Arrival in Lhasa
Aug. 31
At 8pm, on schedule, the train pulled into the station at Lhasa. We’d given our number to Susie and Dan, in the hopes that we’d meet them for dinner in Lhasa, and we’d packed up our things from our 36-hour home. We stepped out into the station, glanced around at the mountains, and knew we were in for something special. We had to show our tickets on the way out, and then we made our way down a long driveway to where throngs of people were awaiting our arrival. Well, at least they were awaiting someone’s arrival. We found the sign reading “David Joseph Baldwin 3PAX” and soon we were loading into the van we’d soon grow to love. Before we got in, however, Tse Tan, our tour guide, gave us each a Kada, a white prayer scarf, which is meant to bring us good luck. It’s something like being offered a lei when arriving in Hawaii.
When we arrived at our hotel—a massive stone complex outside town—we checked in and made our way to the small, but decadently decorated, room. Fran and Mirjam, my friends from Ticketing who are joining us for the Tibet portion of our traveling, were in the room next door, so we stopped by to say hi. We told them we’d meet them for dinner after we’d showered, and then we each enjoyed the chance to rinse away the grime of 36 hours on the train. New to town, we didn’t know where to go for dinner, so we started walking. About a block down the street, we found a hotel, and I went in to ask whether they had a restaurant. We could see a lit room on the top floor, and thought this might be a good place for dinner. When I asked at the desk, the concierge ran out the front door. I followed, thinking she might be pointing us to a different entrance for the restaurant, but she was calling next door to the Tea House for a man who came quickly. We learned that his name was Nam Han, and because he spoke English, they had called him to help. He translated that we were looking for a restaurant, and suddenly the lights in a room to the left of the lobby turned on. We found ourselves escorted into the dining room, and the kitchen jumped to life. We felt as if they’d been there all along, working in the dark. Nam Han helped us translate what we wanted (thought part of the menu was in English,) and he sat with us during our meal, chatting about the decline of tourism in Tibet, which has left him without a job. Educated in India, he has worked for years in Tibet as a tour guide, but this year has been forced to open a Tea House with his wife, serving locals and truck drivers, as he cannot make a living guiding tours. After dinner and many group photos, we promised to visit him at his Tea House later this week. Already, we were seeing how open the local Tibetans are, and how happy they are to have us visit.
Not all has been peaches and cream, however, in David’s traveling world. The shoes that were soaked in Xi’an, my Asics Gel running shoes—purchased for the 2007 Chicago Marathon but never allowed to fulfill their purpose—boarded the train to Lhasa tied onto our luggage. I untied them when we loaded the luggage overhead and placed them under the bed, where, to my knowledge, they remain to this day. In our haste to disembark in Lhasa, my poor wet shoes were left behind. Thank goodness for a 2-yr-old pair of Chuck Taylors, which will now be the shoes in which I trek around Tibet. I know from shopping in Beijing that finding a European size 45 shoe will be impossible.
At 8pm, on schedule, the train pulled into the station at Lhasa. We’d given our number to Susie and Dan, in the hopes that we’d meet them for dinner in Lhasa, and we’d packed up our things from our 36-hour home. We stepped out into the station, glanced around at the mountains, and knew we were in for something special. We had to show our tickets on the way out, and then we made our way down a long driveway to where throngs of people were awaiting our arrival. Well, at least they were awaiting someone’s arrival. We found the sign reading “David Joseph Baldwin 3PAX” and soon we were loading into the van we’d soon grow to love. Before we got in, however, Tse Tan, our tour guide, gave us each a Kada, a white prayer scarf, which is meant to bring us good luck. It’s something like being offered a lei when arriving in Hawaii.
When we arrived at our hotel—a massive stone complex outside town—we checked in and made our way to the small, but decadently decorated, room. Fran and Mirjam, my friends from Ticketing who are joining us for the Tibet portion of our traveling, were in the room next door, so we stopped by to say hi. We told them we’d meet them for dinner after we’d showered, and then we each enjoyed the chance to rinse away the grime of 36 hours on the train. New to town, we didn’t know where to go for dinner, so we started walking. About a block down the street, we found a hotel, and I went in to ask whether they had a restaurant. We could see a lit room on the top floor, and thought this might be a good place for dinner. When I asked at the desk, the concierge ran out the front door. I followed, thinking she might be pointing us to a different entrance for the restaurant, but she was calling next door to the Tea House for a man who came quickly. We learned that his name was Nam Han, and because he spoke English, they had called him to help. He translated that we were looking for a restaurant, and suddenly the lights in a room to the left of the lobby turned on. We found ourselves escorted into the dining room, and the kitchen jumped to life. We felt as if they’d been there all along, working in the dark. Nam Han helped us translate what we wanted (thought part of the menu was in English,) and he sat with us during our meal, chatting about the decline of tourism in Tibet, which has left him without a job. Educated in India, he has worked for years in Tibet as a tour guide, but this year has been forced to open a Tea House with his wife, serving locals and truck drivers, as he cannot make a living guiding tours. After dinner and many group photos, we promised to visit him at his Tea House later this week. Already, we were seeing how open the local Tibetans are, and how happy they are to have us visit.
Not all has been peaches and cream, however, in David’s traveling world. The shoes that were soaked in Xi’an, my Asics Gel running shoes—purchased for the 2007 Chicago Marathon but never allowed to fulfill their purpose—boarded the train to Lhasa tied onto our luggage. I untied them when we loaded the luggage overhead and placed them under the bed, where, to my knowledge, they remain to this day. In our haste to disembark in Lhasa, my poor wet shoes were left behind. Thank goodness for a 2-yr-old pair of Chuck Taylors, which will now be the shoes in which I trek around Tibet. I know from shopping in Beijing that finding a European size 45 shoe will be impossible.
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