Dec 2006

Well, Christmas has come and gone. I should start this entry a little before Christmas. Our final week of class until March 4th was the 18th through the 22nd. During that time, the university decided it would be good for us to have exams. As it turned out though, most of the "exams" ended up being "homework". Most of the people here are not here to get credit from a school at home, and so, most of us didn't need formal exams.

In my class, the only one with full contingent of students, many having already gone traveling or home for the break, we had two sets of "homework" and one real exam. It was just a little nerve wracking not knowing exactly what to study. It wasn't as if we were being tested on specific chapters in our books, but more that our basic knowledge was being put to the test. There was very little vocabulary, things mostly involved grammar points and making sentences. For our actual test, we were required to write a story and then we had an in-class exam. There were no specific instructions given for the story, no length or required structures, just that we were to write a story. After Wednesday, for all intents and purposes, school was over, all the exams were finished. However, unlike a university in the West, we still had class until Friday.

Friday evening we planned a small Christmas party, dinner and a gift game. Rachel made baked potatoes with chili and I made cookies and peanut butter fudge. There should have been chocolate fudge as well, but due to the lack of a candy thermometer and a bit of over-anxiousness on my part, I didn't cook the fudge long enough and it turned into a semi-solid goo. Through luck or something, the peanut butter fudge came out wonderfully and was quite popular.

Anyway, we decorated the lobby downstairs with a small tree with lights and ornaments, more lights around the chairs and paper snowflakes. Regarding snowflakes, I think there should be a remedial class for older people on how to make them. The last time I made snowflakes I think I was maybe 7 or 8, and the skill is hard to remember. Lauren's Tibetan friend did a better job of making snowflakes than she and I did.

So, after the lobby was decorated, we ate wonderful baked potatoes with delicious chili, cheese and ranch dressing. After everyone was finished, we played a gift game. Everyone had brought a wrapped gift. We drew numbers, then each person went in turn, either taking a new gift from the table to unwrap or stealing a previously opened gift. It was quite a lot of fun, even though some of the gifts were clearly unwanted while others were stolen many times.

The only snag for me was an unpleasant stomach bug I picked up on Thursday night. I spent most of the day Friday trying to keep my stomach under control, but lost the battle after eating that fantastic baked potato on Friday night. It is only today, Wednesday, that I have been able to eat without repercussions of any kind.

On Saturday, not much happened. Sunday, Christmas Eve, the Italians had planned to party and had told everyone they were planning, but in the end, did not invite anyone, but rather ate dinner together, which seemed a little strange to everyone, but they are Italians, after all, and have some strange ideas about what is acceptable. For example, it is not uncommon for two of the girls and the guy to spend an hour or two arguing in the hallway, shouting at the top of their lungs. In fact, that is how they spent a great deal of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

So, Christmas Eve, under the presumption that my stomach was better, (it wasn't), I went out with Doris to a nice restaurant to eat some Indian food. The owner had planned a little party. All the guests at his establishment had free mulled wine, which was absolutely delicious, and his male waiters were dressed as Santa. It was a bit humorous to see skinny Tibetan guys dressed as Santa, but they were enjoying it. He had a tree and there were colored light globes spinning, adding to the atmosphere. When we left, we received gift bags filled with cookies, candy and a few small trinkets. After that, Doris went out to party and I went home. For Tibetans and Chinese, Christmas is merely an excuse to party hard and drink themselves into oblivion. They have only received the commercial aspect of the holiday, and I mean that in the strictest sense. Most of the holiday decorations are provided by beer companies, such as Budweiser, and are more advertisement than anything else. They also don't normally give presents or spend time with their families. But, that's ok. Many of us Westerners are not so into the religious aspect of the holiday, but it is wonderful to spend it with family.

Christmas day came. Instead of dinner, us Americans planned a brunch. I thought it would be nice to do a ham for dinner and even bought a pineapple and some maraschino cherries from the import store, but in the end, I was too tired to go to the butcher, argue over the cut of meat and then cook the pork roast (since a ham is either cured or smoked, and they don't seem to exist here) for eight hours in my slow cooker. Anyway, I made eggnog, two kinds of quiche and coffee cake. That, in addition to fruit salad and orange juice, were a little bit of heaven. While they don't have ham, they do make bacon here, and it is what I would term, super-delicious.

