jason molina

i don't have a computer at my apartment yet. i don't have an mp3 player. i do have a tiny little cd booklet with about 25 cds in it. that's it. i've been hurting for music, big time. and i didn't bring more cds with me so that i would be inclined to buy a computer (trip to tibet sort of crushed that idea. but i think next paycheck i'm splurging on a real deal laptop. we shall see).

that said, i've ordered some cds from america recently. i might have mentioned my library director's recent addiction to online shopping. of particular note is her infatuation with amazon.com. every day there are more boxes of english books ordered from amazon--including lots of large, coffee table art books and other books whose relevance to a children's library is lost on me.

anyhoo, i thought i'd ordered a jason molina cd (the new one), but turns out it's the vinyl. the fact that i have no idea how i'm going to be able to play this record isn't even the point here. the same night i picked up my record from the apartment office, there was an animation festival at the library that i needed to go to. so i hop in a taxi (no time to take said album back to my apartment) and go to the library. i put the box with the record in it (and the amazon label) on my desk. no problem, i'll get it on my way out. after the animation festival, the record is nowhere to be found. i figured someone was cleaning and just placed it in some area designated for boxes. i come in the next day and am talking to my director (well, sort of. she doesn't speak any english), and i see the record on her desk in a pile of books. the box is gone. the sleeve is gone. and i don't know why, but i didn't say anything to her right then and there. one of those awkward times when your instinct gives you the totally wrong advice. seems to happen to me a lot.

i tried to wait for her to leave her area so i could just take it, but she didn't move. and why would she, she had lots of nice, new online shopping purchases to look at. so i told my co-worker to look for a music item.

a couple of days passed, and i kept assuming that one morning i would come in and the record would be sitting on my desk, accompanied by an "aw shucks, i'm sorry i got confused" look from my director. but no dice. so i started to look for it again. nowhere to be found. lost among the myriad art books and hans christian anderson books.
finally yesterday, i decide it's time once and for all to claim my jason molina record. so i locate it in a box and grab it. then i look at the co-worker and hold it up triumphantly "yeoggi ta!" she understood immediately, "hey that's jamie's record. i'm glad she found it." but my director didn't get it. she thought, "yeah, cool, i must have ordered a vinyl album of an american musician i've never heard of. this will be good for the library and the children." so when i told her it was mine, she looked confused, and then seemed a mite defensive. she and the co-worker raised their voices, while i stood in the middle clutching the album, MY album. mi hyang (co-worker) told her all about that fateful night of the animation festival, and then everything was okay. but the director seemed defeated and deflated. i had made her look foolish. and she resents me for it now.

communication breakdown. it's always the same. i'm having a nervous breakdown. drive me insane.

Tibet. this is not brief.

First off, this is really long. And probably pretty boring to anyone besides me. You’ve been warned…

So I had started this by picking a choice quote from a poet I like, but I figured that was a pretty melodramatic way to open up my tibet recap. Granted, tibet WAS poetic: beauty in the wake of poverty; the struggles of daily life that those enduring would never consider “struggling”; steadfast religious faith; A culture so vastly different from my own life and any other lives I have seen before; being completely alone and having nothing but my thoughts to entertain myself (come on, i'm funny!). But I don’t need to overdue it on the sentiment. The trip was all mine, and my words and pictures will never do the experience, the landscape and/or the people justice. Words fail, even those of well-known poets. But before they fail they try in vain, and i owe it to myself and to anyone wishing to live vicariously (and retrospectively) through me to write it all down. Hence the longwindedness.

I suppose the wait makes it seem more dramatic than it actually was. In reality no overwhelmingly dramatic or even extraordinary events occurred, except that I was even there, on the “roof of the world” to begin with. And that simple fact is amazing to me. The same quotidian things we all do in our regular, daily lives—going to the bathroom, eating a meal, drinking a beer, buying batteries—become fantastic and life-altering achievements in such an amazing context. 5 years ago I never would have thought I would see any part of asia, let alone tour one of the most isolated parts of it all by my lonesome for 2 weeks (well, guide and driver). So maybe that’s why it’s all still difficult to digest. So this here recap is more for myself than anyone else. If you’ve ever seen my handwriting, you know why it’s important that I typed this all up for posterity. But the way I feel/felt is much more difficult to express than my daily activities, so I’m sticking with those details.

As someone who has always been poor, it’s also hard to believe that a trip to tibet is even possible, all you need is money. Weird. Normally, i would apologize for any overt sentimentality, but i think it's to be expected here. It’s difficult to write or talk about travelling without a little of this. It’s only been a little over 2 weeks and already I’m nostalgic. I know that when I went to europe, my life upon return underwent some very huge changes. I could then divide my life into “before” europe and “after” europe. And now it’s the same with tibet. The “after” seems to have more clarity, more purpose and more happiness (scratch that, see last blog post). I think when people plan any sort of trip, they have some inherent expectations (from themselves or from the vacation environment or from both). We might not admit it, but we want some change to occur, whether it be large-scale epiphanies or something else (and hopefully not including being arrested and thrown in a thai prison for smuggling heroin).

So why did I choose tibet in the middle of winter? Good question. I had already been tentatively planning on china pending jules and rory’s arrival there. But it didn’t happen (bummer) and I found myself in an english bookstore in seoul, studying the lonely planet books. I payed \30 for a tibet book, so I figured I had already made an investment, I might as well commit to the place. I said it out loud: “I’m going to tibet for christmas vacation.” And it became official then and there. I had also been reading a lot of books and poems positing the merits of isolation, so a self-imposed solitary vacation in a remote place was a romanticized fantasy weighing heavily in my brain.

The next day at work, I googled tibet and booked the first tour agency that came up: Access Tibet Tours (www.accesstibettours.com). I was promised an english speaking, tibetan-born guide, a landrover, entrance fees to all the places. Not to mention an amazing itinerary that included mount everest base camp. Holy shit! The highest mountain in the world! I think it’s important to note that I knew basically nothing about buddhism and that I’m not a big north face trekker kind of person. I did know a little bit about the political situation (china=bad!), and I think that’s what provided the initial impetus to go there. That, the isolation and the fact that “I’m going to tibet” just sounded really cool. Also of note, this trip was not cheap by any stretch of the imagination. But I had space on my credit card, and travelling is one thing I don’t ever really plan to put a price cap on. As long as capital one visa platinum treats me kindly….

Logistics to take care of beforehand. Maybe this is useful info in case any one was thinking of going:
-tibet visa (provided by ATT. I think it’s standard for the tour company to handle this. But who knew how difficult it would be to send a fax to china from korea? Good lord!)
-traing to beijing from lhasa (provided by ATT)
-china visa (me and a travel agent here in suncheon)
-flight to beijing from incheon (me and travel agent)
-hotel in beijing (me and priceline.com)
-bus to gwangju (me and travel agent)
-bus to seoul (me and travel agent)

with all this stuff in place, the time was nigh. Yes, that sounds dramatic enough.
Also, before I forget, I’m posting my pictures on flickr. www.flickr.com/photos/jamieleighmcgeorge so those will add some life to my story. Honestly, it’s really not that interesting (“it” being my recap) unless you’re there to take it all in. Sorry.

12.22-23.06. Days 1 and 2 of my tibet [mis]adventure.
Get on the bus to head to gwangju. I’ve never been to gwangju before, so it was a little nerve-wracking, as are most things I do alone, perhaps that’s why the satisfaction yielded by the completion of small tasks is so high. Ride to gwangju takes roughly one hour, so then I had until 1:30 am to kill time talking to pa on the phone. The bus to incheon from gwangju took 4 hours, which left me with 4 hours to kill before my flight left for beijing at 9:30 am. So I talked to mom and jules. I also checked my email as jason (from att) was supposed to contact me about the method of payment for the last portion of my balance. I told him (in email form) that I wasn’t too keen on carrying lots of cash with me, I had also emailed him before about wiring the money, and he said it would be fine. So I felt good—had all my visas, all the paperwork, etc. the airport was funny though, because there were all these russians flying home that just looked so stereotypically, well, russian. They had big beards and the thick accents the bad guys have in the movies. Plus, these large, furry, military looking hats.

