we saw whole towns and then individualhouses. After deplaning, entering the airport

itself, we walked along a path filled withblooming plants, alive with the loud sound ofkatydids and crickets. It was warm and smelledgreat. After almost 48 hours of traveling, wehad arrived somewhere we actually wanted tobe, at last.

Nepal from the Air

It took what seemed like forever to fill out all ofthe forms, pay the airport taxes, examine ourpassports, receive a visa, get through customs,and exchange money. A note about money


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exchange. I had spent far too long studying thevarious travel catalogues, trying to pick out a

money purse or secret money pouch, as theyare sometimes called. In the end I kind of tookone of each, the money belt, the wide pursethat straps around your midriff, the packet thathangs around your neck, and even the secretmoney pouch that hangs from your belt, insideyour pants, etc. We had them all. However, theone thing that none of these catalogs bother totell you is that, in most of these countries(Nepal, India, China), even a small amount ofmoney takes up a huge amount of space.

The problem is that almost no vendor is able tocash something as huge as the equivalent of$20, much less $50 or $100. Perhaps a fewhuge hotels can, but never anywhere else.

Finding a place to exchange money is difficult,so when you do find a place, you need toexchange enough to last you until the nextbank at the next large city. Worse, any moneyyou do exchange has to be exchanged forabout the lowest common denominator, sincethis is the only cash that the people and shopswill even look at. It is not that they are not

willing; they dont have the change!

So, the result is that you exchange say, $1000,for huge packs of money, sometimes 4 to 5inches thick. It is bad enough in Nepal andIndia, but in China they staple these packs ofcurrency with an industrial stapler that cannotbe removed by hand. You need pliers. So here

we are, with all these nifty secret moneypouches and a wad of dough 7 inches wide.Go figure. So you fill up all your money


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Kathmadu

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pouches with about $10 worth of money andstuff the rest (most of it) in your knapsack. Your

money belts clings to you; you cling to theknapsack.

At any rate, with large rubber-band-boundpacks of Nepalese currency jammed in mypockets (like Uncle Scrooge), we were ready toleave the protected area of the airport andventure out where mobs of taxis and touts

were waiting for us. By now, it was quite dark.Originally, there was to be a car sent to meetus from Thrangu monastery in Kathmandu, butnow we were a day or so late (remember wehad to drive back home for a night) and therewas little chance of someone we did not knowbeing able to track our belated progressthrough the various delays to this arrival. So

the lot of us crept outside the terminal. I hadmy family stand back (behind the police lines)with our mountain of baggage, as I venturedforward and carefully surveyed what awaitedus.

And it was indeed scary. On all sides, menrushed up to try and seize any baggage you

might be carrying. Each spoke in brokenEnglish with authority that they alone wouldhelp you, that only they could see to yoursafety, and yet they were just what I was afraidof. How to choose, from the array of carsoutside, which taxi you could trust from the onethat might drive you off who-knows-where?

As I emerged from behind the police line, I

could see a whole wall of people behind afence across the road, all beckoning to me. We


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were about the only passengers coming outjust then, but all of these people seemed to

want our attention. And then, in the middle Isaw a group of maroon-colored robes,Buddhist monks, who almost seemed like theywere really waving at me, as if they knew who Iwas.

Could these be the monks we had hopedwould come or, in my tiredness, did I want to

believe it? But no, they kept point at me andbeckoning. I wasnt dreaming. They did come!These were the monks from ThranguMonastery, including their head monk, andthey had been waiting for us a very long time. Itwas too good to believe, but sure enough therethey were and they had a Toyota Land Cruiseras well. Goodbye taxi hunt!

We moved forward toward them and suddenlywe had to almost fight to keep track of ourluggage, as many hands from unwantedhelpers appeared everywhere. The monksstruggled to control the flow of our luggagewhich sort of floated on a sea of arms towardthe back of the vehicle. It was all confusing to

us, and we slowly realized that most of thesefolks were not with the monks. Somehow wegot our mountain of bags into the Toyota andstarted to squeeze ourselves in too, not tomention the monks on top of that. Theunwanted helpers, who had obviously beendrinking, were now demanding money, but Ihad not had the foresight to have any small

bills handy at that point. The monks werelaughing. We were packed in with (I believe)four of us smashed in the front seat. Much of


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me was hanging out of the side window as wepulled away from the airport.

Words fail me to describe that initial ride fromthe airport into Kathmandu, on that first night. Iwas about to get my first taste of a third-worldcountry. We were tired and somewhatdisoriented. As mentioned, I was jammed (likenever before) into the passenger side of theToyota Land Cruiser. Literally, much of me was

leaning and hanging out the window, soeverything along the streets was crystal clearto me. It was night and there were no regularstreet lights and few lights of any kind. It hadbeen raining here recently and the road wasfilled with small and very large puddles, manyof which had to be driven around. And we weremoving at what I felt was considerable speed,

given the road conditions. And the road was inbad shape.

Worse, there were all manner of things in theroad, a totally new experience for me. Hurtlingthrough the dark, we would come upon cows

just standing there and packs of dogseverywhere. And people. People were all over

the roadway, walking, standing, alone and ingroups. And the extreme poverty of this cityimpressed itself on me along with all of theother input. Beyond the road, people wereeverywhere in the dark, in small groups,smoking, exchanging things, watching us,getting out of our way.

