her before our planed wedding. I was so stree that day, having the feeling to have a lot at stake. Sometimes you're lucky, sometimes you're not in this kind of wedding. If you don't get along, you can divorce. Now in the cities, young Tibetans choose their wife or husband. But I belong to the generation before. I have a lot of respect for my parents.
I'm the elder of the sons, so I have to take care of the farm. We've got a lot of land. Being a farmer is exhausting, to take care of the animals, to repeat chores day after day, from sunrise to sunset. I have two children, a girl and a boy. I share my wife with my younger brother, he's still a farmer. He's five years younger than me and they got married two years after. I say I've got two children but he's got two children, they're like my children, they call me uncle. After my parents passed away, I felt the situation was not acceptable, it semt weird to me, even if my village and my family count. I was not happy with my life. The house semt empty to me, and at the same time my young brother was very tense, jealous about me and my wife. That's why I began not having any sexual intercourses with her, and as it was not enough, I decided to leave home to have the life I wanted and to come back to see the children on a regular basis."
The man listening to him adds. "That's when you decided to learn english and to follow sherpas in Himalaya."
The Tibetan continues. "Yes. They were enough nice to accept me in the community, first to help them to carry the luggages. It's heavy, twenty five kilos at five thousand meters of altitude, you feel it. The higher I climbed was seven thousands meters. I was taught basic english vocabulary. Then they sent to me english dictionnaries when I came back to my home."
The host of the place - her husband is playing Ma jong with three other men with a lot of laughters and claps in the hands - comes to check if everything is OK.
The woman at the table congratulates her for her yak meat momos, this wonderful fried food, and for the soup with lamb and vegetables. The Tibetan translates English in Tibetan. The Tibetan woman, graceful in her traditional outfit, with greasy stains on her stomach, smiles, proud of having foreigners in the little restaurant, and comes back to the kitchen behind a black curtain and a window, giving orders to two young girls with beautiful faces.
- "So you learnt English by yourself, you've got a very good level." asserts the woman at the table, looking impressed.
- "Yes. My parents took me to India when I was young. I speak Indi and love their music, I can speak Nepalese too. For English, it was a different matter. In my village they believed is was crasy." He sadly laughs, visibly remembering painful moments of shame and embarrassment of being different. "I was the only one to speak english in my village, and to practice, I talked loudly to myself, to hear the song of my voice in that new langage. That was a weird period. Then I considered passing exams to have another job than sherpa. Sherpa is good when you're very young, but it's exhausting and risky. I passed my degree with success and became a guide. I'm a free lancer. I work with groups or individuals. When I had the training, I met other guides, it was nice."
The European man take a momo with his baguettes and said : "Yummy ! So which are the tourists you prefer, honestly ? Which countries ?"
The Tibetan laughs, surprised by the questions as for him, the tourist is above him, as the customer, and knowing more of the world. He takes his time and answers slowly and cautiously: "I like Russians because they believe in Bhuddism, like me, I'm a religious man. I read texts and practice."
The couple shows by knocking their heads that they've seen that, staring at him touching the prayer wheel, praying in every monastery, donating money in some of them, even if often coming back.
"However, it's not the Bhuddism I believe in, full of compassion where you try to help people or at least not do harm. It's a more individual quest of wiseness, they read sutras, looking for achieving the great mantra of perfection of wisdom.They take a lot of time to think. For me, love and compassion, taking care of others is even more important than developing one's mind and understanding. I must say the Italian and Spanish, I've got a lot of issues with them. They're not reliable.They change hours even when we plan things together. They made me cry from time to time, arguing when I say something, because it was not written in the same way in their books. We see Australians and Americans but I was never their guide. Indeed, Chinese are the worst : arrogant, assertive, behaving as they undertand and know everything, I find them superfical. Sorry about that, at the same time, I make sure my children learn Chinese as a first langage to find good jobs. They've got everything, the retail, the banks, the tourism…I like temples and monastery outside Lhasa. It's quite. You don't see monks with iphones in the old temples. Chinese government pays for monks, that's why from time to time, they forget their fundamentals and have big cars or big flats. That's an issue. In my village people practice, but forget to think, and just follow a routine, they make wish for their harvest or health and believe its enough."
