I'm not sure if I can say that. I haven't been to every zoo in the world, or even read reviews on them, but last week I went to the saddest and only zoo in Lhasa at least. It all started with a trip to the Norbulinka -a park that doubled as the DL's summer palace. A student of mine, who is a monk, lives within part of the old palace housing. Also within the park's grounds is Lhasa's zoo. Now I knew from my pre-visit research that the zoo was thoroughly depressing and should be avoided (as Lonely Planet stated: "avoid the thoroughly depressing zoo."). But my student was excited that he could get us (myself and two other students) in for free. One step inside and I could see that they desperately needed the entrance fee.

Not a complete loss - the mandarin ducks were easily the prettiest exhibit in the whole zoo.

Being winter, everything was dead and brown, which didn't help the unkept dirt paths that wound around the tiny animal park. The first pen held some antelopes and rabbits. This is either due to an unusual symbitoic relationship between the antelope and large white rabbits, or a lack of places to put different animals. I'm going with the latter. Next were some bears, all of which were kept in small concrete cages connected to an "outdoor" area overgrown with weeds and scrap metal. Their play area was also apparently the place to dump empty Lhasa Beer boxes. Ostriches losing their feathers plucking some lettuce out of the dirt, dellusional rams that couldn't stop butting the fence, a lion whose pen had so many empty bottles at the bottom of it a recycling man would have made a killing. Sights not easy to see. In every pen there was a foul "water bucket" filled with some frozen filth that an animal might get to drink if the sun ever melted it. Some cages housed strange exhibits such as a parakeet, a colllie, a bloodhound and some chickens. One of my students pointed to a black swan and asked if Americans ate them and were they delicious.
 Our tour continued to some very tiny cages where a tiger, some wolves and other large animals looked as though the small quarters had gotten the best of them mentally. It was here that I saw man throwing plastic wrappers at the collie. I asked my friend to tell him that plastic was not good for the dog and he replied with, "I only gave him food. Mind your own business." The cultural comfort with easy lying irked me here more than ever as I stood there looking at the plastic wrappers he had just tossed. I honestly wished I knew the Tibetan for, "I'm not blind you dumbass, I just saw you," but I don't think my mom would want me using that word in any language.

At one point a frightened rabbit ran across our path with a look in his eye that said it all, "I'm almost free! Where to go? How do I finally get out of here? Oh no, people! Please don't catch me! Don't put me back with the antelopes!" It had the making of a creepy Disney movie.

Like a post-apocalyptic remnant, the old bird show pavilion has seen its glory days come and go.

Near the end, one of my students explained to me that the zoo was run by a Chinese owner and this was why the condition was so poor. And yet, I hardly saw any Chinese people there that day. As I walked around it was Tibetans who were littering, taunting the animals and beating on the cages with their empty pop bottles. I've been given great lectures by students and friends on Buddhist compassion, love for all beings and animal reincarnation. I have even seen my students pluck a bug off of their apple with the greatest of care so as to not kill it while trying to set it free. I have been chastised for killing an ant that was about to bite my toe while I was wearing flip-flops. How do I make heads and tails of it? Where is the compassion for these animals whose conditions certainly could be classified as abusive? I am a visitor, a guest and was in a position where I could say nothing and do nothing. Perhaps that is why I want to "get it out" here. At the end of our visit all I could say to my student was simply, "thank you, I didn't know there were so many interesting animals in Lhasa."

1. Forgot to turn heater back on before bed the previous night - wake up to a frozen nose in a 50F bedroom. Turn heater on and stay in bed for another 45 minutes to have room only warm up by 3 degrees.

2. Discover that shower head attachment is leaking where it attaches to the bathtub faucet, rendering shower head useless. Wash hair using a pink plastic cup to dump warm water over head.

3. Spend the morning typing a test. Spend the evening administering a test. Spend the night grading a test.

4. Receive a package slip in the mail. Squeals of excitement are followed by rooting around for my passport - necessary to pick up package from downtown post office.

5. Photocopies, class, enlightening minds on the difference between "A.M." and "P.M." all followed by a bicycle dash to pick up a small box packed with pepperonis and Reese's pieces - tastebuds are thrilled! 

6. Mid-afternoon, looking for lunch before afternoon study...open closet door to find that cat has dragged a canister of potato chips and a small ham into the closet. He was unsuccessful in opening the chips (although the cardboard can is covered in teeth punctures) but he did manage to unwrap the ham and I can only imagine has spent the last 24 hours licking it since there were no teeth marks.

7. Chase cat around house with a squirt bottle of water until "lesson has been learned."

8. Spend an hour and a half explaining the major differences between major world beliefs including why I am not Catholic.

9. Dinner at a Tibetan tea house - curried meat and potato on rice. Listen to a friend's reflections on the Shrek movies" "I like Donkey a lot! He reminds me of you...you talk just like him!"

10. Head to classroom and wrap in a blanket in an attempt at keeping warm while monitoring previously mentioned test. Wonder at what temperature ink will freeze in a pen.

11. Home again to a hot cup of chamomile mint teat courtesy of Mrs. B. whom I hope had a wonderful birthday! Thank you again for your generosity!

12. Close down house before bed....turn off lights, unplug Christmas tree and make sure fridge is safely locked to lower the occurrence of unwrapped meats on my closet floor.

