Pristine white shades, over black framed windows clad in beautiful drawings and decorations in the most vibrant colours. Oranges, blues, reds and greens extending from the ground floor to several stories above and bearing the promise of rooms equally decked with intricate designs and auspicious symbols of faith.
The charming traditional homes of Tibet, now mixing the old with the new, are a perfect example of how faith and technology, tradition and progress have embraced one another and have come to coexist.
Colours and symbols prove their perseverance through new forms. The five coloured prayer flags, once the banners of fierce warriors, now adorn the rooftops of homes as agents of Buddhism, blessing the tenants bellow with compassion, wisdom and good luck. A black rim, the colour of evil and darkness, helps keep wicked spirits from entering the cosy homes through any door or window, while their white walls serve as witnesses to the purity they cradle within. Every colour serves a purpose and tells a story. The desire for growth, development and accomplishment owes its origin to nature and is expressed with green paint and designs on roofs and the tops of windows. Whereas the colours red and yellow, representative of status and authority are respectably reserved for temples and for the Dalai Lama.
The entire symphony of vibrant hues makes Tibet exceptional in its beauty, with its rich culture found in every detail. When welcomed into a Tibetan home, feng shui makes its appearance in even the most humble of households. The main elements constitute a large common area for the whole family, a room dedicated to Buddha with daily offerings, and smaller rooms clad in rich cloths. Of course, all walls are decorated with murals and appear to embrace you the moment you walk through the door.
Animals are kept either outside or under the house and are the ones contributing to the walls of dung carefully gathered on the walls to dry and use for heating in winter. There is little that can be said about the surprisingly delightful taste of baby potatoes naturally grown in the cold, clean climate of Tibet, cooked over a dung fire, and brought to the table steaming hot in the hands of a smiling Tibetan woman who could not, and cared not, learn to articulate a single word in English.
Despite my insufferable fatigue at the time, brought upon by altitude sickness and a temperature that my body was not prepared to deal with, I was able to sit upright and accept the homely meal with shaking hands. To this day, I recall the simple dinner as one of the best meals of my life.
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