High Road to Tibet: Travels in China, Tibet, Nepal and India: Round The World Travels, #3

By John Dwyer

"John Dwyer might be just the ticket to fill [Michael] Palin's well worn shoes" - HungryFeet.com

Overland adventurer John Dwyer has less than three months to cross China, Tibet, Nepal and India and he has a to-do list:

- Drink snake blood
- Get smuggled into Tibet
- Hike to Mount Everest
- Watch the dead burning by the Ganges
- Get from China to India in ten weeks

From the Great Wall of China to the Taj Mahal, his journey takes him across Asia's most fascinating regions. Join him on his epic trek as he meets the ear cleaners of Chengdu, hikes into the peerless peaks of the Himalayas, watches secretive Buddhist ceremonies in Tibet, fends off a champion hawker at the Great Wall, and meets a woman that will change his life forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Dwyer
• Release date: Jan 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524211042

John Dwyer

John Dwyer gained a PhD in history from the University of British Columbia. He was a faculty member of the University of British Columbia, Simon Fraser University and York University, Ontario, and won the Seymour Schulich Award for Teaching Excellence in 2001. He has served on the editorial board of the Adam Smith Review and is the author of a number of books including Virtuous Discourse: Sensibility and Community in Late Eighteenth-Century Scotland. He is currently Professor Emeritus at York University, Ontario.

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High Road To Tibet

Travels in China, Tibet, Nepal and India

John Dwyer

Copyright © 2015 John Dwyer

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Table of Contents

High Road to Tibet

Enter the Dragon

The Oscar Schindler of China

Sin City

The Long River

Snake Blood and Tea

The Broken Army

Into The West

Amongst Muslims

High Road To Tibet

Lhasa

The Road To Mount Everest

Kathmandu

The Cathedrals of Ice

City of Death

The Jewel of India

From the Author

High Road to Tibet

Travels in China, Tibet, Nepal and India

John Dwyer

Enter the Dragon

Please sir, may I take a photo with you? The voice sounded nervous. I turned to see a young woman holding a camera towards me, smiling brightly. I nodded my consent. She turned and beckoned to some individuals in the crowd behind her. Two elderly people wearing matching blue baseball caps shuffled over and took up positions on either side of me. I smiled and greeted them. They both wore grim expressions as we posed for the photograph. I put my arms around their shoulders and drew them closer to me. I remember how thin and bony the old man felt underneath his loose grey suit. The young woman focused her camera and clicked the shutter.

Thank you, thank you, she said as she left with the elderly couple. The old man stopped briefly to wave at me but he had turned away again before I could wave back. I watched them until they melted into the crowds of Beijing's Tiananmen Square.

A festive atmosphere prevailed in the immense plaza of Tiananmen Square as people celebrated the October National Holiday. Young children squealed with joy from the lofty heights of their fathers' shoulders; families converged around huge picnics on the ground; young couples walked hand–in–hand while eating candyfloss. Vendors were doing a brisk trade in sweets and cold drinks. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and so was I.

I walked around and admired some of the displays that celebrated Chinese history and their more recent achievements. A leafy replica of the Great Wall ran along one side of the square. Nearby, a beautifully sculpted green pagoda tower rose majestically from an explosion of colourful flowers and shrubs. On another platform, a replica rocket commemorated the first Chinese astronaut in space. I looked around and smiled. Beijing was the starting point of a journey across Asia that I had been planning for years. I was giddy with excitement at the thoughts of the road ahead. What strange and exotic people would I meet? What adventures and sights would I enjoy? I couldn't wait to get started!

I left Tiananmen Square and wandered the short distance towards my hotel in the ancient Hutong area of the city. The Hutongs are a maze of labyrinthine laneways and alleys that once made up old Beijing. The narrow lanes bustled with business and commerce. I picked my way through the Hutong slowly, sidestepping cyclists and vendors on the busy thoroughfare. The smell of sweet potatoes and ears of corn roasting on hot coals filled the air. Restaurants, bicycle shops, and clothing stores all competed vigorously for business. Everyone seemed to be running a small enterprise. With all this capitalism, I had to remind myself that China was supposed to be a communist country.