And the Land Crusiers leaning on the horn did

not give anyone or any animal enough time toescape our forward motion, or so it seemed to


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me. I kept looking for the main part of the cityor for any area of bright lights (civilization) to

appear before us, but I saw only the dark of thestreets, with brief glimpses here and there ofwhat was happening around me. The city Iimagined never materialized and it began tosink into me that there was no city like thathere and that we were in a very different kindof place than I had ever been or evenimagined. I was numbed by the constant joltsof the car on the street, lurching from side toside, as it hit the potholes. It was a crazy ridethat seemed right out of a movie like BladeRunneror Road Warrior. It had a post-apocalyptic feel to it, like a bad acid trip. I knewthat I was very tired, but now also very awakeand taking all of this in.

We Never Got to the Bright Lights

And the streets got narrower and narrower untilwe were crawling through alleys with onlyinches of side-room to spare, passing facesonly right before my eyes. What had I gotten


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us into? I thought. Thousands of miles fromanywhere I knew and no obvious place to get

to, no city lights, no Holiday Inn. Just alleysand smells and dogs and darkness and stop.We had arrived through the darkness at a largelocked gate, which soon swung open, allowingus to drive into a kind of compound. We wereat the Lotus Guest House, our hotel.

Piling out, we were greeted by our two women

friends, who had arrived some days before us.One of them was in tears to finally see ussafely there. I was, by this point, quite numb.We were literally helped to our room, ourluggage deposited with us, and left alone.Gecko lizards with their suction-cup toes on thewalls outside our door were catching insects.Dogs barked continuously in the distance. Our

rooms were shabby, dirty, soiled, used. Therewere no towels and the bedclothes made mesure I would use my sleeping bag. Any lightingwas stark and minimal. The bathroom was anew experience entirely, with a showerheadthat used the entire room as its stall. The water

just drained out a corner of the room. We wereall a little in jet-lag shock, culture shock, too.

And at the same time, I was so glad we werethere. This was Kathmandu.


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That First Day in KTM

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The First Day in KTM

That night, sleep was all upside down. Keep inmind that our internal clock had just turned180-degrees and that, only two days before,the dark of night here in Kathmandu was themiddle of the day in Michigan. Trying to sleepthat first night was one of those never-quite-drifting-off affairs, not helped by the jet-lag thatwe were experiencing, the strange smells and

sounds. Just before dawn, all of thesurrounding monasteries (like right next door)began sounding gongs and chanting. Thencame sets of Tibetan horns, the ones thatsound like oboes and the deep bass rumblingones. And then the dawn. It was almost eerie,but beautiful, listening to that first dawn inKathmandu. I was so tired and yet so awake.

But rest, I could not. We had alreadyaccumulated real problems. Because we hadbeen delayed two days on our trip, we had lostthe three-day safety zone we needed to applyfor visas for India and Sikkim. We almost lostthe time needed to get our Chinese group visafor Tibet, but that had been taken care of by

paying a bunch of extra money. We were to flyto Tibet the next day, but whether we would getto visit India when we returned was anothermatter. The three-day waiting period for thatvisa application had now vanished. Worse, thisone day we had left was a Nepalese strike day,something we would come to know only toowell.

It seems that the government of Nepal is tryingto create a value-added tax (VAT), something


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like they do in the United Kingdom and manyother countries. It is perceived as a real

hardship by the people and they had organizeda series of national strikes in protest. On strikedays, no motor traffic (cars, buses, etc.) wouldbe allowed, thus strangling business for thatday. The penalty for violators was stoning ofthe vehicle. The result was that we werestranded in our hotel area, unable to take anyaction on our Sikkimese visa. The embassyoffice was some 7 kilometers away.

As for our Tibetan visa, the tour guide hadarranged for a courier to come by bicycle topick up the rather large sum of cash we had todeliver to him and carry it through the streets ofKathmandu. Trusting this much cash to anunknown carrier in itself worried us. In the end,

the main guy came himself to get his money,including the extra cash we had to pay to theChinese to do all this at the last minute. I askedthe man if he could help us get the Sikkimesevisa, but he just shrugged his shoulders. Sorry,he could not help. If I could somehow get to theIndian Embassy at the center of downtownKathmandu, something still might be done, he

suggested. There was still time, but it wouldhave to be done right away.

I was suffering from sleep deprivation, jet-lag,culture shock, and I had not had any breakfast,but I was unwilling to give up on visiting Sikkim,because Gyaltsap Rinpoche was there, a lamaI had always dreamed of meeting. I resolved to

find a bicycle and go to the Indian embassymyself, that morning. My wife, who couldntbelieve I would attempt the trip, was too beat to


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come with me, but my 21-year old daughterMichael Anne was game. We would go, no

matter what.

