GONE TO THE DOGS

A wounded stray limps across the main street of Tingri, Tibet. Dogs roam the town in menacing packs.

While the mountain views from Tingri look stunning at night, the glare of the sun reveals a different story in this town of 500 in southern Tibet.

Just 30 miles from the Nepal border, Tingri would be the last stop in Tibet on our driving tour from Lhasa to Kathmandu. Within sight of four of the world's tallest mountains, the settlement has long been used as a base by climbers looking to summit Mt. Everest and other nearby peaks. Yet before visitors' eyes can reach the snow-covered Himalayas in the distance, they must first pass over what now seem to be the town's two biggest by-products--packs of aggressive stray dogs and numerous mounds of garbage that blot the otherwise scenic landscape. 

A homeless dog takes a rest in one of the town's many trash piles. The Himalayas can be seen at the end of the street.

How this town's dog and trash problem got so bad, no one we talked to had a clue. Even stranger, the people in the town seemed to have grown accustomed to both. 

Kids walk around with rocks in case a canine gets too close. Adult residents toss their trash wherever they are, which is the same place many of them also defecate and urinate.

It was a striking contrast--the stunning Himalayan views on the horizon and the constant, in-your-face sight and smell of trash, human waste, and stray dogs. The entire scene is made even more unreal considering the Chinese government's typically tight-fisted control over what Tibetan cities and sites tourists are able to visit.

Street dogs sleeping in the morning sun.

These are major issues that are no doubt impacting the health of the residents, not to mention hurting the animals and surrounding environment. With only one day remaining on our visa there was little we could do while we were there. 

So, from Nepal, we're working other angles including contacting international organizations that may be able to lend a hand. We were also thinking about writing to the Chinese government directly, but then we thought...we would really love to be permitted to return to their country some day, so perhaps we might hold off on direct interaction, at least for now.

That said, if you have any ideas or contacts that could help out the situation in Tingri, let us know. Clearly something needs to be done soon, lest one of Tibet's most scenic locations achieves more fame for its growing collection of stray dogs and putrid trash than its unparalleled views of the Himalayas.

The view from our hotel's bathroom (outhouse).

Medical waste, including hundreds of used needles, fills an open pit behind the town's make-shift hospital.

VIDEO: DEBATING MONKS

Of all the amazing things we witnessed while in Tibet, the debating monks at Sera Monastery, less than two miles from Lhasa, was the most surprising.  

Normally our interactions with monks involved sitting, praying, chanting, and the occasional bicycle ride. Seeing monks in full "debate mode" was indescribable. 

As part of their studies, young monks are given a topic to debate for three hours, taking turns changing positions on the topic. It may look a bit frightening, but the slapping of the hand is the young monk's way of ending the stating of each argumentative point.

 Lessons well learned, no doubt.

POLICE STATE IN LHASA

A Chinese policeman monitors Barkhor Square as the sun sets on the Jokhang Temple.

Lovely Lhasa. We experienced all we could in the short time we were allowed to visit--China now requires all foreigners who travel to the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR for short) to do so on a limited-day group tour made up of five persons of the same nationality.

Nevermind that the government in Beijing changes these regulations at a moment's notice, resulting in few foreigners actually being allowed in the area. We talked to five tour companies specializing in travel to Tibet before we finally found one that was still booking trips.

But back to Lhasa--one of the top tourist sites, besides visiting the Potala Palace, is a stop in Barkhor Square. Built by a Tibetan king some 14 centuries ago, Barkhor is the city's main plaza and is home to the Jokhang Temple, the most sacred temple in Tibet. Thousands of worshipers travel to Jokhang each year to make a once-in-a-lifetime religious pilgrimage. 

Any story about Lhasa would be incomplete without mention of the Chinese police and military, whose presence there can't be missed. In one afternoon, we counted more than 100 military (in full riot gear), police, and tourist police circling Barkhor Square.

Chinese military with their helmets and guns march through the lines of praying pilgrims.

Much of this military presence is a result of the numerous self-immolations that have been occurring in this region in protest of Chinese rule. Activists publicly set themselves on fire to draw international attention to the case for a free Tibet. These protests have been increasing in response to the upcoming Chinese government power transfer. 

We set out for a walk in the morning around the main square. To get in, we passed through a metal detector and police check point. The juxtaposition of the hi-tech screening equipment and the police in shiny uniforms contrasted sharply with the centuries-old Tibetan temples and brick streets surrounding them.

A shaft of sunlight shines on a Tibetan woman with prayer beads in hand as she walks around the Jokhang.

After entering the square, we were greeted with the beautiful scene of hundreds of Tibetans in traditional dress circumambulating the Jokhang Temple. Most of them constantly spun prayer wheels or counted prayer beads as they passed. Lhasa is the Mecca of Tibetan Buddhists, with many traveling days or weeks to get there. 

In addition to the pilgrims, we also saw piles of riot gear, fire extinguishers, and troops of Chinese soldiers marching among the shuffling pilgrims, most of whom were well into their sixties or older.  

Some riot shields and fire extinguishers during morning prayers in Jokhang square.

Outside the square, daily life moved on. Shopkeepers lined the streets selling tea, fresh meat, soap, and vegetables. Cars crawled along narrow roads, passing manned police stations every five or six blocks in the city center.