While the rest of old Beijing was falling to the wrecking ball of development, life in the Hutongs carried on as it had for centuries. Outside an ancient doorway, a couple of old men played Chinese chess on an upturned wooden crate, a bowl of steaming tea rested beside each player. The game is similar to chess but the pieces are flat. It was a very popular board game in Beijing, as I was to see it played many times in the streets of the city during my visit. Down another laneway, young boys played a game of football against the walls. Nearby, children skipped rope while chanting a rhyme. Further on, I passed an open doorway that led to a small courtyard and peeked inside. Five doors ringed the courtyard, some wide open but no one seemed to be about. Freshly washed clothes hung from a washing line strung between the rafters of the roof, and a child's rusty bike rested against one wall. The eaves of the roof sloped gently downwards until they were lower than the doorways; the tiles on the roof were green with age and looked like they were made of terracotta.

Suddenly, I heard a movement to my left and turned to see an old man sitting just inside the door. I hadn't seen him at first. I turned to leave but he beckoned me towards him. His deeply wrinkled hands rested on an old walking stick as he rocked gently back and forth in his chair. Strands of silver hair hung from his balding head to join his long, wispy, white beard. I circled the little yard with my finger and smiled, making the universal thumbs–up sign of approval. He nodded and smiled in understanding. I motioned with my camera, indicating that I wanted to take his picture. His eyes lit up and he sat up straight in his chair in readiness. I took his picture, bowed to him slightly in thanks and left.

Soldier stands before a portrait of Mao

Soldier stands before a portrait of Mao

The sun was a dull orb in the smog–filled sky as I walked across Tiananmen Square the following morning. Even the very mention of the name Tiananmen made me recall the details of the terrible events that took place there in 1989. In the weeks leading up to June of that year, demonstrators had occupied the square. They protested against the Chinese government's authoritarianism and called for economic change and democratic reform. The Communist Party was not about to let this challenge to its power go unpunished. On June 4, tanks and soldiers arrived to deliver a very clear message to those who sought change. An estimated two thousand people died during the brutal crushing of the demonstration. A raft of trials, executions, and long prison sentences followed for those directly and indirectly involved in the protests. As I passed by the beautiful pagoda I had seen the day before, workers were tearing it apart and throwing it into the back of a truck.

In the days of the Emperor, death by disembowelment was the fate for anyone caught inside the Forbidden City without good reason. Nowadays, things have moved on and the hapless visitor is instead financially disembowelled by having to pay a hefty entrance fee. The days of being forbidden are long gone as droves of tour groups poured through the entrance gate. The vast complex of palaces and halls was home to generations of China's Emperors and is justifiably one of China's top tourist attractions.

I rented a self–guided audio tour and was happily surprised to hear the unmistakable voice of Roger Moore when I switched it on. The smooth tones of Agent 007 would be talking me through the Forbidden City. The complex is comprised of a series of halls and courtyards that the Emperor of the day used for various duties. Each hall tried to outdo the other in magnificence. I could sense a wry smile on the audio as Roger Moore introduced the Hall of Heavenly Purity. It once contained twenty–seven beds where the Emperor enjoyed the royal concubines. With barely concealed glee, Roger informed me of the bouts of bed hopping that took place there, feats that would have been worthy of James Bond himself. Apparently, one Emperor actually died from overindulgence in that room. There are definitely far worse ways to go.

The Forbidden City was impressive but it felt like a series of empty houses with no furniture. I later learned that the Chinese Nationalist forces had taken much of its treasures with them to Taiwan in 1949 before the Communist takeover. I had a feeling that they took the best items with them. I left the Forbidden City and spent the rest of the day in a coffee shop. Over cups of strong coffee, I read as much as I could about China's greatest attraction, the Great Wall.

* * *

The following morning, I waited with sixteen other sleepy tourists in the hotel courtyard for a bus that would take us to the Great Wall. I felt it might be my lucky day. The smog that had plagued the city over the past few days had given way to glorious sunshine. Before long, we were ushered into a minivan and I crushed myself into a tiny seat. Once aboard, the bus departed and made slow progress through Beijing's treacle–like traffic. Bicycles poured around the slow–moving bus like water around a ship. Despite the ever–increasing numbers of cars on China's roads, the humble bicycle still holds its own. It was hot and uncomfortable inside the bus and the windows couldn't be opened. To make matters worse, a broken seat–spring poked into my back. For most of the trip, I just bowed my head on my folder arms and prayed hard for the journey to be over.

