As we entered the West Chapel, which contains five of the eight tombs in the palace, Ammon said, “So, some quick background info. You know about the Buddhist belief in reincarnation, right? Beginning from the time of the fifth Dalai Lama, who started constructing this palace, each of these tombs contains a body from one of his separate lifetimes.” The central masterpiece was a whopping 14.85-metre-high stupa (49 ft). Its 3,628 kilo (8,000 lb) solid gold casement, lavished with eighteen thousand, five hundred pearls and semi-precious stones, holds the mummified body of the fifth Dalai Lama.
“I wonder how they felt when they looked at their former selves’ tombs, considering that he was all of these guys,” Bree said, walking around the big, gaudy tombs.
“So, it’s like, would he remember himself and what he did before? And if he doesn’t, how weird would it be to be able to read about your former selves,” I said.
“I guess it would be the same as the day after getting really drunk and not remembering what you did the night before, not that I can really relate to that,” Ammon said.
“Do you think he’d know about his future self?”
Ammon considered. “I’m not sure how that works, but the current Holiness has suggested he may be the last, or that the next could possibly be a woman.”
“Imagine that. It’s great to see them being so open-minded in that respect,” Mom said.
“I wonder how he feels about maybe turning into a woman,” Bree mused.
“Well, I know if I’m reincarnated, I’m coming back as a boy. I’m sick of all those nasty, roadside toilet stops,” I said.
Mom ignored me. “I like that it’s not a royal-blood kind of leadership, and that they really pick someone they feel right about. Think of all those royal inbreeds who went nuts, but there was no way that anyone could deny them their birthright.”
“Yeah, for sure. The present Dalai Lama was born into a poor farmer family.”
“How do they find him? That seems so amazing to me,” Bree said.
“I think it involves a lot of meditation. If he is cremated, they will look to the direction of the smoke for clues about where to search for his young reincarnation,” Ammon said.
“Amazing.”
I was quite surprised at the piles of money everywhere. Bills were spread all over the shiny floor, over-flowing the counters and donation boxes, stuck in the candle wax, stuffed in the edges of the glass surrounding some statues, poking out of cupboards, and stuck on the walls.
“I don’t even know what to do, there’s so much money lying around everywhere,” Bree said. “Seriously, they should be using the money instead of letting it be wasted as wallpaper, or risking the possibility of it being stolen… by me.”
“Breanna!” Mom demanded. “Don’t you even think about it!”
“I won’t. Are you serious? I would never really take the money,” she said, then added with a cheeky smile, “though it is tempting.” Bree’s love of money was well known. As an elementary school student, she’d won all the gymnastics and school fundraiser prizes and awards. When there weren’t any competitions going on, she’d invent and make all kinds of crafts to sell to the kids at school. When money is a factor, she is an all-out go-getter, but I knew she didn’t have it in her to steal. She’s just an extremely hard worker when she puts her mind to it.
“But really, why don’t they take all that money and throw it out the windows to all these beggars outside the gates?” Bree asked. “Or, I don’t know, build them a house, or put them in school, or something?”
Little Miss Unpopular
29
“Savannah, you’re on blog duty. Just write something, anything,” Ammon said, stepping aside to give me the computer chair in the Internet café, which was just a cramped little attic with a low ceiling passing itself off as a business.
“I don’t want to. All you guys ever care about is the stupid blog. Nobody else cares about it or even reads it.” I was tired of feeling disappointed about how little reaction we got to the blogs I’d put so much energy into writing. Feeling that way coincided with how low our morale had been since the big fight. The storm had calmed, but there were still a few recurring waves of resentment.
“Just write,” Ammon snapped. “I’ve written the last bunch. People want to hear from someone else for a change.” I was still irritated by all the family drama and tired of the fighting and of constantly feeling isolated in so many different ways. I couldn’t figure out why it was so darned important that they had to pressure me, so I sat myself down in the square, metal chair and clicked away at the keyboard.
