Why we love children
[This was taken from Singapore Expats Forum, contributed by Carpe Diem. Don't read if you have no stomach for coloured jokes.]
A kindergarten pupil told his teacher he'd found a cat, but it was dead.
"How do you know that the cat was dead?" she asked her pupil.
"Because I pissed in its ear and it didn't move," answered the child innocently.
"You did WHAT?!?" the teacher exclaimed in surprise.
"You know,"explained the boy, "I leaned over and went 'Pssst!' and it didn't move."
A small boy is sent to bed by his father.
Five minutes later...."Da-ad...."
"What?"
"I'm thirsty. Can you bring a drink of water?"
"No, You had your chance. Lights out."
Five minutes later: "Da-aaaad....."
"WHAT?"
"I'm THIRSTY. Can I have a drink of water??"
I told you NO! If you ask again, I'll have to spank you!!"
Five minutes later......"Daaaa-aaaad....."
"WHAT!"
"When you come in to spank me, can you bring a drink of water?"
An exasperated mother, whose son was always getting into mischief, finally asked him "How do you expect to get into Heaven?"
The boy thought it over and said, "Well, I'll run in and out and in and out and keep slamming the door until St. Peter says, 'For Heaven's sake, Dylan, come in or stay out!'"
One summer evening during a violent thunderstorm a mother was tucking her son into bed. She was about to turn off the light when he asked with a tremor in his voice, "Mommy, will you sleep with me tonight?" The mother smiled and gave him a reassuring hug.
"I can't dear," she said. "I have to sleep in Daddy's room."
A long silence was broken at last by his shaky little voice: "The big sissy."
It was that time, during the Sunday morning service, for the children's sermon. All the children were invited to come forward. One little girl was wearing a particularly pretty dress and, as she sat down, the pastor leaned over and said, "That is a very pretty dress. Is it your Easter Dress?"
The little girl replied, directly into the pastor's clip-on microphone, "Yes, and my Mom says it's a bi*ch to iron."
When I was six months pregnant with my third child, my three year old came into the room when I was just getting ready to get into the shower. She said, "Mommy, you are getting fat!"
I replied, "Yes, honey, remember Mommy has a baby growing in her tummy."
"I know," she replied, but what's growing in your butt?"
A little boy was doing his math homework. He said to himself, "Two plus five, that son of a bi*ch is seven. Three plus six, that son of a bi*ch is nine..."
His mother heard what he was saying and gasped, "What are you doing?"
The little boy answered, "I'm doing my math homework, Mom."
"And this is how your teacher taught you to do it?" the mother asked.
"Yes," he answered.
Infuriated, the mother asked the teacher the next day, "What are you teaching my son in math?"
The teacher replied, "Right now, we are learning addition."
The mother asked, "And are you teaching them to say two plus two, that son of a bi*ch is four?"
After the teacher stopped laughing, she answered, "What I taught them was, two plus two, THE SUM OF WHICH, is four."
One day the first grade teacher was reading the story of Chicken Little to her class. She came to the part of the story where Chicken Little tried to warn the farmer. She read, ".... and so Chicken Little went up to the farmer and said, "The sky is falling, the sky is falling!"
The teacher paused then asked the class, "And what do you think that farmer said?"
One little girl raised her hand and said, "I think he said: 'Holy Sh*t! A talking chicken!'"
A certain little girl, when asked her name, would reply, "I'm Mr. Sugarbrown's daughter."
Her mother told her this was wrong, she must say, "I'm Jane Sugarbrown."
The Vicar spoke to her in Sunday School, and said, "Aren't you Mr. Sugarbrown's daughter?"
She replied, "I thought I was, but mother says I'm not."
A little girl asked her mother, "Can I go outside and play with the*boys?"
Her mother replied, "No, you can't play with the boys, they're too rough."
The little girl thought about it for a few moments and asked, "If I can find a smooth one, can I play with him?"
A little girl goes to the barber shop with her father.
She stands next to the barber chair, while her dad gets his hair cut, eating a snack cake.
The barber says to her, "Sweetheart, you're gonna get hair on your Twinkie."
She says, "Yes, I know, and I'm gonna get boobs too."
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Screw that bloody bitch
Screw that bloody bitch!
[Disclaimer: If you are going to be easily offended, please don't read this entry. It is not a pretty sight.]
"Papa, I will take a scissors and throw at you. I will use the scissors to snip off your ears. Use the scissors to snip off your nose. Use the scissors to gorge out your eyes. Use the scissors to cut away your tongue. I will take your flesh and cook curry. Mummy says human meat can (be used to) cook curry. I will take the curry and feed the people..."
Hearing these horrible things being spoken in such a fluent, coherent manner is more than I can bear. The loud, and I mean extremely loud, and raspy voice went on and on chattering more and more evil stuff. The raspiness was due to excessive screaming. And the screams came often too, in that semi-packed MRT train that I was on. I was on my way home, after work.
This intrusion of my auditory space began at Bugis, three stops after I had boarded the train. The loss of space was immediately evident when that vermin boarded. It, I think it is more accurate to use it to refer to a beast as such, began by screaming at the top of its voice that there are no seats on the train (not true) and it wanted to be carried by its father.
The father cut a medium figure, the very slight excesses of middle age showing. He's not young but his offspring is not any more than 6 years old. The typical blue PAP kindergarten uniform gave the beast's age away.
"Go away, papa! Go away! You are blocking me! Go away! Go away!"
I raised my head, taking a quick break from my "Nature Park" handphone game to see what the commotion was about. This happened just as the trained started pulling out of the station. Oh, so the beast wanted to pole dance. It swinged round and round the pole, holding to the pole for support.
It is actually quite hideous looking. I am not saying this because I cannot stand it but it is really really ugly looking. Mean slitted eyes and a pudgy nose with a crooked mouth. Fat, and I mean fat. Its BMI should easily be in the low 30s. I mean, it looked like an overweight Primary 2 or 3 kid. Well, oversized beast.
So it went on and on, complaining, whining, complaining, shouting, screaming, whining, screaming, screeching, scolding its father, complaining, whining, screaming... to no end. The father took the insults and screams and shouts stoically, somewhat resigned to the fact that he had produced such a monster.
And it was a monster all right. When the guy next to me vacated his seat, monster came to the empty seat, intentionally kicking my shoes when it came. I looked at it and it went "Scuse me, scuse me, scuse me" in a half-dead voice. The raspiness has already taken the timbre out of its utterances, leaving just sequences of fricatives and semi-voiceless vowels. And it still carried on nudging my shoe. What an ill-bred monster.
Just then it bundled off to an empty seat between two ladies, who resignedly looked down as monster intruded. Fortunately for them, two corner seats on the same row were vacated.
"Come here! There are two empty seats. Got two empty seats!" It commanded its probably henpecked father.
The guy moved over to the seat, carrying its bag.
And it started abusing him by threatening to cut him up and cooking him in curry.
What was eerie was the ever so fluent way it said it. It resonated and stinks of the leftover portions of its mother's or caregiver's speech.
I've heard the father speak. He's true blue Singaporean. Not very educated.
But it spoke with the distinctive Mainland Chinese accent, which will never escape my trained ears. And the chosen vocabulary is defintely way too advanced for a monster this young. The rehearsed-ness of the utterances make my hair stand on ends. There is a chill that comes with those horrible, sense-laden noises.
The monster is the product of a marriage between a Singaporean man and a "little dragon lady". If this little monster of a girl with just half of little dragon genes can be that vicious, then what do the "little dragon ladies" actually have in store for us?
[Disclaimer: If you are going to be easily offended, please don't read this entry. It is not a pretty sight.]
"Papa, I will take a scissors and throw at you. I will use the scissors to snip off your ears. Use the scissors to snip off your nose. Use the scissors to gorge out your eyes. Use the scissors to cut away your tongue. I will take your flesh and cook curry. Mummy says human meat can (be used to) cook curry. I will take the curry and feed the people..."
Hearing these horrible things being spoken in such a fluent, coherent manner is more than I can bear. The loud, and I mean extremely loud, and raspy voice went on and on chattering more and more evil stuff. The raspiness was due to excessive screaming. And the screams came often too, in that semi-packed MRT train that I was on. I was on my way home, after work.
This intrusion of my auditory space began at Bugis, three stops after I had boarded the train. The loss of space was immediately evident when that vermin boarded. It, I think it is more accurate to use it to refer to a beast as such, began by screaming at the top of its voice that there are no seats on the train (not true) and it wanted to be carried by its father.
The father cut a medium figure, the very slight excesses of middle age showing. He's not young but his offspring is not any more than 6 years old. The typical blue PAP kindergarten uniform gave the beast's age away.
"Go away, papa! Go away! You are blocking me! Go away! Go away!"
I raised my head, taking a quick break from my "Nature Park" handphone game to see what the commotion was about. This happened just as the trained started pulling out of the station. Oh, so the beast wanted to pole dance. It swinged round and round the pole, holding to the pole for support.
It is actually quite hideous looking. I am not saying this because I cannot stand it but it is really really ugly looking. Mean slitted eyes and a pudgy nose with a crooked mouth. Fat, and I mean fat. Its BMI should easily be in the low 30s. I mean, it looked like an overweight Primary 2 or 3 kid. Well, oversized beast.
So it went on and on, complaining, whining, complaining, shouting, screaming, whining, screaming, screeching, scolding its father, complaining, whining, screaming... to no end. The father took the insults and screams and shouts stoically, somewhat resigned to the fact that he had produced such a monster.
And it was a monster all right. When the guy next to me vacated his seat, monster came to the empty seat, intentionally kicking my shoes when it came. I looked at it and it went "Scuse me, scuse me, scuse me" in a half-dead voice. The raspiness has already taken the timbre out of its utterances, leaving just sequences of fricatives and semi-voiceless vowels. And it still carried on nudging my shoe. What an ill-bred monster.
Just then it bundled off to an empty seat between two ladies, who resignedly looked down as monster intruded. Fortunately for them, two corner seats on the same row were vacated.
"Come here! There are two empty seats. Got two empty seats!" It commanded its probably henpecked father.
The guy moved over to the seat, carrying its bag.
And it started abusing him by threatening to cut him up and cooking him in curry.
What was eerie was the ever so fluent way it said it. It resonated and stinks of the leftover portions of its mother's or caregiver's speech.
I've heard the father speak. He's true blue Singaporean. Not very educated.
But it spoke with the distinctive Mainland Chinese accent, which will never escape my trained ears. And the chosen vocabulary is defintely way too advanced for a monster this young. The rehearsed-ness of the utterances make my hair stand on ends. There is a chill that comes with those horrible, sense-laden noises.
The monster is the product of a marriage between a Singaporean man and a "little dragon lady". If this little monster of a girl with just half of little dragon genes can be that vicious, then what do the "little dragon ladies" actually have in store for us?
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Aviation Achievements - the Chengdu - Tibet leg
Aviation Achievements - the Chengdu - Tibet leg
"You must be crazy! I won't fly even if you pay me USD 1,000 per hour!" so declared the test pilot for Boeing, of the Chengdu-Tibet leg.
No surprise. All over, there are so many hills. Any little slip and a crash into the mountains is inevitable.
Well, no point waxing lyrical here - you need to see it to believe it.
Some facts (I hope I got them correct!)
1. Not all airlines can fly to Tibet. Their planes and pilots are mostly not good enough for the harsh landing and taking-off conditions. The pilots plying this route are specially trained and they retire from this route at 55 (or is it less?).
2. Extensive modifications are needed for flying to Tibet. For instance, oxygen supplies must last 45 minutes instead of the usual 15 minutes because there's no way to drop the plane to the next cruising level within 15 minutes or less. If there isn't enough pressure, the plane will stay at the same altitude while the on-board oxygen will provide the pressure to keep the passengers awake and alive. Any attempt at dropping altitude will kill everyone on board.
3. Plane engines must be run-in for 600 hours. Planes without incidents during the run-ins will then be allowed to ply the route till the engines reach 10 000 hours of flight time. These planes are retired and allowed to ply other routes.
