Phenbo Valley, February 2007

I can now better understand how at one point in the Pacific Northwest there were over 300 Native American tribes with each speaking their own and totally incompatible languages. Because of the rugged terrains, deep river valleys, thick forests, the tendency to stay within known lands and considerable distances between different peoples, many times one tribe had absolutely no idea that the others even existed. And this was how it evolved and was for hundreds and thousands of years. I think this same concept can be applied to the very ancient world, even before the development of larger cities like Jericho or Sumer, large tribes of peoples had wandered out of Africa and drifted so far apart, become so separated by rivers, mountains, glaciers and miles, that what once was a single ancient root human language (possibly just grunts and sign language, but I think it was much more complex and beautiful than that), splintered into 5,000 or so different branches of the human language tree that we now have. Some of these languages are extinct, some dying and some slowly but surely taking over the rest. It has been said that in the future there will only be a few dozen languages left; that pretty soon only the 5 or 6 major languages will be widely spoken. This seems to go hand in hand with the slow but seemingly inevitable decay of indigenous cultures and minor societies in the tremendous pressures from globalization, modernization and colonization. But I am digressing yet again, as I tend to do, when talking about something as seemingly innocent as a 3 day hike in a valley an hour by bus to the north of Lhasa but a two day walk over the 15,000 foot mountains dividing it from the Lhasa valley (and the modern world).

But before I get back to my story and speaking of language, I want to share some interesting things with you about English. Leigh and I have been investigating the history of the English language, really just because we’re curious. And we found some amazing things. For example, Modern English is less than 600 year old and yet is the second most spoken language in the world (second only to Mandarin Chinese which is spoken by a greater number of people but not as geographically wide as English). There are over 300 million native English speakers, another 300 million who use it as a second language and another 100 million who use it as a foreign language. Two thirds of all scientific papers are written in English, 70% of all post/mail is written and addressed in English. English is the official or second official language for over 45 countries, compared to 27 for French, 20 for Spanish and only 17 for Arabic. It is the official language of mathematics, aviation, astronomy, diplomacy and business. This is simply incredible. Like it or not, English is well on its way to becoming the world’s default official language. No wonder we Americans are so lazy and unmotivated to learning another language!

For more history and some very interesting lists of words in English borrowed from other languages (like avocado is a Nahuatl, or Aztec language, word for testicle!), please visit these sites...

http://www.krysstal.com/english.html

http://www.krysstal.com/borrow.html

http://www.anglik.net/englishlanguagehistory.htm

The reason for this little transect of thought stems from a very incredible, invigorating, soul-warming recent trek that Leigh and I have just completed in the beautiful Phenpo valley. Like I mentioned before, the Phenpo valley is valley directly to the north of the Lhasa valley, only one hour by vehicle or two days by walking, but worlds and worlds apart socially, culturally and environmentally. We roughly based our hiking on 4 or 5 different monasteries and nunneries we (read Leigh) wanted to visit. Though I do have the tendency to become easily monasteried-out, I have to admit that they are really perfect stops on a hike, make excellent and friendly guesthouses and when all roads in the valley seem to lead to them it makes more sense to visit than not. I’ve begun to look at them as really colorful, spiritual tea & guest houses. After hours of walking at 12,000 feet, in the dry, dusty moonscapes of Tibet, I cannot tell you how good that first couple cups of butter tea can be to a weary soul and exhausted body! With butter (fat), tea (caffeine) and salt, it has almost everything the body needs to immediately replenish its stocks of energy. To have a safe haven to get out of the either beating sun (which at this altitude is much stronger than you think, even if the air is cold sunburns occur quickly), or the sometimes relentless and biting wind, or the occasionally bitter cold mountain air, and to have in that safe haven a warm kitchen fire to sit next to, a warm cup of strong tea in your hands and some good cheer for the soul is a gift that I cannot overlook. Thus, whenever I see the golden spires and deep red walls of a main assembly hall and the nearby rising column of smoke from the cooking fires, I feel immediately uplifted and give a small prayer of gratitude that the founders of these sacred places knew what they were doing when the put them half a day’s walk from each other (depending on the valley of course).