So I finally get to beijing at a little after noon today. Check into my hotel room (of course, after a long, expensive, non life-threatening taxi ride) and think I’m going to get to relax. Then jason calls me and makes us both freak out about the wiring of money, contradicting what he had told me in email form. So here I am in beijing, with a limited amount of cash, and he tells me I can’t wire the rest of my money. So I sort of freaked out on a complete stranger, crying and writing condescending emails. What this ultimately means is that I’m not going to everest. So that’s a big bummer, but I’m excited to save some money. My credit card is also excited (logistical insert here. I had the money in my korean account, but had to leave on payday. No time to go to the bank during the day to send money back to my american bank account. Korean debit cards only work in korea. My american debit card works everywhere. Not enough space on my credit card to charge the remaining balance. Hence the agreement that I could just wire money from my korean bank account to a chinese one when I got to lhasa). So I guess I’ll just have to come back when I visit jules and rory in the spring.

Moving on to the larger issues: what if feels like to be truly alone in a foreign country for the first time in my life. It feels fucking great! Besides the minor freakout, I’m handling things surprisingly well. When left to my own devices, I am indeed able to navigate and make the most of my limited time. I made it here from the airport, and that alone is quite a feat. Now I’m perfectly content to drink a beer by myself at my hotel bar in beijing, china. Anyhoo, beijing (both like and unlike korea) is a study in contrasts. Lots o’ contradictions. It’s a huge city, but it doesn’t really feel like it. Everything is very spread out (which seems decidedly un-asian to me). The streets are teeming with bicycles and all their variations. When I was little I would imagine a covered bicycle that would protect me from the elements. They have those here! It still feels more asian than korea, which is to say, it’s dirtier. It also feels less materialistic than korea. Not that you can tell that based on less than one day, but it’s just a hunch I had. The children don’t point and stare at you, despite the fact that I’ve seen hardly any other foreigners here. The gap between tradition and modernity doesn’t seem to be so wide here as in korea. Beijing seems to have found a happy medium. The sounds and smells are so different too. I’m just reeling from the reality that two asian countries that are so geographically close can be so culturally different. There’s almost sort of an old world european feel to the layout of the city. I dunno. I walked down a few side streets today and that was the best part of my day. Meandering down these dirty but charming narrow streets. The rest of the time was spent watching hbo. There wasn’t too much time to really do anything.

Fashion here is another thing that is totally novel to me, having just come from the vanity that is korea. The girls seem to have picked up on a lot of korean trends, but they blend them all together—so instead of looking put too together and fashionable like korean chicks, they just look even more mismatched than koreans. There also seems to be higher regard for functional clothing. But less plaid. People here actually dress warmly.

12.24.06. Christmas eve in the beijing airport. Strikes me as funny that people at the ticket counters don’t know if tibet is domestic or international. I spoke to 4 different people—only one of whom had mastered how to be simultaneously aloof and condescending. In english! But I have my ticket, I’m in the right place, popped 2 valium, so all should be okay. Beijing is a cool city. It’s not overwhelming and neon, like seoul. seems like it’s not trying so hard.

On the flight to lhasa and I’m pretty sure someone is smoking on the plane. I can’t see it, but I can smell it. Unless that’s the smell of engine failure, in which case, I prefer the former.

Drinking a corona at my “layover” in some city somewhere in china. Corona, funny. The servers here are all wearing purple silk dresses, white, opaque tights, yellow neck kerchiefs and red santa hats. It’s very funny. Also funny to hear chinese flight attendants say “merry christmas” when theirs is a predominantly atheist nation. Just goes to show you how far removed from religion this most holy of holidays has become. Not that I mind. But at least with some guise of holiness, it somewhat dulls the shock of what is an overtly commercial holiday. Let’s see, how did I feel on the plane. I took valium before we even boarded, so I was pretty loopy anyway. Like being drunk and feeling heavy, but without the full feeling. If one can float and feel leaden at the same time. Saw some other foreigners and said hi, like I’m sposed to, a pretty lukewarm (if that) reaction. The not cheap but poorly made bag I bought less than 24 hours ago is already ripping at the seams. I’ll have to find a needle and thread as soon as I get somewhere. Though something tells me that might be hard to come by. Fucking “we wish you a merry christmas” is playing in chinese. Where the fuck am I? Time to break out that voice recorder. China so far is not seeming as cheap as everyone has said it would be. I have no idea how much this corona costs. So far, travelling alone doesn’t feel weird or foreign at all. I dunno. Some girl just asked me something about my beer, but I don’t know what. Aha! She asked if I wanted another. If they took credit card, I’d say hell yeah. Anyhoo, back to travelling alone. I like it. But I would also like it if it was me and jules and rory. I bet alicia would be fun to travel with.

Hmmm….i think the next vacation should be bali—somewhere exotic. Tibet’s exotic, but in a primitive sort of “brave the elements” way. I want to go somewhere sexy. Tibet’s not sexy. Of course going somewhere sexy by myself would probably just ultimately be depressing. Wow, they really want me to drink here. “miss, one more beer, okay?” yesterday in beijing, I went into a mall and it was so funny. The people saying “looky looky” “good good.” Looky looky, good good. It’s so stereotypical, but that’s exactly what they said. I spy with my little eye a real, live, bonafide monk! And he’s getting on the plane with me! His clothes look heavier than the korean monks’. Now it’s “auld lang syne” in chinese. I don’t even know the real words….

Sat next to a tibetan woman who only had one eye. The way to distinguish tibetans, I’ve found, is that they seem to be a little more tan, a little more weathered, and just look poor. Plus, they have cool jewelry (and only one eye). I’ve taken 2 2 hour flights today, and I got meals on both of them. Plus, I have a footlong subway sandwich in my bag, just in case I’m feeling unadventurous in the food arena later (and hopefully roasted chicken kept at room temperature for 4+ hours won’t make me ill). I also drank a beijing beer with my meal, which tastes a lot like budweiser. I hope I don’t run out of money. That’s random, but so is a trip to tibet.

My first glimpse of ACTUAL mountains out the window of this plane. The three tibetan women across the aisle all huddle together to sleep, waking occassionally to look out the window. They seem as though they are not well-versed at air travel, which would make sense, I guess. The people next to me seem like assholes—starting with how they made all the tibetan people move beause they were in their seats, when they could have just stayed where they were and there would have been no problems. But no! they wanted the left aisle next to me instead of the right. So back to these mountains. There’s actual snow on them and they look treacherous. Makes the idea of a “mountain” in korea sort of laughable. But it also forces me to reevaluate where I am, strictly in a geographical sense. The metaphoric, implicit sense I have yet to synthesize, so it will stay as yet unwritten. For now. I wonder who’s picking me up from the airport. I wonder if there will be many white people in lhasa (as there are only 5 on the plane right now, but I guess that’s a pretty big number).

So I am in my hotel in tsedang now. It’s been a very long day. I woke up at 6 am in beijing, checked out, made my way down to an airport shuttle bus (wasn’t too hard, as they say “airport shuttle bus” on the side of them). So I sat on that bus for about an hour, wondering when it would leave, plus I’m still confused about chinese money over here. Anyhoo, get back to the airport and am directed back and forth between domestic and international flights. Finally get on the plane, get served some meal of chinese fish and rice. Gee-ross. That flight lasts about 2 hours, then I have a 1 hour “layover’ in chengdu. But on my 2 hour flight here, I got another meal. Nice-uh. Descending in the middle of the mountains was pretty amazing. I could just get glimpses of them out the window. When we landed, all around the airport were mountains, but they’re all brown—no green or white whatsoever. They looked like sand dunes or something. I found my tour guide, pasang (he was holding up a sign with my name on it) and he gave me a big piece of white satin-y fabric as my official tibetan welcome. To get to tsedang, we drove an hour on a relatively deserted road. We=me, pasang, and pubu (?) the driver. So I will be with them pretty much nonstop for the next 10 days. The drive to get here was the most impressive thing by far—cows, sheep, ducks crossing the road. The cows have particularly gnarly fur. It was almost like a desert landscape—just wide open space with the mountains surrounding. But there were all sorts of rickshaws piled high with junk, large groups of natives by the side of the road, waiting waiting waiting. People in traditional tibetan robes and women and men with colorful braids and jewelry. Children with dirty matted hair, rosacia cheeks and dust everywhere.

