I had trouble breathing, and worse trouble when I slept. I was picked up on the second morning, by my guide Ganpo, and my driver. We departed for Drepung Monastery.
A short drive away was Sera Monastery. Here, we walked the grounds and stopped to watch the monks' daily debates. Their debates had one person sitting down while another asked philosophical questions and slapped their hands. The first area was for young monks, and just beyond was an area with older monks. The area was jam packed with tourists. A young Chinese girl, about five years old, asked if I could have my picture taken with her.
Last, we walked from my hotel to Jokhang temple. We queued up to go inside. The line was crushed together, with throngs of Chinese tourists, who pushed, shoved, and cut in line. People were coughing and sneezing without covering their mouths. It took us at least thirty minutes to get inside. Being inside, however, had just as many people as the line. I rushed us through. I did not take pictures. I was tempted to buy a bracelet at the gift shop, but Ganpo pulled me aside. He did not like the price that they were selling it for and advised me not to buy it.
Next, we walked to Potala Palace. This is where the Dalai Lama is supposed to live. When China took over Tibet, he fled to northern India.
We slowly climbed the stairs, as I struggled to breath. I asked Ganpo, about the monument in the distance. He said it was made to celebrate the liberation of the Tibetan people. I asked him what they were liberated from. He said that they were liberated from the old ways, according to China.
Almost the entirety of visitors here were Chinese. They were not particularly respectful. It was all a bit depressing.
We descended the other side. Ganpo brought me to see dancing in the courtyard below, to celebrate a festival that I am unsure the name of.
The next day we drove up to Ganden Monastery. There was a police checkpoint along the road, as there would be for most monasteries on the trip. Ganpo suggested that it was also to make sure that Chinese government officials were not participating in religion, as well as keeping an eye on whoever else was going.
Shortly after we arrived, it began to rain. We walked around for a bit and then sat inside to escape the rain, listening to chanting of a large room filled with monks. We saw a family getting special treatment. Ganpo explained that families pay for the monks to chant for their dead relative. The rain stopped, the guide and driver ate lunch, and we stopped at the gift shop. I purchased two bracelets, including my now favorite one with 108 beads.
We walked a short way up on the mountain. I struggled with the steep path of vegetation. We stopped and he held my hand as we went back down. We walked the path that circled around the mountain.
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