The Dali Llama Turns 65 Today
Lhasa, Tibet
July 6, 1999
I landed in Lhasa on July 4th, two days before the Dali Llama's birthday and what would be the last day the Chinese government was allowing any westerners in to the country for the next few days. On this day, we are followed by police. They make no effort to hide this fact. They want to make sure we do not bring any of our western celebration ideas to any of the Tibetans. Our guide warns us to be extraordinary cautious today about mentioning the Dali Llama. I am so frightened that I want to tape my mouth shut for the day.
Fortunately, we are leaving Lhasa this morning and heading up to the mountains, away from the police and suspicions. I am relieved to board our dirty bus and move on.
After a few hours on the road, the bus pulls off the road. We are at the high point of the mountain and as is tradition in Tibet, this point is decorated in prayer flags. We stop to say a prayer. I use this moment to relieve myself. I leave the crowd and attempt to find a private spot. And just as I think I found this spot, an old, Volkswagen Beetle car stops right in front of me. The door swings open and half a dozen or more people pile out. They are mostly Tibetans. But there are two young American women with them. These women are loud and brash, so Americans. The Tibetans respectfully stand in silence and pray. The Americans, oblivious to the moment, take this opportunity to sing Happy Birthday to the Dali Llama. They sing loudly, off-key and without any regard to the surroundings or the political climate of the day.
We are all caught off-guard by this brashness. I am angry with them. They are bringing their egocentric American behaviors with them and they are jeopardizing the safety of their Tibetan friends and me. I get away from them as quickly as possible. The Tibetans get back in their car. And the young women stand there alone, seeming so proud of their ugly brazenness.
Lhasa, Tibet
July 6, 1999
I landed in Lhasa on July 4th, two days before the Dali Llama's birthday and what would be the last day the Chinese government was allowing any westerners in to the country for the next few days. On this day, we are followed by police. They make no effort to hide this fact. They want to make sure we do not bring any of our western celebration ideas to any of the Tibetans. Our guide warns us to be extraordinary cautious today about mentioning the Dali Llama. I am so frightened that I want to tape my mouth shut for the day.
Fortunately, we are leaving Lhasa this morning and heading up to the mountains, away from the police and suspicions. I am relieved to board our dirty bus and move on.
After a few hours on the road, the bus pulls off the road. We are at the high point of the mountain and as is tradition in Tibet, this point is decorated in prayer flags. We stop to say a prayer. I use this moment to relieve myself. I leave the crowd and attempt to find a private spot. And just as I think I found this spot, an old, Volkswagen Beetle car stops right in front of me. The door swings open and half a dozen or more people pile out. They are mostly Tibetans. But there are two young American women with them. These women are loud and brash, so Americans. The Tibetans respectfully stand in silence and pray. The Americans, oblivious to the moment, take this opportunity to sing Happy Birthday to the Dali Llama. They sing loudly, off-key and without any regard to the surroundings or the political climate of the day.
We are all caught off-guard by this brashness. I am angry with them. They are bringing their egocentric American behaviors with them and they are jeopardizing the safety of their Tibetan friends and me. I get away from them as quickly as possible. The Tibetans get back in their car. And the young women stand there alone, seeming so proud of their ugly brazenness.
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