The driver and the tour guide sat in the front seat of the jeep, and I sat in the back seat with my eyes glued to the window, as we traveled from Lhasa to a small town called Gyantse. We saw prayer flags marking a water burial place. Fish eat the bodies, instead of vultures that eat them at sky burials, a tradition for which Tibet is known.

We just passed some traditional buildings, and there was a man and woman wrestling in the road, pulling at each other. It looked like they were smiling, so maybe it wasn’t as hostile as I thought. Other people were sitting in front of a café or shop and watching with amusement. I think all of them were male. I did not feel comfortable with the situation.

I have seen countless bare willow trees with stumpy trunks that are harsh and gnarly, not like droopy elegant North American willow trees. The only reason I recognized them as willows is because, in truth, they look like the Whomping Willow in the Harry Potter films. The Whomping Willows of Tibet. Maybe if I look at one of these trees out of the corner of my eye, I’ll just catch it swinging a branch at a passing vehicle.

A herd of sheep were in the center of the road, and I laughed and said, “It’s like Ireland!” We stopped, and I got out to take pictures of the herd, but it didn’t take them long to be off to the right of the road. A young woman was herding them; she wore Western clothes, including jeans, but she had a mask over her face similar to a surgical mask, like so many women I’ve seen in Tibet, although it doesn’t have much polution.

After our encounter with the herd of sheep, we came to a holy lake by Khanbhala Pass, which is 4700 meters at the top. It’s a road that winds around a mountain. Actually, since “la” means “pass,” it seems a bit redundant to call it “Khanbhala Pass.”

I rode a yak above the sacred lake. I kid you not. I rode a yak!! An elephant last year, a yak this year…maybe next year I’ll ride a camel.

We pulled over at sight of a couple of yaks wearing colorful saddles and bells and accompanied by a small number of mostly male people. An old guy asked me if I wanted to ride a yak. I said, “Oh, I don’t know, I’m afraid of heights oh why not,” and I climbed on. It was a bit scary, since my feet were so not on the ground, but it wasn’t nearly as high as the elephant last year. The yak moved forward a few yards. Gyantzing used my camera to take a couple pictures of me, and I was genuinely laughing. It seemed like such an odd situation, and I did it so casually. “Just do it,” truly has been my attitude on this trip; I didn’t even know if I’d survive Kathmandu. In addition to the yak, there was a large shaggy dog that jumped onto a precarious concrete perch at the edge of the pass, and I took a picture of the dog. A young woman wearing one of those homemade cloth surgical-style masks held onto the other end of the leash. I paid for both the yak ride and the dog (because of course I took a picture of the doggy), and we moved on down the road.

Normally the lake is turquoise, but today it’s white: frozen over and covered with snow. It is associated with dakinis, manifestations of female spirituality in Tibetan tradition. I’ve read about dakinis, particularly in the book The Dakini’s Warm Breath: the Feminine Principle in Tibetan Buddhism by Judith Simmer-Brown. They can be old women whom a meditation practitioner runs into on the side of the road, or they can be young women, or they can be goddesses or ghostly spirits. They’re guides believed to help you go in the right direction on your spiritual journey.

We stopped at some point and approached the frozen sacred lake, where a group of Chinese guys were standing directly on the ice; one had a camera with a tripod. Otherwise, out on the frozen lake was a tour guide with a tall bald guy from Holland. When he told me where he was from, I said, “I’ve been to Holland, but only at the Amsterdam airport, on the way to India last year.”

He smiled and said, “Most people say they’ve only been to the airport.”

I continually gawked out the windows at the breathtaking scenery, the mountains and the lakes and the huge bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds. Occasionally, we stopped so I could take pictures.

We came to a small town called Nangatse, which consisted mostly of traditional houses, buildings with pool tables outdoors, and shops. One of the buildings was one story tall and made of stone, and it housed numerous shops. I also saw some plain modern buildings that housed more shops. Many women wore chupas, the traditional Tibetan dresses. This was the first full day in Tibet that I didn’t wear my homemade chupa but instead wore jeans. I’m glad, because of the yak ride. I saw a goat standing in a doorway, in front of a red door.

We stopped in this town for lunch, at a little restaurant where our round table practically filled the room. I ordered a tofu and mushroom dish but apparently mushrooms are out of season, because they brought me a soupy dish containing big slabs of tofu, chives, red peppers…and meat! Gross! But they also brought us all rice, and I think Gyantzing took pity on me what with the veggie shortage, because the waiter brought out a big plate of bok choy stir-fry (or some sort of green stuff) and the driver heaped a bunch of this dish on my rice. I took the chopsticks and dragged the slabs of tofu onto the bowl of rice periodically and made a good meal of it. We were all served tea in, strangely, Dixie cups each in a blue plastic filigree-like cup holder that has a handle; the tea was hot water with bits of leaves floating in it, and the waiter kept refilling my cup, even if it was more than half full. I also asked for coconut juice, since it was on the menu, but they didn’t have any. Instead the hostess brought me a canned fruit juice on which the label illustrated fruit reminiscent of strawberries, but the pulp was clear. Still, it was delicious.

For the most part, it was a day of driving, driving, driving, with occasional photo stops—such as the walk onto the frozen surface of the sacred lake.

I saw frozen water, a waterfall that isn’t falling, on the side of a mountain. It looked as though it had stopped in time, like something that could happen in Doctor Who. We came to the Kharla Pass, at 5500 meters, with some majorly snowy mountains and one summit like a pyramid.

At the side of the road, on the right, I saw a charming white stupa, rather like a juniper stove, with a dramatic mountain backdrop. The driver pulled over so I could take a picture of it. I got out and aimed the camera, when a swarm of children ran up and stood before the stupa so that I’d take their picture. They asked for money, and I pulled some out of my wallet and proceeded to hand each of them a small bill. They were noisy and grabby and I think some expected me to give them money a second time. One of them nearly snatched the bundle of bills out of my hand, but I was quick. I was also rather overwhelmed, exactly like when I gave fruit to kids in Rajgir, India, last year. They were behaving the same way and have probably seen quite a few tourists.

We went through a similar pass at 4200 meters and saw an artificial turquoise lake caused by a flood (perhaps thanks to the Chinese plot to cut down all the trees in Tibet?) and also a real turquoise lake, where we stopped and I admired the view, wandered a short distance, and took pictures. Prayer flags fluttered on a telephone pole on mountain. It was so cold and windy. The wind sounded frantic and whispery and fast, as though it was trying to tell me something. I noticed that the wind sounds exactly like it does in the film Kundun, which is about the Dalai Lama; that wind is the last thing you hear at the end of the film.

 

Books Concerned with Dakinis:

 

Allione, Tsultrim.  Women of Wisdom.  Snow Lion Publications, Ithaca, NY:  2000.  

 

Dowman, Keith.  Sky Dancer: the Secret Life and Songs of the Lady Yeshe Tsogyel. Snow Lion Publications, Ithaca, NY:  1996.

 

Edou, Jerome.  Machig Labdron and the Foundations of Chod.  Snow Lion Publications, Ithaca, NY:  1995.

 

Gyatse, Geshe Kelsang.  Guide to Dakini Land:  the Highest Yoga Tantra Practice of Buddha Vajrayogini.  Tharpa Publications, London, England:  1999.

 

Norbu, Thinley.  Magic Dance:  the Display of the Self-Nature of the Five Wisdom Dakinis.  Shambhala Publications, Boston:  1999.

 

Simmer-Brown, Judith.  The Dakini’s Warm Breath: the Feminine Principle in Tibetan Buddhism.  Shambhala Publications, Boston:  2002.