The highlight of my trip.... chatting with a lama in a Tibetan temple

Day two of the horse trek, we all waited around for quite a while in the morning. Two of the horses had disappeared overnight and needed to be rounded up before they could go for the day – this was quite worrisome to me when I heard it – what would happen if they couldn’t find the horses? But the guides seemed unfazed. I think that kind of thing happens a lot. ‘No problem’ they told me. But my horse and guide were present, and demanding that we start our journey home.

So I had to say goodbye to Tom and Elaine. Saying goodbye to Elaine was difficult, we both had a bit of a cry and lots of hugs. She organised the Tibetan guides to help her sing a traditional Tibetan song of welcome and farewell and she did a Tibetan tea ceremony in which we both sipped from the same cup… It was so moving, and we were both sobbing… I think some of the guides and other tourists thought it was all a bit weird, and didn’t realise that I was saying goodbye to one of my best friends, and didn’t know when the next time I would see her would be. The farewell was short but sweet, though, as I had to get on the horse and ride into the distance. Quite poetic really.

Just sitting on the horse had become incredibly painful. Every time the horse moved it jarred my pelvic bone and I felt like I was being pounded there by a large hammer. I don’t know what I was doing wrong because later Elaine told me she had no pain after the three day trip, but I was in agony. It must have been the way I was sitting. But, oh, it still hurts to think about it.

The ride home was serene, with only Mr Horse as company. We sat in silence for long stretches, and chatted at length as well. He told me about his wife and kids, his extended family, how they celebrate the new year… I was surprised to find out he was only a year older than me… His weathered face and his solemn nature gave him the illusion of age and wisdom. He told me that it was time I went home to be near my parents and got married and had babies. I thanked him for his advice, but inwardly was able to just laugh about the cultural difference… I suppose in rural Sichuan province there are no other options for a woman other than marriage and babies. That is their duty and their life. And they seem quite content with their lot. But it made me very glad I am not a woman of Sichuan province.

The absolute highlight of the trip was meeting a Tibetan Lama and being invited into his house. It was only 15 minutes, but it was so moving, so inspirational, that I have relived it in my mind many times since. We spoke mandarin, which was neither of our first languages, but somehow we were able to communicate just fine. For the purposes of this blog I’ll refer to him as Mr Monk. That’s not his real name by the way. It may seem a little paranoid and secret agent of me, but I’m a little afraid if his identity gets out he will be persecuted. Anyway, the first thing I saw when I entered his home was a huge poster of the Dalai Lama. Having been to Tibet three years ago, I had heard many tales of persecution and arrests connected to the Dalai Lama. According to the Chinese, he is an enemy of the state, a counter-revolutionary, guilty of stirring up the foreign press with ideas of Tibetan freedom. The Chinese government has been slowly trying to erode the respect and love of the Tibetan people for him from within, waging a war of propaganda and oppression. Just owning a picture of the Dalai Lama is a crime punishable by up to three years jail. When I mentioned that to Mr Monk, he told me about his younger brother, who is currently in jail in Beijing. He is scheduled to be released from jail next year. His crime? He was carrying a picture of the Dalai Lama about the size of a playing card, but he had it hidden. Behind a picture of Chairman Mao! I think it was using Chairman Mao for such a purpose that must have got him the extra year in jail! I warned Mr Monk that he could get in a lot of trouble if people from the government saw the poster. He said that he knew it well, but it was one of his treasures and he was not willing to compromise or hide it. He told me that he travelled overland, walking most the way, across Tibet to India with the aim of reaching Darumsala and laying eyes on the Dalai Lama. He tried twice. Both times he was intercepted by Chinese officials and sent home. He says his dream is to see the Dalai Lama with his own two eyes. Just to see him would be enough, he said. He believes in him that strongly. That faith, devotion even, is so impressive to me. It really made me think. In Australia we are lucky enough to have the Dalai Lama visit, where people can see him freely, school children went to hear him speak on an excursion, some prominent officials were even able to meet with him. And no one there realises what a true honour that would be to an ordinary farmer or Lama in Tibet. Some people even refuse the honour of a meeting out of fear of reprisals by the Chinese government, like Melbourne mayor, John So. He lost all credibility in my eyes when he did that. But I don’t want this to turn into a rant… I just treasure the memory of meeting someone with a faith so pure and strong, with such conviction, that he would travel thousands of kilometres on foot, with only the hope of seeing the Dalai Lama. It was a fifteen minute meeting, but it’s impact will last for a lifetime.