The weather’s actually pretty nice. I’m exhausted and have a headache—my only real symptom of altitude sickness so far. Anyhoo, check into the hotel, I take a hot shower and wash my hair—as I don’t think I’ll get to do that for a while. No conditioner=lots o’ static. Then I met pasang and pubu for dinner. We ate the soup with egg and tomato (like the shandong peeps in co, mo fixed), a tofu dish, a spicy mushroom dish (pasang had to get up and walk around because it was too spicy), and some pork. It was good, and they paid for it because this is my christmas dinner (ha!). but they kept forcing me to eat and refilling my tea, refilling my rice. And pubu kept putting mushrooms into my spoon so that I could drop them into my soup. On the drive to get here, I got to talk a little bit to pasang about tibetan/chinese politics and it was pretty interesting. He doesn’t like chinese people and hates even seeing them. And he said he’s happy to talk about politics because it’s his duty to speak for the tibetan people, but we have to be careful what we talk about in public. His english is great, but he’s never even been out of tibet. Apparently it’s very difficult for tibetans to get a passport. His phone says “free tibet” on it, and he said he would probably go to jail if any chinese people found out. Anyhoo, I’m excited to be here. I just feel good and it’s absolutely beautiful and I am proud of myself for doing this. It’s pretty overwhelming, but my eloquence fails me now, on account of the brain pain. People always say the world is such a small place, but that’s bullshit. The world is huge, and how sad is it that I’ll never even set foot on 99% of it. And yet here I am, in a place that most people I know will never have the opportunity or means to visit. This is huge.

12.25.06. day 2 of my tour. Waiting in my hotel room for pubu and pasang so we can go eat breakfast. I asked for a morning call last night and I got woken up 3x in the middle of the night by the phone ringing. The front desk people seemed very confused by my request for a wakeup call, and I was confused by the phone having the wrong time. Good lord my handwriting blows. I guess I’m in a moving vehicle too.

Things of note (the short list. I can’t really describe each of these things in detail, as this is already turning into a really long, convoluted document):
-tourist bus named “shark attack”
-tractors as transportation/rickshaw
-I am in the middle of a national geographic spread
-pasang likes israeli girls, korean girls and tibetan/nepali country girls
-lots of hitchhikers
-it’s christmas and I’m driving to lhasa from tsedang, surrounded by nomads, yaks, sheep and the sprawling desert landscape. It’s good to be me.
-pasang says it is his duty to make me eat all my food.
-pubu drives really quickly, especially down gravel mountain passes. I like it.
-just had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting two sheep crossing the highway.
-tibetan women who thought my camera was a polaroid.
-rickshaws and grapes of wrath jalopy images
-nice to not speak to anyone, just an unnoticed passenger trying in vain to absorb all these images, landscapes, people
-incense, crystals, prayer flags at yumbulugung palace
-little truck full of goats
-dead cow by the water
-tibetan mastiff breeding center
-mtns. Look like felt or moss-covered, green fur.

Both the driver and the tour guide have short fingernails except for their pinkies—really long. My head hurts again.

So for breakfast I had 5 glasses of yak butter tea—remarkably, it doesn’t taste like any of those 3 things. 2 bowls of rice porridge, one dumpling, some random fried vegetables and some peanuts. After that we headed to samye monastery—via gravel road. My driver really enjoys driving quickly but I guess he knows the roads like the back of his hand. Anyhoo, the landscape was incredible. There are mountains surrounding us, but then there are really high sand dunes bordering the river in the valley. It was bizarre and beautiful and basically untouched. And also overwhelming. I’ve been on the verge of tears since I’ve been here, but it's all so anti-climactic for driver and tour guide so i feel like i'm at the movies trying not to let anyone see me cry. Oh, I also saw a prostrating pilgirm, but this was before we hit gravel. Got to the monastery and it was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The buddhism here feels very organic, everyone is so intensely involved in the religion—these monasteries are functional sites for the thousands of pilgirms who come to them daily—it’s dirty and tattered and its wear makes its function and their faith that more real, not so abstract. There is symbolism in everything.

so what’s a tibetan temple like (monasteries are temples with colleges or schools. Temples are just the temple, sans school. This is what pasang told me)… The buildings themselves are stone with big wooden columns inside for structural support. Many of them are multi-storied and the stairs are steep and treacherous. The main entrance is covered by some sort of yak sheet or heavy blankets with celtic-looking designs on them. You enter the temple and move through the rooms clockwise (counterclockwise if you’re in a “bon” temple. Tibetan buddhism is sort of an offshoot or an amalgam of “bon” philosophy and practices. Bon religion was more mystical and shamanistic. I think…). Most temples have a large assembly hall where all the monks sit and chant at some point. Pilgrims walking through, shuffling as their robes scrape the concrete floor. The pungent smell of yak butter clouds the air, as every temple or monastery in tibet is rich in large, yak butter candles. The pilgrims come through with their bags of yak butter, or gu (a yak butter substitute as the yak population continues its steady decrease) and a spoon to top off the perpetually burning candles. This smell, compounded by the burning of juniper incense (not an incense stick, just a big bundle of juniper branches), makes for an altogether intoxicating and heady otherworldy realm. There are also at least 7 bowls of holy water symbolizing the 7 original monks. There can also be more than 7, but definitely no less than 7. Pasang is a great guide—he knows his stuff. And he tells me every detail about every buddha and painting. The amount of information available in a tibetan religious building is quite honestly, overwhelming. there are lots of statues, podiums, monks and buddhas everywhere. Every inch of space is devoted to some religious item. And the people come through with their small bills and place them in bowls in front of the buddhas. Then the monks come through and collect all the money that goes to the temple/monastery. The monks also make change for you if you want to take pictures inside the rooms. [If/when people look at my pictures, you’ll notice there aren’t a lot of shots from the insides of these places].

After this I had an hour by myself to just sort of wander around. So I took lots of pictures and ventured outside the monastery walls to find some side streets. There I encountered yaks close up, children playing on the ice, and women who didn’t understand why my camera didn’t just shoot out pictures. I promised to mail them pictures, but I’ll have to have pasang translate the tibetan into english. After samye, we ate noodles in tsedang (where we stayed last night). Then we headed to yumbulalang palace (oldest palace in tibet). I fell asleep for part of that. This was when we had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting some sheep. The palace was amazing! So steep. You could pay to take a donkey to the top, but we walked. There was also a camel, but pasang had no idea why it was there and he said he didn't like camels. More yak butter and burning juniper. Lots of prayer wheels. After the palace, headed to lhasa, took a long time. Pasang explained that there are two sections of town—the chinese and the tibetan. Then he said “which section do you think you’re staying in?” I said I hoped for tibetan since i was in tibet, and he said “nope, chinese!” but he was just kidding. My hotel is adjacent to the barkhor area. I already did a lot of haggling, and maybe got robbed. I don’t really care though. I’m in tibet. Tomorrow I meet jason and get to be mean to him. I’m not angry. I’m angry AND disappointed! That’s a dad-ism right there.

I had to haggle for batteries. That’s funny.

You can smoke in the bank.

12/26/06. I cried a lot today. That, combined with the altitude, is giving me another killer headache. But all is okay because I’m getting ready to eat some yak noodle soup. I’m excited. After that, I wil probably go chillax for a while, then wander around some more. If I thought yesterday felt like national geographic, today in the city it was even more so. pilgrims prostrating themselves, the constant stream of pilgrims walking clockwise in the jokhang kora, spinning their prayer wheels, the low chanting, the yak butter. The smells and sounds of all things foreign. I need to buy postcards. I got two more silver bracelets today for Y40. the chick was asking Y60 for one. It’s official, I’m an awesome haggler. I ordered a vanilla milkshake, and it’s lukewarm and liquid. I hope that’s okay.