4. Most flights plying the Chengdu-Tibet leg are bigger than those flying Chengdu-Singapore.
5. You'll get to see Everest (if you can identify the peak correctly) on a clear day up to Tibet.
6. You can be so near Lhasa yet your plane cannot land - it has to be rerouted back to Chengdu. This has happened before because the runway conditions were not favourable for landing.
7. The equipment on the planes are recalibrated to account for the height of the place. Before the use of electronic devices for landing, pilots rely on estimation. They had no other choice.
8. Plate movements made it necessary for constant updating of the airport conditions in Lhasa.
Just imagine - even in these days, we need so much care to fly this route. Imagine days of the past when technology was not so advanced.
That's also why to the insiders of the airlines flying to Tibet, this most dangerous route in their schedule is also deemed as one of the safest. They made it so.
"You must be crazy! I won't fly even if you pay me USD 1,000 per hour!" so declared the test pilot for Boeing, of the Chengdu-Tibet leg.
No surprise. All over, there are so many hills. Any little slip and a crash into the mountains is inevitable.
Well, no point waxing lyrical here - you need to see it to believe it.
Some facts (I hope I got them correct!)
1. Not all airlines can fly to Tibet. Their planes and pilots are mostly not good enough for the harsh landing and taking-off conditions. The pilots plying this route are specially trained and they retire from this route at 55 (or is it less?).
2. Extensive modifications are needed for flying to Tibet. For instance, oxygen supplies must last 45 minutes instead of the usual 15 minutes because there's no way to drop the plane to the next cruising level within 15 minutes or less. If there isn't enough pressure, the plane will stay at the same altitude while the on-board oxygen will provide the pressure to keep the passengers awake and alive. Any attempt at dropping altitude will kill everyone on board.
3. Plane engines must be run-in for 600 hours. Planes without incidents during the run-ins will then be allowed to ply the route till the engines reach 10 000 hours of flight time. These planes are retired and allowed to ply other routes.
4. Most flights plying the Chengdu-Tibet leg are bigger than those flying Chengdu-Singapore.
5. You'll get to see Everest (if you can identify the peak correctly) on a clear day up to Tibet.
6. You can be so near Lhasa yet your plane cannot land - it has to be rerouted back to Chengdu. This has happened before because the runway conditions were not favourable for landing.
7. The equipment on the planes are recalibrated to account for the height of the place. Before the use of electronic devices for landing, pilots rely on estimation. They had no other choice.
8. Plate movements made it necessary for constant updating of the airport conditions in Lhasa.
Just imagine - even in these days, we need so much care to fly this route. Imagine days of the past when technology was not so advanced.
That's also why to the insiders of the airlines flying to Tibet, this most dangerous route in their schedule is also deemed as one of the safest. They made it so.
Three steps and one full body postration - Just show me the money!
Three steps and one full body postration - Just show me the money!
I'm never known to be good with recognising people. Just not a trait of mine. I've taught for a couple of years and now that I've just school for less than a year, I've problems remembering faces and associating them with names.
It's just not my strength.
But there is someone that I'm very familiar with because I've seen him on TV for many days while travelling in Tibet and I've also seen him many times at the Potala Palace and the surrounding temples in Lhasa.
It's the guy who does the three steps and one full body postration devotee.
He's such a familiar sight that each time I see him, I begin to wonder why I even had a single ounce of respect for him in the first place.
He was one of the lead in some of the scenes in a long running documentary about Tibet. His act was described as a kind of ascetic practice of Tibetan Buddhism. People would leave their villages and walk to the lamastery of their choice by doing the three steps and one body full postration. They will do it for the entire route, often relying on passers-by for food and water.
I've seen some along the highway. The buses and vehicles take pains to avoid them. Some even stop by to take photos of such pious devotees. People praise them for their singlemindedness, perseverance, and tenacity. The narrator for the documentary even said that to these people, dying while performing such an act is honour in itself.
So I've seen Mr X many times in the video. I could recognise him because of his face, that dishevelled hair and that impish grin. In my first visit to Lhasa, I saw him at the Potala at noon. When I came face to face with him, I thought my initial respect for him was a little too much.
The next time I went to Lhasa, I met him at Drepung, then at Sera lamasteries. He was doing the same thing there.
My third time at Lhasa, I think I saw him near Jokhang.
Each time I see him, my respect for him dwindles and my disgust for him increases.
Each time I see him, I see him hold bills and bills of renminbi between the wood he uses to protect his hands from the rough floor as well as hetween his fingers and wherever he manages to slip money in.
He is now no different from a circus act. And it reeks of commercialism when he displays so ostensibly his money so that all the passers-by can see his collection. Is he asking for more? I can't tell, but I know I won't give him a single cent.
I have in good mind to just walk up to him and tell him that he'll never reach heaven but I don't speak a single word of Tibetan. Heck, I think he knows as well. But perhaps to him, if this is what he NEEDS to do rather than wants to do because there could be many hungry mouths waiting for him at home. I don't know but I must say that he has entirely sullied the holiness of Tibet.
Moral of the story: Choose your actors carefully. They could easily undermine the best production.
I'm never known to be good with recognising people. Just not a trait of mine. I've taught for a couple of years and now that I've just school for less than a year, I've problems remembering faces and associating them with names.
It's just not my strength.
But there is someone that I'm very familiar with because I've seen him on TV for many days while travelling in Tibet and I've also seen him many times at the Potala Palace and the surrounding temples in Lhasa.
It's the guy who does the three steps and one full body postration devotee.
He's such a familiar sight that each time I see him, I begin to wonder why I even had a single ounce of respect for him in the first place.
He was one of the lead in some of the scenes in a long running documentary about Tibet. His act was described as a kind of ascetic practice of Tibetan Buddhism. People would leave their villages and walk to the lamastery of their choice by doing the three steps and one body full postration. They will do it for the entire route, often relying on passers-by for food and water.
I've seen some along the highway. The buses and vehicles take pains to avoid them. Some even stop by to take photos of such pious devotees. People praise them for their singlemindedness, perseverance, and tenacity. The narrator for the documentary even said that to these people, dying while performing such an act is honour in itself.
So I've seen Mr X many times in the video. I could recognise him because of his face, that dishevelled hair and that impish grin. In my first visit to Lhasa, I saw him at the Potala at noon. When I came face to face with him, I thought my initial respect for him was a little too much.
The next time I went to Lhasa, I met him at Drepung, then at Sera lamasteries. He was doing the same thing there.
My third time at Lhasa, I think I saw him near Jokhang.
Each time I see him, my respect for him dwindles and my disgust for him increases.
Each time I see him, I see him hold bills and bills of renminbi between the wood he uses to protect his hands from the rough floor as well as hetween his fingers and wherever he manages to slip money in.
He is now no different from a circus act. And it reeks of commercialism when he displays so ostensibly his money so that all the passers-by can see his collection. Is he asking for more? I can't tell, but I know I won't give him a single cent.
I have in good mind to just walk up to him and tell him that he'll never reach heaven but I don't speak a single word of Tibetan. Heck, I think he knows as well. But perhaps to him, if this is what he NEEDS to do rather than wants to do because there could be many hungry mouths waiting for him at home. I don't know but I must say that he has entirely sullied the holiness of Tibet.
Moral of the story: Choose your actors carefully. They could easily undermine the best production.
Winter Cherry Blossoms
Winter Cherry Blossoms
Curiousity got the better of me. I mean, any flower tea by the name of "la mei hua" or winter cherry blossoms (rough translation) is too bitchy to give a miss. I've done my routine of chrysanthemum, rose, and other types of flower teas. What I have not tried, however, is this winter cherry blossom tea.
Fully formed yellow flowers are packed in a clear package. I could even feel the flowers shiver on the branches in the snowy winters, when they are brutally taken off their willowy stems and dried to become flavouring agents for hot water. Such awfully brutal beauty! Such an abrupt end to existence - at the peak of life.
So, I bought a whole packet of flowers for about RMB 6 (S$ 1.20, USD 0.70).
When I reached the hotel room, I opening the package and inhaled what I had expected to be a nice, sweet, tingling, fragrance that my mind has come to associate beautiful flowers with. Alas, as usual, the biologists are dead right again!
The flowers stink of wax. Wax! Yes, that very thing that you make candles with.
So I took out some flowers and steeped them in a glass of hot water.
The flowers floated and most eventually sank to the bottom of the cup. The rest are suspended in the water, floating as though they have just fallen their branches in the harsh winter.
Looks not too bad. Tastes...?
Like wax. The tea tastes like WAX! Yucks!
And so, my misery with that large pack of flowers (well, now I know why they say even absolute size is relative!) began.
While I must say that the flowers were great for the eyes and kept my eyes clear and moist in Tibet (those who didn't drink the tea ended up with a layer of thick, sticky discharge over their eye somehow), I hated the taste of it. Once I got used to the climate in Tibet, I stopped drinking the tea.
Many of my group members were surprised how my mother and I could keep our eyes clear. So when I introduced them to the tea, they started drinking too and their eyes got better.
So I guess it works. But I still don't like drinking wax-smelling stuff.
And my bitchy adventure with flower teas ended with this packet of Winter Cherry Blossoms. Thank you. No more... I'll just stick to what the tea joints have to offer. And perhaps jasmine tea...
Curiousity got the better of me. I mean, any flower tea by the name of "la mei hua" or winter cherry blossoms (rough translation) is too bitchy to give a miss. I've done my routine of chrysanthemum, rose, and other types of flower teas. What I have not tried, however, is this winter cherry blossom tea.
Fully formed yellow flowers are packed in a clear package. I could even feel the flowers shiver on the branches in the snowy winters, when they are brutally taken off their willowy stems and dried to become flavouring agents for hot water. Such awfully brutal beauty! Such an abrupt end to existence - at the peak of life.
So, I bought a whole packet of flowers for about RMB 6 (S$ 1.20, USD 0.70).
When I reached the hotel room, I opening the package and inhaled what I had expected to be a nice, sweet, tingling, fragrance that my mind has come to associate beautiful flowers with. Alas, as usual, the biologists are dead right again!
The flowers stink of wax. Wax! Yes, that very thing that you make candles with.
So I took out some flowers and steeped them in a glass of hot water.
The flowers floated and most eventually sank to the bottom of the cup. The rest are suspended in the water, floating as though they have just fallen their branches in the harsh winter.
Looks not too bad. Tastes...?
Like wax. The tea tastes like WAX! Yucks!
And so, my misery with that large pack of flowers (well, now I know why they say even absolute size is relative!) began.
While I must say that the flowers were great for the eyes and kept my eyes clear and moist in Tibet (those who didn't drink the tea ended up with a layer of thick, sticky discharge over their eye somehow), I hated the taste of it. Once I got used to the climate in Tibet, I stopped drinking the tea.
Many of my group members were surprised how my mother and I could keep our eyes clear. So when I introduced them to the tea, they started drinking too and their eyes got better.
So I guess it works. But I still don't like drinking wax-smelling stuff.
And my bitchy adventure with flower teas ended with this packet of Winter Cherry Blossoms. Thank you. No more... I'll just stick to what the tea joints have to offer. And perhaps jasmine tea...
Do & Me Singapore-style Fried Chicken
Do & Me Singapore-style Fried Chicken
It was great to see a Lhasa-based Singapore food outlet at the Octagonal Street. After meals and meals of fried, tomatoes, and eggs combination, it is a huge relief to find something that is local. Never mind it does not taste authentically Singaporean or it is way too oily and unhealthy. Anything that is deep fried and hot is better than the horrible standard fare.
So we had meals and meals supplemented by the fried chicken.
And as time went by, we also managed to find Korean fried chicken in Shigatse and another fried chicken outlet deeper inside the Octagonal Street.
They were really blessings.