Rising early Monday morning and thinking of all the poor saps having to go to work, we boarded the mini-van at the Eastern Suburb Bus Station in Lhasa for the brief but cramped ride east and then north to the main town of Phenpo in the Phenpo valley (imaginative isn’t it?). Sipping our coffee and slurping our yogurt, we left the urban (and mostly ugly) sprawl of the Lhasa valley following the Kyi-Chu river east and upstream and then crossing a prayer flag bedecked metal bridge that is no wider than our mini-van, began our slow curve north into the country and out of the touch of time. Though the drivers here can give you a white knuckle ride sometimes, the roads were relatively clear except for a few wandering yaks and pigs which were easily if not fluently avoided, and we made quick time to the main town of Phenpo.

Donning our backpacks, which always seem to be heavier than you think they will be, we made our first visit to the in town Ganden Chungkor Monastery. An active monastery, most of the monks that live here were leaving as we arrived to conduct a puja in someone’s house, a common occurrence. There are many reasons to conduct a puja in one’s house – to clear obstacles, if someone is sick, to bring auspiciousness to the house and family in general – and they can last for several days. Typically, the family will give a donation to the monastery and then also feed the visiting monks for the days they are doing the ceremony. When we walked into the central courtyard, it was a bit surreal as we could see towering above the white chortens and golden spires on the roof huge cell phone towers and above everything else in the town stood the imposing and really architecturally ugly PSB (Public Security Bureau) building. Thankfully, this would be the last of anything modern or Chinese for the next 3 days. The monastery is pleasant with very friendly and accommodating monks running it. After a nice tour around, we were invited into the kitchen for some butter tea and conversation. Here began our practice of asking directions to the next destination once we arrived at the current one. After several cups of tea and having to refuse innumerable times for more, we were off and heading north and out of town and into the heart of the Phenpo valley.

This valley, one of the most fertile in the entire Lhasa area, is, compared to the Lhasa valley, sparsely populated and very agricultural. We spent more time walking through or besides farming fields than we did walking through villages. There were also probably as many, if not more, animals than there were humans. Large yaks, black and pink hairy pigs, smallish horses and ponies, some chickens and more dogs than we could count. And that was just the domesticated animals. We were constantly hearing and seeing the beautiful waterfowl of the area – orange breasted ducks, long necked geese and black headed cranes (which can only be found in Tibet). There were also a few eagles to be seen because there were hundreds of little mountain groundhogs, called pica, in the valley. They could be seen scampering from one hole to the next during our passage.

The valley floor was sparsely dotted with farming villages, the architecture of which probably hasn’t changed in a thousand years. They first make the bricks from the surrounding dirt, mix with water and the stalk remnants of the barley harvest to make basic adobe bricks. Piles and piles of these bricks could be seen stacked 10 feet high around houses and on the outskirts of villages. Occasionally, we would see a particularly wealthy family using mason bricks instead, but this was rare. The bricks are then cemented together with either mud or actually cement (depending on the wealth of the family). After the walls set, the roof, windows and doors are placed. The roof is usually a few medium to large sized trees, stripped and de-barked that are laid across the walls to form a frame. On top of which are laid many smaller straightened and de-limbed branches cross-ways to create a completely covered roof. They then take a specific mixture of dirt, water and grasses and cover the wood to seal the roof. This process takes lots of stomping and pounding, usually accompanied with singing and lots of laughter. The windows, doors and roof awning are highly decorated, very skillfully carved wood. These will then be painted colorfully. After everything is in place, a thick, goopy plaster is applied liberally over the walls and before it dries to seal in the walls, deep gouges are created in geometric designs to give the walls decoration. Leigh and I were fortunately enough to be able to witness a house building and I would say that half the village (or over 75 people) were there helping build it. With a work force like this and the simple passive solar design (courtyards, doors and most windows faced south), a 3-4 bedroom house of approximately 1000 square feet can be completed in less than 7 days! It was very inspiring to see an entire community working together to build a house for a particular family. Maybe they were paid; maybe they did it because they know that someday they may need to depend on that family’s help to survive too. There was something very simple and communal about the whole process of building a house. It was a pleasure and honor to witness such camaraderie and co-existing happening.

