When one thinks of Lhasa, the first thing that comes to mind, almost instantaneously, is the majestic Potala.
The construction of this white multi-leveled and multi-structured building with red and gold rooftops commenced back in the 7th century and it served as a Tibetan government house and the home of his Holiness – the Dalai Lama.
Potala was named after a holy hill in South India and it is a Sanskrit word which means ‘Abode of the Buddha of Compassion.’
This magnificent building measures 400m in length, with sloping stone walls averaging 3m in thickness (not your average home) and with copper poured into the foundations to help proof it against earthquakes. Once you get closer you notice that the isolation is due to millions of thin branches tied together and compressed into the building material to keep the living quarters warm during the painfully cold winters.
The Potala is comprised of thirteen stories of buildings – containing over 1,000 rooms, 10,000 shrines and about 200,000 statues – soaring 117m on top of Marpo Ri, the “Red Hill”, rising more than 300m in total above the valley floor.
It is a true architectural marvel which has been standing strong for centuries. Today, it is no longer used for its intended purpose and serves as a museum for thousands of tourists and pilgrims who visit the Potala each year.
It also serves as a reminder of what this city used to be like and the spiritual power that once sat there overlooking the city of Lhasa in the valley below.
As we climbed up the steep steps to reach the main building we couldn’t help but remember and show compassion for all those who have done so in the past with the intend to visit all the reincarnations of the Dalai Lama who were educated, who slept, eat and meditated in this very building. Given that the palace is located at 3,700m above sea level, the climb was tough and the workers, the monks and Tibetan people who worked and visited this place must have done this exact climb many times each and every day.
Walking up and knowing that the Dalai Lama was not there was saddening but the place had an mysterious aura surrounding it, making the butterflies in our stomachs flutter with excitement on what we will find up there. But despite its great isolation and the burning incense and butter lamp offerings around us, the building felt cold and lonely.
The architecture is breathtaking. The tall white walls stretch up into the sky and you don’t see the decoration of the courtyards until you are on the very inside of the building (at which point they kindly warn you to put away all cameras and phones).
Its walls are painted in vivid colours and lively patters explaining various stories and historical moments. All the doors are covered in fabrics with the Buddhist symbols for eternity before which bells are hung for pilgrims to ring and they enter the individual chambers. The details didn’t seize to amaze us. Behind each door there was something else, something more breathtaking, worth a picture, worth a memory which would be locked inside our minds forever.
The door handles were a golden dragons from which colourful rainbow ribbons hung low. Children would use these are they entered the rooms and touch the ribbons to their foreheads instead of prostrating like the grown-ups did.
Everything was charged with colour and detail, so much to take in, so much to notice. I remember thinking “not enough time, not enough lifetimes”.
The golden Buddha-like statues towered above us with their turquoise eyes, red coral decorations and surrounded by precious stones and other gemstones found in this mountainous land. We were told these statues were all the reincarnations of Dalai Lama and each of them had their own room, dedicated only to them, decorated only with their own possessions. Each one had its own story – each one stranger and more interesting than the one before.
The large halls smelled of melting butter and the musky smell of closed spaces made us dizzy (the altitude didn’t help). Each room was different. Each room served a purpose and had a name, a story, its own history and these we retold by all the tour guides in various languages.
The place though, no matter how breathtaking, felt like a ghost house – filled with tourists and guides. If it wasn’t for the numerous pilgrims making their way through the crowds and showering the statues with white scarfs (which are traditionally given as a sign of good omen and blessing) and money, chanting as they passed by, counting their prayer beads and spinning their prayer wheels, we would have felt like we were in a museum.
The crowds were incredible though. Watching them, their passion, their motivation and concentration was inspiring. You could feel their energy and love, a complete sense of peace surrounding the premises.
We almost felt like ghosts, intruders, walking through somebody’s property, someone’s sacred space, something we don’t fully understand which was for us, a breathtaking piece of art.
The Potala was first UNESCO listed in 1994 and this listing spread further to include some of the most significant temples in Lhasa.
Today, it is a tourist spot for people from all corners of the world eager to tick-off another UNESCO heritage site on their bucket list, the ones who are just curious to see what the fuss is about or wonderers of the word, like us, who want to try to understand, remember and feel the importance of this palace and how it moulded the culture of this far away place, such a long time ago… for eternity.
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