At first, no one seemed to even know wherethe Indian embassy was, much less be willingto accompany me there on a bicycle. However,I managed to find one man about my age whoknew and he said he would go with us. As forbikes, all we could find were some not-too-bad

old-style one-speed American bicycles, youknow, the kind with foot brakes and one loop ofchain. No ten-speeds. As for the man whowould guide us, well, it turned out that he reallyhad in mind his young (perhaps 12-year old)son for the trip, not himself. And so the three ofus, with the young boy leading us, in a sort ofMary Poppins kind of way, started out on the 7

kilometer trip through the streets of Kathmandufrom Boudinath (where we were) to near theroyal palace where the Indian Embassyresides.

Primary Means of Traveling


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One lucky thing was that there was no traffic,so the normal dangers of Kathmandu were

reduced to military vehicles and the odd car ortruck that dared break the strike, and of course:motorcycles and motor scooters. On the downside, the streets were unbelievably potholedand rough, not to mention the ever-presentdust. On the other hand, I got an instantintroduction to Kathmandu culture, close up. Iwas so tired and zoned that the whole thingwas quite beautiful, if somewhat surreal. Andso, through the streets we went.

Everywhere there were people and animals,with shops crammed in any available space,one next to another. Often a shop was littlemore than an old bucket for a seat and one jarfull of something or other (like hard candy) for a

store - a single jar. And there was this sensethat everyone was everyone elses customer, ifthat makes sense. Let me try that again. Itseemed to me that there were no storecustomers from outside the neighborhood, butthat everyone was just kind of hanging out ineach others store, like one extended family. Itwas like kids selling lemonade on the streets,

gone mad.

We reached the embassy, and my body wasalmost vibrating on its own after the ride andthe exertion. We had the young boy look afterour bikes, while Anne and I went through thelong procedure to apply for the visa. Theprocess would take ten days, which is why we

had to do it now, before we left for Tibet, sothat the visas would be ready when wereturned. Forms and officials, more forms, and,


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of course, the waiting. At last, the head honchoexplained to me how, really, it was impossible

for me to get what I wanted, but that he, on theday that I returned (a Saturday = holiday),would interrupt his day off and come down tothis office and, unofficially, complete our visasso that we could fly out the next morning. Hewould do this for me, if and only if I could reachhim before noon of the day we returned fromTibet. With that news, fees already paid, andforms filled, we headed back up the long roadto Boudha, this time mostly uphill.

I did make it back, covered with sweat,exhausted, hungry, but exhilarated. My buttwas bruised and sore for many weeks fromthat ride. Margaret was so proud of me and soamazed at my going. We got to meet Ward

Holmes (of the Tsurphu Foundation) and GloriaJones (secretary of Thrangu Monastery) for alate lunch. Things were cool. I liked thisKathmandu place.

Just to complete this story, when we cameback from Tibet I was able to get in from theairport (through a strike zone) and phone the

embassy official just barely before noon, andarrange to meet him in his office, which I did.Taking a cab this time, we met and hecompleted our visa for India and Sikkim. Henever asked for any money, but I gave him agood sum anyway, for the idea was in the air.We ended up (when he found out I was anastrologer) discussing very abstract spiritual

philosophy, while filling out the forms,something that I believe every Indian, at leastBrahmins, are fully able to do. Here I am


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slipping him money under the table and he istelling me about my souls journey through

time. Thats India.


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On to Tibet

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To the Airport and on to Tibet

Our trip to the airport to fly to Tibet was in thehands of the assistant tour guide and he was apro. Driving a large Toyota mini-bus, he wasunable to get the vehicle close enough to ourhotel to pick up our baggage, so hecommandeered a smaller vehicle of the street,whisked our stuff into it, and transferred it andus to the bus. That was not so impressive in

itself, because he should have known that hecould never get that bus in that tiny alley.

What was really impressive was the way hehandled the airport. The problem for him wasthat there was a planeload of people andbaggage and only one counter where they hadto file through. When we arrived, there wasalready a long line of people. Paying noattention to that, he positioned all of ourbaggage up front, went behind the counter withthe officials and in a few moments was workingat the front desk with a crowd around him, ashe looked at and handled other peoplestickets. I have no idea what he was doing, buthe looked for all the world like an official.

Before we knew it, he had us at the front of theline, our baggage checked through ahead ofeveryones, and three sets of window seats onthe side of the plane (left side) where Mt.Everest and the rest of the Himalayas could beseen. Of course, he applied liberal baksheesh(bribe money), but even with that, it was anamazing display of grace and power. He

pushed us through the checkpoint and wishedus a good trip. We were off to Tibet. We werefinally on board the one-hour flight from


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On to Tibet

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Kathmandu to Lhasa in Tibet. There we were,in the sky over Tibet, gazing on Mt. Everest

and the whole Himalayan range from thewindow of the plane. No stopping us now.

Gonghar Airport

Descending from the clouds, the plane dodgedthe mountains and landed at Gonghar airport(the only large airport in Tibet), with us in anexhilarated mood. Even the officious Chineseguards in their ill-fitting uniforms and machineguns (which we had been warned about anddreaded) were unable to bum us out. Wewalked from the plane and across the tarmacto the airport terminal in the bright Tibetansunlight, breathing cool clean Tibetan air. Wewere euphoric, at least for those first hours.