*** “I just want to quickly add that I feel sorry for any country that’s official language isn’t English, because most of the foreign countries have over-reacted acting and sucky music! I must say that I am Buddha’d out. I have had my share of monasteries in my life time and find no need to see another one!! I don’t particularly enjoy the dim lighting, kindergartener fabric and drawing styles, unrealistic features of the Buddha statues, and clutter of it all. I much prefer the look of Catholic Churches! Rest assured none of us will be converting to Buddhism any time soon!
For interest’s sake…..
- It is quite a task to find shaving cream and the times when we luck out it turns out to be bad quality. (Ammon’s going to be stuck with a beard for a while, sucker)
- Deodorant is impossible to find in China…..and certain (necessary) feminine products!
- Showers are always a surprise. You either get stuck with a lame little dribble, cursed with cold, it may or may not have a door, don’t know if the right or left knob is hot, and sometimes you’ll get a perfectly fine shower (good pressure and hot) that is in the same tiny room with the dirty, Chinese squatty……fun!
- Oh yes, and we’ve also had our variety of good and bad toilet papers. It ranges from recycled cardboard (almost sand paper) to soft like home……the worst being in Russia!
-We’re still paying $2.00–$4.00 a night and they really aren’t as bad as you guys think for being so cheap.
- As for smoking…..We’ve probably lost 5 years of life because they smoke in restaurants, bathrooms, buses, stores etc. etc…….. 24/7 I’ll tell ya. Even, next to me in the Internet cafe at this very moment.
- The beggars are annoying but smart to hang out around all the “rich” tourists!! I think when the kids start coming into the restaurants and taking your food it’s pushing it though!!
I’m looking forward to getting out of China and seeing new surroundings!
Savannah” ***
When I was done, I half expected them to scold me, but all Mom said was, “If that’s how you feel,” and nobody stopped me, or even cautioned me about what I was about to do. Fine, then. I pressed the enter key.
While we were in China, we were able to send and receive emails, while other actions were blocked; for example, we weren’t able to view the comments on our blog. I didn’t realize what a hornet’s nest I’d stirred up until I got an email from Sandra a little while after I’d posted my negative comments. Her email simply said, “Don’t listen to people, they are stupid. We love you.” I asked Sandra to forward all the comments posted to me via email so I could monitor what was being said. I was nervous for days afterward, wondering about people’s reactions to my grumpy, inconsiderate writing.
Anonymous #1 said…
*** “Savannah I do not appreciate what you wrote. You are insulting people here, and this is not funny. Your writing is not making any sense. What is “over-reacted” acting and “sucky” music? Why are you out there? To meet people and to appreciate people who are different from you. If you cannot do this, GO home! If you do not know how to respect people and learn from the others, you are not a good friend. And you will not have any! Besides, YOU are not any better than the others, and I can say everyone is better than you.
Read what you wrote again and be considerate! Please know what you are doing and why. Very disappointed after reading this, and I do not think I want to r
ead this site anymore.
I am sorry to say this to you in front of your friends and family, but I am sure I am not the only one who wants to say this. I feel sorry for your parents and friends.” ***
‘Everyone is better than you. You are not a good friend. And you will not have any.’ I felt like he/she put a curse on me, one I couldn’t afford to have. I already had too few friends. Anonymous is right… I’m not going to have any friends. ‘I feel sorry for your parents and friends.’
Cowering like a scolded pup, I looked at Mom and Ammon, expecting them to join the angry chorus, but they seemed more surprised than angry. I reluctantly read on, though it hurt my heart. I’d never been so harshly scolded by a stranger before.
*** “Take a deep breath Anonymous. Opinions. I know you skipped the age of 15 and being proud and all, but I’m pretty thankful for our toilet paper too. I don’t know about you Grace, but it breaks my heart that someone suffering obvious personal issues with China isn’t going to read this site anymore. Whose site is this anyway?
