Yesterday
we rode 3 hours in our bright toy bus with the caterpillar-antennae mirrors out of Lhasa and to the Drigung Terdrom Nunnery. Our driver parked the bus on a hill above the village and we all stepped off wide-eyed and stunned; the jagged rock and green hills of the mountains surrounding the village were covered in fluttering blue, red, yellow and white prayer flags. It was almost like the mountains were wearing the remnants of a tattered, fine, old, hand-made dress. The village itself was built into the canyon walls and along the bottom of the valley around the small river. Small white hermitages extend away from the Monastery Store, Restaurant, and the hot springs, and rasta-dreaded mutts chase each other around random Yaks wandering the paths.
A funny experience- we were fortunate enough to be welcome in the very holy, sacred, fabric-covered, dark, womb-like, scripture/statue/incense-filled temple where the nuns practice their chanting and meditation. Due to the low light, I needed to rest my camera on the ground or on something stable in lieu of a tri-pod. At one point I realised I was basically mooning the chanting nuns as as I bent over to get a shot of a statue on the ground. I quickly corrected myself and looked at the nuns in the row behind me to see if they had noticed. I saw a row of smiling faces, which exploded into giggles when they saw that I was embarrassed. This gave me the giggles, which made them laugh harder. Then we were all trying not to laugh, and seeing that the other was trying so hard not to laugh made us laugh even harder. The experience helped me to see that, although prayer and religion are sacred indeed, its practitioners are also doing that everyday, making friends, and can be young women who, like me, like to laugh at big butts in the air. I'd love to go back.
Berkley