Our Guides: Pemba and Tashi

We had been warned about the guides wemight have assigned to our group, once wereached Tibet. There was only so much controlthat could be exercised from a distance and itwas partly a matter of dumb luck. If you werelucky, you would get a Tibetan guide, who was

not in the pay of the Communists and whoknew and cared something about the dharma.If you were unlucky, you could count onarguing and even ordering your guide to go tothe places you wanted to go and not thosemost convenient for him. In this regard, wewere very, very lucky.


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On to Tibet

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Tashi and Penba

Our guide and driver were waiting at the airportfor us when we exited the plane. One look atPenba, our translator guide, and I knew wewere in safe hands. Here was a gentle,intelligent soul, who did everything in his powerto make our journey a safe and meaningful

one. There was a rumor that he had once beena monk, but I dont know if that is true or not.Certainly he knew an enormous amount about


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On to Tibet

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the places we visited, complete to the laststatue detail. And his English was quite good.

Our driver Tashi spoke no English, but was theperfect complement to Penba. There is noquestion that he is what we call a redneck herein the states. Cigarette smoking and beer-drinking, he always had a smile and was readyfor anything that might appear. I have no doubtthat, had we been threatened at any time and

in any way, Tashi would have stepped right upto the plate and hit a home run. You just knewthat about him. Not too easy to get close to, butthe more time you spent with him, the moreloyal and friendly he became. And he liked littleMichael Andrew a lot.

Together, Penba and Tashi were anunbeatable team and served us well in a widevariety of difficult situations. When a day endedand our group stumbled into one hotel oranother, they kept going, hauling our baggagearound, getting fuel for the van, finding bottledwater for us, scouting out restaurants, hasslingwith officials and hotel clerks whatever ittook. And I understood from others that a guide

like this might make $200 a month! I am surethe driver made even less.

As time went on, we shared more meals withthem and the kids would shoot pool (andsmoke cigarettes!) with them in the eveninghours, after I went down with the Sun. Pembatook great care to explain, in great detail, all ofthe sacred places we visited. In fact, many

times I had to wander off from his explanationsso that I could find time to connect to the place


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and make aspirations. He was very thoroughand knew almost every statue, every thanka.

And he was not just faking interest either,although he had been to these sacred places agreat many times. He had also visited HisHoliness, the Karmapa, a number of timesbefore. He had tears in his eyes as HisHoliness looked at him and said You arestarting to have confidence in me.


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The Tara Shrine

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The Tara Shrine

With the guides came a 12-seat minibus tohouse our crew and all our baggage. This wasbetter than the 2 jeeps I had expected. Wepiled in and headed up the road toward Lhasa,traveling alongside the wide Tsangpo river onour way to a very special shrine to Tara, theDrolma Lhakang, at the village of Netang. Wewere in high spirits and altitude sickness had

not yet reared its ugly head.We pulled up to what seemed like a smallstore, behind which was a large monastery-likecompound made of adobe. There were dharmabanners hanging from the walk-through gate aswe entered the long courtyard, at the end ofwhich was a large shrine room covered in frontby a large dark cloth or hide. You entered onthe left side and eventually came out on theright.

Here is as good a point as any to saysomething about shrine etiquette in Tibet andAsia (anywhere for that matter). When oneenters a gompa (monastery) shrine room, thefirst thing one does is to offer three prostrations

toward the central deity or shrine center. Afterthis, you proceed down the left-hand side ofthe shrine room and up to the very front. Andmost shrine rooms have something at the frontleft, front middle, and front right. Often you willfind smaller shrines on either side of a maincentral deity.


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The Tara Shrine

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The Tara Shrine

At any rate, you approach the front of theshrine by way of the left side (likecircumambulation) and survey what is there,often bowing to these side shrines or deities.Then you move along to your right to the maincenter of the shrine and again bow or pay

homage to that deity. Often pilgrims bow andtouch their heads to the base on which thedeity is sitting. Others will touch their mala


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The Tara Shrine

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(rosary) to the base of the deity. More commonis just to place your hands together and bow

toward the deity. One then moves again to theright to whatever shrine or deity is at the farright-hand side of the shrine front and, again,bow or acknowledge the deity there.

That finished, you complete thecircumambulation, ending at the back of theshrine at the center. From that point, you can

either bow and leave the shrine or be at easeto sort of just walk around some more. I am noexpert at this, but that seems to be whathappens in shrine rooms.

Some of the Large Tara Statues

The Tara shrine had 21 large and exquisitestatues of Tara, plus those of other deities. Aswe moved across the front of the shrine and tothe center, a monk came forward and pressed

a special sacred conch on the back of each ofus. Many of us were overcome by the spirit of


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the place or the vibrations and just foundourselves weeping. We were very happy here.

Perhaps it was because this was our firstsacred contact in Tibet or perhaps this isindeed a very special place, but I just could notkeep from crying. For me, this is a most specialplace. Everyone pilgrim stops at the Tarashrine on the road from the Gonghar airport toLhasa.

Altitude SicknessIt took about half a day for altitude sickness toreally take hold. And I, who got the worst caseof it, was not really prepared. KhenpoRinpoche had a premonition that one of uswould have problems and maybe need someextra oxygen, but he was kind of looking at mywife, Margaret, and she and I both thought itwould be she who might have trouble. As itturned out, I had a terrible time with it.