I never knew that while in Singapore, most of the tour group members would pour scorn on the humble fried chicken, when in Tibet, their faces simply light up at the suggestion of an unscheduled stop-over at any, and I mean ANY, fried chicked store for some additional food. I think we are all too pampered.
It was great to see a Lhasa-based Singapore food outlet at the Octagonal Street. After meals and meals of fried, tomatoes, and eggs combination, it is a huge relief to find something that is local. Never mind it does not taste authentically Singaporean or it is way too oily and unhealthy. Anything that is deep fried and hot is better than the horrible standard fare.
So we had meals and meals supplemented by the fried chicken.
And as time went by, we also managed to find Korean fried chicken in Shigatse and another fried chicken outlet deeper inside the Octagonal Street.
They were really blessings.
I never knew that while in Singapore, most of the tour group members would pour scorn on the humble fried chicken, when in Tibet, their faces simply light up at the suggestion of an unscheduled stop-over at any, and I mean ANY, fried chicked store for some additional food. I think we are all too pampered.
How to be wayang kings and queens
How to be wayang kings and queens
This is a classic study of how to act as though you are going to but actually you can't do or won't do something; the case study of No Action, Talk Only (NATO). This study pertains to Chengdu Shuangliu International Airport and Lhasa Gongga Airport.
Before I start, I must begin by explaining the word "wayang". The traditional definitions of wayang do not exactly apply here. Instead, the use of wayang here is degoratory. It suggests a series of overt, exaggerated movements which mean nothing. Think of the typical Chinese wayang show. Instead of walking from point A to point B on the stage, the actors walk round and round and round with exaggerated steps to show "how far" the distance between A and B is. Or during a fight sequence, when the choreographer runs out of actions, the actors hold their weapons against each other and spin round and round and round in circles to portray a long-drawn out, engaging, hard, fierce battle. The exaggeration is exasperating!
So, to cut the long story short, let me just say that luggage forwarding services when passengers do flight transfers from domestic to international flights is a common service provided by international airports. Especially if your domestic flight and your international flights are both on the same carrier, the act of doing the luggage transfer should be transparent to the traveller - it is a behind-the-scenes job. Just take my luggage and forward it to the next flight.
I can understand if the airport cannot do it because I'm actually breaking my journey and spending a night or more during my transit. But if I'm doing the transfer in the same day, it should be a trivial job.
But NO! Over in Tibet Gongga Airport, my group and I were told that forwarding services are NOT available. We need to take our luggage out at Chengdu Shuangliu, never mind our pleas that our combined luggage weighs 270 kg, never mind our transit is only 6 hours, never mind our bus in Chengdu is likely to be packed with luggage, never mind if we are going to have to spend lots of time trying to get the luggage off the belt.
I don't care about your concerns, you stupid pricks. I bet this probably passed through the head of the check-in counter staff in Tibet. "We're only agents! We can't do it," she insisted loudly in Tibet.
Fine, I thought. But then, why the heck do you print luggage tabs that read, "SIN" via 1 "CTU"? This means that luggage with such tabs should be forwarded to SIN via CTU. There should not be a need to retrieve the luggage at Chengdu (CTU). If this is not the case, then why do you make your paperwork look as though it is?
Don't they know how confusing these can be? If I had not asked, the mere sight of a forwarding label like this would have lulled me into believing that the luggage would be forwarded by default. After all, this is what I expect, having travelled at least twice a year and on many occasions, on transit.
So, they don't do it actually. But in terms of processes, they make it seem that they do.
What a show! What buffonery! What show-offs.
Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless!
This is a classic study of how to act as though you are going to but actually you can't do or won't do something; the case study of No Action, Talk Only (NATO). This study pertains to Chengdu Shuangliu International Airport and Lhasa Gongga Airport.
Before I start, I must begin by explaining the word "wayang". The traditional definitions of wayang do not exactly apply here. Instead, the use of wayang here is degoratory. It suggests a series of overt, exaggerated movements which mean nothing. Think of the typical Chinese wayang show. Instead of walking from point A to point B on the stage, the actors walk round and round and round with exaggerated steps to show "how far" the distance between A and B is. Or during a fight sequence, when the choreographer runs out of actions, the actors hold their weapons against each other and spin round and round and round in circles to portray a long-drawn out, engaging, hard, fierce battle. The exaggeration is exasperating!
So, to cut the long story short, let me just say that luggage forwarding services when passengers do flight transfers from domestic to international flights is a common service provided by international airports. Especially if your domestic flight and your international flights are both on the same carrier, the act of doing the luggage transfer should be transparent to the traveller - it is a behind-the-scenes job. Just take my luggage and forward it to the next flight.
I can understand if the airport cannot do it because I'm actually breaking my journey and spending a night or more during my transit. But if I'm doing the transfer in the same day, it should be a trivial job.
But NO! Over in Tibet Gongga Airport, my group and I were told that forwarding services are NOT available. We need to take our luggage out at Chengdu Shuangliu, never mind our pleas that our combined luggage weighs 270 kg, never mind our transit is only 6 hours, never mind our bus in Chengdu is likely to be packed with luggage, never mind if we are going to have to spend lots of time trying to get the luggage off the belt.
I don't care about your concerns, you stupid pricks. I bet this probably passed through the head of the check-in counter staff in Tibet. "We're only agents! We can't do it," she insisted loudly in Tibet.
Fine, I thought. But then, why the heck do you print luggage tabs that read, "SIN" via 1 "CTU"? This means that luggage with such tabs should be forwarded to SIN via CTU. There should not be a need to retrieve the luggage at Chengdu (CTU). If this is not the case, then why do you make your paperwork look as though it is?
Don't they know how confusing these can be? If I had not asked, the mere sight of a forwarding label like this would have lulled me into believing that the luggage would be forwarded by default. After all, this is what I expect, having travelled at least twice a year and on many occasions, on transit.
So, they don't do it actually. But in terms of processes, they make it seem that they do.
What a show! What buffonery! What show-offs.
Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless!
The Tibetan Legends
The Tibetan Legends
Songtsen Gampo
The first Religious King of Tibet from the Yarlung dynasty who ruled between 629 and 650 CE. He remains the most famous of the Tibetan monarchs for having made Tibet one of the most important imperial powers in Asia in the seventh century. He is considered as the first law-giver and responsible for the first dissemination of Buddhism in Tibet. He was also the first Tibetan monarch to rule from Lhasa. Details
Another version:
First Buddhist temples
In the seventh century an event occurred that was decisive for Bhutan’s history: the Tibetan king Songtsen Gampo (619-649) erected the first Buddhist temples, the Kyichu-Lhakhang in Paro and the Jampe-Lhakhang in Bumthang.
The erection of the monuments marked the victory of Buddhism over pre-Buddhist deities. Songtsen Gampo wanted to tame a huge demon whose body covered all of Tibet and its neighbouring areas, which posed a particularly big problem to the spreading of buddhism. The king thus decided to erect a temple on each of the demon’s joints so that she would no longer be able to move.
Songtsen Gampo was said to have magically multiplied himself and to have sent all of his emanations into the various areas of Tibet so as to erect 108 temples in one day. Towering over the heart of the demon there is the famous Jokhang-Temple in Lhasa. The demon’s left knee is held by the Jampe-Lhakhang of Bumthang and her left sole is fixed by the Kyichu-Lhakhang in Paro.
The Tibetan king Songtsen Gampo’s act of physically taming pre-Buddhist deities through religious buildings developed into a long tradition.
And so, Songtsen Gampo became the legend that all guides talk about to no end when you visit any Tibetan Buddhist place of worship.
The Confusion Between The Dalai Lama and the Panchen Lama - CLEARED
Dalai and Panchen, the two highest Living Buddhas, are the political and religious leaders of inner and outer Tibet. Due to different territories and the number of dependent people, the Dalai and Panchen have varying political rights, but one religion, they are absolutely equal.
The Dalai Lama has always been considered as the incarnation of Avalokitesvara or Buddha of Mercy. He usually lives in Potala Palace, and moves to Norbulingka in summer.
The Panchen Lama has always been regarded as the incarnation of Amitabha or Buddha of Infinite Light. The Panchen Lama lives in Tashilhunbu Monastery, one of the six biggest monasteries of Tibetan Buddhism.
How did the titles Dalai and Panchen come into being?
A: Dalai and Panchen were two disciples of Tsongkhapa, the founder of the Yellow Sect of Tibetan Buddhism. They formulated two hereditary systems. These two titles were granted by China's emperors.
The word "Dalai" first appeared in the Ming Dynasty. In 1578, Altan Khan of the Tumet tribe of the Mongols residing in Qinghai invited Sonam Gyatso, leader of the Yellow Sect, to preach in Qinghai. The two leaders enjoyed mutual respect, and exchanged honorific titles. Altan Khan named Sonam Gyatso "Dalai Lama," meaning "omniscience and great authority." After the founding of the Qing Dynasty, the fifth Dalai Lama was invited to Beijing by the Qing emperor in 1652. In 1653, Emperor Shunzhi formally conferred on him the title "Dalai Lama," and granted him a gold seal and gold album. In 1751, the Dalai Lama was put in charge of the region's administration.
The title "Panchen" first appeared in 1645 when the Mongolian chieftain Gushri Khan bestowed it upon the fourth Panchen. In 1713, Emperor Kangxi of the Qing Dynasty bestowed upon the fifth Panchen the title "Erdini", and granted him a gold seal and gold ablum. The central government also bestowed on him the right to rule parts of Rear Tibet.
Since the conferring of these titles by the Qing emperors, the reincarnation of the Dalai and Panchen has been under the supervision of the central government. After "drawing lots from a golden urn," the soul boys reincarnate must be approved by the central government before their official investiture. Their tonsure, religious names, and choice of teachers must be reported to the central government for ratification, and the central government sends envoys to supervise the enthronement ceremonies of the Dalai and Panchen.
Before 1959, Tibet preacticed a theocratic system whereby political power was integrated with religion. The Dalai and Panchen were therefore both the religious and political leaders of Tibet. The central government's ratification of "soul boys" reincarnate was significant in two aspects: it granted them political power as the highest leaders in Tibet and recognized their leading religious roles. Ratification and conferment procedures were an important exercise of the administrative authority of China's central government.
Hope this clarifies any confusion.
Songtsen Gampo
The first Religious King of Tibet from the Yarlung dynasty who ruled between 629 and 650 CE. He remains the most famous of the Tibetan monarchs for having made Tibet one of the most important imperial powers in Asia in the seventh century. He is considered as the first law-giver and responsible for the first dissemination of Buddhism in Tibet. He was also the first Tibetan monarch to rule from Lhasa. Details
Another version:
First Buddhist temples
In the seventh century an event occurred that was decisive for Bhutan’s history: the Tibetan king Songtsen Gampo (619-649) erected the first Buddhist temples, the Kyichu-Lhakhang in Paro and the Jampe-Lhakhang in Bumthang.
The erection of the monuments marked the victory of Buddhism over pre-Buddhist deities. Songtsen Gampo wanted to tame a huge demon whose body covered all of Tibet and its neighbouring areas, which posed a particularly big problem to the spreading of buddhism. The king thus decided to erect a temple on each of the demon’s joints so that she would no longer be able to move.
Songtsen Gampo was said to have magically multiplied himself and to have sent all of his emanations into the various areas of Tibet so as to erect 108 temples in one day. Towering over the heart of the demon there is the famous Jokhang-Temple in Lhasa. The demon’s left knee is held by the Jampe-Lhakhang of Bumthang and her left sole is fixed by the Kyichu-Lhakhang in Paro.
The Tibetan king Songtsen Gampo’s act of physically taming pre-Buddhist deities through religious buildings developed into a long tradition.
And so, Songtsen Gampo became the legend that all guides talk about to no end when you visit any Tibetan Buddhist place of worship.
The Confusion Between The Dalai Lama and the Panchen Lama - CLEARED
Dalai and Panchen, the two highest Living Buddhas, are the political and religious leaders of inner and outer Tibet. Due to different territories and the number of dependent people, the Dalai and Panchen have varying political rights, but one religion, they are absolutely equal.
