4th & Final Tibet Post - Tuesday, June 28

I Move into a Monastery

A rare opportunity arose a week ago where a Lama requested our host family to have us (me and the Chilean volunteer) come teach English at his monastery, and we were promptly relocated here in an attempt to do so. I couldn't have been more thrilled about the chance to see first-hand what Tibetan Buddhist lifestyle is like right at the heart of it, amongst the monks themselves, and to have the Chinese government's approval (which is needed to do anything, particularly relating to foreigners, in this tightly controlled area) seemed close to a miracle since they'd denied all previous similar requests by my volunteer coordinator. But nonetheless, I now find myself sitting on the edge of yet another remote, far-from-anywhere-at-all valley I never would've known about or thought of coming to stay in, with a week's worth of teaching young monks under my belt and a much deeper understanding of the culture to go along with it.

The students had no previous English instruction, so I started (and continue now) with the ABC's. If it weren't for my experience in Nepal to give me some comfort and ideas about running a classroom, I can't see that I would've made any progress at all. The Lama seems to have wanted to make the most of our limited time here and packed each class schedule with a full 3 periods of English every day. So it would've taken no effort at all to have the young monks bored out of their minds with it, but luckily I've been able to hold their attention thus far with new diversions I try to devise so that they can forget they're only repeating the same 26 shapes and sounds day in and day out.

The monastery itself is still undergoing some reconstruction after the earthquake forced it to move down from the cliffs to a lower part of the hillside. This has made it a fascinating time to be here as I have seen how many features, like the great golden statues towering at the front of the chanting / prayer hall, are actually created. Despite the astonishing array of gold and thousands of precious stones that adorn the outside of each and every one of these statues, Tibetans place much more importance on what's inside them than on the elaborate exteriors. The base is filled with bundles of tea leaves while the body itself is filled with books and scriptures. The belief is that without these items the statue is worthless, or certainly not worthy of worship. It would be like a person without a soul: just an empty body or shell. I've picked up a lot from being able to see so much of the objects and rituals, but the most revealing part of being here has been the conversations (through Tenzin, an English-speaker and passionate Tibetan who lives in the nearest town) with the Lama who was only too willing to tell me about his 3 uninterrupted years of meditation in a small windowless hut and other such personal experiences in his life devoted to spiritual enlightenment. Even just in the first 21 years of it, having been recognized as the reincarnation of the previous lama at an early age, he has a lot of interesting stories to tell.

The young monks went home to their families over the weekend, and this afforded us the opportunity ... [I'm sorry if I've started to sound more formal in my word choices, as I get the sense that I am. With the Classics being the only English books to be found in the Xining bookstore, I've been reading Charles Dickens lately, and I believe, as one of my few sources of English communication in this secluded little part of Asia, it's managed to make me think as if people still speak the way they did at the time it was written. It's also made me think I can continue any sentence for as long as I should like provided I insert enough commas to keep it going. But I've become conscious of these new tendencies and will try my best to keep them in check] ... As I was saying, we had the chance to stay with a group of Nomads in their traditional brown yak hair tents and get a feel for that sort of lifestyle, which 80% of Tibetans still lead. Each of these tents, or at least the 5 I was shuffled between for neverending cups of tea during our stay, are set up exactly the same. Immediately left of the entrance is the heaping mound of yak dung, which is used to fuel the stove built out of stone and clay in the centre. The next corner on the far left then holds cooking instruments while the space directly opposite the entrance is a stand for butter candles, photos of famous lamas and other personal prayer devices like prayer wheels and scripture books. The right side of the tent usually has enough space for 2 beds, though these also serve as couches, tables and countertops during the day. It seems about as simple a life as can be found the way time passes with yaks grazing calmly and children playing noisily on the sloping green grassland surrounded by snowy peaks. The families were extremely friendly and welcoming as they served up as much dried yak meat and yogurt (the freshest, most delicious I've ever tasted) as I could possibly handle.

As my time in Tibet comes near to its end, I feel totally satisfied with all I've been able to see and do here. Looking back I'm surprised to recall the amount that has happened in just 5 weeks since departing Kathmandu. In leaving soon, it's not at all with the sad heart and great sense of attachment that I felt in Nepal, but rather a joy at having had a fully positive experience in a very unique part of the world and readiness to soon be back home amongst my cherished friends and family there.

And so it's now time to say one last Namaste. As much or as little as you may have kept up with this blog, thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing in the journey with me. It's been a thrill and at times a much needed comfort to know that there have always been friends and family out there to read through all these jumbled thoughts and observations along the way. Thank you for that.

Peace, Love & Happiness to All!