From the books, you get no idea that whenthey speak of altitude sickness, they reallymean sickness. You get sick. When you arerushed by plane from Kathmandu to Lhasa,you go from around 3,000 feet to over 13,000

feet in less than an hour. At this altitude, youare getting about 60% (or less) of your usualamount of oxygen. Wham, there you are. Youget out of the plane and it feels different. Atfirst, your body has not figured out what theheck is happening. You feel a bit odd, but notreally bad, perhaps a little spacey, but that iskind of cool too. It could be just the thrill of at

last being in Tibet, with the bright, bright Sun,


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the crisp, clear air, the clouds close overhead.You get the idea.

Within about half a day, what with the trip fromthe Gonghar airport to Lhasa, the deposit ofmyself and my stuff at a hotel, and that firstflight of hotel stairs and I begin to get adifferent picture. I could hardly walk up thedamn stairs, and I mean one flight. There Iwas, leaning against the wall, gasping for

breath, with my heart racing. What is this, Iwondered? And then I flopped down in a chair.Boom.

Altitude Sickness and Fever

This must be what it feels like to get really old. Icouldnt do much ofanything and I didnt likethat feeling. I struggled to my feet, determinedto go and see the town and headed out, only tosoon find myself feeling my way back to the

hotel room, gasping and grasping again, forthat chair. And there I sat. Or I would lie downon the bed and there I would lie, and for a long


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time. I couldnt believe it. I was trapped in whatamounted to an old-age body, limited to the

least doing of anything.

Typically, they say you must spend three daysin Lhasa, getting used to the altitude. And thatmeans three 24-hour days and nights. Oftenyou cant sleep. You just are awake. Your headaches and your face feels puffy and tingles.Something seems very wrong or at least very

different. You cant really do much because(against your will to get out and see this newcountry), you dont feel like doing much. You

just dont feel too great, even through you areraring to get on with the trip. I found myselfwaiting this thing out.

And I had a bad case of it that, coupled with acold, eventually resulted in three days of fairlyhigh fever, ending with the whole thing goinginto my lungs and bronchitis, having to takeantibiotics, and just being plain old sick. I didnot like it one bit, but there was nothing I coulddo about it. Part of it was the cold, part was theendless presence of smoke, fumes, and smellsthat oppressed my lungs, already weakened

from my prior history of smoking 30 odd yearsbefore. In a word, this was a bummer.

There is no known permanent humanhabitation above 20,000 feet. According to thebooks, altitude is measured by a scale, whereHigh Altitude is anything from 8,000 to 12,000feet, Very High Altitude is in the range from12,000 to 18,000 feet (Lhasa is at 13,000 feet),

and Extremely High Altitude is any place over


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18,000 feet. Tsurphu Monastery, where wewere headed, is some 15,000 feet.


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Waiting in Lhasa

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In Lhasa: The Jokhang

Lhasa is a good-sized city, but our hotel wasnear the Jokhang (the very famous oldBuddhist shrine), so, as far as my experienceis concerned, the Jokhang is the center ofLhasa. My first visit to the Jokhang was just tootourist-like for me, with paying to get in, beingpushed through by the crowds of pilgrims, andnever really getting a moment to absorb what

was there, to look closely at the statues, muchless to do any practice.

I will not try to detail all of the many fine statuesand thankas in the Jokhang. There is so muchto see there and there are plenty of books andphotos available on the shrine itself. The placeis large and very old. It is quite dark within the

buildings, with the only real light coming fromthe many flickering butter lamps. The floors arethick with butter from the endless pilgrims whospoon the hardened butter granules into theburning butter lamps, always managing to spillsome small amount on the floor. My pantswere always grease-stained in Tibet from doingprostrations on the butter-slick floors. The

smell of old or rancid butter was ubiquitous inthe many shrine halls and monasteries.


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The Roof of the Jokang

In addition to the main central and largestatues were many small grotto-like rooms, allaround the sides of the main area. Each of

these was dedicated to a particular deity or atype of deity. Many of these smaller roomswere chained off and locked tight with heavyhand-made chain-linked screens that hungacross their openings. You could almost fit youhand through the large gaps in the chainscreens and crowds would be pushed tight upto them peering at the lovely statues within.

Luckily, we came back on another day when itwas closed tight and, by knocking at the door,got in anyway. On that holiday, we werevirtually the only people there. In addition,many of the small shrines that are normallylocked with huge linked-chain screens wereopen and we could venture inside. Lifting theheavy chains, we would squeeze through andhave an opportunity to do prostrations and say


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aspirations. When the Jokhang is busy, it isdifficult to get near many of the smaller shrines.

Guru Rinpoche Statue in the Jokang

Outside of and encompassing the hugeJokhang is a large circular walkway, the

Barkhor, around which pilgrims endlesslycircumambulate with their bead malas(rosaries). An constant stream of people walk


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in a clock-wise direction, swinging their malasin their left hands. This circular Barkhor is filled

(on both sides) over its entire length with shopsof all kinds, most with dharma items or clothes.Unfortunately, aside from very fine kataks(white Tibetan offering scarves), most of thedharma items for sale were not of high quality,many things having been simply imported fromKathmandu. This was ironic, disappointing. Anexception were the Tibetan rugs, many ofwhich were very nice indeed.

