Another place

"Hey, where are you going?"
"Another Place"
...ah, ok, so...well, not so nice, you go to another place and you wont tell me...so you don't want me to join you...oh, ah, ok...I was thinking we were friends...

I was new in Lhasa, my English was poor, I was young.
I was alone.
I was living in an hotel. No foreigner is allowed to rent an apartment in Tibetan Autonomous Region (so called TAR).
In the same hotel, the Tashi Norta, was a group of Spanish. Volunteers.
Nice people, active, bad English also.
Cozy. They invited me for dinner.
After dinner they decided to go for 'una copa'.
Going clubbing, in Lhasa. Cool.
"Where are you going?"
"Another place"
"Well, so fuck you all", I though, but what I said sounded like "Ah, good, anyway I'm tired and... I have to call me ma and...dry my laundry with the hairdryer of the hotel..."
"Really?", they looked at me as a prick Mormon.

'Another Place' was the best bar ever. And it was in Lhasa.
One small entrance and then a tiny room with few couches or just Tibetan mattresses on the floor, old army wooden box as tables, candles, a yak stool stove fighting the Tibetan winter passing through the window's holes, and a box full of yak dry stools like breads.
And a flamenco CD was always playing, present of one of the Spanish.
The owner was a Chinese lady teaching English in the university, the waitress a young Tibetan teenager called 'La guapa'.
I've met there travelers around since more than five years by bike, by foot, by whoever care. English violinist and Mexican widows.
I challenged and won two Irish guys on who was able to drink more beer in that bar.
I've been watching pictures in a tourist camera and discover that, after the monks there was Alex Mc Dowell, Bono and Salma Hayek, discovering he was one of the best photographer ever.
I felt in love and I cried in that bar.

Part of the Chinese plan to delete Tibetan culture forever, is to raze to ground all old building in Tibet and build them again, shining new.
Also Another Place building.
Because I've lived in Lhasa more than two years and because Chinese build fast, I've the chance to see the new Another Place.
The owner and the Guapa were the same, and the mattresses and the stove. But the walls were white and straight. And bikers and backpackers, at that time were wiped out by the riots of 2008.
They added pineapple pizza in the menu, but something more was missing.

Now I'm not new in Lhasa anymore, if I'll have the chance to come back, my English is not Shakespearean yet but improved, and I'm not young anymore.
I've met the person I've married and whit whom I've made a baby in that bar.
Many things have changed, but the old Another Place stays the best bar ever. When is raining, when is snowing, when is springtime and when you are burned out.
But it's not existing anymore, like many and many and many other things in China.

This make me feel so old.

no news...good news...?

Can you believe?
Nobody had a slight idea what was going on in Boudha on Monday night.
The street was in fire.
Police was blocking the way.
No news on TV, nothing on the newspaper.

My admin, at the end, told me: "I mean, Ban Ki Moon is doing something, Obama is also doing something,. Tibetan monk are doing nothing. I see them with tablet in a bar drinking tea all the day"

And he was the same explaining that all the beggars in the streets, well, they are Indian.
Nepalese pride, maybe.

The same guy told me: "The Maoist civil war? I was not cheering for them and neither for the military. the two were beating us, scaring us and asking us for money. I just wanted it to finish".

And finally: "Of course we have no news about the monk who burned himself: China is paying the boots, the uniforms and the salaries of Nepalese police"

In this order: boots, uniforms, salaries.

seeking for attention

Well,
I'm living in Nepal now.
In a area named Boudha. Is the Tibetan area.
Is very nice, more quiet, you can have a walk and buy vegetable in the street. the shoe repairer always greet me. Namastee.
Very close to my house there is a stupa. Is a sacred monument for Buddhist. A vanilla ice cream scope whit the eyes of Buddha and prayer flags. Is a 3D mandala. In reality is impressive. Buddhist are touring around clock wise generating good energy and praying.
Well, few days ago at 8.30 a.m. a men decided to burn himself just there, in my neighborhood. Look like is dead.
I say 'look like' because whoever is trying to manifest against the situation against China, do not find friends in the news.

Since that the stupa is full of police.

Tonight, the road next to the main gate to the stupa was on fire.
I have no idea what is going on.
I will not find information in the newspaper tomorrow.
But maybe my nepali colleagues will tell me what they heard about.

I'll tell you

Rarely

Was a guy in Tajikistan, working for an Italian NGO.
He came from Sicily.
His English was...particularly imaginative.

For example once to the question "How did you purchased your generator", he answered "thanks to the wheels".

Well, we were friends and I can say he was the most unhappy guy in Tajikistan. Nobody understood him when he was speaking English, and no other Italian understood him while speaking Sicilian. His Italian was better than his English, but not his mother tongue. He suffered considerably. Like Rimbaud when he was looking for the right word to express his deep and troubled soul.

One day we were together walking in Dushanbe and someone stopped him asking for a cigarette.
And he, whit a perfect consecutio temporum: "If I had one, I would give you with pleasure".

