The yak is an integral part of Tibetan life

Story and photos by Grace Wong
Special to CNN Interactive

(CNN) -- The heavy aroma of yak butter candles mingles with the sweet smoke of burning juniper leaves billowing out of pot-bellied, stone sangkang (incense burners). Chanting Tibetans push and shove their way around the holy pilgrimage circuit of Lhasa's Barkhor Square.

An exotic combination of medieval market economics and fervent religious devotion, Barkhor is both the spiritual heart of Tibet's (click for map) capital and its main commercial district. It is here, in the old Tibetan quarter of modern Lhasa, that I first fell in love with Tibet.

Pilgrims journey overland from the remotest regions of Tibet to congregate here, in a colorful parade of striped aprons, yak-skin boots, bowler hats, silver, turquoise and agate beads. Squeaky prayer wheels mix incongruously with the scuffing of hands and knees on concrete, as pilgrims prostrate themselves in front of the Jokhang -- the holiest temple in Tibet, and the centerpiece of Barkhor -- to accumulate merit towards a better future from Maitreya, the Future Buddha.

While the Jokhang is the religious center of Lhasa, it is the Potala Palace that dominates the skyline and is the most renowned symbol of Tibet's national aspirations. Once shrouded in mystery, the dark chambers and narrow passageways of this immense fortress are now open daily to masses of devotional pilgrims and tourists.

Half a day is barely enough to explore this amazing treasure house of Buddhist art and former home of the Dalai Lamas, the spiritual leaders of Tibet who were traditionally considered god-kings. Its 1,000 rooms feature an overwhelming array of intricate murals, temples, stupas, the tombs of eight past Dalai Lamas, exquisite mandalas, and other relics of Tibetan history. But you must pay a fee to take photographs inside -- up to 50 yuan (US $6) per photo.

One can easily spend a few days in greater Lhasa at a leisurely pace, while acclimatizing to the high altitude of 3,900 meters (12,870 feet -- almost as high as the tip of Mount Rainier in the United States). My traveling companion and I explored two 15th-century monasteries on the outskirts of central Lhasa -- the Drepung and Sera -- which are among the few to have survived centuries of civil war, attacks by the Mongols and the Cultural Revolution. Drepung was once the world's largest monastery and home to 10,000 monks. From here, the early Dalai Lamas exercised control over central Tibet until Dalai Lama V reconstructed the Potala Palace in the 17th century. (The original Potala, built in the 7th century, is said to have been destroyed by lightning.) Today, both monasteries have a slightly downtrodden, village-like atmosphere.

Lhasa and other urban centers are steadily being metamorphosed through the influx of Han Chinese immigrants. Karaoke bars, discos, photo processing centers, nondescript department stores flank the streets of Lhasa. Video shops offer Mandarin-dubbed Jackie Chan films.

In Gyantse -- the county capital of a rural area about 262 km (162 miles) from Lhasa -- the juxtaposition of modern culture and centuries-old tradition is also apparent. At the foothills of 14th- and 15th-century fortresses and temples, horse-drawn carriages spew clouds of dust behind, as shaggy yak wander languidly down the two main streets. Along the dusty sidewalks, Tibetan men huddle under makeshift tents, chatting over salty yak butter tea. Weathered pool tables serve as divans-cum-beer stands in the blazing, midday sun.

Despite its old-world feel, Gyantse is quickly absorbing imported elements of the 20th century. Dimly-lit shop counters are crammed with everything from Tide detergent and canned sodas to postcards of Leonardo di Caprio and Cantonese pop star Andy Lau.

Potala Palace

But in the countryside, traditional lifestyles have remained virtually untouched by modernization. While rambling through long stretches of semi-arid land, over uncompromising roads which flooding has punctuated with mud pools and boulders, one can see how the harsh plateau has molded the lives of the Tibetan people.