I showered my first day in tibet, but I haven’t since then. @ some point I’m going to start to stink probably. Let’s see…what did I do today. I woke up at about 3 am in my snowlands motel room (a heater, but no heat. no hot water. I’m not complaining, I’m just pointing out) because I had the worst headache I’ve ever had in my life. The altitude sickness. So for an hour (after taking 3 bayers) I lay in bed just focusing on my breathing. Then the nausea kept me awake for a few more hours. But I got up early to try to call my korean bank for a wire transfer. No dice. The way I’ve been able to tell time the past couple days (as no clocks seem to work and/or exist), is by my camera. I can’t set an alarm, I can only hope I don’t oversleep. But I wake up, take a picture, and in review mode it has the time. I’m smart. So far, so good. I met pasang @ 10 and we went to the potala palace. It was huge and we had to climb at least 400 stairs. But the view of the city and the surrounding country was incredible. I also met jason from access tibet. And I was so used to hearing pasang speak tibetan and english that I didn’t realize he spoke chinese. Which is just stupid on my part. Of course he speaks chinese, as do most tibetans. On all the signs for everything you see huge, imposing chinese letters/characters, with the lesser tibetan ones below them. After the palace, pasang and I went to a bank in a last ditch effort to get my korean money. No luck. So he got to see me cry. Then I had to meet jason to talk aobut my revised tour schedule, which now involves me staying in lhasa longer than I wanted to. If I had more money to spend, of course I’d want to stay, but if I had more money I’d be going to everest. So jason did a good job of making me feel stupid. And I know he thinks I’m some dumb american tourist. But I have the email from him, and he doesn’t seem to understand how that would be confusing to me. Whatever. I cried again, so he knocked some money off the total amount, which means I will be able to afford to go see calexico in tokyo (turns out, no. flights to tokyo are fucking expensive!). anyhoo, after cryfest, lhasa 2006, met back up with pasang to go to the jokhang temple. It’s the holiest place in tibet (according to lonely planet, 2004), and also, as of right now, my favorite thing. It was pretty much empty, except for the source of some unidentifiable chanting from a distant corridor. At seonamsa in korea, there’s just a cd player of monks chanting, but here there are real monks, really chanting. But lots and lots of prayer wheels, inside and out. Plus, it sits right in the middle of the tibetan section of the city, and there are constantly pilgrims circling it. So from the roof of this temple, I got to wacth the religious going ons and outdoor commerce of a large portion of the city. Pilgrims prostrating themselves, people in traditional tibetan dress, low chanting. Their religion pervades every aspect of their lives. They are dirt poor, but pious and humble and inspired by faith. what do you call that, contrition? i think so. reminds me of a metaphysical poets class i took sophomore year in college. for some reason (in the context of john donne i think. or some other "metaphysical" poet) we talked about contrition vs. attrition. and then there's nutrition.

Ate dinner with a monk and a guy with gold teeth. They spoke no english, but we gnawed on cold yak bones together and drank yak butter tea. I don’t know how to adquately describe the range of emotions I’m experiencing right now (and I’m trying to keep the everest disappointment out of this equation. So I guess I can describe what I’m not feeling. And that’s disappointment). There’s the beauty of the landscape, the piety (I’m going to apologize for using this word a lot. It might not be the right word for buddhism, but I don’t know what the right word is) of the people. I dunno. They have so little in the way of material goods or [arguably] modern comforts, yet they have a joy and a devotion I’ve never ever seen manifest so sincerely before. And then there’s me. why do I have the right to be cynical and bitter and judgemental all the time? At least I have hot water (in korea, at least) and new shoes. And I know western society probably looks down on these, our undeveloped asian friends, but what do the comforts of modernity matter if one is happy in simplicity? Seems like there’s a fable or something somewhere waiting to concisely and beautifully simplify this for me.

12.27.06. today was another great day, although I’m honestly not too enthusiastic about spending another 4 days in this city. But tomorrow I’m going somewhere else, so that will be nice. I’m eating dinner now, which consists of soup, chang (the barley liquor) and potato naan. Awesome. I think I’ve found my cheap dinner place. The naan is large and only Y6. more about travelling alone. It’s great for the first couple of days, but then you really miss communicating with people and getting drunk. That’s sort of where I’m at right now. Maybe my opinion will change during the 4 days I’m left to my own devices. But anyway. Reminds me of a quote someone said and that I felt was accurate enough to commit to memory: “the boredom of the eternally new.” I sort of wanted someone to be here to witness and confirm all the amazing things I was doing. The experience dulls when there’s no one to witness it or with which to share it.

Today I went to drepung monastery. The monk I ate yak with last night gave me his phone number (ha!), so I wanted to call him. But pasang said it wasn’t right for a monk to be talking to a female. I guess that’s true…so drepung was interesting. It, of course, had beautiful views and was very steep (also got a new driver because pubu had to take jason to everest). But it was a bit heavy on the beggars. Pasang said he would rather go to hell than give the beggars money. I like being a tourist here, but I also feel like both jason and pasang have the totally wrong idea about me. They both think I’m a rich, snobby, stupid american tourist. But I think the fact that I’m here at all, instead of at a luxury hotel on the beach or something, is a testament to the kind of person I am (wait, what kind of person am i? i don't even know). I am admittedly ignorant of buddhism, but that’s why I wanted a guide—so I could at least learn a little bit while I’m here. So back to drepung, lots of beggars, and it’s sort of difficult to tell them apart from every other pilgrim. They’re dirty and have lots of brightly-colored jewelry. I know that’s judgemental, but it’s also a fact. And again, what does it matter if you’re poor and dirty if you have your faith? And therein lies the beauty in the decrepitude of tibet. Drepung had a nunnery high above it on the mountainside. How do the nuns get there. Must be one hell of a hike. I will try to go to a nunnery sometime while I’m here. I’ve seen plenty of monks—in fact, just looking out the window of this restaurant. I guess they have to buy their monk wares somewhere…but no nuns. Or maybe I have seen nuns but just didn’t know it. The landscape at drepung reminded me of jesus christ superstar. Which oddly enough, makes me want to go visit jerusalem or some other equally dangerous locale. As long as all the people are singing and dancing and dresses as hippies, it should be a good time. There were lots of sheep and goats running around (pasang made fun of me for calling a sheep a goat. I told him that being in korea and speaking truncated english in korea was taking its toll on my vocabulary. pasang also asked me "do you want to eat my meat?" he didn't know the overt sexual connotation, but he asked me because i said i liked eating all meat (in reference to yak meat consumption last night).

i just had a random thought--how do tibetans make money? i know there are the vendors, and the restaurant peeps, and the tour guides, but how do the rest of the pilgrims all make money? and what is the distribution of wealth? are there rich people in tibet? what do they do? another burning question, should i get another glass of chang? i think yes. tomorrow will be another cheap day and then i'll just sleep in on the other days so i can skip breakfast. that's sound rationale. right now, in theory, i'm sposed to spend another 2 days in beijing at the end of all this, so i get to cross my fingers and hope that i can move my flight up. i asked pasang about his long fingernail and he said it was just for decoration. fair enough. they're changing a baby's diaper on the floor of this restaurant. interesting.

today, walking through the barkhor area, i saw these three bonafide germans (or maybe they were swiss. wherever ricola comes from). but they were all dressed like the people in the ricola commercials. and i wanted to take a picture of them instead of the tibetans. so i finished the drepung at 1, walked around until 3, then met pasang again to go to the sera monastery. this has actually been the highlight for me (how many times have i said this now). there were three old, withered women sitting outside that pasang had to stop to talk to because they were from the same village as his parents. he also started calling me "boss" today, which i don't like one bit. sort of plays up the whole skewed notion that i'm some rich tourist. sera is where the print the holy books, so i got to see that in action. and "in action" just means two guys sitting on the floor with a little ink dipped rolling thing singing back and forth to each other, in time with the rolling. incredible! plus, there was the monk debating in the courtyard. just a courtyard of monks talking loudly and clapping. very very cool. plus i got some audio of it. came "home" after that. pasang gave me a guilt trip about not talking jason into letting me go to gyantse (home of the gyantse kumbum). i think he really just wanted to go there, but he couldn't ask, so he was bummed that i didn't. more waygooks just walked in. i saw some dutch peeps today--we're doing the same tour package, so i've seen them everywhere. i think the main thing i'm lacking as a tourist is the whole "backpacker spirit." i don't know how to engage complete, english-speaking strangers in conversation because they are undoubtedly more well-travelled than i. back to travelling alone. i do like it, for the sheer fact that i am here and i am having an experience that so many others can only have vicariously.

i got an email from jen brouk, and she asked me about romantic prospects (not in tibet, just in general. we're girls. we talk about this shit). i don't think the fact that i'm 28 has anything to do with the loneliness i've been feeling lately, though koreans would make you think otherwise. i'm an old maid there. solitude ain't bad! loneliness is that sort of looming, weightier issue that seems so accute at the most inopportune times, even while in the company of friends. how can i be lonely, i'm not alone? and nowhere is that more apparent than in living or travelling in countries where you don't really know anyone. i miss jules and rory and alicia and ma and pa, been single for a while now, and i'm beginning to get pathetic and ask myself lots o' stupid, girl questions. a korean girl i tutored in co, mo once used her electronic translator to translate "single" and the word "spinster" came up. good eats. surely i'm not going to be a spinster, but at the same time, i know it's going to be a long 9 months more (at least) living a completely passionless life in the romantic wasteland that is south korea (it's not without its merits. but romantic it ain't). if i do decide to stay, for purely financial reasons, what effect will that have on me? why would i want to do that to myself, if for no other reason than to lament the very fact. an unhealthy practice that pervades so much of my life...i guess i should finish my alcoholic barley beverage [this section has actually be significantly de-estrogenized, taking into consideration that people probably don’t want to hear me feeling sorry for myself. But, it’s part of the trip, so this bit stays].

i am in a great mood right now. the restaurant i just ate at gave me a 20% discount. so my bill was only Y20. kick ass. then i walked to a bakery and got some bread for tomorrow's breakfast and lunch. now i'm at a really cool bar that also sells books. i asked to take a picture and they got sort of freaked out because all their books are pro-tibetan, anti-chinese sentiments. there's also no sign except for a carlsbad beer neon. then you lift this blanket from outside and are in the bar. the bar itself is set back into a rock wall. the most striking thing is that it's really clean. joayo! the floor is also exposed rock. i'm drinking a lhasa beer and it says on the label "beer from the roof of the world." i will try to take this bottle with me. it also has a picture of the potala palace on it. a beggar just came in and harassed me while i feebly tried to will the workers to help me get rid of her. i just smiled and shook my head. seems to work.