The Dalai Lama has always been considered as the incarnation of Avalokitesvara or Buddha of Mercy. He usually lives in Potala Palace, and moves to Norbulingka in summer.
The Panchen Lama has always been regarded as the incarnation of Amitabha or Buddha of Infinite Light. The Panchen Lama lives in Tashilhunbu Monastery, one of the six biggest monasteries of Tibetan Buddhism.
How did the titles Dalai and Panchen come into being?
A: Dalai and Panchen were two disciples of Tsongkhapa, the founder of the Yellow Sect of Tibetan Buddhism. They formulated two hereditary systems. These two titles were granted by China's emperors.
The word "Dalai" first appeared in the Ming Dynasty. In 1578, Altan Khan of the Tumet tribe of the Mongols residing in Qinghai invited Sonam Gyatso, leader of the Yellow Sect, to preach in Qinghai. The two leaders enjoyed mutual respect, and exchanged honorific titles. Altan Khan named Sonam Gyatso "Dalai Lama," meaning "omniscience and great authority." After the founding of the Qing Dynasty, the fifth Dalai Lama was invited to Beijing by the Qing emperor in 1652. In 1653, Emperor Shunzhi formally conferred on him the title "Dalai Lama," and granted him a gold seal and gold album. In 1751, the Dalai Lama was put in charge of the region's administration.
The title "Panchen" first appeared in 1645 when the Mongolian chieftain Gushri Khan bestowed it upon the fourth Panchen. In 1713, Emperor Kangxi of the Qing Dynasty bestowed upon the fifth Panchen the title "Erdini", and granted him a gold seal and gold ablum. The central government also bestowed on him the right to rule parts of Rear Tibet.
Since the conferring of these titles by the Qing emperors, the reincarnation of the Dalai and Panchen has been under the supervision of the central government. After "drawing lots from a golden urn," the soul boys reincarnate must be approved by the central government before their official investiture. Their tonsure, religious names, and choice of teachers must be reported to the central government for ratification, and the central government sends envoys to supervise the enthronement ceremonies of the Dalai and Panchen.
Before 1959, Tibet preacticed a theocratic system whereby political power was integrated with religion. The Dalai and Panchen were therefore both the religious and political leaders of Tibet. The central government's ratification of "soul boys" reincarnate was significant in two aspects: it granted them political power as the highest leaders in Tibet and recognized their leading religious roles. Ratification and conferment procedures were an important exercise of the administrative authority of China's central government.
Hope this clarifies any confusion.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
The Tibetan Slo-Mo
The Tibetan Slo-Mo
The native Tibetans are slow. They are at least three beats slower than their Chinese counterparts. No doubt they are honest, frank and forthcoming, they are SLOW. So slow that I had no choice but to whack the living daylights out of them on two different occasions.
Occasion 1
I ordered a bowl of meat sauce noodles at Tibet Red Hill Hotel because I can't stand the "standard" fare.
The waitress said, "Sir, we can't process your order unless you pay first."
So I paid the money. It was cheap (by my standards) but very exorbitant (by Tibetan standards). Well, this always happens. The dollar here and the same dollar there gets you different things.
After everyone finished dinner, my food was still not served.
So, I called the waitress and asked for it.
"Oh, let me ask." She said.
"Sure! But if it's not ready, forget it. Just return me my money." I countered.
Some time later, a guy came running.
"Oh, so sorry sir. Can I know what kind of noodles did you order?" He asked.
"You mean, you don't even know? Then what did you do after you had taken my order?" I asked?
"Ah, we misplaced it."
"Oh, so you misplaced it? Ok, forget it. Return me my money."
"..."
I raised my voice and told the receptionists to return me my payment for the meat sauce noodles. Anyway, I'm not having them anymore and it's of no consequence in terms of cost since the kitchen has not started preparing the food anyway.
The receptionists spoke in muted tones. I bet they were trying to pin blame. I'm no idiot. I know what they are doing.
"Stop muttering under your breaths and RETURN ME MY MONEY!" I ordered.
"Take it out, take it out. We need to pay this gentleman x dollars." One of them muttered while the other scrambled for the money.
I took the money and walked out.
On another occasion, the tour group was supposed to have have breakfast at 8.30 am. The standard operating hours of the restaurant (same one at Red Hill) for breakfast is from 8 to 10 am. So you'd expect the full works at 8.30 am.
What greeted us at 8.10 am (for some of us early birds) were empty or close to empty trays.
The milk was gone. The soya bean drinks were gone. There were no plates and bowls. The whole food area was in a mess.
"Er, do you have porridge and buns?" we asked.
"Oh, porridge, is it? The kitchen is still cooking. The buns? Wait a while. I'll immediately heat some for you."
The bowls and plates?
"Oh, we haven't wash the used ones yet."
What about milk?
"Oh, we'll warm some for you."
Soya bean drink?
"Immediately, immediately. We'll immediately warm some for you." Two minutes later, "Ah, we're out of it."
Great. Run out of food at the start of breakfast.
So we waited till 8.40 am and nothing seems to be working still.
I had enough.
I went to the main hall and asked to see the Duty Manager. He went home. It's weird that a duty manager gets to go home when he's on duty. Never mind. I asked for the restaurant manager.
The receptionists called the restaurant manager on his handphone at my insistence and I gave it to him.
I made him pack breakfast for the entire group and then when we left the hotel, we all bought dough fritters and munched them along the way.
The Tibetan Slo-Mo is incredibly frustrating. I'm ok that things are slow, but not to the point of dysfunctionality. Sri Lankans can be slow too. But they don't forget what you order. Neither do they forget to replenish their food nor fail to have enough crockery for use. The breakfast table, even in a place like Sri Lanka, is stacked such that it's fit for a king. China, for its want for progress and civility, has a long way to go.
By the way, I'm still trying to figure out how does a hotel guest can eat the same food everyday. Apparently, even the China Chinese visitors to Tibet who stay in Red Hill ended up buying fermented beancurd to eat with rice and they left the catered standard fare alone. So I'm not the only one who's picky. Basically, the entire system is faulty.
Until the snail tendencies are removed, Tibet will have a long way to go in terms of F&B and hospitality. And that would spell the end of its tourism because honestly, no one would want to spend exorbitant amounts to stay in a hotel when a guest house at half the price or less is not any worse. They better start thinking how they are going to stay viable in the hotel business.
The native Tibetans are slow. They are at least three beats slower than their Chinese counterparts. No doubt they are honest, frank and forthcoming, they are SLOW. So slow that I had no choice but to whack the living daylights out of them on two different occasions.
Occasion 1
I ordered a bowl of meat sauce noodles at Tibet Red Hill Hotel because I can't stand the "standard" fare.
The waitress said, "Sir, we can't process your order unless you pay first."
So I paid the money. It was cheap (by my standards) but very exorbitant (by Tibetan standards). Well, this always happens. The dollar here and the same dollar there gets you different things.
After everyone finished dinner, my food was still not served.
So, I called the waitress and asked for it.
"Oh, let me ask." She said.
"Sure! But if it's not ready, forget it. Just return me my money." I countered.
Some time later, a guy came running.
"Oh, so sorry sir. Can I know what kind of noodles did you order?" He asked.
"You mean, you don't even know? Then what did you do after you had taken my order?" I asked?
"Ah, we misplaced it."
"Oh, so you misplaced it? Ok, forget it. Return me my money."
"..."
I raised my voice and told the receptionists to return me my payment for the meat sauce noodles. Anyway, I'm not having them anymore and it's of no consequence in terms of cost since the kitchen has not started preparing the food anyway.
The receptionists spoke in muted tones. I bet they were trying to pin blame. I'm no idiot. I know what they are doing.
"Stop muttering under your breaths and RETURN ME MY MONEY!" I ordered.
"Take it out, take it out. We need to pay this gentleman x dollars." One of them muttered while the other scrambled for the money.
I took the money and walked out.
On another occasion, the tour group was supposed to have have breakfast at 8.30 am. The standard operating hours of the restaurant (same one at Red Hill) for breakfast is from 8 to 10 am. So you'd expect the full works at 8.30 am.
What greeted us at 8.10 am (for some of us early birds) were empty or close to empty trays.
The milk was gone. The soya bean drinks were gone. There were no plates and bowls. The whole food area was in a mess.
"Er, do you have porridge and buns?" we asked.
"Oh, porridge, is it? The kitchen is still cooking. The buns? Wait a while. I'll immediately heat some for you."
The bowls and plates?
"Oh, we haven't wash the used ones yet."
What about milk?
"Oh, we'll warm some for you."
Soya bean drink?
"Immediately, immediately. We'll immediately warm some for you." Two minutes later, "Ah, we're out of it."
Great. Run out of food at the start of breakfast.
So we waited till 8.40 am and nothing seems to be working still.
I had enough.
I went to the main hall and asked to see the Duty Manager. He went home. It's weird that a duty manager gets to go home when he's on duty. Never mind. I asked for the restaurant manager.
The receptionists called the restaurant manager on his handphone at my insistence and I gave it to him.
I made him pack breakfast for the entire group and then when we left the hotel, we all bought dough fritters and munched them along the way.
The Tibetan Slo-Mo is incredibly frustrating. I'm ok that things are slow, but not to the point of dysfunctionality. Sri Lankans can be slow too. But they don't forget what you order. Neither do they forget to replenish their food nor fail to have enough crockery for use. The breakfast table, even in a place like Sri Lanka, is stacked such that it's fit for a king. China, for its want for progress and civility, has a long way to go.
By the way, I'm still trying to figure out how does a hotel guest can eat the same food everyday. Apparently, even the China Chinese visitors to Tibet who stay in Red Hill ended up buying fermented beancurd to eat with rice and they left the catered standard fare alone. So I'm not the only one who's picky. Basically, the entire system is faulty.
Until the snail tendencies are removed, Tibet will have a long way to go in terms of F&B and hospitality. And that would spell the end of its tourism because honestly, no one would want to spend exorbitant amounts to stay in a hotel when a guest house at half the price or less is not any worse. They better start thinking how they are going to stay viable in the hotel business.
Karaoke Disasters
Karaoke Disasters
Karaoke is HOT in China. Even in Tibet, the people are crooning at the top of their voices, from dusk to the depths of the night.
Granted the Tibetans, having nomad blood and therefore, according to Teflon Man's own perverted theory, needs to know how to sing so that the lonely shepherdess on one hill can enthrall and ensnarl an unsuspecting shepherd on the other ridge, not everyone is endowed with a good voice. Nor the ability to hold a tune. Neither the ability to keep to the rhythm of the music nor execute the subtle nuances associated with singing.
But these semi-tone deaf, ill-rhythmed, loudspeakers (yes! I bet half the block can *already* hear them without the microphone. Now what they have a microphone, the full-blast amplifiers) ensured that the entire TOWN can hear them butcher the songs).
It would have been great if such irri-tainment only happen in the day. Unfortunately, they only happen at night.
Endless nights of placing the flat hotel pillows over my ears hoping to drown the noise out. Never ending desire to let sleep overcome the fully alert consciousness, jolted to full attention by the cacophony of horrible sounds emanating from the loudspeakers from the karaoke bars three blocks away. It sounds like they are shouting a lullaby in your ears. But one does not shout "wen bie" (Goodbye Kiss, a Jacky Cheung favourite).
And so the story goes... from town to town, from city to city, from province to province... The Japanese would have been proud that their one invention was so loved by the Chinese. Fully accepted, and embraced, without any objections!
Karaoke is HOT in China. Even in Tibet, the people are crooning at the top of their voices, from dusk to the depths of the night.
Granted the Tibetans, having nomad blood and therefore, according to Teflon Man's own perverted theory, needs to know how to sing so that the lonely shepherdess on one hill can enthrall and ensnarl an unsuspecting shepherd on the other ridge, not everyone is endowed with a good voice. Nor the ability to hold a tune. Neither the ability to keep to the rhythm of the music nor execute the subtle nuances associated with singing.