Beads and Malas Along the Barkhor

What was most interesting to me in theBarkhor was a small monastery that wasattached to the larger Jokhang, called MeruNyingba. It is very old and has a kind of specialquality to it. A little difficult to find, it is locateddown an alley behind where most of theTibetan rugs are sold. You have to push

through the rug merchants and on down analley and the end of which is a gompa (shrineroom) and a number of smaller shrines. I fell in


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love with a tiny protector shrine, the JambhalaLhakhang (the oldest part of this complex),

that, aside from Jambhala (connected towealth), had a number of statues of protectordeities, including my favorite Vajrapani andNam-T-se (Vaishravana), the protector king.

I was immediately attracted to Nam-T-se,even moved to tears, for some reason. Iwanted to practice in front of this statue and I

did. Later I was to find out that the great kingNam-T-Se is the protector of wealth.Considering that one of the main reasons I hadcome to Tibet was to ask about certainfinancial problems, my spontaneous interest inNam-T-se and his ability to protect wealthmade a certain sense. I met a young monkwho watched over this particular shrine. I

would find my way to Meru Nyingba, wheneverI had the chance.


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On To Tsurphu

So, I waited out the three days in Lhasa untilwe could head toward Tsurphu and HisHoliness. I still had altitude sickness, but it wasnow time to go on with our trips schedule andwe headed Northwest, out of Lhasa, in a largevan. The road was paved, but becameprogressively more bumpy, including sectionswhere it consisted of squares of rock laid

together. I asked about the bumpiness and ourguide said that it gets a little bumpy after weturn off the road we were on. Gets a littlebumpy. What then is this now?, I wondered.But he was so right. It did get bumpier. Aftersome time, we made a sharp left turn across avery narrow bridge above a river and began tohead up the Tolung Valley on almost no road

at all. We soon got used to the steady pitchand roll of the vehicle moving very slowly upthe valley trail. It was like an endless series ofspeed bumps, placed side by side.

Bumps and sickness aside, the 3-hour journeyup the Tolung Valley toward Tsurphu wasbrilliant and fresh. It was early autumn and all

the barley fields were golden ripe and ready forharvest. The barley from the Tolung Valley isreputed to be the best in Tibet and there arehundreds and hundreds of fields. We movedslowly along the rocky road toward Tsurphu,mile by mile, so there was plenty of time tosee. Everywhere, mountain streams rushed by,over, under and even on the road itself. At

places the road became a stream bed. As wemoved farther upstream, yaks appeared bothup close and far off sometimes scattered on


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the mountainside around us. As to other cars:there were none. And the traffic? As soon as

we crossed the bridge from the main road, wewere just out there by ourselves. Here andthere were small villages and everywherepeople were working in the fields. Harvestersand workers waved to us; children racedtoward us, waving and saying Hello, perhapsthe only English they knew.

We continued on, heading up the valley towardwhere the two mountain skylines convergedbefore us, always moving very slowly. Aftercrossing the arch of a lovely stone bridge, ourguide pointed to a speck on a mountain in thedistance. Tsurphu, he announced. And Icould almost see it, something sparkling on amountainside. And as we moved on (time now

slowed by our eagerness to arrive), that speckgrew steadily larger. Now I could see reflectinggolden roofs in the sunlight, but it was still sofar away. And then it would be lost for a longwhile around yet another curve. Would we everactually get there? We were ready.


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Tsurphu Monastery at Last

At last, we were just below Tsurphu, passingby the Karmapas lovely summer palace, nowless than half a mile to go. Winding up the lastof the trail, we passed through a narrow walled

road into the courtyard of Tsurphu and arrivedbefore the large stone steps of the monasteryitself. It was an imposing and welcome sight.


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We came armed with many letters ofintroduction, from our own Rinpoche, from Tai

Situ, Rinpoche (acting head of the lineage),etc., letter after letter. We also brought aWestern doctor to treat the ailing DruponDechun, Rinpoche (suffering from advanceddiabetes), the man who single-handedly saw tothe rebuilding of the monastery after theChinese destroyed it. But just who we were,the monks gathering around us must havewondered. We proceeded to seek out monkswho sought out still higher monks, etc. until wefound someone to present all of our letters to.We laid them before a small tribunal of monksin the corner of a very dusty, room. From theletters, the monks could see just who we wereand that we were not a danger to Karmapa.

We were not even searched for weapons, as Ihave been told most are. A family of five andtwo additional ladies, we were harmlessenough. Our group was then led inward to anopen courtyard, where we climbed to a secondlevel and into a good sized room. It was therethat we were first served the legendary Tibetanbutter tea.

We were thrilled to be there. Waiting in thatroom, the Sun pouring through the thick,almost opaque, windows, we were anxious toknow if we would be granted an interview withHis Holiness, and, if so, when. We sat on lowbed-like couches, each covered with a Tibetanrug, slowly drinking our tea. Every few sips oftea found the monks filling the cup up to therim again, as is the custom. This strange saltybuttered tea was a new, but satisfying, taste for


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me. I almost inhaled it. And there were theever-present sugar-filled cookies and candy. It

was a little cold up here at 15,000+ feet andsmoke from the kitchen downstairs found itsway into our room, mostly through the opendoorway that, due to the constant coming andgoing of the Tibetans, was impossible to keepclosed. Faces peered in on us, some monks,but mostly lay persons wondering who theseWesterners were.