-man in jewelry store kissed me on my neck.

12.28.06 en route to shigatse. pasang singing backstreet boys at drepung monastery.

some bizarre jazz/classical/rock concert on tv and jethro tull is playing rock flute with a full orchestra. his balance seems to be off though. can't quite hold his leg up like he used to.

today was a pretty chillaxed day. watching tv in my hotel room in shigatse. some white chick is butchering english grammar all over her news story about the tibetan antelope. but back to my day. it felt like i was in the land rover all day. got up at 10, met pasang, headed to yamdrok-tso, the scorpion shaped lake. which meant spiraling up a mountain for several hours. incredible. the new driver is much more cautious than pubu, and he sort of looks like the guy from romy and michelle (alan cummings?). anyhoo, climbing this mountain with yaks and sheep grazing on the hillside was amazing. we had to stop several times to allow groups of grazing sheep to pass. how cool. once we got to the top of the mountain pass there was a spectacular view of the lake. there were also some tibetans at the top with an elaborately decorated yak and some weird-looking dog that i could pay to take pictures of. no thanks. but it is impressive, because they all had to climb to the top of mountain that i had spent all morning driving up in ye olde land rover. and then back down with the yak and the dogs at the end of the day. so after taking some pictures, headed back down the way we had come and to shigatse. i peed on the side of the road. that's notable. we ate lunch at this small, dark cafe full of the real deal tibetans--including a row of men with read cloth braids woven into their hair. they feasted on the same sort of yak meat i ate the other day with my monk friend. i talked to pasang for a long time. I told him I would send him a korean housekeeper. I tried to check my email, but a taiwanese earthquake has fucked everything up. then I met pasang and new driver to go eat dinner. Once again, pasang paid for it all. I’ll have to give him a big tip, even if it means wiring money to him from korea. After dinner, came back to the hotel for another chillazed night. Maybe tomorrow night in lhasa I’ll go do something. I don’t know what, as the town seems to shut down when it’s dark. Maybe I’ll mingle with other foreigners, but I haven’t seen many. I dunno. From tomorrow on it’s really just killing time in lhasa until I go back to beijing. But I guess there are worse things…

12.29.06 pasang calling the chinese people in noodle place “those fuckers. One day I will kill all of them. Or just one.”

I’ve been sitting in my hotel room for the last 4 hours. Got up early-ish today (9:00 am) and met the gang @ 9:30 for breakfast. Then we went to tashilunpo monastery. Once again, it was beautiful. Less beggars than at previous places. The pilgrims all seemed especially curious about me today. Did the whole tour in 45 minutes, then we headed out of shigatse back to lhasa. Anyhoo, not a lot of money left, which is part of the reason I’m sitting in my hotel room (that, combined with feeling like I’m going ot barf). Have to save all my site-seeing for the 3 whole days I have here alone. I think tomorrow I will go to a nunnery or the muslim section of town. I’ll save all my souvenir buying for my last day. I like tibet. I like lhasa, but I will be excited to get back to korea. I want ocn. I want floor heat. I want a hot shower. I want to get drunk. I really really hope I can move my flight up from beijing. I would love to stay in beijing, but I don’t have enough money. Anyhoo, why my stomach hurts—lunch was a really good soup with noodles in it, but I haven’t felt good since I ate. But they finally let me pay for a meal. I’ve spent so little money on actual food because they (pasang and driver[s]) paid for it all. Even though they’re not supposed to. Dinner last night (that egg and tomato soup again, some spicy dish, some eggs and seaweed soup, pork dish) they paid for. Breakfast this morning—rice porridge and dumplings—they paid for.

Pasang is meeting me soon to give me my train ticket and to pick up my comment sheet about the tour. If I would have been able to just go home after today, I would be much happier I think. But now I’m stuck here. Today in the car was very fun. Pasang and I singing songs and he and the driver singing traditional tibetan songs. We sang some richard marx, some backstreet boys, some eagles and lionel ritchie. Good stuff. When we ate lunch, there were some loud chinese people in the restaurant and pasang looked like he wanted to start a fight with them. The chinese influence here is definitely noticeable. A lot of menus and signs don’t even have the tibetan language on them, and the taxi drivers don’t know tibetan (a han chinese immigration policy resulted in the rapid increase o’ chinese living and working in tibet). On every sign where there is tibetan, it’s really small above the huge chinese letters. It makes me sad, even though I don’t fully understand why. I feel bad for pasang and other tibetans. I believe the dalai lama called the chinese “influence” cultural genocide. I could talk about the cultural revolution in the ‘60s, but that’s what wikipedia’s for. Anyhoo, pasang works for a chinese tour company, but resents the chinese, seems sort of hypocritical, but maybe he has no choice.

Good lord my stomach feels weird. And I’m freezing. And my nose is running. And there’s no hot water. I wonder if weekend nights are any different as far as people going out here. Maybe I’ll go have a beer later at the cool place.

I just yakked (how appropriate) 4 times. Maybe that’s a sign of a problem…nothing makes you feel more alone than barfing in a toilet in your hotel in lhasa, tibet.

Some girl came and knocked on my dor. I don’t really know what she wanted—I guess to see if my room was warmer than hers. Anyhoo, turns out she’s korean. I’ve never been so excited to see a korean before!

More puking. Maybe I’m actually sick.

12.30.06
-lots of leather/pleather/vinyl pants here in tibet.

I’m getting really sick of the beggars around here. I’ve realy never seen anything quite like it. I guess it goes back to my question of “how do people in tibet make money?” I know some of them are farmers, but there are so many beggars! I guess the kids aren’t in school, either. So how does a person like pasang learn english and chinese? Where do these kids go to school? What is their education like? Not that one needs a good education to be happy, but to do something other than beg.

Women on a bench opposite me are yelling shit at me. Today has been a pretty unproductive one. I went to the post office and mailed 20 of my 34 postcards. It was Y90 for 20 stamps. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I tried to find the nunnery across from the potala, but there was a military camp/base thing instead. Hmmmm. This was also where lots of beggars, vendors, trash and pilgrims were. Now I am sitting on a bench in potala square. The weather is nice. I think I will go buy a beer somewhere. I wonder if I can drink in the park…some obnoxious chinese male tourists came up to take a picture of me, laughing at me. As if I am somehow more photogenic than the potala. Good god, the lonely planet is a real conversation starter. I’m just sitting here on this bench and a family of 4 tibetas hovers around me to look at my camera and the pictures in the lonely planet. As soon as they left, 2 other guys came up to talk to me. Of course none of them speak english. It’s good though. This will sound mean and culturally insensitive, but It’s nice to interact with some tibetan strangers who aren’t asking me for money. Yup, I’m an asshole.

There are a lot of really pro-china propaganda-ish commercials on tv. I feel like ass right now. When I stand up, I feel dizzy and breathless and I’m pretty sure I have a fever. Only the breathlessness is on account of the altitude, I think. The dizziness and fever and barfing are some other affliction. So once again I’m staying in for the night. Good god, I would like to be in suncheon right now. Sick and alone, but at least in my own bed. After my comments earlier about beggars, I had my worst encounter yet with them. One girl maybe 10 years old grabbed onto my right arm and wouldn’t let go. as I’m trying to shake her off, a little 4 year old comes up and starts to rummage through my bag. It was very difficult not to hit them.

I went to the grocery store and bought some sundries—shitty ice cream, 2 things of ramen, some peanuts. I’ll definitely have to stock up on crap like that before my 48 train ride. I can’t even imagine how I will feel at the end of that. Good gad.

I’ve been watching the tibetan news channel, and I’ve decided that I really like the language. It just has a warmth to it. Not like the abrupt and nasal sounding chinese or korean.

