You must be Jokhang

Lhasa is divided into two main sections - the Chinese half and the Tibetan half. At the center of the Tibetan half is the Jokhang Temple, the most holy site in all the land. Encircling this temple is the Barkhor, or the pilgrimage path traveled by hundreds of devout Tibetans each and every day. Finally, radiating out in a maze of alleyways is the old town of Lhasa. When walking these streets, I rediscovered a strange feeling that rarely found anywhere else in China (no it wasn't just the shock of seeing scores of roaming soldier brigades armed with riot gear and machine guns strolling through the neighborhood). I felt like I was somewhere that had an old storied culture.

With sturdy buildings, looking like they expect to be there for years, uniformly whitewashed and towering above the narrow streets lined with shops, stalls, pilgrims and tourists, the city felt like it had a purpose. Bustling with vendors (and soldiers) the streets were a maze of goodies, giving way from tourist wares to practical items the further the distance from the Jokhang Temple. I saw dozens of watches soaking in basins of water - to prove they're water proof. I saw giant wedges of yak butter, waiting for the devout pilgrims to purchase a chunk to offer in the temple. I saw the people of Tibet encircling and prostrating before the temple, waiving thier prayer wheels and purifying their sins. Eastern Lhasa is a city full of life, a city caught between Capitalism and Buddhism, which is why it is so fascinating.

The two simple pleasures I enjoyed most in Lhasa were the tea houses and the pool tables. Scattered throughout the old town like pebbles thrown in a lake, the tea houses were little more than dark empty rooms filled with benches and a TV. The seats nearly all faced the screen, and for 1RMB you could get a glass of sweet milk tea, a much better price than Starbucks, but the wireless internet was a bit spotty in some of the shops (I'm kidding some of them didn't even have lights). Most eyes were glued to the terribly old kung-fu movies they showed; one tea house was showing what must have been Jackie Chan's first film, another an even stranger movie about kung-fu fighting underwater pigs. Of course the movies were in Chinese and without any sort of English subtitle, so I can only guess what they were talking about. But the clear indication from every one of these tea houses i visited (i perused no less than 3 of them during my time there), was that a westerner coming into their humble shop was not an everyday occurrence, yet again nothing they hadn't seen before. Perhaps having dodgy milk tea in an dirty cafe in Lhasa wasn't the best idea for my stomach, but the place had character, which is all you need to tell me.

The other simple joy in Lhasa were the pool tables outside the Sera Monastery. If you've ever seen the debating monks on TV, this is the place they do it (though sadly not so much anymore after the government crackdown on the number of monks in Lhasa after last March's events). Yet humorously enough perched outside this temple is a string of pool tables under a summer's party tent. After consulting that the price was fair - 1RMB/game, or the cost of a cup of tea, we decided to play a few games in the afternoon sun in front of the holy monastery. Alas I believe the monks had to prepare for prayers, and I somehow doubt they'd have been pool players anyway. The tables might not have been perfect, and the direction of the ball off the bumpers was anything but predictable, but we muddled through to win a grand time. I highly encourage outdoor pool and wonder why it hasn't been exported back to the US.

Lhasa, at least the old half, is a charming city. As the religious center of one of the most religious countries, regions, whatever you will, it exudes a cohesion of purpose that few other cities in the world can match. Though I certainly fear, like most great cultural landmarks, that the old town will be come more Disneyland than Holy Land, but for now, thanks to the unending river of pilgrims to the Barkhor, the city's culture lives on.