We had a hard time getting accustomed to constant armed surveillance and video cameras on virtually every street corner. After three days, we still couldn't help but stare (and risk snapping a few photos) when a troop of soldiers armed with shotguns and arm-length black batons walked past, eyeing elderly pilgrims and young monks alike. 

But it seems that's just part of daily life in Lhasa under Chinese rule. And it's not changing any time soon. Once outsiders get used to that part of the ancient city, they're in for a visit to one of the most memorable places on the planet.  

But take it from us--the state of present-day Lhasa is hard to get used to.

A shop girl oversees her display of tea for sale.

A man in traditional Tibetan dress--and very non-traditional facial hair. 

Morning meat delivery: though many Buddhists are vegetarian, lots of Lhasa residents are not, as evidenced by the daily trucking in of these massive slabs of buffalo. 

Muslim butchers slicing up beef. 

A woman in traditional dress sweeps the entrance to a monastery near Lhasa. Her son accompanies her.

After our tour of Lhasa's Potala Palace.

PHOTO FRIDAY: STARRY NIGHT IN TIBET

Above, a night view of Mt. Cho Oyu (26,906 feet) and the Himalayas from a frontier town in southern Tibet called Tingri. 

We'd like to say the summit you're seeing is Mt. Everest, which is clearly visible from where this photo was shot. However, in a typical moment of Liz & Kip travel brilliance, we realized at 4 am in the freezing cold on a tiny bridge just outside of town, that we didn't know which of the surrounding snow-capped peaks was the largest in the world.

Sadly, the world's highest mountain is about half-an-inch beyond the left edge of the frame of this shot. 

It looked real nice. Really, it did.

Yes, after six months, we're still the clueless travelers we were when we started.  

ANNIVERSARY FAILURE IN LHASA

How romantic! Liz with the customer rep at the Lenovo Service Center contemplating computer repairs and the location of the nearest ladies' room.

As we exited the plane from Kathmandu into Lhasa's international airport, we were excited. The day marked our four-year wedding anniversary, six months had flown by since we'd left the United States for this journey, and we had been granted permission to enter Tibet! 

But best of all, we simultaneously spotted a sign in English for "RESTROOMS," dead ahead. Now, if we could just make it the next 100 feet without any accidents, we would really celebrate. Either the food on Air China or the breakfast in Kathmandu had left us with a little stomach surprise.

Thankfully, we both made it to the bathrooms OK (thanks for being concerned!). We then cleared Chinese customs without incident, making it through their weird scanner machine that looks for books (a customs officer made Liz take out all her books, went through each one, and asked if they were all fiction) and finally made it to our hotel.

Looking forward to finding a pharmacy and sending some emails, we booted up the computer. Instead of the comforting Windows start-up sound, we were greeted with a series of beeps and the very panic-inducing blue screen below. Welcome to China, indeed.

Happy anniversary! The "FAILED" screen from our hard drive crash. Much more photogenic than stomach problems.

Our hard drive was fried, and along with it, we may have just lost nearly every photo from our trip. So much for celebrating.

Then Kip remembered seeing a Lenovo sign on our way to the hotel. Turns out, there was an official Lenovo Customer Service Center on the same street we were staying. We were saved! Or so we thought. 

After 30 minutes of CPR with something called "the Golden Key," the helpful young man shook his head solemnly. "Don't open the computer again, until you're back in the U.S.," he said. "There's nothing we can do here." 

We thanked him and immediately found a cafe with Skype, with which we reached the most unhelpful Lenovo customer service representative on earth. No luck, unless we wanted to mail the computer to New Jersey and pay a phone technician $150 per hour to talk about it. We both started to cry. Not really. (OK, Kip might have teared up a little). 

The owner of the Summit Cafe overheard our pained Skype conversation, and he recommended we go to a place called "the Cyborg." This conjured up all kinds of fantastic images in our heads, but it turns out it's a four-story high strip mall of electronic chaos. There, we met our saviors.

Since our tech savvy-ness is about as poor as our Mandarin, our saviors talked to us through an online translator. 

Three eager guys in their mid-twenties who spoke no English immediately grabbed the computer and a screwdriver. Despite our protests, one proceeded to take out the hard drive while the other two "spoke" with us via an online translator. The internets are amazing.

We're not sure what kind of magic they worked, but (as far as we can tell) they saved all our files to our new one terabyte external hard drive, replaced our fried 500GB hard drive with a new one, and updated all our programs--they did this all for less than $300 (the hard drive alone would cost that much back home). These are some cyborgs that we could get used to. Only in China.

In addition to our computer freak out, it seems all of our other electronics (as well as our GI tracts) failed us in Lhasa. We noticed that both (yes, both) of our cameras are beyond damaged. Our small point and shoot has a severely scratched lens (a design flaw due to the auto-lens cover being too close to the lens), and something in our DSLR lens is rattling, inhibiting the auto-focus from working. 

Not to worry, we are keeping a running list of our "first world problem" complaints in a notebook so we can look back and see how we were really "roughing it".

To top it all off, we were fortunate enough to come home to our extremely warm and cozy hotel room. At least, as long as you kept your parka and beanie on.

True romance--our anniversary hotel suite, with no heat or running water, and a squat toilet outside.

After a rough few days, we finally got back our appetites and went out for a fancy anniversary dinner (thanks, Larry P, Todd P, and Sheila Z!).  A yak pizza, yak steak sandwich, and a tall Lhasa beer were just what we needed. Happy Anniversary to us.