May and Michael Anne and Lunch

And then there was lunch. Brought to us inlarge bowls, there were noodles and a big bowlof dried yak meat that seemed (at the one tasteI gave it) a little funky and old. But food of anykind was good after the long drive and we werethrilled to be getting what apparently was VIPtreatment. We ate and then just waited until amonk came and we were told that we wouldsee his Holiness that day, at least briefly. Wewere to hang loose and would be told when.


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Until then, we could relax and wander aroundthe monastery a bit.

And there was a lot to see. Soon after ourarrival, a long procession of monks pouredforth from main shrine hall and down the frontmonastery steps. Wearing tall curved red hats,they carried large flat drums that they held upsideways. Here was some ceremony, but forwhom? We were hours and hours from any city

and there were few, if any, local peoplewitnessing the event. The answer, which wasso hard for my modern-world mind to grasp, isthat they were doing it for its own sake, just forthemselves. How odd!

Monks and Ceremonies

Outside the room where we parked our stuff,along the inner face of the second-storycourtyard, were a whole series of small shrine

rooms dedicated to the fierce Tibetanprotectors, the dharmapalas. Above theserooms and stretching along the whole


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courtyard were a series of carcasses, mostly ofyak heads (and the bodies of other local

animals), all in various states of decay. I wasgiven to understood that these animals hadbeen found dead, killed by poachers, and werehere for prayers and as an example of whatshould not be done. The effect was eerie andsmelly.

All along this upper courtyard, beneath the

carcasses, were small shrine rooms, whichwere dark, candle-lit, and most often smoky. Ineach room was either a lama or a lama and anassisting monk or two, who were busy, makingtormas (food offerings), practicing some puja,or just watching over the place. It looked likesome of them might live in these rooms, forthere were bed-like couches in most of them. I

wandered from room to room along the opencorridor, deciding finally to attempt somepractice in one that had my particular favoriteprotector, the fierce form of Vajrapani, in it.Using hand gestures, I asked if I could sit anddo puja and was motioned to go ahead andtake a seat.

Everywhere that I practiced like this in Tibet,monks would surround me. Perhaps they hadnever seen a westerner practice before. Theywould sit close, right next to me (often on bothsides), behind me, and most disturbing, often

just in front and facing me, looking right into myface, less than a foot away. It made for adifficult practice, to say the least (I am used to

practicing in a room by myself). In thisparticular case, the resident lama (a lama is amonk who has done the traditional 3-year


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solitary retreat) wanted to see me do thevulture posture which leads to the dissolution

of the visualization, for those of you whounderstand this sort of thing. He showed mehow he did it, looking for all the world likeRigpe Dorje, the 16th Karmapa. Then he tookoff his watch, handed it to me, and asked me totime him while he held his breath in thetraditional vase-breathing position for as longas he could, which turned out to be about aminute and a half. Of course, he wanted me todo the same for him. I am afraid (particularlywith the low oxygen) that I did not put in a verygood performance, not to mention not beingexactly in a competitive mood. I had to laugh. Itwas all in good fun, but a bit crazy too.


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The Severed Heads of Animals Above

Inevitably, in all these kind of situations, Iwould end up showing the monk(s) the smallphoto album I had brought with me, withpictures of our center, our lamas, our place of

business, and the house we lived in. Theycouldnt get enough of looking at those picturesand would crowd around until the small picture


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book would always float out of my hands andinto theirs, taking on a destiny of its own. I

would wait to get it back. And they all knew myteachers, Khenpo Karthar, Rinpoche andBardor, Tulku, Rinpoche. In fact, often youcould hear one monk pointing out to others thatwe were Khenpo Karthars. I was amazedthat they knew who he was, being long gonefrom Tibet and so many, many thousands ofmiles away.

My Son and Karmapas Teacher


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And they all liked Michael Andrew, my 11-yearold son. I dont mean just a little. Monks

surrounded Michael, shaking his hand, puttingtheir arms (or robes) around him, taking him offwith them whatever. We just got used to it.Perhaps it was because he was so young anda male. Perhaps it was because he had hismala and used it. Who knows? We liked tothink it was because of what the lady oraclenear the Ramoche Temple in Lhasa had to sayabout Michael Andrew, which is a bit of a storyitself. Here goes:

The Ramoche Oracle

We were told by a monk from Rumtek (inSikkim), who was visiting us at our home whilewe got ready to leave for Tibet that, if we got toLhasa, we should try to find a famous womanoracle who uses a small copper mirror to tellyou about yourself and the future. She wasvery well known. Since we had plenty of time inLhasa (waiting for the altitude adjustment totake place), I was willing to try to locate hereand one morning we drove to the RamocheTemple and just asked around. Did they know

of such an oracle, a lady? Did they ever. Wewere led by a young girl down roads andalleys, finally to a door just on a courtyard,where people were washing up. We knockedand were shown into a small room. In it was alovely shrine and two long bed-like couches, onone of which sat the lady oracle. She hadnothing of the Jeanne Dixon look of so-called

readers here in the West. Middle-aged andvery reserved looking, she was kind of lovely,in a very serious way. We liked her at once.


