Leaving Lhasa

My last day in Lhasa is marked with one thing: the obligation to shop. The morning brings rain and grey skies. I sit around wasting time, talking to whoever is around and find an empty room having slept the night on the floor of a dorm. Not many people are around though - my entire dorm had left at 3 a.m. to go to the Ganden Thangka festival. In the end, the Chinese kids staying next to me invite me out to a Tibetan tea house for tea. 3 jao for 1 cup (5AUD cents). The dude with a perm turns out to be a mountain guide from Sichuan. Tells me that it's a lot more beautiful than Tibet.

In the end it clears up, and I begin my first consuptionist kora of the Jokhang. The stall owners aren't particularly pushy, except for one Tibetan girl who physically grabs me and won't let go. Bargaining is hard. I probably get ripped off on 50% of the things I buy... which isn't such a bad ratio, considering the area. The prayer flag dealers are the worst. On my third kora I make the mistake of looking at "antique" thangkas and become mesmerised by one particular Cherensig (Avalokiteshvara) with White Drolma (Tara) underneath... but the guy's asking price is $100USD. There is also a lot of crap, in particular amongst the new thangkhas.

In the end, I sit in front of the Jokhang and watch the people passing by. There is an immense ethnic mix - women from Amdo with tiny braids, strong Kampa guys with red yak wool through their hair, monks, nuns, western tourists. It's mesmerising, especially looking at this through a camera lens, trying to get good pictures.

Upon getting back I find a note from Itamar, with whom I'd made a plan to go to Golmud. He'd made plans to meet a Tibetan artist for dinner at 6. It's 8. Damn. Luckily, some of the volunteers from the orphanage had returned from their Everest excursion, so 3 of us go to a Tibetan place by the Jokhang for a stare-fest, as we are the only Westerners to have eaten there for a long time. No menu. The chef takes us to the kitchen - a dark labirintine affair. The whole place feels medieval. In the end, the home-made noodles and tea cost 3 Yuan each (50AUD cents). I'm seriously considering staying in Lhasa for another day, just to buy a Thangha. Janine discourages me: the Thanghkas in Kathmandu are of a higher quality at a fraction of the price.

Getting back, I find Itamar and apologise. He's going to go drinking with some Koreans. The Folk Music Cafe turns out to be one of the coolest bars I'd ever visited... instruments adorn the walls. Anyone is welcome to pick one up and play. There's an upstairs balcony, where we have our party: 4 Koreans, 3 Japanese, a French girl, and 2 Israelis. The highlight of the evening has to be our sing along of X-Japan's "Endless Rain." The drunk Japanese guys simply love it.

I make it back to my room at 2 am. My room mates still aren't there. They come about 3 am. We have a bizarre drunken conversation about foreigners in Japan, go to sleep, then wake at 5 am, as they are taking a jeep to Nam-tso.