After walking west along a decapitated tree lined dirt road for about 3 hours, deeper and deeper into the valley, and after spending some time entertaining some village kids and three nuns on their way to the big town, we eventually arrived at our first destination – Langtang Monastery. Located on the southern perimeter of the valley and right at the base of the old trade route that goes directly south and over the mountains to Lhasa, Langtang was founded in 1093 and named for its founder Langri Tangpa Dorje Senge. Much of the original Kadampa monastery has been converted to farming land and a very pleasant farming village now surrounds what’s left of the once sprawling complex. At one point in time, very soon after the founding, it housed over 2,000 monks. Today there are only 30 or so. In one way, it is sad to be at places that used to have thousands of monks that now only have dozens living in the midst of ruins and a few rebuilt assembly halls and residences. On the other hand, that those dozens, or a hundred, are there at all, in spite of the past and all the other present options, is heartening.

When we arrived almost every one of them was involved in some sort of preparation for Losar, or Tibetan New Year. In the main courtyard there were several older men from the village sitting at sewing machines making new door and window hangings. It is a custom to clean your house and re-decorate your windows and doors every Losar. There was another middle aged monk who was working on making a new statue from clay of a recently deceased local Rinpoche. Then sitting around the sunny and warm courtyard (everyone here is a living solar panel!), were a scattering of other monks who were painting pecha (religious text) with saffron, then rolling them up into tight scrolls in preparation for placing them inside the new statue as part of the consecration ceremony. With the scrolls, the statue’s hollow interior will also house incense and other blessed objects, some maybe belonging to the deceased Rinpoche. The monks here were very friendly. In fact, everyone we met was kind in a way that people who live in villages and spend a lot of time outdoors and not much time in a city are kind. To our relief, as it was getting rather late in the afternoon and we were a bit tired and dusty, they offered us a place to sleep in the main assembly hall building, upstairs in a room together but definitely not in a double bed. How inappropriate would that be?!

Putting our packs down, we enjoyed some butter tea with the monks in the courtyard and relaxed for an hour or so in the fading afternoon warmth. We also enjoyed the company of many a ‘homeless’ dogs there at Langtang. As some of you may know, Leigh and I are seriously contemplating adopting a Tibetan Mastiff puppy (or two) before we come home to the States this year. So I in particular have been attracted to the local dogs in a way like when you think you want a new car you check that model out anytime you see them on the streets. Anyway, there’s an interesting story about homeless dogs that hang out at monasteries. Apparently, in their previous or a previous life, they were monks and now they are dogs but they feel most comfortable and at home at the monastery so that’s where they tend to gather, sleep and beg. Monks are usually quite kind to them (as long as they stay far enough away from their own bowls of soup!) as they realize that could be them in the next life or the one after. Remember karma and the Golden Rule?

Then late in the day, we casually strolled through the village and did a few koras around the impressive chortens at Langtang. Our route took us around the village and along the way we stopped to talk (well, Leigh talked, I smiled and nodded) to many folks, mostly older and younger as the young adults were either building a house nearby or working in Lhasa or Phenpo town. Our walk eventually took us by the community well where we sat and watched as the kids and old women came to gather their daily/nightly quota. Amazingly, when we asked how long the well had been there, an old, wrinkled grandmother told us 5,000 years! Unbelieving, we secretly asked someone else and got the same response. Wow. People have been gathering water at this spot for over five millenniums. That is just absolutely amazing, stunning and so very humbling. How old is the United States? 300 years old? That’s not even 1/10^th the age of this simple well. I mean, people were gathering water at this spot when they were building the freaking Pyramids! That’s just so cool. So we sat there and thought about how old this place is, how many mothers and children have been here, how much village gossip was spread at this spot, how many lives have depended on this one well. A gentle and profound reminder just how short, small, insignificant and absolutely precious our lives can be. That grandmother further surprised us when she up and hauled a full water container (probably about 50 lbs by my lifting) onto her back and hiked away without a grunt, groan or moan. It is so easy to underestimate the strength of a little old lady just because she has a few wrinkles or is missing a few teeth. Anyway, we eventually passed on and as the sun was setting we climbed up to the roof of the monastery and was rewarded with absolutely stunning views of the huge red and green striped valley we just walked halfway across.