Say what you want babe but ease up a bit.
Big bro Sky” ***
Anonymous #2 said…
*** “China is not as bad as you think and see if you are willing to spend money to visit the rich countries. My suggestion to your group: Hongkong, Shanghai, and Beijing. Hongkong is very rich and beautiful. You can see people there are different from the rest of the Big China. They are rich and well educated. Almost everyone speaks English and the kids are really smart. Hotels are big and clean BUT expensive. Only thing I hate is the air.
Shanghai, and Beijing are not too bad. Still expensive, but not as expensive. People there are the same as the rest of China, only they are rich and some of them can speak English. I like Shanghai more than Beijing, because of the food.
If you have extra money, you should go to those places. However, small towns in China are beautiful, and people there are really nice.
Savannah, you should be careful with your words, and I agree with anonymous.” ***
*** “Savannah, just to let you know that you are learning and doing great. I am proud of you and love you always.
Someone here obviously doesn’t know you guys well enough! Why take it so serious? This is just a bonding site between friends and family. Keep writing in your own way!
Luv,
Sandra” ***
*** “Anonymous, lighten up. I am not insulted with what Savannah wrote. Her writing makes sense, and it came after I emailed the gang to give us information on the personal amenities of their trip, including the great stuff of which Savannah wrote. I am sure Mag and the gang are appreciating people they are meeting, even if not westernized like us. Savannah, and all of the gang, have a friend in me, and I consider all of them to be as good, or ‘better’ than you seem to imply. If you can’t stand the ‘heat’ (facts), leave the ‘kitchen’ (we-blog). Thank you, Savannah, for the good job you did; you answered my questions just fine. Dr. Jim” ***
I felt like a dog with its tail between its legs. I was shamed and humiliated because I ultimately knew I’d crossed the line. I knew the moment I’d pressed the enter key that I shouldn’t, but I did it anyway. I let those teenage emotions and hormones get away from me, and now I was paying for it.
Though the support I received was comforting, it didn’t diminish the embarrassment I felt. I was hurt. Now I was officially ‘Little Miss Unpopular’. One good thing came from it, though, apart from the loving support I got from family and friends. So many people responded to my post that I no longer had to wonder whether anybody out there was reading about our travel adventures.
A part of me resented the trip that had forced me to forfeit everything I felt was normal. However, another part of me had come to love and appreciate the amazing opportunity I was living. I knew it wasn’t fair to vent my frustration and anger on good people who didn’t deserve it. Perhaps people like me shouldn’t travel if they don’t have the right mindset to begin with. And yet, thinking about it, I had learned a lot, and despite the slip-up on the blog, I did feel I had grown a lot compared to the person I used to be. I’d earned that growth through real physical and emotional hardships, and I let those hardships get to me, as many would.
I was so proud of what we were doing, and despite my initial misgivings, this had become my quest as well. I still didn’t know what the ultimate goal was, but every day seemed to be both an adventure and an accomplishment. For what felt like the first time in my relatively short life, people acknowledged me; I stood out in a positive way. And yet the teenager in me was still angry about the lack of choice I’d had in the matter. At times, I longed to be home with friends, to feel secure and safe. I just wanted to be normal – whatever the heck that is.
I was still half-expecting the family to yell at me at some point, but instead Ammon surprised me by posting this the next day.
*** “Hmmm…. Seems Savannah is a little less popular after that last post. As group leader maybe I am to blame. Honestly though, take it for what it really is, the frustrated rantings of a 15 year old that is being dragged around the world against her will. She’s actually been really good and is enjoying and learning a lot. Read her other posts. Besides, an opinion is an opinion and even an open mind doesn’t always accept all it sees. I’d rather have a blog that is honest than one that is politically correct anyway.” ***
My heart swelled to see him take responsibility for his team and defend me, right or wrong. It showed me that we have to support the team even if they go off the rails, feel down, or screw up big time. That’s when team members need to support each other the most and demonstrate their strength and commitment to the group.