Earlier today when I was sitting on the bench in potala park, a monk came and sat down next to me. He was the first of a string of people interested in my lonely planet. Very nice, those monks.

Things that would totally rule, a list by me on new year’s eve eve:
1. being able to take a shower
2. heat
3. being drunk
4. getting drunk with jules and rory (and huey)
5. have lots of chinese money
6. going to everest like I was ‘sposed to

something pasang said a few days ago: “all religions ultimately want the same thing, we just have different ways of getting there.”

2 packages of instant noodles, and they’re both geee-ross. So no dinner for me. Probably good because I still think I could yak again.

I need someone with me on this trip so I know it’s okay to cry when I see something beautiful. All the magic has been sucked out for my tour guide, so I’m sure he would find it bizarre that his seemingly mundane existence and environment would actually move a person to tears. This is where I think experiencing other cultures ultimately affords you the luxury of a greater understanding of your own culture. How is pasang supposed to know that his landscape is beautiful is beautiful if he hasn’t seen any of the rest of the world? I guess it’s good and bad—how would the tibetan people know their standard of living is so low if it were not for outside reminders (like us tourists). If it weren’t for that, they’d probably be content in their poverty for the rest of their lives. So I’m a ruiner.

12.31.06 so I have officially mailed all of my postcards. That’s a weight lifted, I suppose. Not that it was a weight to begin with. Now I’m sitting in a café called “tashi.” I am about to drink a hot chocolate. After this I will go on the walking tour outlined in lonely planet, my bible. I’ve decided what to buy mom and alicia. They both get scarves.

I just bought a bunch more crap: 2 pashminas with peacocks on them (mom and alicia), 2 sets of prayer flags, some earrings and a necklace. I think I did an okay job haggling. I probably paid too much for the earrings, but whatever. Oh yeah, a prayer wheel too.

Watching some shitty farrah faucet movie that’s overdubbed in chinese. I saw a bunch more stuff today on the walking tour. All in all a productive day. I met some german girl with the bridge of her nose pierced (what do you call that?) at tashi earlier. I’m meeting her later to go to a tibetan discoteque. That should be interesting.

Sweet. A marx brother movie is on. I’ve never seen one before.

I memorized a poem today.

I bought more gifts in the form of yak jerkey. Tomorrow I will buy more for mi familia.

1.1.07
today is my last day in lhasa and somehow that puts me in a good mood. I am about to splurge on a huge breakfast. I am very excited—eggs, toast, coffee, cheese, ham. Hell yeah! Let’s see…last night was new year’s eve, so I met up with the german girl, janina, that I met at tashi restaurant yesterday. Her hotel is right by the mosque in the muslim quarter of town. So I told the pedicab driver that’s where I wanted to go, and he drops me off at the banak shol hotel. Whatever. I followed the yak carcasses (the butchers in lhasa tend to be predominately muslim, I’ve read) to the muslim section. There were trucks just piled with yak carcasses. It didn’t even look real. I will have to go back later tonight just to take pictures of it all.

The two women in the restaurant are singing two part harmony tibetan songs. And it is beautiful. I wish I had my recorder. They would probably think it was just as interesting if it was me and jules or alicia singing some random choir song from high school. “set me as a seal upon your heart…blah blah blah.” Anyhoo, back to the yaks. They’re also just laying on the sidewalk or piled into rickshaws or falling out of baskets that old women are carrying on their backs. So I navigated and showed up early at her hotel. I got to hang out in the lobby watching tv with the owners. They gave me some gross tea (not yak butter) that I drank politely. One guy who was my age and spoke english came and talked to me and whispered something about how he would be hanging out later but it was a secret. So I just smiled and nodded, not knowing what the hell he was talking about. Then janina showed up with some nepali dude and we went to find a place to eat (via rickshaw/pedicab thing). They explained that the other dude had to sneak out of the hotel because his uncle (the owner) didn’t want him to go out drinking.

Awesome. Nice black, bitter coffee!! It’s official. I’m buying a coffee pot and real coffee when I get back to korea.

So the first two places we try to eat at are closed. While we’re waiting for other dude to sneak out, I smoke a cigarette (the peer pressure! Nevermind the fact that I don’t normally smoke and already have elevation sickness) and am instantly nauseous. Great. So then we ride in a cramped taxi and I feel like I’m going to barf. We arrive at this chinese cafeteria style restaurant (these places all just seem filthy and the smells are overwhelming—chinese spices, weird meat, eeeeck). It was very difficult to keep my stomach in order. But I did. I couldn’t really eat, but then we drank beer and I was okay. It was a fun dinner because we all kept telling each other how to say things in different languages—“I’m full” in german, korean, tibetan, japanese, nepali, english.

Did I really just eat bacon in tibet? And a fried egg and fried potatoes? Good lord! It feels good to eat something besides bread. Had real problems with the chinese food.

Anyhoo, back to last night. We eat at this place, the beer makes me feel better, and these two guys (whose names I don’t know) pay for everything—rickshaws, taxi, dinner, beer. Then we go to the tibetan disco. And that was interesting. All these people packed into a sea of neon and bodies. They even had actual djs who were pretty good. There was an interesting techno version of sweet child o’ mine. Look at me with my open mind! I guess it wasn’t really too different than a korean disco, except that by day these are all people dressed as pilgrims. Anyhoo, we get ushered across the room and down some stairs so that our table puts us at eye level with the dance floor. And there are rows and rows of coors lite bottles majestically displayed along with a little coors lite shot glass for everyone. I danced and drank and it was great. But I got tired early. This was definitely the latest I’ve stayed up in 10 days at least. I think it was probably 3 am when I got home. It was funny though because the hotel dude told me I needed to drink slowly or I would get drunk. This in response to me taking a shot of coors lite. Funny shit. They all wen tto another disco, but I wanted to go to sleep, so I took a taxi home. The driver didn’t really know where the snowlands hotel was, so my instinct was to direct him in korean. It was funny. The barkhor/jokhang area is so different at night. There are no people and no light. Such a contrast to the daylight hours. But it was 3 am, so what did I expect. When we finally found snowlands, the taxi driver kissed me on the cheek and gave me a hug. The doors to the hotel were both locked so I had to bang on them repeatedly to get someone to come acknowledge me, at which point the taxi driver had circled back to make sure I got in safely. So I apologized (in korean. Whoops) and said thank you (tu-jay-chay) to the poor guy that I had woken up. I got up at 10 today for some reason. Used the internet and ate an amazing meal. Now I get to go spend a lot of money on souvenirs.

I think one very good, lasting thing about tibet is that it did confirm my independence. I can function, and for the most part enjoyably, by myself. I think that will be valuable to take back to korea with me. I also think this will have the effect of making my awkward communication barrier problems in korea less awkward.

Random, but when I get to beijing, I’m eating a big mac extra value meal. If I was in co, mo right now, I would walk to taco bell and eat a whole grande pack—3 bean burritos (no onion, please), 3 hard tacos, 4 soft tacos. Oh dear god! Is there a taco bell in pusan?

Another beggar approached me on the street earlier, this time a grown man. And he grabbed me, so I did a sort of basketball move on him. Like when your team’s shooting a free throw and you want to get the rebound. You sort of roll around them. Anyhoo, it worked. Also, bought 4 hats. But the first place I went wanted Y380 (which is what I was told to expect), the second place wanted Y650, and the third place wanted Y760. haggling is exhausting, and it makes me not trust tibetans. I don’t like that aspect of this culture or chinese culture.

So I’ve had the past couple of days to gather my thoughts about this place. Being in tibet has made me very grateful to be living in korea, making lots o’ money. I am increasingly grateful for the commodity that is english and for how modern korea is—even with its squatter toilets. Which reminds me…last night at the disco, the bathroom was unisex squatters and the smell is something I don’t know that I’ll be able to shake for a long time. Feces and vomit mixed with cheap perfume and alcohol. Nothing too unusual I guess, but just stronger than I’m used to. And while I was in my stall, people on both sides of me were yakking. Oh yeah, there also were these scrawny girls with their midriffs exposed trying to dance sexily for the crowd. One was behind the bar, the other was behind the dj station. They weren’t very good dancers, but their protruding ribs were quite attractive.

Traditional chinese singing is fucking annoyingly nasal.

Tibetan men’s dress reminds me of the wizard of oz when they sneak into the palace and the guards’ clothes are too big for them. I should compare my pictures with the wizard of oz.