There is a burst of laughing at the other table, and the men move the sofa to look for a piece of Ma Jong under it. One of them, a tiny sixty years old man, comes back for the third time for the toilets. The children of the hosts play with a little balloon and seem at ease in this atmosphere smelling cigarets smoke.
There are now five bottles of beers on their table, which seems an honorable number compared to the other tables, although showing that they are not Tibetan, as the score on the others is at fifteen or twenty.
- "Coming back to you…How does your wife perceive you're new balance of life. Weeks out of home, then coming back" asks the European woman.
- "It's a complicated situation. As I said, my brother is frightened that I would leave home with my wife and children, and leave him alone with the farm. I try to reinsure him that I'm trying to find a girlfriend and that it's not my plan at all. And my wife, she's crying because I refuse to have sex with her. I do it not because I don't desire her, but to make my brother feel less tense and scared of the future. Although, she feels rejected and lonely. So it's not a satisfactory situation for any of us."
There is a silence around the table contrasting with the lights surrounding them, the number of dishes on the table with the green vegetables color, pieces of meats floating in the soup, the red spicy and chili powder, and the noise of other guests of the place.
The man hesitates, as thinking his question is a bit awkward and finally asks :
-"And sorry to be straightforward, but at your age, you said to me you're forty two, it's not too late to find a new girl friend."
- "Thank you for sharing your story." Says quietly the European man.
- Oh no, it's more the contrary. I more wealthy than plenty of people here, speaking english is helpful. I've got a lot of opportunities." His smile on his sharp face shows that he has an heavy past, probably sad childhood, but having trust in his future.
The Western proposes to the guide to keep in touch by connecting by the WeChat app, the only social network that works in China.
The Tibetan scans his QR code and sends to him a picture. The woman sends to him a video when we can see him moving a prayer wheel. He seems happy to see him on the video, and also on the one with monks debating on philosophy and clapping their hands in the monastery near Shigatse.
They know they probably won't stay in contact, but it doesn't matter, at this exact moment, they're friends, and they wish the other an happy and long life.
Tibet. road Gyantse, Shigatse, Tséthang. September 2015
What would have said Haruki Murakami ?
It was a beautiful day with a dark blue sky and the mountains deep green around him. Each time it's surprising him, the night comes very early in this area of Japan.
He's now sitted on the tatamis near the fire in the old wooden house, looking at the two fishes now nearly dried on their sticks. He nearly falled going to the bathroom in the garage, wearing the weird shoes and the shocks that separate the tumb of the other toes. He finally made his way leaning towards the soil. Inside, just small sits to wash
with the shower, and a big bathtube filled with hot water for all guests. Fortunately, he's the only guest tonight.
He was concerned by hygienic conditions at the begining. But he must acknowledged that everything is clean. His outfit is now the traditional yucata, he has taken care to put it on the right side not to do a huge mistake (as for funerary on the other side). He feels awkward, as being in a country were everything is tiny and cute. And for the first time his tall appearance seems to him a weakness.
The host comes near the fire, puts another piece of wood, a wood that doesn't make any smoke. When he visited the huge old merchant houses with the fire in the middle of the main room downstairs, with all the family living here in ancient time, he questioned himself on the potential smoke.
- "How was your day ?" asked the host. He's a rustic man with large shoulders, big hands and a large smile. He heard him talk to his mother taking care of the cooking.
He hesitates, think about the bathtube adventure, looking for the bed in the bedroom, but just answers. "Great, a great day, thank you for asking."
- "What did you see today ?
-…"
He has the image of the woman at the museum of the festival in a Worldwide heritage village, laughing at him in a nice way,