But these semi-tone deaf, ill-rhythmed, loudspeakers (yes! I bet half the block can *already* hear them without the microphone. Now what they have a microphone, the full-blast amplifiers) ensured that the entire TOWN can hear them butcher the songs).
It would have been great if such irri-tainment only happen in the day. Unfortunately, they only happen at night.
Endless nights of placing the flat hotel pillows over my ears hoping to drown the noise out. Never ending desire to let sleep overcome the fully alert consciousness, jolted to full attention by the cacophony of horrible sounds emanating from the loudspeakers from the karaoke bars three blocks away. It sounds like they are shouting a lullaby in your ears. But one does not shout "wen bie" (Goodbye Kiss, a Jacky Cheung favourite).
And so the story goes... from town to town, from city to city, from province to province... The Japanese would have been proud that their one invention was so loved by the Chinese. Fully accepted, and embraced, without any objections!
My Neighbour Lives in The Potala Palace
My Neighbour Lives in The Potala Palace
In Lhasa, I stayed in the Tibet Red Hill Hotel, which was on the western side of the Potala Palace.
It felt very holy staying near the Potala. Once out of the hotel's compound, you'll see many devotees making their way to the Potala. You will also get to see the prayer wheels that adorn the perimeter of the Potala. It's a grand sight and it's very common to see people turning those wheels even late at night.
There are about 500 of the prayer wheels in all and once you start, you shouldn't stop. So one quick round of prayer wheel spinning takes about an hour.
Facing the wheels on one side of the palace is a row of meat stalls - beef sellers line their lot with chockful of bloody meat. I really wonder if those blessings from the wheels will elevate the souls of the dead cows and let them have a better reincarnation.
Anyway, it felt nice staying beside the Potala Palace for 6 nights. I even see the esteemed palace out of a window when I have my meals in the restaurant. For once, it's a wonder that seems very mundane after the trip.
In Lhasa, I stayed in the Tibet Red Hill Hotel, which was on the western side of the Potala Palace.
It felt very holy staying near the Potala. Once out of the hotel's compound, you'll see many devotees making their way to the Potala. You will also get to see the prayer wheels that adorn the perimeter of the Potala. It's a grand sight and it's very common to see people turning those wheels even late at night.
There are about 500 of the prayer wheels in all and once you start, you shouldn't stop. So one quick round of prayer wheel spinning takes about an hour.
Facing the wheels on one side of the palace is a row of meat stalls - beef sellers line their lot with chockful of bloody meat. I really wonder if those blessings from the wheels will elevate the souls of the dead cows and let them have a better reincarnation.
Anyway, it felt nice staying beside the Potala Palace for 6 nights. I even see the esteemed palace out of a window when I have my meals in the restaurant. For once, it's a wonder that seems very mundane after the trip.
Shotun Festivities
Shotun Festivities
AKA How to climb two hills in a day and not die
Well, what I did was simple - I didn't climb the first hill. I got to where I could see and I stopped climbing. I'm not a "climber" by nature - I don't mind proper roads and steps or even paved slopes but experience has taught me that people with disproportionate body shapes should avoid tackling natural slopes. Can you imagine how funny it'll be to slip off and roll downhill, leaving a cloud of dust behind you?
Ok, jokes aside. To survive Tibet, it is quite easy. Just keep climbing. It's that simple. Just keep climbing and take gradual steps. Don't ever stop or do the stop-and-go.
Once you try to tackle the slope by bits, your get up and go will get up and go.
Believe me. That's how I survived.
AKA How to climb two hills in a day and not die
Well, what I did was simple - I didn't climb the first hill. I got to where I could see and I stopped climbing. I'm not a "climber" by nature - I don't mind proper roads and steps or even paved slopes but experience has taught me that people with disproportionate body shapes should avoid tackling natural slopes. Can you imagine how funny it'll be to slip off and roll downhill, leaving a cloud of dust behind you?
Ok, jokes aside. To survive Tibet, it is quite easy. Just keep climbing. It's that simple. Just keep climbing and take gradual steps. Don't ever stop or do the stop-and-go.
Once you try to tackle the slope by bits, your get up and go will get up and go.
Believe me. That's how I survived.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Village kids, town beggars, scenic spot robbers
Village kids, town beggars, scenic spot robbers
"xian sheng, xian sheng, gei wo yi dian qian. xian sheng, qiu qiu ni. gei wo yi dian qian." (Mister, Mister, give me a little money. Mister, I beg you. Give me a little money.)
While whining as though it's her last breath, the little bitch of a brat (or brat of a bitch) tried to block my way as I walked out of the lamastery towards my bus. She tried to block me no matter I wanted to move left or right. But my heart was unmoved.
She's a professional beggar, a cheat, a charlatan. She weaves great tales and has a voracious appetite for money. The more, the merrier.
I made a bold step forward, steeling myself that I'll knock into her dirty body and fling her aside if I did so. I did it nonetheless.
She bounced off my body as she tried to block me in mid-stride and staggered a step. Regaining her balance, she tried the same trick again - to block my way.
Big as I am, I'm rather quick too. I positioned myself for a direct impact with that "thief". At worst, this time, she'll be bounced off and she'll land on her buttocks or if she's slow, I'd have shrugged her off.
Fortunately, the latter happened. I cut across her path and in two strides, I'm out of her firing range. She changed a target.
She is the archetypical scenic spot robber.
"Gei wo! Wo mei you!" (Give me! I don't have it (yet)!
The bunch of kids dashed out to the kerbside as our bus whizzed past fields and fields of highland barley. From nowhere, the bunch of kids appeared and started waving to us.
Finally, we took a stop. That was the day when, after I buttered the supervisor of the hotel's restaurant, I had asked for 14 sets of takeaway breakfasts for my entire group.
So the kids swarmed to the entrance of the bus and raised their hand, waiting in anticipation for food. Our local guide passed them the breakfast packs and immediately, some hid the packs to the bushes and came back for more.
They claimed they had not got their share and wanted a packet. I was, honestly, rather appalled and taken aback by such treacherous and dishonest behaviour at such a young age.
After a while, I resorted to giving out my packet of sugared ginger slices. As the icing sugar was sure markers on whoever has handled the ginger slices, I passed out piece after piece. Again and again, I see hands stained with icing sugar reaching out to my next offered slice while the younger kids never got their share. I tried my best to share out the stuff evenly, often pushing off hands so that the young ones get a slice.
When I was in Shigatse, I bought 17 sets of biscuits and bottled milk. I got the supermarket cashier to pack these into individual bags. They immediately knew I had bought them for the kids that we met by the roadside. I would have bought more if I could find more biscuits. I am dead against giving luxury items - even biscuits with cream in the middle are luxury items! - because I do not want to "spoil" the children. Why raise their expectations? They may never get another Oreo until years down the road, for instance. And for the money spent on getting the Oreos, I could have fed many others, many more.
When it came to distributing, you cannot imagine the mayhem.
These are the village kids.
They sit quietly in some obvious corner with their hands or caps or whatever receptacles they have showing a myriad of notes in different denominations, such as ten-jiao (ten china cents), twenty-jiao, fifty-jiao, RMB 1, RMB 2, etc. They look at you with those puppy eyes and hold out their hands. Some look at you defiantly as they try to get you to give them money.
I often ignore them and walk away. There are too many of them and I'm not able to help.
Some cases are genuine; most of them are fake. I cannot tell and so I numb myself and do not see. Obvious cases, I give RMB 10 (about USD 1.20). Otherwise, I'll wait for the obvious cases.
There is a guy who does the 3-steps-1-full-postration thingy. It's like one of the most holy things a devotee can do but on at least 3 different occasions, I catch him at the same place doing the same thing again and again and again. But instead of being pious and pure, between his fingers and the postration boards (they wear these wooden boards as a kind of protection on their hands, legs (especially at the knees) and across the chest down to the groin so that the rough grounds do not hurt them ) are money notes. That is a disgusting sight.
He's no different from a basker trying to get money!
These are the town beggars.
"xian sheng, xian sheng, gei wo yi dian qian. xian sheng, qiu qiu ni. gei wo yi dian qian." (Mister, Mister, give me a little money. Mister, I beg you. Give me a little money.)
While whining as though it's her last breath, the little bitch of a brat (or brat of a bitch) tried to block my way as I walked out of the lamastery towards my bus. She tried to block me no matter I wanted to move left or right. But my heart was unmoved.
She's a professional beggar, a cheat, a charlatan. She weaves great tales and has a voracious appetite for money. The more, the merrier.
I made a bold step forward, steeling myself that I'll knock into her dirty body and fling her aside if I did so. I did it nonetheless.
She bounced off my body as she tried to block me in mid-stride and staggered a step. Regaining her balance, she tried the same trick again - to block my way.
Big as I am, I'm rather quick too. I positioned myself for a direct impact with that "thief". At worst, this time, she'll be bounced off and she'll land on her buttocks or if she's slow, I'd have shrugged her off.
Fortunately, the latter happened. I cut across her path and in two strides, I'm out of her firing range. She changed a target.
She is the archetypical scenic spot robber.
"Gei wo! Wo mei you!" (Give me! I don't have it (yet)!
The bunch of kids dashed out to the kerbside as our bus whizzed past fields and fields of highland barley. From nowhere, the bunch of kids appeared and started waving to us.
Finally, we took a stop. That was the day when, after I buttered the supervisor of the hotel's restaurant, I had asked for 14 sets of takeaway breakfasts for my entire group.
So the kids swarmed to the entrance of the bus and raised their hand, waiting in anticipation for food. Our local guide passed them the breakfast packs and immediately, some hid the packs to the bushes and came back for more.
They claimed they had not got their share and wanted a packet. I was, honestly, rather appalled and taken aback by such treacherous and dishonest behaviour at such a young age.
After a while, I resorted to giving out my packet of sugared ginger slices. As the icing sugar was sure markers on whoever has handled the ginger slices, I passed out piece after piece. Again and again, I see hands stained with icing sugar reaching out to my next offered slice while the younger kids never got their share. I tried my best to share out the stuff evenly, often pushing off hands so that the young ones get a slice.
When I was in Shigatse, I bought 17 sets of biscuits and bottled milk. I got the supermarket cashier to pack these into individual bags. They immediately knew I had bought them for the kids that we met by the roadside. I would have bought more if I could find more biscuits. I am dead against giving luxury items - even biscuits with cream in the middle are luxury items! - because I do not want to "spoil" the children. Why raise their expectations? They may never get another Oreo until years down the road, for instance. And for the money spent on getting the Oreos, I could have fed many others, many more.
When it came to distributing, you cannot imagine the mayhem.
These are the village kids.
They sit quietly in some obvious corner with their hands or caps or whatever receptacles they have showing a myriad of notes in different denominations, such as ten-jiao (ten china cents), twenty-jiao, fifty-jiao, RMB 1, RMB 2, etc. They look at you with those puppy eyes and hold out their hands. Some look at you defiantly as they try to get you to give them money.
I often ignore them and walk away. There are too many of them and I'm not able to help.
Some cases are genuine; most of them are fake. I cannot tell and so I numb myself and do not see. Obvious cases, I give RMB 10 (about USD 1.20). Otherwise, I'll wait for the obvious cases.
There is a guy who does the 3-steps-1-full-postration thingy. It's like one of the most holy things a devotee can do but on at least 3 different occasions, I catch him at the same place doing the same thing again and again and again. But instead of being pious and pure, between his fingers and the postration boards (they wear these wooden boards as a kind of protection on their hands, legs (especially at the knees) and across the chest down to the groin so that the rough grounds do not hurt them ) are money notes. That is a disgusting sight.
He's no different from a basker trying to get money!
These are the town beggars.
Clarified yak butter - the food of the Buddhas
Clarified yak butter - the food of the Buddhas
Clarified yak butter - aka ghee (or suyou, to the Chinese) - is a very common offering that the Tibetans bring to the lamasteries. Most of the rural folks bring in packets of their own produce while the better off Tibetans buy Nepalese suyou for the Gods.