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This is what a reader an oracle should looklike. We sat down in front of her on the floor.

The Ramoche Oracle

She used a small bowl of barley kernels, inwhich was stuck a round copper mirror. Themirror was not really capable of showing much,as it seemed kind of old and more opaque than


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reflective. The woman asked the year of ourbirth and with that information retrieved the

animal (and element) for our birth year, as perChinese astrology. For example, I was born inthe year of the Iron Snake. She then took apinch of barley from her bowl counted outseveral grains and then began to speak. I, ofcourse, asked her about some businessproblems that I was involved in and received aclear and positive answer about theirresolution. And we asked about our fourchildren and also got clear and very helpfulresponses for each one. She went down thelist of our kids, starting with our oldestdaughter.

When she reached our youngest child, our sonMichael Andrew, she announced that he was

not an ordinary child, but a gelong, a monk inhis last life who was capable of keeping all250+ Buddhist rules that this high-level ofmonk keeps. She went on to say that weshould take very special care of him keephim very clean. Of course, this was unexpectedand started us to thinking about him in a newlight.

I mention this, only because of the inordinateamount of attention he received from aboutevery monk he met on our journey. Even in thefamous Potala in Lhasa, the great past homeof the Dalai Lamas, no less than a khenpo (anabbot) came forth and greeted Michael Andrewspontaneously and led him around on his own

private tour, later presenting him with thetraditional white scarf. We have picture afterpicture of Michael, surrounded by monks. We


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mentioned this fact to Bokar, Rinpoche, themain meditation monk in our lineage (and a

tulku), and he said that he had no way ofknowing whether it was true or not, but even ifit is, the path to bringing out those qualitieswould be long and arduous. And of course, wehave a picture of Bokar, Rinpoche with his armalso draped around Michael Andrew. At thevery least, an Interesting sidebar.

Bokar Rinpoche and Michael Andrew


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The Karmapa

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The Karmapa

And now, back to Tsurphu, where we waited tobe led into the presence of His Holiness, the17th Gyalwa Karmapa. Every day at 1 PM, HisHoliness has a public reception, where aprocession of visitors file up, offer a whitescarf, and get his blessing. We wanted to go tothat, but were told to wait and that we wouldsee him privately. The time ticked away on the

slow track as we all waited, filled withanticipation. I had last seen His Holiness in1974, in his previous incarnation, but we feltlike we had been in endless touch with himthrough the lineage, all this time. Like the DalaiLama, the Karmapa is the spiritual andtemporal leader of a complete lineage ofTibetan buddhists. Until one month before, we

had little hope of ever seeing His Holiness,since it is very uncertain when the Chinese willever let him leave Tibet. And now, here wewere at his ancestral home, about to meet himin person.

And at last, the summons came. The Karmapawould see us now. So, off we went, in single

file toward his interview room, some two storiesup from where we were. And remember that Iwas right in the middle of the worst of myaltitude sickness, still sick and getting sicker.As I climbed the steep stairs toward HisHoliness, I had to stop and do heavy breathing,

just to keep enough oxygen in my lungs. Everyfew steps, I would find myself gasping for

breath, as I climbed upward toward theinterview room. And understand that theaverage Tibetan stairway is more like a ladder


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(like on a boat) than the kind of stairs we areused to, and steep. You really climb. We came

to a small courtyard outside where HisHoliness was, where we took off our shoes. Ihad to sit down and pant. How embarrassing.And then another short flight of steep stairs tothe room itself, where I arrived, still breathinghard. I sat down at the back of the room, whileeveryone else was up front prostrating to theKarmapa. I was so bushed that I did not (atfirst) remember to do the three traditionalprostrations that practitioners do before anygreat lama. All I could see was this young mankind of inset in this wall of golden brocade atthe far end of the room. I moved forward.


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The 17th Gyalway Karmapa

And there was the Karmapa, looking betterthan I could even imagine and I had imaginedhe would be great. All of 12 years old (by ourcalendar) and five feet tall, but seeming seven

feet tall and ageless, he filled the room with hispresence. Boy was I glad to see him. All I can


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remember is kind of getting through theprostrations and fumbling to offer him a white

scarf, while kneeling down before him. Helooked at me like I have never been looked atbefore. His eyes look straight into your eyesand then he ups the ante by focusing intentlywithin you. His dark eyes seem most like theever-adjusting lens of an auto-focus camera,moving in and out, trying to get the right focus.I have never seen eyes do that, be able to lockgaze with you and then still move in and out,getting a fix on you. But, that was just how itwas. The Karmapa examined me for a fewseconds, as if time stopped in the grip of hiseyes, and then all relaxed and time moved onagain. He placed the white scarf over my head,gave me a welcoming kind look, and I sat down

in front of him with the rest of our group.In this short interview, we presented ourselvesand what questions we had. In my case, I hadwritten out two questions in Tibetan (or hadthem written out for me, since I cannot writeTibetan). These I presented to Karmapa. Weall offered our scarves and whatever presentswe had brought along. It was not a long

interview, but we were told that he would seeus tomorrow for a longer ti

our pilgrimage to tibet

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