After a decent night’s sleep in our very warm sleeping bags, we awoke to the sun greeting us again for another gorgeous day. Today we walk to the Shar Nunnery, a seemingly innocuous 3 ½ hours to the north and west, basically on the other side of the valley though we couldn’t see it from Langtang. I’ve said it before and I have to say it again here – distances in Tibet are very deceiving! The walk we embarked on this day was epic, beautiful, thrilling and totally exhausting. 3 ½ hours turned into 5 and when we finally arrived at our destination, there wasn’t enough daylight (nor energy in our bones) to walk back! It was very funny because basically folks would give us directions to the next place to ask directions. And they would always be like, “Well, you go to that white house there (they are all white in case you’re wondering) and you keep going until you see a water ditch. Then you….oh, never mind! Do you see that next village there? Just got there and ask. They’ll know”. And that’s how it was for almost every direction asking encounter we stopped for. It was great! We loved it. No street names. No take a left, take a right. No 3.5 miles to X. They would just point and say, “That way”. And honestly, that’s all we needed. The land was so grandly open and available, it was literally a pick your poison kind of hike. But the really crazy thing was that the whole time we were walking, we could see our destination in the distance…and that’s exactly where it seemed to stay – in the distance! A couple hours of steady walking would go by and it wouldn’t seem a damn bit closer. D’oh!

Along the way, we encountered children playing on the quickly melting ice from the night before. A couple of them had home-made sleds and we had a great time giving them extra ‘push’ along the frozen canals. A little while later we had quite an amusing time trying to decipher a toothless grandmother’s (maybe great-grandmother) directions at a crossroads. And even later, as our spirits were tired and our bodies weary, we met a kind shepherd spinning black wool that encouraged us and told us we were almost there. Of course, ‘almost there’ meant another 1 ½ hours! This type of walking, across huge swaths of flat, rocky land with huge snow capped mountains surrounding me, which has been so foreign to me as I grew up in the Southeast’s thick forests and gentle old Appalachians, gave me such a peaceful feeling and possibly a brief glimpse at what our nation’s first white explorers, folks like Lewis & Clark, must have experienced and seen. Miles and miles and miles of land, rock and mountain with nothing much to break the distances but a few creeks or rivers and thousands upon thousands of animals.

But finally we arrived at Shar Nunnery and I must say, after all the toil and tears, it was worth it, every minute. This place is highly recommended and definitely off the beaten track. Before we even got there, it seemed to us to be a very special place. For one it was impossible to see until you were right up on it. The last little bit of walking was uphill and the complex appeared briefly and then would keep disappearing from sight even though we were only a couple kilometers away. But once you come upon it, the magic you think you felt comes full force to your soul and you gaze in wonder at more than 200 gleaming white chortens, of all shapes and sized, with brilliant gold tops on deep red spires. Groups of nomads from farther north were prostrating around them and seemed impressed, or at least surprised, that white people cold also travel without a car! The nuns here are in such good spirits, in a defiant and jovial sort of way, and we saw many photos of you know who in somewhat discreet but open view. In general, nuns seem so confident and proud and earnestly devoted to practice and serving others. And it should also be noted they seem to take better care of their dwellings and chapels than the monks! Everything was clean, polished and well cared for. Sadly, sometimes you just don’t find that in the monasteries. Leigh is an immediate hit at any nunnery we go to because 1) she’s a woman 2) she speaks Tibetan and 3) she’s Buddhist. It almost never fails that at some point in the conversations, the nuns ask, beg and sometimes plead with her to stay with them and become a nun too! I hope that never happens while I’m alive for obvious selfish reasons, but I have to wonder if she’s ever seriously thought about it….Seems I’m good for giving her gray hairs and good meals. How can I compare that to Enlightenment??? After our tour of the chapels and a few koras around the chortens (stares go without saying here), we found a young Tibetan man with a truck parked nearby and proceeded to finagle, or should I say rent, a ride back to Langtang; thus, saving our feet, backs and sunburned faces the return trail. Best $8 ride I ever hired!

That night back at Langtang- our ‘home base headquarters’, we enjoyed our typical trekking dinner of hot instant noodles, hot chocolate and candy bars. We then sauntered up to the roof again, quickly becoming one of favorite places in the whole valley, and watched the hundreds of stars and full moon join the night sky as we listened to the surrounding village’s evening sounds – barking dogs, cooking fires, the isolated mumbling mantras from a older man or woman doing kora around the nearby chortens, kids getting their last bit of play time in before dinner and bed, the gentle spinning sound and splashing at the central well as mothers and young girls fill their families water jugs for the night, a lonely goose call in the distance, the low, Harley-like rumble of a tractor heading home…