They carry a packet of the suyou and walk to lamps of various sizes and spoon lumps of suyou into the reservoir. The reservoir is packed with the solid, yellow fuel but the suyou near the burning wicks are melted to form a small reservoir of liquid gold.
The suyou fuels the light and dispel the darkness. However, the smoke emanating from the lamps are rather dense and they actually form a layer of black (or very dark coloured) residue on the walls of the lamasteries. It's akin to slapping on a very thin layer of extremely viscous oil on the walls.
But this is fine by me. What I find rather hard to acquire is the smell of the suyou "tar". If you'll permit me to make a brief description, the "tar" is like a mixture of body odour, sour sweat, bloodied beef (those at beef stalls) and other herbs plus lots of hitherto unidentifiable smells (at least to me). And how they linger on your clothes, your hair, your pouch and worst of all, inside your nose. Clearing my nose every night is akin to reliving the lamasteries I've visited in the day.
So when we arrived in Lhasa, in Red Hill Hotel, we were offered a choice of Han-styled rooms and Tibetan-styled rooms. After making a survey of both rooms, we decided to go for the Han-styled rooms. All of us ended up with Han rooms for all 3 times we stayed there. We told the receptionists that we were not used to the "opium beds" they used in the Tibetan rooms.
The truth was, there is a Tibetan carpet in each room which smelled strongly of suyou tar. We would never have been able to take the smell for 6 nights!
Clarified yak butter - aka ghee (or suyou, to the Chinese) - is a very common offering that the Tibetans bring to the lamasteries. Most of the rural folks bring in packets of their own produce while the better off Tibetans buy Nepalese suyou for the Gods.
They carry a packet of the suyou and walk to lamps of various sizes and spoon lumps of suyou into the reservoir. The reservoir is packed with the solid, yellow fuel but the suyou near the burning wicks are melted to form a small reservoir of liquid gold.
The suyou fuels the light and dispel the darkness. However, the smoke emanating from the lamps are rather dense and they actually form a layer of black (or very dark coloured) residue on the walls of the lamasteries. It's akin to slapping on a very thin layer of extremely viscous oil on the walls.
But this is fine by me. What I find rather hard to acquire is the smell of the suyou "tar". If you'll permit me to make a brief description, the "tar" is like a mixture of body odour, sour sweat, bloodied beef (those at beef stalls) and other herbs plus lots of hitherto unidentifiable smells (at least to me). And how they linger on your clothes, your hair, your pouch and worst of all, inside your nose. Clearing my nose every night is akin to reliving the lamasteries I've visited in the day.
So when we arrived in Lhasa, in Red Hill Hotel, we were offered a choice of Han-styled rooms and Tibetan-styled rooms. After making a survey of both rooms, we decided to go for the Han-styled rooms. All of us ended up with Han rooms for all 3 times we stayed there. We told the receptionists that we were not used to the "opium beds" they used in the Tibetan rooms.
The truth was, there is a Tibetan carpet in each room which smelled strongly of suyou tar. We would never have been able to take the smell for 6 nights!
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Shopping in Tibet
Shopping in Tibet
Case Study: Octagonal Street Shopping
It is with GREAT PRIDE, JOY, SATISFACTION, ENJOYMENT and EMBARRASSMENT that I'm writing this.
Pride
I pride myself as an astute shopper who knows my stuff and knows my prices. I'm hardly conned (if ever, it's because I allowed myself to be). I drive hard bargains but I know when to give in and let the seller earn his bread for the day.
Joy
I bought 13 difference agate bracelets, necklaces and ornaments. I've spent 3 afternoons trawling the Octagonal Street for agate stuff. It was a hard thing to buy. Most of the items on display were fake - they could be plastic beads, or made of composite stuff. Nothing much real. I actually scrutinised stall after stall to make sure that I got the right stuff.
In fact, most of those I bought, I could feel the agate pearls "calling out" for my attention. Don't ask me how. It's akin to your child telling you that they want to eat burgers as you go past McDonalds. Ok, I am being flippant and frivolous here, but honestly, the agate pearls carry their own "fields" and if yours and theirs "match", you are more likely to buy them.
For instance, they had lovely amber on sale but I bought none because they simply don't "speak" with me.
Satisfaction
The bargaining was greatly satisfying. The items bought were in hot demand. I must have bought much much more than just those 13 items but I resold some to my fellow tour members at my cost. I didn't even mark up a single cent. But the fact that my items were appreciated was also greatly satisfying.
Enjoyment
I like buying things in flea markets like the Octagonal Street because I get to bargain at the prices like crazy. When they tell me something costs RMB 60, I'll counter offer RMB 10, show great disdain and disinterest for the item and walk away, if the stall holder does not sell it at RMB 10.
Almost always, they relent. In fact, they always relent. And that brought me to the next point.
Embarrassment
I had plied the Octagonal Street on 3 different occasions, each on a different day when I stayed in Lhasa. I know by the back of my hand which stall at which nook and cranny sold what items. I even got bolder on each proceeding occasion.
If I had bought something at RMB 30 the last time around, I'll offer RMB 15 or even RMB 10 this time. If I had it at one for RMB 10, I'll try to bargain at three for RMB 20. I was always successful.
There was also a large chain of fake jade beads that I liked quite a lot. It is like those oversized prayer beads you see in some temples. The price the stallowner offered was RMB 200. A fried with me said, "If you want, offer RMB 50."
I hate to be told what to do, so I offered RMB 40. I got it.
On the last day, I saw an agate necklace with the "snow flower" pattern (each pattern on the agate has different meanings and acts differently but most of them will protect the bearer or the wearer). The chain was long and big. There was a huge agate bead at the bottom of the chain and 2 rounder, medium sized beads by the side. The necklace was tied using many layers of string and all along the side of the string were silver pellets tied to it. So it's a commanding looking chain and honestly, it looks quite good.
I stared at it for some time and the stallowner went, "Give a price, give a price!" I said, "I'm not really interested..." So the stallowner walked out and insisted that I look at the various items and one by one, I turned him down.
So he offered me the necklace at RMB 600 (about USD 75). I was really not so interested yet I thought that if I bought that necklace, I could give it to my friend to hang in his car. Ok, let me get it for him.
So I said, "RMB 50 (USD 6.25)." I told him, if it is fated that the necklace is mine, you'll sell.
The stallowner was shocked to high heavens. Or so he pretended to be. So as i walked away, he called me and said he'll sell to me. As I walked back, he grabbed my hand and counter-offered, "Can you buy it at RMB 300? I need to earn a living."
"I'm really not interested in the necklace," I said, adding, "That necklace is only that price. If you want, it's a deal. Otherwise, let's call it off." And I walked off.
He repeated his call, and when I reluctantly walked back, he begged me to buy it at RMB 150.
"Bro," I told him, "I've told you I'm not at all interested in this necklace. Actually, I wanted to tell you RMB 30 and waste time with you, but I thought I might as well tell you RMB 50 because that is what I'm willing to pay. If there's a deal, it's a deal. Otherwise, forget it. Let the necklace find a more suitable owner." So he pulled my hand in a handshake manner and said, "Last price, RMB 100."
I pulled my hand out, "RMB 50 or forget it. I'm really not interested. Don't waste my time."
As I walked off, he chased after me, going, "Ok! Ok! RMB 50."
So I paid for the necklace and as he packed it in an overly small plastic bag, he was muttering under his breath in his native Tibetan and the surrounding stall holders were half laughing, half grumbling.
Before I go to my embarrassment, let me go on for a bit more.
I went back to the hotel and asked the receptionists at the concierge how much they thought the stallholder quoted me for the necklace. They confidently said, "At most RMB 150." When I told them RMB 600, they told me to tell the fellow to go rob a bank! When I further told them that I got the thing for RMB 50, they said it's about that price. Well, I leave you, the informed readers, to decide if I'd been too harsh in bargaining.
The real embarrassment is this: There was this stallholder from whom I bought two 3-eyed agate bracelets. When I saw the first one, I liked it very much. He wanted RMB 60 but I offered RMB 25 and he agreed. I asked for another and he ran to another shop to find. So when I saw the rest, I was not very satisfied - the quality of goods in Tibet varies greatly. So I said, the second one is not nice. I'll only offer RMB 40 for both. The guy reluctantly agreed. That was during my second trip to Octagonal Street.
The third trip there, I walked a round and spent lots of time to locate his stall. Finally, I found his stall. I asked him for the rest of the bracelets because I had decided to buy them all. I remembered that he had 4 bracelets left after my second trip.
He said he had only one. I said, show me the rest and I'll make an offer. So when he brought in the rest, there were 3 bracelets in all. I offered RMB 40 for all 3 bracelets. He flatly refused. He told me, "Bro! Count the number of beads on the bracelets! You're not getting a bracelet! You've got enough beads to make 3 to 6 bracelets from this!" What he said, in fact, was true. If I cut the nylon wire holding the beads together, I could get them made into about 6 different bracelets.
I countered on the track that I didn't like the quality of the goods. He insisted he wanted RMB 70 for them, so I relented a little and offered RMB 45. (I had bought similar bracelets on the first day at RMB 30 each at another stall!). He was still very adamant that he's making a loss. I, on the other end of the transaction, wanted the beads quite badly.
So he offered RMB 60. I raised my offer to RMB 50 and I stayed my ground. Eventually, he wanted RMB 55, but I kept to my stated price.
After a while, he gave in and as he packed, he told me, "The last time you came to buy the bracelets, you gave me RMB 40 for 2. This time, you wanted and made me give you 3 at RMB 50. The next time you come, I don't know how much (meaning little) you're going to give me. I'm definitely going to go bankrupt when you come again.'
"Don't worry, bro. I'm flying off tomorrow morning." I told him. "I won't be coming again."
Case Study: Octagonal Street Shopping
It is with GREAT PRIDE, JOY, SATISFACTION, ENJOYMENT and EMBARRASSMENT that I'm writing this.
Pride
I pride myself as an astute shopper who knows my stuff and knows my prices. I'm hardly conned (if ever, it's because I allowed myself to be). I drive hard bargains but I know when to give in and let the seller earn his bread for the day.
Joy
I bought 13 difference agate bracelets, necklaces and ornaments. I've spent 3 afternoons trawling the Octagonal Street for agate stuff. It was a hard thing to buy. Most of the items on display were fake - they could be plastic beads, or made of composite stuff. Nothing much real. I actually scrutinised stall after stall to make sure that I got the right stuff.
In fact, most of those I bought, I could feel the agate pearls "calling out" for my attention. Don't ask me how. It's akin to your child telling you that they want to eat burgers as you go past McDonalds. Ok, I am being flippant and frivolous here, but honestly, the agate pearls carry their own "fields" and if yours and theirs "match", you are more likely to buy them.
For instance, they had lovely amber on sale but I bought none because they simply don't "speak" with me.
Satisfaction
The bargaining was greatly satisfying. The items bought were in hot demand. I must have bought much much more than just those 13 items but I resold some to my fellow tour members at my cost. I didn't even mark up a single cent. But the fact that my items were appreciated was also greatly satisfying.
Enjoyment
I like buying things in flea markets like the Octagonal Street because I get to bargain at the prices like crazy. When they tell me something costs RMB 60, I'll counter offer RMB 10, show great disdain and disinterest for the item and walk away, if the stall holder does not sell it at RMB 10.
Almost always, they relent. In fact, they always relent. And that brought me to the next point.
Embarrassment
I had plied the Octagonal Street on 3 different occasions, each on a different day when I stayed in Lhasa. I know by the back of my hand which stall at which nook and cranny sold what items. I even got bolder on each proceeding occasion.
If I had bought something at RMB 30 the last time around, I'll offer RMB 15 or even RMB 10 this time. If I had it at one for RMB 10, I'll try to bargain at three for RMB 20. I was always successful.
