World China Tibet Shigatse

Abby and Adam's World Wind Tour

Sakya Oct 30, 2006

Upon arriving in Sakya, we begrudgingly checked in to our only nice hotel option. The owners, knowing they had the market cornered, jacked up the price as we were foreigners. After a long, verbal battle, we were able to lower the price a tad but were still forced to accept the final offer. Feeling a bit car weary and in need of stretch, we hiked up to explore ruins of an ancient monastery (built 1073 AD) which had been destroyed during the cultural revolution. Adam and I meandered around the ruins until almost sunset. Lahavitte and Roberto were not as intrigued with the ruins as we were and had headed back earlier. As Adam and I were walking back, we came across a large, fiesty black yak standing perpendicular across our path. Adam gently scooted by. When it was my turn, the yak started tossing his head about as if he was getting ready to charge. I tipped toed in front of him, worried that at any moment he would charge and pin me into the wall. In my mind, as a distraction, I was making up words to AC/DC's Back in Black...the Yak is Black, carrying sacks, don't ya know it's hard on his back, he's got big brown eyes, big thighs....anyway....When I made it to the otherside, Adam and I laughed nervously as the yak kept his eyes fixed on our position. ...In the meantime, a young girl, no taller than my waist, walked confidently up to the yak, slapped it on its buttocks, and herded the compliant, now whimpy yak to the side of the path.

Having safely made it back to our overly priced hotel, we joined Lahavitte and Roberto for another yummy round of noodles and veggies. As Adam wasn't feeling very well, apparently fighting a cold with sniffles and a low grade fever, we turned in early for a good night's sleep.

The Sakya monastery we visited the next day, was one of the most interesting monasteries we had come across. While we were touring the grounds, the monks began to gather and enter the main temple for what appeared to be services. Rows of benches, running parallel to the front of the temple, were covered with long, colorful cushions. The monks sat on the benches, side by side, cross legged, with long rectangular, bounded sheets placed on the bench in front of them. The sheets were like hymnals the monks used for chanting. As the chanting started, a few other monks joined in by drumming, blowing horns and sea shells, clanging bells, etc. Near the front, left hand side of the temple, within a small, glass room (probably 10'x 10'), were three monks, diligently creating a sand mandala on the floor.

To the left of the main temple, stood a smaller "protector" chapel. In the doorway of the chapel, seven stuffed gray wolves were hung, their taxidermic bodies dangling above the entrance. Inside the errie temple, were large murals of ghastly, amoebic-like creatures...severed heads and body parts...protruding eyeballs....all painted on the ceiling and walls. The statues within the temple were outlined with skulls in various degrees of agony. One, lone, elderly monk sat next to a huge, hanging drum chanting quitely with his drumstick in his hand. It was very bizarre...nothing we'd seen before in a Buddhist temple...the complete antithesis to the larger temple next door to it.

After finishing our tour of the monastery, we jumped back in the car and headed to Chungolungma Guest House in Benba.

In Benba we stayed at a small, dirty guest house. The family who ran the guest house was nice though and made the stay worthwhile. Most guest houses have a restaurant area with a horse shoe shaped sitting area. Built in benches hug the walls and are covered with large pillows or cushions. In the middle of the horse shoe there is a free-standing stove. Since wood is not readily found in the desolate Tibetan climate, alternative fuel sources are used...in this case, goat/sheep dung. Near the stove, in a large pucket, pounds of pellets are stored and shoveled in to the fire as needed. Once a new batch of pellets have been thrown in, a small, smoky explosion takes place as the pellets combust, sending an acrid cloud shooting out from the sides of the stove. Not the smell you associate with a nice, wood burning holiday fire...

As we were eating dinner that night, several Sherpas were enjoying a few beers to the left of us. At one point, the Sherpa closest to us simply collapsed, face down, on to the floor, apparently several sheets to the wind. So much so that his fellow Sherpas couldn't move the poor fella, eventually pulling his rag doll body to rest on cushions, feet dangling at an L to the ground.

Our room was upstairs...a small room, with creaking cots, linoleum covered walls and floors, peeling at the edge of the squares...dogs barking incessantly throughout the evening...the toliet next door...basically a fairly large room with two rectangular holes in the ground, kind of like a light switch cover before it's placed on the wall. You could see straight through to the first floor ground. Bales of hay were tossed in opposite corners of the toliet...instant compost cover. Immediately outside the toliet, in the hall, there was no ceiling....just a big sky and half of Orion's belt twinkling. Fresh air was welcomed...

Next stop...EBC.