I think if I want to be honest about how I feel about “traditional” tibetans, right now it’s not nice and it is also highly judgemental. Yes I know they’re oppressed and are dirt poor and the chinese are bad, but the beggars sort of take away any sympathy I have for them (I know, it’s contradictory)—their begging a direct result of those two aforementioned things should make my sympathy for the cause even stronger, but right now it isn’t. and seeing a little boy shit on the sidewalk doesn’t really help the rebuttal of china’s plans to “modernize” (whatever that entails) the area. And yes, I know this begs the question “well, who decided that shitting on the sidewalk and begging are bad.” Maybe that’s some ethnocentrism or colonialism or some other “ism” on my part. Probably, but it’s how I feel right now. I think the argument people fall back on too easily is “it’s part of our culture.” But I think you can still have your religious customs—dress, ritual, and at the heart of it all, faith—and also have some of the comforts that make life not so difficult—heat, hot water, a decent sewage system. I really am not some tourist who expects luxury. Especially not in tibet. I’ve been fine with all thise things over the past couple of days, but I don’t know how long I could do without some modern comforts. Maybe modern things don’t follow buddhism’s tenets, I don’t know, but I would think that neither does having your dirty child beg while chanting buddhist prayers to guilt people into giving you money. I know I’m an asshole for saying this fom my unimpoverished perch, but the beggars really put a damper on things. But poverty is real, so I can’t expect for it to be hidden from me simply by virtue of me being on vacation. The rest of the world isn’t. I know I know. And I think part of the reason I chose tibet in the first place is because I suspected it would be like this—poor and beautiful.

Lost in the muslim section, I saw a half naked woman washing her exposed torso in a courtyard. She had large breasts.

1.2.07 a whole year of me crossing the 7 in 2007. I’m on the train now en route to beijing. only 45.5 hours to go! I am sharing a “cell” with gary and peter who are partners from canada. Gary used to be an art history professor, but now he’s an artists who paints and does collage. Peter has bronchitis, and that’s really all I know about him. There are two rows of bunkbed type things, so 4 beds in each cell. The train is cool, but I wish there was some sort of sititng room, instead of this little seat that I have to move whenever anyone wants to pass (outside my cell staring out the window and writing this). The train station was a poorly thought out, inefficient mess. The double doors below the entrance sign would have been perfect to accommodate lots of people going to different train terminals, but instead they open the sdie doors because those are the ones with the metal detectors right there. So all these people waiting outside in the cold to squeeze (rather violently, I might add) through this tiny little side door, when the whole building is practically empty.

Pasang said if I wrote anything bad about him on the evaluation that he would kick me in the teeth. I told him he was too short and that I was a kickboxer, so he said he’d have to think of an alternate method.

The landscape is beautiful aside from this big ugly train cutting through it.

1.3.07
-chinese twins on fear factor. They have to use their mouths to pull chicken feet out of a vat of worms. But they’re cute and little (not the feet, the twins).

I memorized a poem by an antisemetic fascist. I don’t know that that’s necessarily something to be proud of.

The bleak, dismal chinese landscape—it just looks like cold. But more than cold, inhospitable to life and warmth. All these vestiges of started and as yet unfinished industry. Big pits in the ground, grimy machines, but no people anywhere.

Perfidious=treacherous. Good to know.

I drank beer with two chinese dudes in the dining car. I’ve never felt more helpless than sitting with them not knowing a single word of chinese besides thank you and hello. Made me realize I know more korean that I thought. At least enough to avoid complete silence for extended periods of time in the company of others (unless I’m at work for 40 hours a week. Heh heh). But one of the younger guys wrote on a napkin “I like beer. You like beer. I like you.” I guess the two dudes work on the train. So the younger guy tried to get me to drink alone with him in an empty cell. I don’t know what he was expecting, but I said no. but they wanted to eat and drink later, so I said sure. But by the time it came time to eat, I was feeling sick again from the chinese noodles I had eaten earlier. Any chinese food that touched my mouth made me sick. Yaaarggh.

1.4.07 so I checked into the same hotel in beijing on my way out of the china. I’ve basically sequestered myself in my room, lounging around watching hbo (hey, just like the last time I was here!). I did venture out earlier to get a large big mac extra value meal from mcdonald’s. anyhoo, I’m wearing my calexico thermal (that I’ve worn every single day. That mikey deutsch rescued from a taxi in st. louis for me a long time ago) and the movie collateral comes on. I’ve never seen it before. There’s a scene in a mexican bar, and who should be the band in the mexican bar? None other than calexico. They were playing a manu chao song. And then it was calexico while the credits rolled. Cool beans. Reminded me of that time a long time ago in tuscon when I ate lunch with joey burns. That was a good day.

By the looks of it, I’m drinking an official beijing olympics beer. The label would lead me to believe it’s “official.”

Okay, time to catalogue my day, although it’s been pretty uneventful. Needless to say, I’m very excited to be going home tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ll stay in seoul for a nite or not. It’s tempting, but I think I’ll just go buy some converse instead of finding a hotel. Converse or a nice coat, or both. Hmmm…

Anyhoo, back to today. Gary and peter were great, warm, inviting, people. I don’t think my train ride could have gone any better. Talking with them was as much a highWe all shared a cab back to their hotel and then a woman at the hotel switched my flight for me. And she didn’t even charge me any of the fees she could have. Nice. So I get to leave a whole day earlier. Anyhoo, I got to talk to gary for a long time about lots o’ things. Real, adult things. And it was nice to actually speak to someone. It didn’t feel at all like I was talking to a 60 year old artist. He seemed so young! And the fact that he and peter have been together for 38 years made me confront some stereotypes about gay relationships that I didn’t even know I had. Namely, that they can last for 38 years. They’ve been together longer than my parents! And for all of those years, having people judge the value and validity of their relationship, simply because they’re two men. Hmmm. They were both so funny though. I think they thought I would be shocked when gary told me they were “partners”, but I knew as soon as I got into the compartment that they were a gay couple. Not because they looked gay or acted gay. They just seemed like a couple.

1.5.07 on the bus to gwangju. My whole day of travelling home is almost halfway done. Thank god. I’m in a great mood right now. I would have never imagined I’d be excited to be back from vacation. Also, I think me saying I don’t like china is based on my very physical reaction to chinese food (where food is a huge part of the culture. Same with korea). My objectivity can also be called into question, as I have just spent 10 days in a tibetan culture that generally resents all things chinese. I can’t base my opinion of an entire country on one city either, I suppose.

So that’s the recap. Thoughts after the fact. The world is not small. The world is huge. And everything in it, even when uncomfortable or unpleasant, is still of value and therefore inherently beautiful in some skewed way. We owe it to ourselves to seek out these things, to find the beauty that isn’t so obvious.

“No, there is not more beauty here than in other places…but there is much beauty here, because there is much beauty everywhere.”




lineberry, thanks for the rilke.

what's the technical definition of a bender?

ha! i fooled everyone. this isn't my tibet story (probably could have guessed that) which at this point, is going to seem so anticlimactic if it does ever materialize. but i promise i'll post it anyway. it's very long, and that much typing takes time. so that's my excuse. but who cares.

back to the point. seriously, what constitutes a bender? because i think i might have been on one this weekend. on friday night i did the usual drinking at juliana's thing, staying out until a very tame 3 am waiting in vain for something amazing and life-altering to happen. and just like always, it didn't. on saturday morning, i went to the bus terminal to meet some korean friends i hadn't seen in two years to go to gwangju for an epi reunion.

a little backstory: epi (english proficiency internship) is a program my university back in los estados unidos has at the asian affairs center, where i worked pre-korea departure. in the summer of 2005, there were over a dozen korean college students who participated in this program, which involved english conversation classes and internships. me and the seester were assistant teachers for said english classes. so this weekend was not only the first time i had seen or talked to most of them in two years, but also the first time most of them had seen or talked to each other (this, despite the fact that many of them live in the same cities). so i ride the bus to gwangju, get there around 1 pm.

anyhoo, immediately ushered into a restaurant in gwangju and the soju is flowing. so we eat and drink and make merry. and everything is good. after that, go to some other bar and drink more for another couple of hours. you get the picture. just a lot lot lot of drinking. i'm the only foreigner though, and they all hadn't seen each other, so eventually it seemed like i was just this sort of pesky obligation. they all felt like they had to translate every word of korean for me. i'm okay with just sitting and observing for a while. i'm actually quite good at not speaking, a habit borne out of working with people who speak no english. plus, they were all so used to me as part of jamie and julie, the twins (we both taught the class together. i think they only saw us together). when you take away one half of that equation, it sort of fucks up the dynamic, or the expectations of what the dynamic will be. it's funny though, some of them confessed that they had been nervous about meeing, but i hadn't been nervous at all. i dunno. i remember crying like a wee little baby when they left missouri--what are the chances i'll really get to see you in korea? and then here i was, and it didn't feel magical like i thought it would. i think i tend to expect to much of innocuous, mundane events (see aforementioned expectations of juliana's drinking). too much time had passed, and we all knew it. but i did realize that one of these folks lives in sidae 103. so maybe it is a small world. but i still need convincing.