To say I was relieved when we finally arrived at the Great Wall would be the understatement of the year. I extricated myself from the bus and spent a few minutes rubbing life back into my leg muscles. This section of the Wall was located near the small village of Jinshanling and once ready, I made my made towards the Wall. My heart raced and my step quickened. I was about to climb the Great Wall.

I started on the ten–kilometre walk that would follow the course of the Wall east to the small settlement at Simatai. Hawkers milled about selling bottles of cola, postcards, and books. I briefly considered buying a towel emblazoned with the face of Mao but thought better of it. I brushed past their wares and walked briskly up to the highest watchtower in that section. There, I enjoyed a fine view of the Wall as it coiled like a dragon across the hilly landscape. Many famous landmarks across the world tend to be overhyped and leave you disappointed when you finally see them. This was not one of them. From where I stood, the Wall was six meters wide with watchtowers every fifty meters or so. It zigzagged up steep mountain ridges and plunged into unseen valleys on the other side. My eyes traced its undulating course until only the distant dots of the watchtowers were visible on the horizon.

As I walked, a hawker joined me on my journey. She walked with a stoop and her weathered face made her look older that she probably was. She was dressed in a dark–purple wrap tied at the waist, and carried a wicker basket on her back filled with books and cards for sale.

Hello, you want water, Coke? Very hot today, she squawked.

No, I'm fine thanks, I already have water, I replied as I moved on quickly.

You want card, nice book about wall? she persisted.

No, I'm fine thanks, I repeated as I quicken my pace

Now, I have visited a few countries and dealt with hawkers before but this woman was the most determined I had ever encountered. I told her repeatedly that there was no way I was going to buy a single card from her and that she was wasting her time with me. She asked me where I was going and I expected her to admit defeat when I told her I was heading for the distant Simatai. Instead, she kept on walking with me, up and over the crumbling ruins of the Wall and down the steep embankments on the other side. I attacked some of the particularly steep sections at a brisk pace, confident that she would give up. Instead, she scrambled up ahead of me and offered me a bottle of water at the top as I arrived panting and gasping for breath. It slowly dawned on me that she might even be willing to pester me all the way to Simatai. I didn't know it at the time but she had me from the very first moment. Like in the film Jerry McGuire, she had me at hello. She was an expert at this game and I was only a novice. I finally surrendered to her at the following tower and I bought a pack of ten postcards and a bottle of water. Her old eyes sparkled in victory as I handed over the money. I have to say that, even though I was relieved to see the old bat finally turn and take her leave of me, I couldn't help but admire her determination.

As I walked farther along, the Wall's deteriorated and crumbled state became more apparent. The postcard perfection of the Wall in Jinshanling gave way to broken stone and earth. Heaps of broken bricks lay at the base of one partially collapsed watchtower after another. You certainly got a more authentic feeling for it then you did from the sanitised version at Jinshanling. Even though the Wall was very wide at the beginning, it narrowed as it went eastwards and was only two meters wide in some places. I noticed that people had carved graffiti on parts of it. Some of it was old, etched by bored soldiers of a bygone Empire. Most of it, however, was new and crude.

I stopped to eat my packed lunch around the halfway point. The surrounding land looked scorched and bare. I looked out across the long stretch of stone ramparts ahead of me and tried to trace its route across China in my mind. The Wall continued across grasslands, up mountains and down into valleys until finally petering out in the Gobi desert over five thousand miles away. The construction of the Wall was an incredible achievement that took hundreds of years to complete. I couldn't help but wonder what was going through the minds of the emperors when they decided to construct this great barrier? Did they really think it would keep the invaders out forever? The Chinese emperors must have been very insecure if they felt the need to build a barrier like this. I considered that maybe it was never intended to keep their enemies out. Maybe it was built so that they could point to it and declare, Look how the Wall surrounds our land. We are defended. We are safe. We are secure. It is a testimony to the ineffectiveness of the Wall that the invading Mongols penetrated it by merely bribing the gatekeepers. Genghis Khan