Ammon’s post was the last I heard from my family about what I’d done. They knew I knew I was in the wrong, and that I’d learned a good lesson about using my better judgment. No doubt they were right, and thankfully, I was spared the lecture. “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.” I knew I should’ve stuck with Thumper’s advice that time.
Too uncomfortable to say what I really wanted to say, which was, “Geez, I’m really sorry,” I said instead, “I told you guys I didn’t want to write that day.”
“Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t have pushed you,” Mom said. “But you’re going to have to do things in life you don’t always want to do, and now is when you decide how you’re going to handle those situations and emotions next time. Because dealing with it the way you did hurt you more than anyone else.” I nodded sombrely, my pride and dignity still almost mortally wounded.
In a way, I owed Anonymous for scolding me and forcing me to take a step back and analyze my behaviour. Otherwise, I might have let it go as an angry moment and remained unaware of the impact my actions had had on others. He/she pointed out something that otherwise would’ve gone unnoticed, and I’d not have ultimately learned this essential lesson. For that, I thank Anonymous.
Hello Money
30
We spent a week in Lhasa before moving on to Shigatse, the second largest city in Tibet. From there, we made a day trip to Gyantse’s Pelkor Chode Monastery before we made arrangements to get from Shigatse to Nepal. Although there were a lot of tourists in Tibet, we rarely interacted with them because most of them were on organized tours. Though we did meet four Swiss guys who were on a boys-only backpacking trip during our stay in Tibet and it felt really good to speak English and be understood for the first time in weeks.
Adrian had a long, blond ponytail, wore Converse shoes, was rather quiet (which surprised me a bit, given his “rock star” appearance), and was the only one in the group who did not wear practically identical round spectacles. Lucas, the shortest in the group, had short brown hair and was slightly geeky. Yves was the oldest, with quite a receding hairline, but he kept pace with the others just fine. Sebastian was so tall that he had subconsciously developed a slight hunch in order to stay connected with the “shorty” world, especially in China. Although he sported a contemporary, soccer-player
hairstyle, he was the nerdiest looking of the bunch, and was obviously the group’s spokesman.
They were travelling a route similar to ours and had also avoided procuring the complicated Tibetan documents by sneaking in on a local bus. The bus was specially equipped for these kinds of situations with a secret door hatch to a smuggler’s hole in the bus floor. Whenever they’d passed through the various police checkpoints, they’d jumped into the undercarriage compartment beside the one used for luggage. They told us about the anxiety they’d experienced while they’d been stuck in the dark, dusty compartment, worrying a bit about how they could get out if something strange should happen while they were hiding in there.
As Sebastian recounted the story, Bree leaned over to whisper, “He reminds me of the guy from the 101 Dalmatians cartoon.”
“Yeah, mixed with a bit of Ichabod Crane,” I said.
They now shared our predicament: how to arrange illegal transport out of the country. The eight of us decided we’d go together to Nepal. Foreigners are not officially allowed to travel any closer to the border than Shigatse; only locals were allowed to take the bus. I couldn’t quite figure out the reasoning behind those rules but, after searching the city of Shigatse for two days, we found an almost reasonably priced alternative.
“Seems a bit convenient, doesn’t it?” Ammon said while we waited on the curb, where we’d been for an hour already with all our backpacks piled on the ground around us.
“What does?” I asked.
“For them to say it’s illegal to put eight in a car. If we hire two cars, they automatically make twice as much money.”
“The laws are weird and confusing here. Nobody seems to really know what’s going on, so maybe it’s true,” Mom offered.
“We’ll see.” Ammon wore a suspicious scowl. “I’ve already been talking to the hotel manager who’s been lying to us about the cost of lodging, transportation, and really, just about everything I asked him about. This whole thing seems like a circus run by unhappy staff. I’d rather pay more than go with him, but at least he’s willing to take us without paperwork.”
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