Rinpoche comes in to meet us and wish us well as we prepare for sleep that night amidst the sounds of thundering and lightening. Early the next morning we head for Gebchek without stopping for breakfast, knowing we must beat the rain that is looming in the many distant clouds. We know we can’t go if it rains, but optimistically, we head for the mountain. Or should I say mountains? The last peak is again over 16,000 feet and is called Sky Wall. Sky Wall because when you climb this steep mountain wall, you are so very close to the sky! Within an hour it started drizzling. No one says anything. The rain becomes heavier and the narrow dirt road is starting to fill its potholes with puddles of water. We keep heading up the mountain. We cannot go any slower as we crawl along inch by inch. The drop is on Jeffrey’s side – a sheer cliff that seemed to drop endlessly. Suddenly the car spins. We all jump out, our feet gratefully on solid ground and look at the car which is barely on the road in its almost 180-degree turn. We are all shaken as we stand there on this barren mountain road, knowing there is nothing we can do but go forward. There is no way to turn around or even let another car pass. Tashi jumps into the drivers seat and somehow rights the jeep in one quick move. Where does this come from in him? He and Nema are such dear friends, like brothers and Nema was obviously too shaken to right the car. Jain Su has passed on any attempts to drive on this crazy road long ago and certainly Jeffrey and I wouldn’t have touched that baby with a ten-foot pole! We climb back in as Nema again takes the driver’s seat. I pray to Tara with all of my being, as we all pray in our own way. “Please part these clouds and give us sun, please!”
After an hour or so, we arrive at a tiny village and are received into a humble home. The large thermos that is in every Tibetan home is opened, a few glasses come from somewhere and we are poured hot water, a frequent alternative to Tibetan tea. Although this village is obviously very poor, as is this family, there is the ever-present television blasting away. Jeffrey and I marvel at the cell phone and television reception that seems to reach even the most remote areas.
We will have to spend the night (where, I didn’t know) and either go back to Shandar the next day or, if the sun came out, go forward. “Tashi”, I said, “We are already at Gebchek. Feel the nuns waiting for us. We must go”.
Although something so strong was taking us to Gebchek, I had a moment of terror. What am I doing? Everyone keeps telling us the road is too dangerous, that a truck had just gone over the mountain two days before. Was this fair to everyone? And what about Mr. Jian’s car? It is his livelihood and it is getting mightily beat up.
I walk outside the little dirt home and leave everyone inside. I want to just surrender to whatever needs to happen. There is a man outside, a visiting teacher for the children here in this small village. He says the children will do a little performance later in the day. I ask if we can videotape it and he assures me that would be fine. Hmm. Are we here to do some kind of travelogue instead?
When I walk back inside the home, the decision has been made. We are going! I realize that the rain has stopped and there are blue skies above! They tell me before I even sit down that we must either go right now or turn back. We immediately pile in the car, saying our good bys to this welcoming family!
As we climb the dreaded Sky Wall, Nema’s side mirror is nearly touching the mountain, and on the other side (that would be Jeffrey’s), the wheels kick off loose rocks crumbling from the sheer cliff. Every minute we inch our way closer. The tension is so thick and it seems the only thing that seems to keep us breathing are Jeffrey’s dry jokes.
God, we are happy to arrive at Gebchek. We are here – finally. The nun that Tashi first speaks with beckons a second nun by the name of Mingur. She seems to fly down the stairs, grabbing my hands in hers with such a force and welcoming that it seems we are long lost sisters. Her smile is radiant as she leads the five of us into the room that is usually reserved for visiting Rinpoches. There are five daybeds here just waiting for the five of us. More and more nuns come in, bringing us Tibetan tea, dried yak meat, candies and the ubiquitous bread that looks like funnel cake. They all stand around and watch us eat, or try to eat. Every time we take a sip of tea, they fill our cups. More and more food comes. They are joyful and seem excited that we are here. Tashi suggests that I take out my computer and show them our pictures with Tashi Rinpoche. There must be twenty nuns around me. They want to see more and more. I show them my grandchildren and my children, pictures of thankas and statues. They are delighted! As soon as the camera comes, many of them back away shyly.
Later that afternoon we are taken to see Nangsong Rinpoche, who is 24 years old. No one seems to know the actual English spelling of any of these names, so Tashi and I do our best with it. Anyway, he asks Jeffrey and I to sit next to him on the floor. I am to his right, Jeffrey next to me. Thank goodness, Jeffrey had just asked for instruction on how to property greet all of these Lamas and Rinpoches we keep having the great blessing to be with. It is a new and different culture for him, as it is for Mr. Jain.
Tashi interprets as Rinpoche and I speak with each other. We are there for a long time and ask many questions of each other – mostly me of him. We will meet again tomorrow morning. He welcomes us graciously and says we can stay for as long as we like. Tibetan hospitality never fails to make one feel as though you are family.
The five of us are served tsampa, yogurt, yak meat and noodles. Jeffrey can’t eat again and, as hard as I try, it is impossible to eat much of this food, but I pick away. Now there is an entire line of men, dressed in their lovely jackets, and nuns, just watching us eat. I knit – this at least looks somewhat familiar to them as Tibetan women seem to be knitting at every corner, not that they are out on many corners, but it feels nice to sit here by the warm stove with all of these kind people making my friend, Michael’s, scarf.
It is raining outside as we each take our long walk to the outhouse. A nun follows me outside with a kettle of water to wash off my toothbrush. At every turn, they are waiting to do something for us. We go to sleep, the five of us together in our warm room and I am again grateful for my cozy down pillow that I brought with me from home. The option is the usual – a large plastic bag filled with some kind of husks. We listen to the rain and pray that the clouds empty themselves tonight.
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