There was also a large chain of fake jade beads that I liked quite a lot. It is like those oversized prayer beads you see in some temples. The price the stallowner offered was RMB 200. A fried with me said, "If you want, offer RMB 50."
I hate to be told what to do, so I offered RMB 40. I got it.
On the last day, I saw an agate necklace with the "snow flower" pattern (each pattern on the agate has different meanings and acts differently but most of them will protect the bearer or the wearer). The chain was long and big. There was a huge agate bead at the bottom of the chain and 2 rounder, medium sized beads by the side. The necklace was tied using many layers of string and all along the side of the string were silver pellets tied to it. So it's a commanding looking chain and honestly, it looks quite good.
I stared at it for some time and the stallowner went, "Give a price, give a price!" I said, "I'm not really interested..." So the stallowner walked out and insisted that I look at the various items and one by one, I turned him down.
So he offered me the necklace at RMB 600 (about USD 75). I was really not so interested yet I thought that if I bought that necklace, I could give it to my friend to hang in his car. Ok, let me get it for him.
So I said, "RMB 50 (USD 6.25)." I told him, if it is fated that the necklace is mine, you'll sell.
The stallowner was shocked to high heavens. Or so he pretended to be. So as i walked away, he called me and said he'll sell to me. As I walked back, he grabbed my hand and counter-offered, "Can you buy it at RMB 300? I need to earn a living."
"I'm really not interested in the necklace," I said, adding, "That necklace is only that price. If you want, it's a deal. Otherwise, let's call it off." And I walked off.
He repeated his call, and when I reluctantly walked back, he begged me to buy it at RMB 150.
"Bro," I told him, "I've told you I'm not at all interested in this necklace. Actually, I wanted to tell you RMB 30 and waste time with you, but I thought I might as well tell you RMB 50 because that is what I'm willing to pay. If there's a deal, it's a deal. Otherwise, forget it. Let the necklace find a more suitable owner." So he pulled my hand in a handshake manner and said, "Last price, RMB 100."
I pulled my hand out, "RMB 50 or forget it. I'm really not interested. Don't waste my time."
As I walked off, he chased after me, going, "Ok! Ok! RMB 50."
So I paid for the necklace and as he packed it in an overly small plastic bag, he was muttering under his breath in his native Tibetan and the surrounding stall holders were half laughing, half grumbling.
Before I go to my embarrassment, let me go on for a bit more.
I went back to the hotel and asked the receptionists at the concierge how much they thought the stallholder quoted me for the necklace. They confidently said, "At most RMB 150." When I told them RMB 600, they told me to tell the fellow to go rob a bank! When I further told them that I got the thing for RMB 50, they said it's about that price. Well, I leave you, the informed readers, to decide if I'd been too harsh in bargaining.
The real embarrassment is this: There was this stallholder from whom I bought two 3-eyed agate bracelets. When I saw the first one, I liked it very much. He wanted RMB 60 but I offered RMB 25 and he agreed. I asked for another and he ran to another shop to find. So when I saw the rest, I was not very satisfied - the quality of goods in Tibet varies greatly. So I said, the second one is not nice. I'll only offer RMB 40 for both. The guy reluctantly agreed. That was during my second trip to Octagonal Street.
The third trip there, I walked a round and spent lots of time to locate his stall. Finally, I found his stall. I asked him for the rest of the bracelets because I had decided to buy them all. I remembered that he had 4 bracelets left after my second trip.
He said he had only one. I said, show me the rest and I'll make an offer. So when he brought in the rest, there were 3 bracelets in all. I offered RMB 40 for all 3 bracelets. He flatly refused. He told me, "Bro! Count the number of beads on the bracelets! You're not getting a bracelet! You've got enough beads to make 3 to 6 bracelets from this!" What he said, in fact, was true. If I cut the nylon wire holding the beads together, I could get them made into about 6 different bracelets.
I countered on the track that I didn't like the quality of the goods. He insisted he wanted RMB 70 for them, so I relented a little and offered RMB 45. (I had bought similar bracelets on the first day at RMB 30 each at another stall!). He was still very adamant that he's making a loss. I, on the other end of the transaction, wanted the beads quite badly.
So he offered RMB 60. I raised my offer to RMB 50 and I stayed my ground. Eventually, he wanted RMB 55, but I kept to my stated price.
After a while, he gave in and as he packed, he told me, "The last time you came to buy the bracelets, you gave me RMB 40 for 2. This time, you wanted and made me give you 3 at RMB 50. The next time you come, I don't know how much (meaning little) you're going to give me. I'm definitely going to go bankrupt when you come again.'
"Don't worry, bro. I'm flying off tomorrow morning." I told him. "I won't be coming again."
The Potala Palace and The Norbulinka
The Potala Palace and The Norbulinka
I'll take on both institutions at one go for this entry.
Surprisingly, or not surprisingly, both are huge palaces. The Potala Palace boasts of a thousand rooms while the Norbulinka is 40 hectares in size.
In Potala, the walkways are a series of mazes and you'll take an eternity to get out of there. Mission Impossible 3 cannot be filmed there because there is no way anyone is going to be able to make it out of there with anything stolen from there. I think the Potala has done a great job to secure whatever there is and if you attempt to do anything funny, you'll see a part of the wall move - there're actually lamas all over and some of them are so versed in camouflage that they are able to blend into the red walls of the Potala. Most of us walk by or attempt to sit on the ledges, only to be shocked by a lama in some obscure corner.
The Potala is indeed something that prisons can learn from - you could literally imprison someone in the Potala because the person would never know where to find the way out.
The Norbulinka is quite the same, but it uses sheer size to tire you out. You know where the places are but the lack of thoroughfares impeded your finding shortcuts. It's a very nice place and everything is muted but luxurious. I've seen for the first time toilet fixings dated 1950s, TV and radio dated 1940s (which are still in working conditions!). The Dalai Lama was really technically advanced for his times. And his summer palace, the Norbulinka, shows it.
I'll take on both institutions at one go for this entry.
Surprisingly, or not surprisingly, both are huge palaces. The Potala Palace boasts of a thousand rooms while the Norbulinka is 40 hectares in size.
In Potala, the walkways are a series of mazes and you'll take an eternity to get out of there. Mission Impossible 3 cannot be filmed there because there is no way anyone is going to be able to make it out of there with anything stolen from there. I think the Potala has done a great job to secure whatever there is and if you attempt to do anything funny, you'll see a part of the wall move - there're actually lamas all over and some of them are so versed in camouflage that they are able to blend into the red walls of the Potala. Most of us walk by or attempt to sit on the ledges, only to be shocked by a lama in some obscure corner.
The Potala is indeed something that prisons can learn from - you could literally imprison someone in the Potala because the person would never know where to find the way out.
The Norbulinka is quite the same, but it uses sheer size to tire you out. You know where the places are but the lack of thoroughfares impeded your finding shortcuts. It's a very nice place and everything is muted but luxurious. I've seen for the first time toilet fixings dated 1950s, TV and radio dated 1940s (which are still in working conditions!). The Dalai Lama was really technically advanced for his times. And his summer palace, the Norbulinka, shows it.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Tibetan culinary experience
Tibetan culinary experience
[Someone must volunteer to write a script to change my blog template. I'm getting confused - do I need to type a title in my post, yah dah yah dah yah dah...]
The Tibetan culinary experience is on of a kind. As it is, given its harsh and uninhabitable conditions, Tibet hardly manages to produce enough food for humans. Grass, there are sufficient. At least if there weren't enough grass at a single location, the nomads would have known to move to greener pastures to fatten their livestock for winter.
Anyhow, I digress. Recent developments in Tibet have been amazing, to say the least. The Han people visited the Tibetans and taught them how to construct greenhouses and how to irrigate fields and so on. These days, it's possible to have morning glory, peaches, water melons and other lowland vegetables in Tibet. Amazing!
But there is something that the advent in technology did not address. Cooking techniques for the new types of vegetables. In the end, we had endless meals of badly cooked food. In fact, let me give you a glimpse into how to cook fresh food badly.
Take fresh zucchini (or winter melon), remove the skin and seeds. Cut into thick strips and fry it (possibly on its own) with oil. Add a couple of slices of dried chili for colour. Add some brown colour sze chuan seasoning (whatever that is!) for a caramelised appearance, add corn starch and [since everyone already knows how bad this tastes,] serve hot. Use [as many tour groups eat consecutive lunches and dinners at the same restaurant, add variety by serving on] round plates today. [Remember the rotation, Round before Rectangular, then Oval before Square. Then repeat.] 3 meals later, you'll swear off this dish.
Another case in point on how lovely food can be turned into something that makes you think you are being served poison. Try this: Non-tibetan tour groups to Tibet normally face food issues. So serving eggs is usually the most foolproof way of ensuring that the tour group members get something to eat. So, this is how we cook the eggs. With tomatoes. Let's count the ingenious ways of naming this dish.
Yesterday's lunch - Tomatoes fried with eggs
Yesterday's dinner - Eggs fried with tomatoes
Today's lunch - Fried tomatoes with eggs
Today's dinner - Fried eggs with tomatoes
Tomorrow's lunch - Tomatoes and eggs fried Chinese style
Tomorrow's dinner - Eggs and tomatoes fried Chinese style...
Honestly, I give up after a while. We simply told them we couldn't eat no more of that and asked for sunny side ups. And then we had sunny side ups meal after meal after meal...
Someone SAVE me!
[Someone must volunteer to write a script to change my blog template. I'm getting confused - do I need to type a title in my post, yah dah yah dah yah dah...]
The Tibetan culinary experience is on of a kind. As it is, given its harsh and uninhabitable conditions, Tibet hardly manages to produce enough food for humans. Grass, there are sufficient. At least if there weren't enough grass at a single location, the nomads would have known to move to greener pastures to fatten their livestock for winter.
Anyhow, I digress. Recent developments in Tibet have been amazing, to say the least. The Han people visited the Tibetans and taught them how to construct greenhouses and how to irrigate fields and so on. These days, it's possible to have morning glory, peaches, water melons and other lowland vegetables in Tibet. Amazing!
But there is something that the advent in technology did not address. Cooking techniques for the new types of vegetables. In the end, we had endless meals of badly cooked food. In fact, let me give you a glimpse into how to cook fresh food badly.
Take fresh zucchini (or winter melon), remove the skin and seeds. Cut into thick strips and fry it (possibly on its own) with oil. Add a couple of slices of dried chili for colour. Add some brown colour sze chuan seasoning (whatever that is!) for a caramelised appearance, add corn starch and [since everyone already knows how bad this tastes,] serve hot. Use [as many tour groups eat consecutive lunches and dinners at the same restaurant, add variety by serving on] round plates today. [Remember the rotation, Round before Rectangular, then Oval before Square. Then repeat.] 3 meals later, you'll swear off this dish.
Another case in point on how lovely food can be turned into something that makes you think you are being served poison. Try this: Non-tibetan tour groups to Tibet normally face food issues. So serving eggs is usually the most foolproof way of ensuring that the tour group members get something to eat. So, this is how we cook the eggs. With tomatoes. Let's count the ingenious ways of naming this dish.
Yesterday's lunch - Tomatoes fried with eggs
Yesterday's dinner - Eggs fried with tomatoes
Today's lunch - Fried tomatoes with eggs
Today's dinner - Fried eggs with tomatoes
Tomorrow's lunch - Tomatoes and eggs fried Chinese style
Tomorrow's dinner - Eggs and tomatoes fried Chinese style...
Honestly, I give up after a while. We simply told them we couldn't eat no more of that and asked for sunny side ups. And then we had sunny side ups meal after meal after meal...
Someone SAVE me!
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Money and Religion
Money and Religion
Somehow, clicking on "Hello" and getting it to upload my pics to my travel blog is much easier than coming over to my blog and doing some serious writing. But after a while, the brain turns jelly and the monotonous action of choosing a pic, writing a simple caption (or easier, surf the web for ready write-ups), and then waiting for the programme to do the uploading gets the better of my patience. I yearn to write a little, even if it is going to resemble some nonsensical ramblings (to some readers) or some divine truths (to other gifted or mentally brilliant ones). Anyway, I'm slipping into my Emperor's new clothes mentality again.