After brunch, which ended up happening about 2pm, the rest of the afternoon was spent just relaxing, and of course, I thought about home, a lot.

That night, I borrowed "It's a Wonderful Life" from Rachel and watched it with Stephanie, who, being from Switzerland, had never seen it. Afterwards, I called my family. It was the perfect way to end the day, in lieu of actually being home for Christmas.

Thanksgiving rolled around, almost too quickly. Unfortunately, not all of us were able to celebrate properly on Thanksgiving Day. Instead, a group of us planned a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for the weekend after, December 2nd.

I have to say that Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. Aside from the eating business, it is really about being together with family or close friends. Since I started college, I never went home for Thanksgiving. Instead, I made dinner for/with my friends who were also staying in town. There are few things I enjoy more than cooking for a group of people, and it was really exciting this year. Us Americans had the opportunity to introduce our new European, Japanese and Tibetan friends to Thanksgiving. In fact, Rachel and I were so intent on having a traditional meal that several weeks before Thanksgiving we purchased an imported turkey at a ridiculous price.

The only catch with the turkey was where to cook it. The ovens here are tiny things, about the size of a large toaster oven at home. It was going to provide quite a challenge, but we were determined to find a way to make our turkey. The alternative to baking a turkey is, as everyone knows, the Southern tradition of deep-frying. The week before our party, I took the turkey down to the kitchen to make sure they would have a pot large enough in which to submerge the turkey. They assured me that it would be no problem and to bring it back on Saturday.

Saturday rolled around. We split up the cooking, so I was in charge of the turkey, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce (made from cranberries mailed from the US, that lasted two weeks in a box!) and brownies. Rachel was in charge of the pumpkin pie, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and gravy, and Lauren was making the green bean casserole and a veggie tray.

Lauren and I hauled our 16lb turkey down to the kitchen, only to have them tell us that they didn't have a pot, but we could use a wok. Now, let me say that this was indeed an enormous wok, but there was no way that the whole turkey was going to fit, even in this economy-sized, Costco-worthy wok. So, we hauled it back upstairs where Lauren and I managed to cut the turkey into pieces, season it, and brought it back down to our heated oil.

I had never deep-fried a turkey before, so I was a little worried about cooking time and how it would taste. At home, I use a roasting bag and it comes out perfect every time. There we were though, outside behind the kitchen, deep-frying a turkey in a wok. I knew it would take a while, but it took almost an hour for the breasts to cook, and then, while the legs and thighs were cooking, the kitchen shut down and they turned off the electricity we were using to fry the turkey. Needless to say, we were a bit upset that we couldn't finish cooking our bird, but there wasn't much we could do about it at that point.

As for the delicious factor--it was just like home! We even had whipped cream for the pie and ranch dip for the veggies. Aside from the location, and the fact that it took three people and a wok to do the cooking that could normally be accomplished in one kitchen by one person, it was a piece of America. I think there are some photos floating around. I'll see if I can round them up and post them.

After dinner, a few of us went out about 10pm and just danced at the disco. On that note, I would like to add that there are now two discos--that's right, two--in Lhasa. I haven't yet been to the new one, but I'm sure that day is coming.

I'm am such a bad blogger! I apologize for not writing in a month. I've slipped into Tibetan time, which is not always a good thing. For those who don't know, Tibetan time is a lot like owning a watch that is at least half an hour slow. If someone says they will meet you at such and such a time, chances are he or she will be late, or that he or she will call you to say that there is no time to meet today (your preset meeting day) and could you meet another time, or the opposite happens. You made a date at, say, Friday, 5pm. Instead of being satisfied with this, your Tibetan friend calls and says, there is no time on Friday, could you meet right this minute instead? Time here is very convoluted, and I have fallen into the time warp that is Tibet.