Early the next day, after a filling breakfast of oatmeal, Clif bars and coffee, we headed out to our final destination of this Phenpo adventure – Nalandra Monastery. Founded in 1435 by Rongtogpa, a contemporary of Tsongkhapa, the monastery was largely destroyed in 1959 (what a terrible, terrible year for Tibetans!). Nalandra lies 1 ¾ hours west and slightly south of Langtang, nestled up in a nice upper valley against the backs of the mountains dividing Lhasa and Phenpo valleys. The monastery was named after the legendary Nalandra temple near Bodh Gaya in India, the location where Siddartha reached enlightenment and became a Buddha. Nalandra started as a Kadama (but now is Sakay) institution and was considered one of the most prestigious centers of learning in all of Central Tibet during it’s time. The ruins from the Cultural Revolution’s destruction are extensive and deeply upsetting (like any of the CR’s destruction, not only in Tibet). On the bright side, like many of the other sites of destruction, there is also serious rebuilding on-going. As we climbed the gentle uphill track leading to Nalandra, we were surrounded by darting pica and the unbroken views to the east looking over the entire Phenpo valley draped in morning mist. When we arrived, we made our way around the complex following the ancient walls painted in typical Sakya colors – red stripe, blue stripe, white stripe – each representing a particular deity important to that sect. After a good 30 minutes of following this wall we finally realized that we would be walking around the monastery for quite a bit longer and since we had a short time period to explore the grounds we hopped the fence and made our way into the treed and tall grassed ruins surrounding the main assembly hall and two main teaching colleges (recently rebuilt). Making our way into the main courtyard, we were yet again warmly welcomed and invited into the kitchen for tea. Today was a special day, as they monks here were preparing for a Tara puja (ceremony) so they were making lots of torma (butter and tsampa sculptures). After making some photos of the monks there, and enjoying some good laughs with them after they saw them, we joined the monks in the main chapel as they began the chanting for the ceremony. Leigh stayed back a bit and recorded some of it on her voice recorder and I wandered around the perimeter taking photos and sometimes just closing my eyes to fully absorb the sounds and smells of this particular time and space – an oftimes overlooked exercise in trying to form solid memories.

Reluctantly, the time was upon us to leave. We were planning on walking all the way back to the main town this afternoon and we still had to return to Langtang to pick up our packs. As I really do not like to take the same way back, I veered off the road and headed for the eastern ridge, where I could see a foot trail beat into the rocks there. There is something very unique and special about walking cross-country. I wouldn’t exactly call what we were doing ‘bush whacking’ as there was absolutely no vegetation to be seen except for the very short, dry grasses we were walking over. It is hard to describe the feeling of freedom and limitlessness that I feel when just walking across the Earth, with no path, no road and no body to tell me where to go. It’s ancient, instinctual and primitive…but also so absolutely serene, simple and sublime. Just to walk…to point your face in a direction and go. Nothing to bar your way, nothing to bar your view, just walking. Wow. It’s magical sometimes what happens to me when I get into the ‘zone’, the hypnotic rhythm of my breath and my feet working as a team to propel me forward in space. I have to say this to my ancestors, those that came down from the trees – THANK YOU! I haven’t walked as much as I have in the last year, I don’t think ever. It has been liberating, invigorating and much healthier. From Nalandra, we cut across country, easily avoiding the few dry creek beds we came across. With the warm sun, the royal blue sky and the red rocks as our visual sensory stimulus, it took me awhile to notice that besides my breath and steps there was simply no sounds. I stopped walking and stood for several minutes with not a sound to be heard (Leigh was far behind me as I had really opened up my stride upon the open plain). Absolute silence. Magical and so rare. It was so quiet there in the middle of this valley, with not a sign of human habitation to be seen, that I literally got lost in the silence. It was so sublime and perfect, this moment of stillness, of solitude, of utter contentment. And that is why I hike. That is why I seek the quiet places, the green places, the lonely places of the Earth…to find, or should I say rediscover, moments like this. To realize that the stillness in me is the stillness in the Universe and to realize that both are the Same and One…as I’ve said to many of you before, the Earth is my church, hiking is one way I pray. This reminds me of an African proverb I stumbled across recently – ‘When you pray, Move your feet’. I love that!

Finally, I have to let my sports geek self out a little here…..Happy Super Bowl! I was lucky enough to be able to watch it here in the comfort of my own home, complete with over-excited Chinese announcers that in my opinion might have made the game even more interesting that it really was. GO COLTS!!!