Continued from Page 2:

Shigatse

Image: (left) The Gyantse Fort

The city, or town rather, seemed to be taking a long nap: the lazy sun, the few shaky trucks crawling along the deserted street, the dry dirt, the flies, the market, with dogs barking and fighting, the beggars, the untimely locked bookstore, the mischievous school kids, ...

The monastery was big, with a huge Banchan Lama's tomb with gold plating. And the Chinese central government was pouring out the same huge amount of gold to build another tomb for the last Banchan Lama. Only here in the Monastery could we see pictures of Banchan Lama, together with those of Dalai Lama. Everywhere else, it was Dalai Lama's picture alone. The monastery, though big, was not comparable to the Potala.

Image: (right) The ancient fort and downtown Gyantse, a bird's eye view from the monastery

Here at the monastery at last, we were attacked by those barking, mean looking dogs. They were only slowed down by the sight of the rocks in our hands, and eventually stopped by the stones and the shouting of the monks, who much later dropped them something to eat. But the dogs seemed to be as homeless as all of the rest.

Following the "Lonely Planet," we found a Tibetan hotel near the bus station, near the market. The toilet was unbearable, or almost so. I took a deep breath, held it, tiptoed in, hit, and ran. There was no electricity that day, therefore no bath. I brushed my teeth, put on my pajamas -- my brand new Brown University T-shirt, and ... before reaching the blanket, a lady came in, looking for me and speaking in Mandarin.

Image: (right) School at Gyantse, and its red flag

Down she sat, on the bed, and started chatting to me, or more precisely, started to tell me her life story. She was the owner of the hotel and had four children. The eldest son, 19, was studying at the Medical College of Tibet in Lhasa. The second, a daughter, 16, was studying English in India. And two years ago when they went to Nepal to meet her, the girl said: "Please go back home, but I don't want to go with you to Tibet. I am an Indian now." The third, in school. And ...

"A few years ago, I took off my birth control ring, and immediately my husband and I had the fourth kid."

I was amused to hear a woman talking to me, a young man stranger, in such explicit words about the issue. But my slight uneasiness quickly ceased upon seeing her calm face in the candle light, and realizing my own cultural ignorance.

She shook her head in disbelief when learning that I was single. "I got married at 16, and I am 36 now. My name is Suo3 Zhen1." "..." She then asked me about a friend of hers in America, but with only a name, I really couldn't help much.

...

Not until the next evening at Gyantse did I find that I lost my brand new Brown University T-shirt, perhaps at the lady's hotel in Shigatse. I had bought it for my own commencement one month earlier. "It was 20 US dollars. I could spend days here in Tibet with that!"

...

Image: (right) A traffic accident halted a whole army

Scene 1: Our jeep broke down on the way back to Shigatse from Gyantse and we had to switch to another.

Scene 2: The engine of our second, shaking bus stopped. Swearing, the driver jumped out. His friend sitting beside him had to untie the rope that held the side door, which was unclosable otherwise, and jumped out. Using a long iron rod, they took turns rotating the engine, only in vain. The first jeep caught up from behind, and dragged the bus to start it.

Scene 3: Replay of Scene 2. Swearing, jumping, untying, jumping, rotating, cursing, more rotating, more cursing, ... A tractor came from the opposite side ...

Image: (right) Downtown Gyantse at noon

Scene 4: Sweating, and cursing, the driver lifted the engine cover and literally poured water into the hot, smoking engine to cool it down, and I "poured" Marlboro cigarettes into the driver and his friend ...

Scene 5: Replay of Scenes 2 and 3, but without the jeep or tractor ...

Image: (right) The Tibetan kids that I was fond of so much. This time they were not hiding from me.

Scene 6: With all our bags on our shoulders, we were walking on the dirt and stone road toward Shigatse, and smiled and hello'ed to the Tibetans sitting in the shade. Only the Tibetan sun was taking the trip with us. I gave up the hope of fetching my T-shirt from the hotel at Shigatse before leaving for Lhasa. My new T-shirt, with a Latin sun at the top of the figure ...

Scene 7: We hitchhiked, stopping a jeep. Oli, the girl, and I got on with the bags. I was supposed to halt a bus at Shigatse for Lhasa, and wait for the two Israeli "foot soldiers." It was 3:30 pm, very late for a Shigatse-to-Lhasa ride of 6 hours. "Then there is no way I can go to the hotel and fetch my T-shirt. Damn."