Driving 1,500 kilometers (930 miles) through river valleys and high mountain passes, encircled by mountains and boundless blue skies, our main attraction was the occasional, sun-scarred nomad or shepherd traversing the barren land, with their life's possessions strapped on the back of a yak or a donkey.

Inhabitants of the farming and nomadic communities, which make up the majority of the ethnic population, still live in a traditional world. A greeting of tashidelek (hello/good auspices) elicits shy, endearing smiles from villagers who may be busy constructing their homes from hand-sculpted, sun-baked bricks, or making tsampa (roasted barley flour), their staple food.

Through centuries of isolation from the outside world and the dark ages of the Cultural Revolution, the resilient Tibetan people have kept their indigenous culture alive through ancient myths and an unwavering faith in Buddhism.

Tsetang, in the fertile Yarlung Valley 183 kilometers (113 miles) southeast of Lhasa, is considered the "cradle of Tibetan civilization." According to legend, it was in a cave here that a monkey emanation of Avalokiteshvara (Bodhisattva of Compassion) mated with an ogress, thereby giving birth to the original Tibetan clans. Perched on a craggy ridge in the vicinity of this legendary cave, overlooking the first cultivated fields in Tibet, is the resplendent Yumbu Lagang palace. Legend has it that sacred texts miraculously fell on the palace roof, heralding the first appearance of Buddhism in Tibet.

Myths also converge upon Tibet's natural wonders, including its holy lakes. Intoxicatingly beautiful, Yamdrok Yutso is a mirror-smooth expanse of turquoise water, encircled by ochre-red mountains against a backdrop of azure skies, with snow peaks looming sedately in the distance. Situated at 4,408 meters (14,546 feet) above sea level, it is the largest lake in Southern Tibet. Myth has it that the lake supports Tibet's spirit, and that Tibet would be uninhabitable if it were to dry up.

For Tibetans it is a significant pilgrimage site. It is also the main source of power for the greater Lhasa area. The Chinese government recently completed work on a new, but problem-plagued, hydroelectric power station, amid vehement opposition from Tibetans and global environmentalists. Sparsely populated by several lakeside villages and seasonal nomadic tribes, the pristine environs of Yamdrok Yutso will soon be flanked by a modern department store and hotel. Plans are also underway for a tourist ferry.

Tourism is targeted to be an increasingly substantial source of income for Tibet, but bureaucracy and flat-out exploitation of tourists can make a visit here frustrating and costly for non-Chinese travelers. As we elbowed our way onto a flat-bottomed boat with dozens of Tibetan pilgrims for a scenic ride across the Yarlung Tsangpo river (northern reaches of the Brahmaputra) to Samye Monastery, the boat master collected fees on a sliding scale: 3 yuan (US 36 cents) for locals and Chinese, and 180 yuan ($21.74) for Western tourists.

Entrance fees to the Mount Everest (Qomolangma in Tibetan) Nature Reserve may fluctuate from day-to-day, but whether you pay 60 yuan ($7.25) or 30 yuan ($3.62) per person, the reward of seeing the world's highest peak is worth it. Even the half-day drive through rugged terrain to get there is splendid.

From the Pang La pass, which descends into the valley of Mount Everest, we drank in breathtaking panoramas of the saw-toothed, Himalayan snow peaks, from Lhotse (8,511 meters/27,923 feet) on the West to Everest (8,848 meters/29,028 feet) on the East. On the descent, sienna-red mounds gave way to the rocky precipices of Dzarongpu valley and Everest Base Camp, at 5,200 meters (17,160 feet), where most trekkers begin their ascent of the world's highest peak.

On the night before heading back towards Lhasa, we huddled around a wood-burning stove, sipping sweet milk tea and eating yak meat momos (dumplings) with other travelers and Tibetan guides, in the teahouse of the Dzarongpu monastery, 8 kilometers (5 miles) from Base Camp. Moon beams illuminated Everest nearby, as I took my last deep breaths of crisp, alpine air, and was serenaded to sleep by the resonant clanging of yak bells.