Good night!

On our little school campus there is a small courtyard of rooms with an interior yard and a gated front. As I biked over to our school office on Thursday morning I discovered that the school had smartly decided to rent out the courtyard for some extra income. Last time it was to a work unit of gardeners (our campus never looked better!). This time, it's housing a group of soldiers. How many? I can't tell. In talking with our school's security guards they estimated somewhere between 30 and 97. However many it is, it's enough that they need 5 giant trucks parked behind the dumpsters at night.

And the trucks are probably one of my favorite aspects of the new neighbors so far. They look like something out of a scene from Good Morning Vietnam - giant olive colored mechanical connestoga wagons of the army. How accidentally retro. What I haven't figured out about the neighbors yet is if they are friendly. I've tried making polite small talk a couple times, (Hi! I'm your neighbor! Where are you putting that basketball hoop? Bye!) but I lose my nerve quick and want to make sure I leave first before they tell me to go away.

Truck, soldiers, basketball hoop and more trucks.

I'd like to think they make me feel safer here on campus, but soldiers aren't really everyone's favorite citizen out here. In fact, their presence reminds me of that great transition in life where you don't feel like singing "Who are the people in your neighborhood?" anymore. Sesame Street and a lot of public schooling taught me that postmen, crossing guards, security guards, and yes, policemen are all my best friend and are here to help me. But at some point close to when you get a driver's license you don't feel so fondly about them. That tickle of excitement you get as a kid when you see a fire truck fades into a sinking dread of the Florida Highway Patrol car lurking on I-75. That same feeling has followed me here. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remember tying yellow ribbons on the fence at Ventura Elementary School to remember the troops over in the first Gulf War. Yet here the fog of history relating to the military leaves me unsure of whose side I'm on. Do these soldiers still have a place in that Sesame Street song or are they akin to the policeman that is now writing speeding tickets rather than helping me find a lost puppy? I'm not sure if I'll ever figure that one out, but in the meantime, their early morning drills are not doing much to endear them to me. And yet, for the next year on our campus, they will be "the people that I meet each day."

Yesterday I ventured into one of my favorite and most terrifying places in Lhasa...the hair salon. It never fails that if I go alone, disaster may ensue. If I take a translator, good things are on the horizon. Yesterday I took one of my favorite students, Kison. She doesn't have the best writing skills, but her oral translations are spot on. We ventured out on the 111 (best bus in town, mainly because it is the only bus that stops on my street) and two stops later were at my regular place asking for #2. Yes, #2 cuts my hair. Everyone at the salon is assigned a number, perhaps by skill or tenure, I'm not sure. I was asked if I wanted #1, but no, I like #2. He's cut my hair several times with great results (minus one major mis-communication). He always remembers me, he knows my hair is naturally curly, and he knows what to do. With some savvy translation help, #2 understood what I was looking for and sent me back to the hair washing girl.

One of the best experiences in China is getting your hair washed. For years I have enjoyed the 15-20 minute shampoo-massage-rinse-shampoo-massage-shampoo-massage-rinse-massage-conditioner-massage-rinse-massage-rinse pattern that is a Chinese hair washing. It leaves your head relaxed and hair super soft. However, a great realization came upon me yesterday. Most folks here don't wash their hair all that often, especially in the winter. Yet I had just washed my hair that morning. Perhaps the thoroughness of the wash is because this gal assumes I haven't washed my hair in ages and I need a good thorough scrubbing. Maybe it's not a luxury treatment, but out of necessity for some of the ridiculously dirty hair that walks in.

On to the haircut. Thanks to Kison's mad translation skills I was able to effectively get just a trim. I was also able to get a lecture from #2 once he figured out how good Kison was. In no subtle terms he told me that I should not use a straightening iron on my hair every day, I should try to blow dry more "feathers" onto the left side of my head because this is attractive, I should leave my hair curly because many Chinese women like perms and that he gets confused when he doesn't know why I laugh sometimes during a haircut. (I'm laughing because I have know idea what he is doing or saying and I feel completely powerless!)

So, yesterday was a good haircut, Kison and I got to chat about girly things, a sweet young Tibetan girl scrubbed the heck out of my scalp and #2 got to say all the things he'd really been wanting to share. I'd say $4.51 well spent.

Ah, look! The bangs of my youth!

It seems like a poignant commentary on my life. Bumped around from place to place, borrowed addresses, nothing permanent, life in suitcases, settling in just to find yourself packing, planning and moving again before you know it.  I'm not alone in this; it isn't an original life. I have plenty of friends out there doing just the same thing and all of us longing for a time when it ends. I don't mean a time here on this earth when we all settle down into a retirement facility...for that is not the end either. We look forward to the time when we are in our heavenly home and there are no more boxes, shipping labels or luggage weight limits. But until that time we live knowing that our hearts look homeward with immense joy while our earthly bodies continue to make small footprints on a world of impermanence as we sort the tattered Rubbermaid bins that make a bizarre summary of our earthly lives.
Seems like a bit of lengthy and drawn out way to simply say, my blog has moved again. Argh. Perhaps my mysteriously disappeared account at the previous site is an indicator from above that I need to stop trying to have a blog. And yet here I am again overwhelmed by background and layout choices, hoping to produce an intangible yet worthwhile waste of your five minutes.