The Tajik guy, whose English was quite limited, just smiled and get the message only by the shaking of my friend's head.
But then I suddenly saw my friend changing appearance and become more steady. He knew he spoke the English of the grammar books, and he knew he just met a guy whose English was worst than his.
He became taller and cooler: "You saw? Now I'm speaking English like Sicilian"
And me, merciless: "Yeah, rarely"
 

Is not always so easy to write a contract

As I told you was my first mission (yes...we call them 'mission', I know it's smug, but that's our lexicon), and I was shitting my pants to be the BOSS and completely in charge of everything.

And I started by the staff.
Almost all of them were knew by the organisation and they were working before for them, and the project was written accordingly with the staff already available. So the selection was easy: everybody in.

I wanted to look prepared and secure. So I just took the contracts I was using in Tajikistan changing the duty station and...the name.

"Ok, just tell me your full name and we print and sign the contract"
"Nyma"
"Ok, typing... Nyma and then?"
"Nyma"
"Your name is Nyma Nyma?"
"No, only Nyma" and he handed to me the ID card. In Chinese. Two ideograms: Ny-ma. that's it.
"Ok, next". I was thinking "Whatever but do not show them you are surprised because inexperienced"
And another guy entered in the office.
"Just tell me your full name and we print and sign the contract"
"Nyma"
"You kidding!"

Tibetan names are no numerous. Nyma mean sun, Dawa means moon, there are many Tashi and Tsering, Sonam both for man and female, Dicky, Lhamo, Jigme...and then variation like 'Dawa Tsering' and 'Dicky Lhamo'.
I've met around twenty Dawa Tsering.
And then, in the country side, when a child unfortunately dies for whatever reason, some people think that the demons took him because they were attracted by the kid. And so, when a newborn arrive, the parents use to give him a very ugly name, so that the demons do not want to take him. A friend sworn he met a  'Dog Poo'.

"Ok, next"
"Good morning"
"Hi, good morning, just tell me your full name and we print and sign the contract"
"Pupu"
"Enough!"

Where am I? Try again

I remember when I first arrived in Lhasa. Tibet.

Well, actually I do not remember. I mean.

I was starting a new project with a man who supposed to guide me the firsts months as a great expert of Tibet. i probably worked with him 3 days in total.
Anyway, we flew to Beijin and then to Xining and the he tough was very cool to take the new train to Tibet. Was 2006. The railway was new.
And in fact very interesting and amazing. The first few hours.
Let's say that after 26 hours of shaking in the train, whit hundreds of Chinese eating sun flower seed and spiting the husks on the floor, I was looking forward to arrive in the forbidden city.

Was my first mission after Tajikistan. I was young and inexperienced. And my task was to be the Country Director.
I was shitting my pants.

Anyway: I have no memories of Lhasa train station. No one. And after two years and an half I spent there, and I know all the corners of the city...well, I cannot point the train station in a map.
But I do remember the taxi bringing us to the hotel (in Tibet no foreigner is allowed to rent a house, everybody must live in hotels), and I remember what I saw.
I honestly was expecting a middle age city, whit no electricity, unpaved roads, old short buildings, maybe some oil lamp tiny light ogle from windows without glasses.
I saw Chinese teens whit fancy haircuts, advertisement of China Telecom, neon light like in Bladerunner for each Chinese restaurant, bar, shop, Chinese Post office huge building just beside the Potala, alone as a Tibet refugee.
I knew about the political situation of Tibet, but I was thinking Tibet was still Tibet.

I don't remember if I took this picture in center Beijin or in the Tibetan countryside...at the end China is China

Leonardo DiCaprio always dies

I've just remember one of my nightmare when I was in Tanzania.

Leonardo DiCaprio was building an eco-lodge in some island, and I supposed to do the water supply system. of course eco-friendly. He was in a hurry, because he knew he was dying the next morning.

I woke up not so relaxed. And then I realized why I was dreaming about him.

At that time I was living in a tented camp in the middle of the Masai territory together whit the staff (Simon, Mika...I'll tell about them), and a friend passed me one of this 8 in 1 pirate DVD.
8 movies of Leonardo DiCaprio. A must between the ladies passing by the camp. And also the men. A friend gave it to me from Dar-es-Salaam and suddenly everybody at night were staring at me hoping I was going soon in the tent to watch a movie, finish them and then pass by the DVD.
There was no other thing to do, and I watched one movie every night.
Blood diamond, Titanic (sorry...), Romeo + Juliet, the Departed...well, the guy never survived his movies.

Never.

Maybe that's why is so famous: men are happy because he dies. Women are happy because, for the reason that he dies, then they know why the fantastic, perfect, handsome guy never crossed their path. Is not fault of the Tanzanian ladies, wherever they live, whatever they do. The perfect guy is dead, so he is whit everybody and nobody. White and Black. Chinese and Brazilian. Teenagers and...

Wow! Someone in LA is pretty smart

Morning Kilimanjaro. But by night I could not see.