Well, Tibetan Buddhism is widely practised in Tibet. There are many lamas (not monks!) and many many temples, lamasteries, monasteries, palaces (I've got to figure the differences in the terminologies one of these days. But before that day, we'll use them interchangeably.).
Tourists flock to these places of worship to be awed by their intricate architecture, grand old age, splendour, majesty, holiness, and most of all, the sheer beauty of the places.
Unfortunately, each and every management of these places of worship charge "photo-taking fees". This practice is self-defeating, in my opinion. First, to enter such a place, tourists pay for a ticket. Part of the cost of the ticket SHOULD include photo-taking fees. Otherwise, it would beg the question, "to which coffer does the photo-taking fees go?". This is contentious, because lamas are supposed to lead simple lives - that means, lamas and too much money should not go hand in hand. If an entrance ticket costs RMB 50, does it make sense for each tourist to pay another RMB 50 for photo taking?
Second, if preservation of artifacts from light erosion (due to camera flashes) is a consideration, then any allowance for photo taking should not be considered.
Third, if such fees were to be used for upkeeping the temple grounds, then it returns to the argument of either the entrance fees had been grossly insufficient or there had been gross fund mismanagement of all the MONETARY offerings made by the devotees.
Coming to the latter point, I hate to say this. I find it sacrilegious to have devotees shove money at figures of worship. I find it extremely unacceptable to see Sakyamuni Buddha's raised hand be shoved with money between his fingers. I find it hard to agree with people sticking bills into every crevass they find on the figure. I find it totally disgusting to see people tossing money up high altars or at big figures so that the money can land near the Buddha or in His open palms.
Actually, I tossed RMB 10 once into an offering bowl placed high up on an altar. Then as the money landed, it dawned upon me the childishness of my action. If only the Gods were so gullible, only to accede to the requests of those who toss their money and offerings near them. Then what becomes of those who never got any access to these supreme beings? I wonder. From then on, I stopped tossing money and I won't pay a single cent to take any pictures.
There is actually another reason. I've walked past many many display cupboards showing all sorts of Buddha figures and figurines. On the glass panelled doors of such cupboards, I see lamas painstakingly stick bills of all sorts of denominations and nations on them. This is SO BLOODY MERCENARY! Are you trying to tell me that what I give is peanuts compared to the devotee who tossed 50 Great British Pounds at the figure? Preposterous! My peanuts (in Singapore terms) are worth S$600 000! Just ask T T Durai.
What about the pieces and pieces of 50 000 whatever their currency notes that are joined from end to end on the glass panels? Are they worth nothing? All such donations should be encashed for the running of the temples. These should not be displayed as though they are spoils of war. What kind of a spirit is this if those who strive to free themselves from clinging, greed and ignorant (basic Buddhist tenets) are unable to see beyond the transience of money?!
This goes back to my argument that the mismanagement of funds is rife.
Maybe I should go there, open a money changer outlet and start teaching financial management courses.
Somehow, clicking on "Hello" and getting it to upload my pics to my travel blog is much easier than coming over to my blog and doing some serious writing. But after a while, the brain turns jelly and the monotonous action of choosing a pic, writing a simple caption (or easier, surf the web for ready write-ups), and then waiting for the programme to do the uploading gets the better of my patience. I yearn to write a little, even if it is going to resemble some nonsensical ramblings (to some readers) or some divine truths (to other gifted or mentally brilliant ones). Anyway, I'm slipping into my Emperor's new clothes mentality again.
Well, Tibetan Buddhism is widely practised in Tibet. There are many lamas (not monks!) and many many temples, lamasteries, monasteries, palaces (I've got to figure the differences in the terminologies one of these days. But before that day, we'll use them interchangeably.).
Tourists flock to these places of worship to be awed by their intricate architecture, grand old age, splendour, majesty, holiness, and most of all, the sheer beauty of the places.
Unfortunately, each and every management of these places of worship charge "photo-taking fees". This practice is self-defeating, in my opinion. First, to enter such a place, tourists pay for a ticket. Part of the cost of the ticket SHOULD include photo-taking fees. Otherwise, it would beg the question, "to which coffer does the photo-taking fees go?". This is contentious, because lamas are supposed to lead simple lives - that means, lamas and too much money should not go hand in hand. If an entrance ticket costs RMB 50, does it make sense for each tourist to pay another RMB 50 for photo taking?
Second, if preservation of artifacts from light erosion (due to camera flashes) is a consideration, then any allowance for photo taking should not be considered.
Third, if such fees were to be used for upkeeping the temple grounds, then it returns to the argument of either the entrance fees had been grossly insufficient or there had been gross fund mismanagement of all the MONETARY offerings made by the devotees.
Coming to the latter point, I hate to say this. I find it sacrilegious to have devotees shove money at figures of worship. I find it extremely unacceptable to see Sakyamuni Buddha's raised hand be shoved with money between his fingers. I find it hard to agree with people sticking bills into every crevass they find on the figure. I find it totally disgusting to see people tossing money up high altars or at big figures so that the money can land near the Buddha or in His open palms.
Actually, I tossed RMB 10 once into an offering bowl placed high up on an altar. Then as the money landed, it dawned upon me the childishness of my action. If only the Gods were so gullible, only to accede to the requests of those who toss their money and offerings near them. Then what becomes of those who never got any access to these supreme beings? I wonder. From then on, I stopped tossing money and I won't pay a single cent to take any pictures.
There is actually another reason. I've walked past many many display cupboards showing all sorts of Buddha figures and figurines. On the glass panelled doors of such cupboards, I see lamas painstakingly stick bills of all sorts of denominations and nations on them. This is SO BLOODY MERCENARY! Are you trying to tell me that what I give is peanuts compared to the devotee who tossed 50 Great British Pounds at the figure? Preposterous! My peanuts (in Singapore terms) are worth S$600 000! Just ask T T Durai.
What about the pieces and pieces of 50 000 whatever their currency notes that are joined from end to end on the glass panels? Are they worth nothing? All such donations should be encashed for the running of the temples. These should not be displayed as though they are spoils of war. What kind of a spirit is this if those who strive to free themselves from clinging, greed and ignorant (basic Buddhist tenets) are unable to see beyond the transience of money?!
This goes back to my argument that the mismanagement of funds is rife.
Maybe I should go there, open a money changer outlet and start teaching financial management courses.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Some social issues in Tibet
Some interesting issues in Tibet
In the coming blog entries, I'll be writing about
1. Money and religion - how people have resorted to directly bribing the gods by sticking bills in the buddha statues' hands, between their fingers, into their robes.
2. Culinary experience - how to cook fresh food badly. How some people manage to turn your food into poison.
3. The Potala Palace Labyrinth - why Mission Impossible: 3 can never be filmed in the Potala Palace.
4. Norbulinka, the Dalai Lama's Summer Palace - A place of simple luxury.
5. Octagonal Street Shopping - how I managed to get something at RMB 50 when the initial price was RMB 600.
6. Clarified yak butter - the food of the Buddhas. Why we rejected Tibetan style rooms in a hotel.
7. Village kids, town beggars, scenic spot robbers - the state of the underprivileged in Tibet.
8. Pushing away girls beg for money by blocking your paths.
9. Shotun Festivities - How to climb two hills in a day and not die.
10. Staying beside the Potala Palace for 6 nights - How it feels to have a high class neighbout.
11. Karaoke Disasters - they only happen at night.
12. The Tibetan Slo-Mo - How they made me blow my top.
13. Songtsen Gampo
14. Dalai and Panchen - the confusion.
15. [This pertains to Chengdu Shuangliu International Airport and Lhasa Gongga Airport] How to be wayang kings and queens - the case study of No Action, Talk Only (NATO).
16. Do & Me Singapore-style Fried Chicken - how food we disdained in Singapore saved us in Tibet.
17. La Mei Hua (Winter Cherry Blossoms) Tea - Saviour for the eyes
18. Three steps and one full body postration - Just show me the money!
19. Aviation Achievements - the Chengdu - Tibet leg.
20. (I'll fill in some more when I think of them!)
In the coming blog entries, I'll be writing about
1. Money and religion - how people have resorted to directly bribing the gods by sticking bills in the buddha statues' hands, between their fingers, into their robes.
2. Culinary experience - how to cook fresh food badly. How some people manage to turn your food into poison.
3. The Potala Palace Labyrinth - why Mission Impossible: 3 can never be filmed in the Potala Palace.
4. Norbulinka, the Dalai Lama's Summer Palace - A place of simple luxury.
5. Octagonal Street Shopping - how I managed to get something at RMB 50 when the initial price was RMB 600.
6. Clarified yak butter - the food of the Buddhas. Why we rejected Tibetan style rooms in a hotel.
7. Village kids, town beggars, scenic spot robbers - the state of the underprivileged in Tibet.
8. Pushing away girls beg for money by blocking your paths.
9. Shotun Festivities - How to climb two hills in a day and not die.
10. Staying beside the Potala Palace for 6 nights - How it feels to have a high class neighbout.
11. Karaoke Disasters - they only happen at night.
12. The Tibetan Slo-Mo - How they made me blow my top.
13. Songtsen Gampo
14. Dalai and Panchen - the confusion.
15. [This pertains to Chengdu Shuangliu International Airport and Lhasa Gongga Airport] How to be wayang kings and queens - the case study of No Action, Talk Only (NATO).
16. Do & Me Singapore-style Fried Chicken - how food we disdained in Singapore saved us in Tibet.
17. La Mei Hua (Winter Cherry Blossoms) Tea - Saviour for the eyes
18. Three steps and one full body postration - Just show me the money!
19. Aviation Achievements - the Chengdu - Tibet leg.
20. (I'll fill in some more when I think of them!)
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
I'm Back
I'm Back
First, a little funny.
Steven Spielberg was discussing his new project - an action docudrama about famous composers starring top movie stars.
Sylvester Stallone, Stevern Segal, Bruce WIllis, and Arnold Schwarzenegger were all present.
Spielberg strongly desired the box office 'oomph' of these superstars, so he was prepared to allow them to select whatever composers they would portray, as long as they were very famous.
"Well, started Stallone, "I've always admired Mozart. I would love to play him."
"Chopin has always been my favourite, and my image would improve if people saw me playing the piano" said Willis. "I'll play him."
"I've always been partial to Strauss and his waltzes," said Segal. "I'd like to play him."
Spielberg was very pleased with these choices. "Sounds splendid." Then, looking at Schwarzenegger, he asked, "Who do you want to be, Arnie?"
So Arnold says, "I'll be Bach."
So, I'm back from Tibet.
And I've decided to keep my travels separate from my rantings and ravings. My digital photographs are being processed now. I'll write my stuff in my other blog www.teflontravels.blogspot.com.
Do visit. I'll tell you when.
First, a little funny.
Steven Spielberg was discussing his new project - an action docudrama about famous composers starring top movie stars.
Sylvester Stallone, Stevern Segal, Bruce WIllis, and Arnold Schwarzenegger were all present.
Spielberg strongly desired the box office 'oomph' of these superstars, so he was prepared to allow them to select whatever composers they would portray, as long as they were very famous.
"Well, started Stallone, "I've always admired Mozart. I would love to play him."
"Chopin has always been my favourite, and my image would improve if people saw me playing the piano" said Willis. "I'll play him."
"I've always been partial to Strauss and his waltzes," said Segal. "I'd like to play him."
Spielberg was very pleased with these choices. "Sounds splendid." Then, looking at Schwarzenegger, he asked, "Who do you want to be, Arnie?"
So Arnold says, "I'll be Bach."
So, I'm back from Tibet.
And I've decided to keep my travels separate from my rantings and ravings. My digital photographs are being processed now. I'll write my stuff in my other blog www.teflontravels.blogspot.com.
Do visit. I'll tell you when.
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