after drinking, went to the norae bong. they all wanted me to sing a song. i didn't want to sing. just like i don't enjoy giving speeches or presentations. i am constantly blushing or embarassed for no reason at all, so if you give me an actual tangible reason to be embarassed, i just might implode. besides, singing journey with a bunch of people who don't know journey sort of sucks the magic out of it. i think i've lamented this fact before...post norae bong, stayed at one of the chick's houses with 4 other people, as her parents were vacationing in spain. a very nice gesture, again, but ultimately just awkward for everyone involved. lots of staring at the floor and "aaggh, english!" comments. mian hae-yo? so i think i was the impetus for the reunion, but once there, i didn't feel quite necessary. still good though, even if i want to be callous and boil down the events of the weekend to the sheer fact that i drank for 13 straight hours. i've never done that before.

the next day i met my friend, inyoung, from the 2006 summer epi group. this group was a little different. i spent so much time with them so consistently, plus that was just this past summer. so less time has passed, it still feels like we know each other. so i hung out with her and her boyfriend. we went to a temple outside of gwangju. i was quite pleased with how comfortable and natural it felt to be in their company for an extended amount of time. based on the night before, i didn't know if it was possible. but it was, and that was a good way to round out an otherwise exhausting weekend (both in the drinking and english speaking arenas. it's never been so tiring to speak my own language before).

i think the post-tibet depression is kicking in. if the wanting to cry for no reason at all is any indication. but it could be because i'm still so worn out from the weekend. i dunno. i'm happy now at this particular moment, because the little kid next to me in the pc bong gave me a piece of gum. ass-ah! but hanging out with all these people who are supposed to be my friends, ultimately just made me feel really alienated. i dunno. there shouldn't have to be so much effort. i think i haven't missed jules and rory as much as i did on saturday surrounded by 13 people who i had once been really close to.

moving on to other things...i have 2 plays coming up in a couple weeks at the miracle library. my first drama class is the beginning english class, and half of them can't even read english. so i gave them all scripts, but then they just listened to me read it and wrote the korean characters for the english words i was saying. but the konglish version is sort of off with lots of extra syllables. at least they actually memorized it though. 2 kids dropped out last week, but no one told me until yesterday. they were 'sposed to write the play themselves, but no one did their homework (probably because they couldn't understand a single word i said). so i wrote the play. but there are so many students (14) and they wanted little red riding hood. so now little red riding hood has 3 little red riding hoods, plus the 3 little pigs, cinderella, 2 fairy godmothers and some other extraneous folks. it will either be a train wreck or a miracle. i'm hoping for the latter. it is the miracle library (let's see how many times i can make that joke or some variation of it during my tenure there).

my other drama class is advanced and should be fine. they're performing cinderella too. i'm excited to paint a mustache on the little girl who's playing the prince. she's not quite as excited. this week i have to make all the props for the plays, which include a motorcycle and lots of masks (instead of a carriage, cinderella will ride a cardboard motorbike). and instead of a pumpkin, it's a persimmon. how fitting.

okay, time to go wash the smell of the pc bong off me. why are there still little kids here? it's nearly midnight?

tibet photos

i'm in the process of getting all my tibet photos onto flickr. you can view what's there so far:

www.flickr.com/photos/jamieleighmcgeorge/

check back periodically. and remember, i'm stupid with computers. especially when everything is written in korean. explains why i have no pictures on this site.

cultural insensitivity. sorry.

ok. the pc bong. i like them. i like that i can use internet cheaply and easily. that's great. what i don't like is all the fucking cigarette smoke. and yes, i know that i smoke on occassion so i'm a hypocrite. whatever.

right now i'm about to barf because out of all the FUCKING computers in the FUCKING pc bong, some dude has to come sit next to me and smoke. and it's not even the smoking that's bothering me so much. it's the fact that he's sitting literally less than a foot away from me and hocking loogies into a tiny paper cup. one about every 2 minutes i would guestimate. and he just did it again. if you know anything about koreans, you know this is not a quiet, subtle endeavor. fucking gross!

today was sposed to be the day i write my big tibet recap. but it's hard to manufacture inspirado when you're about to yak (this will be a nice segue when i actually get to the tibet story).

i'm just sitting here shaking my head. what part of your brain tells you it's okay to sit in a public place and hock loogies into a paper cup when there are other people around you (including two little kids) who are being subjected to the sound of snot and bile and general grime coming out of your throat? where's the sense of decency?

i didn't die. life is good.

i made it back from tibet. i'm alive. this is not the epic recap i planned, but that will probably require more time than i have at the library of miracles today. so instead, i will write about my view of korea in the wake of tibetan enlightenment (the tale of which will come later in the week) and i will keep my tibet experience to myself for a couple more days while i try to synthesize and digest the whole endeavor. i will be kind enough to drop some anticlimatic hints about my travels though--nothing life threatening happened, i didn't get drunk enough to make a fool out of myself, and i didn't have sex with any complete strangers. sorry to crush some dreams. but i did get altitude sickness. and the flu. more about that later...

i spent all day on friday travelling to get back to korea from beijing. the prospect of coming back to sidae apartments in suncheon, south korea made me exceedingly happy for some reason. not because i was eager to leave tibet or mainland china, but just because i was just happy in general. because of travelling. and here i am on a monday back at work, and this extreme happiness for no particular reason at all has carried over (i guess tibet isn't particular enough for my tastes. but it's a more general happiness). i wonder how long this can last. at some point i'll get the "wow. back to the routine. not on vacation anymore" doldrums, but for now, i'm just happy.

one of the wonderful things about coming back to korea was that i actually saw snow. funny, i went to tibet "the land of snows" and didn't see any precipitation. but then i come back and there are the big, fat flakes and it's actually colder than tibet felt. and then it felt like christmas, or winter, or some other pleasing sensation. yesterday i went to seonamsa temple again. and it was beautiful. as i was riding the bus out there, i was struck by a fear that maybe everything in korea would seem disappointing compared to tibet. there's always that fear after travelling--getting back to the reality of daily life being too overwhelmingly mundane to handle without some very real emotional repercussions. but the mountains were snow-covered and idyllic. the temple was peaceful and quiet (a contrast to tibet's bustling, functional, living sites. but not a bad contrast), and i was extremely satisfied by the fact that i could come back to korea--a country i have called on many occassions "ugly"--after 2 weeks in tibet and find myself alarmed by how beautiful it was. snow is a magical thing.

As I sat in a tiny little convenient mart eating chocolate next to a big cast iron stove waiting for the bus at seogwangsa (sp?), I was quite pleased with where I was on this particular Sunday afternoon. And then some korean man responded quited rudely to the fact that I was an american. He asked helen and I where we were born. Helen's from england. He was fine with that. I'm from america. He was not fine with that. For all the times I have reluctantly and begrudgingly admitted that I was an american (until this point, totally unwarranted), this was the first time anyone had ever voiced any disapproval of america or the military. I say the military, because the next thing that happened—after a group of men shook their heads to my "america, joayo?" inquiry—was pantomime shooting. Great. So that sort of pissed me off. I've been expecting similar reactions for a long time, but because no one ever responded that way, my guard was down. had I not already gotten a ride from a complete stranger earlier in the day (replete with gifts of oranges and strange, remarkably tough bread), I would have been annoyed with koreans. And had I not also been riding this post-tibet euphoria or if he had expressed anything other than what I too feel about america, I would have gotten angrier than I did. But instead I was just unprepared. And I felt ashamed by my exposed vulnerability after months of being adored simply for being an esl teacher in the korea.

On the long and winding bus ride home as we 4 waygooks (picked up 2 more on the bus) drifted intermittently in and out of sleep, I was brought back to a calm, happy place. The sun was setting, the bus was warm, strangers gave us candy (sans razor blades or poison). The bus driver realized that he had a bus full of comatose people and that the music was his call. So I was eased awake by the increased volume of the traditional korean music, a nice accompaniment to the traditional korean life passing outside the window, on my way back to my traditional korean apartment. Life was good.

And that was my weekend. seemingly anti-climactic. but extremely satisfying.