So, the last time I wrote, I was going to go to the Potala. (Those pictures are posted, by the way.) That morning started out with a trip to the post office. I'm not sure if I have mentioned this before, but if I have, oh well. When you go to the post office, usually, you just take the things you are mailing. You buy a box there for your things. Then, you take the box of stuff to the customs counter where they have you write on a little sticker-form what is in the box. After that, you stand in line for the man who tapes the box. No, I'm not joking. If you tape the box yourself, you still have to have the man tape it for you, because, heaven knows you didn't do a thorough enough job. I have never, in all my life, seen anyone use as much tape on a box as the Chinese postal service, (this includes my stepbrother, Matt, well known for being able to make tape disappear). So, you are standing in line for the man to tape your box, and he is good. This is all he does all day. When he is finished taping up the box, it is covered, literally covered, with green China Post tape. So far, you have stood in lines for about 25 minutes. Now, you take the box back to the customs counter where they put on the green sticker that you filled out earlier, with the contents of the package. You are not allowed to actually put the sticker on yourself. It must be done by the customs agent. Then, you take the box to the next counter, where it is weighed, you pay, fill out another form, and finally, if you are lucky, and there are no problems, your package is successfully placed on a pile of other boxes being sent out of country, and it only took somewhere between 45 minutes and an hour, if there were no problems.

That is how the trip to the Potala started out. My friend Doris was mailing a package home, and we were almost late for the tour because of all this line-waiting in the post office. I'm not really looking forward to mailing out my Christmas presents (which will be quite late, by the way.)

When that was completed, we ran across the street to the Potala, where we met our teacher and other classmates. We entered the Potala through the front gate, which is something that is normally reserved for locals, and of course, the most of the tourists were gone at this point, so most everyone uses the front now.

The Potala is beautiful. The original building, so Tibetan history goes, was a small place built by King Song-tsen Gam-po, the 7th century king that brought Buddhism to Tibet via his wives. Inside, there is a small room that is said to be the place that he built. The rest of the Potala was constructed by the Great 5th Dalai Lama and later, after his death, the regent Sang-gye Gyatso. He kept the death of the 5th Dalai Lama a secret for 15 years while the palace was completed. It is a bit over 100 meters high and over 300 meters wide, with exactly 1000 rooms.

To tour the Potala, one climbs up the steps at the front of the building and then works down from the top of the palace looking at what few rooms are open to tourists. Many rooms have been destroyed, either during the Cultural Revolution, or through neglect. Photos are absolutely not allowed inside, and there are cameras and plenty of security to make sure that non are taken.

Now that all the basic info is here, I can say how beautiful it was. While we only saw a few places inside the Potala, perhaps 10 or 15 rooms out of the 1000, it projected history and tradition. We were able to see the official throne room of the Dalai Lamas, various rooms for meditation and teaching, chaples dedicated to Avalokitesvara, and the most impressive of all were the rooms with the three-dimensional mandalas, which are representations of the universe or the abodes of various deities, and the golden funeral stupas of the Dalai Lamas. This type of stupa and funeral is reserved for only the highest lamas. These structures are about two storeys high, covered in gold leaf, turquoise, red coral, mother-of-pearl, they are incredible and not to be missed, if anyone comes to Lhasa.

The view from the Potala is wonderful. It is possible to see the city, nearly from one end to the other, and there are a number of tiny monasteries and retreat houses on the mountains facing the Potala. Beautiful!

This tour took us a total of two hours, one hour longer than tourists get. (We lucked out because we are students.) While the tour can certainly be done in an hour, it was nice to have the extra information provided by our teacher as we went along. And of course, it is nice to just spend some time looking at things, being there, in the space. Unfortunately, I don't think I will be going back. It is 100 yuan to visit the Potala, if you are a tourist, and I don't think dyeing my hair will get me a Tibetan price. Admittedly, 100 yuan is only about $13, but that will buy a lot of toilet paper and thukpa (noodles).

It's late here, so I will end this entry and I will write another tomorrow. Thanks for being patient!