Scene 8 (Music of Beethoven, Symphony No. 9, I guess): Jumping out of the jeep, I saw, of anyone in the whole world, Suo Zhen, the hotel owner, walking by the bus station! We were both delighted.

Apologetically, I told her that we couldn't stay at her hotel for the night, and had to rush back to Lhasa. "No problem." She even pointed me to a minibus that would go to Lhasa soon. Then the T-shirt. She had put it in a safe place for me. She would run home to fetch it and ride back on her bike. There couldn't be a better solution. But having a bad experience earlier that morning at Gyantse, having received so many false promises for so many times from so many people for so many years, my small heart couldn't believe it seriously. :) Still, I thanked her sincerely, or politely, or both. And off she ran.

And back, on her bike, with the T-shirt. And then she gave me her address, and then she asked me for my address. And then, finally, I understood that the Tibetan she asked me about the other night was her old boyfriend. He left Tibet, went to America, and wrote her. But she lost his address, and married her current husband. She wanted to find him. She wanted me to find him for her, this long lost friend. Of course only a friend now, but a dear friend. I almost hoped that somewhere, someone, anyone, was thinking about me -- if only as a friend. :)

"Thank you, and visit me again next time."

"I should thank you for the T-shirt. And thank you very, very much indeed (for the ...)."

"Not at all. It is my duty to do so." ("Zhe4 Shi Wo3 Ying1 Gai1 Zuo4 De.") That sentence immediately reminded me of Uncle Lei2 Feng1, and my own much younger days ...

Image: (left) Restaurants by the road

And I am going to do it again. Seriously. So if you know any Tibetans living in America, please, please let me know. I want to do a good deed to help Suo Zhen, so as to bring myself good luck. :) [Note 10]

Notes

"Encyclopedia of Tibetan medicine": Y350,
"Tibet" (all beautiful pictures): Y150,
Yak bone handicraft: Y70,
Tibetan knife: Y95,
other handicrafts: necklaces, wristlets, ...
food,
boarding,
transportation, ...
It cost me between Y1,500 and Y2,000. That is about $200 in nine days, an extremely good deal by my standards.

[8] OK, here we go:

I could only fly from Beijing to Chengdu first, then to Lhasa, which counted as two flights. According to the rules, I could only buy my plane ticket for the first flight with a domestic price. However, and oddly enough, the girls at the travel agency in Beijing asked me to choose one from the two flights to pay the domestic fare. (I was the only customer and was chatting with all of them.) I then managed to charm them and got the deal for both flights. One girl also asked me to bring her back some gifts from Tibet and gave me her number. :)

When buying my return ticket in Lhasa, it was a guy this time. I pointed out to him that a visitor from abroad holding a Chinese passport could buy a ticket with a domestic fare during the first 15 days upon his arrival. Luckily enough, my return date happened to be the 15th day after I arrived, on June 4!!! [Note 9] Nowhere was it written that I had already bought a ticket. And my return from Lhasa to Beijing via Chengdu counted as one flight this time.

Image: (left) Nature in Tibet, on my way to Shigatse from Lhasa

[9] I deliberately chose to leave the US on June 3, and arrive in China on June 4, to see what it was like at the airport that day.

[10] Upon returning to the US in the summer of 1994, I asked around for Tibetans, any Tibetans. A friend of mine at UMass Amherst told me that there were Tibetans living in his neighborhood, and promised to get an address for me. But he never did. I became less and less hopeful ...

One day, I received an e-mail message from Ji Wang of Princeton University. He asked for contributions to the school's Chinese journal, which he was editing. I then sent him my Tibet stories, which ended up getting published on the electronic Chinese Community Forum (CCF).

A young Tibetan chemical engineer in Canada, Nima, read my stories and contacted me via the CCF editors. He was willing to help. Excitedly, I sent him all I knew about Suo Zhen and her boyfriend, and his name in Chinese spelling. Nima then contacted his sister, who studied in Beijing and knew how to translate the names into Tibetan. He then contacted the Tibetan Association in New York, and finally found a match.

One afternoon in May 1995, I made a phone call to Seattle. Immediately I liked my new Tibetan friend at the other end -- an honest, good hearted man, a typical Tibetan in my imagination. We chatted in English and Mandarin, and I happily accepted an invitation to visit Seattle whenever I got a chance. After almost one year's search, Mr. Sonam Tenzing, ex-boyfriend of Suo Zhen (or So-don), was finally found.

Tashi Delek! (Tibetan greeting)

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