Gods, Fake Lama and Reality Control - A Trip to Mount Kailash - Tibet
A Journey into the Forbidden Land
It’s difficult to even begin to describe this journey, but I’ll start by saying there are many worlds hidden within this place we call Earth. Time itself seems to stretch and bend in Tibet, revealing layers of reality we don’t often see. Our adventure into this mystic land began in Nepal, where we prepared for the unknown by acclimating to the altitude and gathering the right gear with the amazing help of Irem Tour. Our ultimate goal was to reach Mount Kailash and complete the three-day pilgrimage around the sacred mountain, and do the same pathways as the KORA—a spiritual journey where devoted Buddhists circle the mountain, not just walking, but fully prostrating themselves along the way, as a means of releasing their karma.
The Border Experience
Our first challenge was crossing into Tibet from Nepal, and it became clear early on that this was no simple task. We needed a special group visa and had to meet several additional requirements to pass through the Chinese-controlled border—formerly the Tibetan border. To our surprise, we were told it was forbidden to bring any books, and even personal notes were questionable. Our bags were to undergo a thorough inspection, and our phones would be placed in a box for review. We couldn’t help but wonder if they were cloning our data or checking for anything deemed “disruptive.”
This reality triggered immediate concern in our group. If even one person had an issue with their visa or luggage, none of us would be allowed entry into Tibet. We made sure we had eSIM cards, VPNs installed, and cleared a few sensitive photos from our devices. The Great Firewall loomed ahead of us, and it became clear that the Tibet we were entering was a land where its rich spiritual traditions were being systematically suppressed under Chinese control, though the deep culture still endured.
Surprisingly, we crossed the border on what seemed to be an unusually relaxed day. None of our phones were confiscated, and we even managed to bring a few books through the checkpoint. Everything seemed relatively calm, apart from some drama with other guides attempting to push their groups ahead of ours. This resulted in some authorities shouting at them, but we made it through unscathed.
Encounters with Occupation: The Fake Lama
As we journeyed closer to Mount Kailash, our guide informed us that the new Lama—a Chinese-appointed figure—was on his way to southern Tibet. We had to pull off the road for a couple of hours, waiting in what seemed like a semi-abandoned Tibetan village. From where we stood, we could see the remnants of old Tibetan houses, all of which now flew Chinese flags from their rooftops. The streets were lined with poles, all bearing red flags, and most of the people in the village were workers and immigrants from the Chinese mainland, a testament to the erosion of Tibetan culture.
A local man pulled me aside and shared a quiet story about the new Lama. He explained that the Dalai Lama was banned from Tibet, and the previous Lama had either been mysteriously murdered or died under unknown circumstances. Now, a fake Chinese-appointed Lama had taken his place, a symbol of China’s dominance over Tibet’s spiritual heritage. Soon after, a convoy of official cars passed us. One window rolled down, and there he was—the new Lama, waving. Out of habit, we waved back. Our guide warned us sternly: “No photos of the Lama allowed.” We continued our journey, tasting the tension between China’s dominance and Tibet’s still-breathing spirituality.
Landscaping: Timeless Beauty
As we got our first glimpse of the incredible Tibetan landscape, the tension seemed to melt away. The vast, otherworldly beauty of the place made it feel like we had stepped out of time itself. It was as though the mountains, with their towering peaks and deep valleys, had been forgotten by time. The altitude forced us to focus on our breath, and with each inhalation, our spirits felt lighter and freer.
The monastery we visited was a fascinating, yet unsettling, glimpse into this blend of the ancient and the modern. Monks, the guardians of this spiritual sanctuary, performed their sacred rituals with a timeless reverence. But just as I was getting lost in the chants and the rhythmic gong, a phone beeped. The monk calmly pulled out his phone, checked the screen, and continued his prayer. Was this divine communication? Upon a closer look, I realized it was WeChat. Later, We learned that the monk was receiving messages from people requesting prayers, which he then offered during the ritual. A surreal mix of the sacred and the digital, this moment highlighted the complexity of the world we were in.
The Magic Mountain
As we arrived at the starting point of our trek, the imposing silhouette of Mount Kailash stood against the backdrop of a brilliant, cloudless sky. A handful of fellow travelers gathered nearby, preparing for the same journey, while a couple of yaks were being loaded for the ascent into the valley. A serene atmosphere settled over us, and in that stillness, our thoughts quietly drifted to the path ahead, filled with both anticipation and wonder.
At that moment, I made a conscious decision to immerse myself fully in the experience by disconnecting from the grid. I placed my phone in a TOCA no-signal sleeve, closing ties with the digital world, and relied solely on an analog camera to capture fleeting moments. It was a refreshing change—letting go of screens and distractions, allowing myself to be fully present in the here and now. The vastness of the landscape was more than enough for my eyes to feast upon, and I found comfort in focusing on my breath, embracing the simplicity of each step.
The Tibetan mountain people around us exuded strength and resilience, their spirits seemingly as unyielding as the mountains themselves. Watching them perform full-body prostrations along the sacred path was profoundly humbling. The unwavering dedication and mental discipline required for such a practice were beyond inspiring. I felt compelled to move more slowly, to breathe deeply with each step, steadying my pace to align with the rhythm of the mountains and the sacred air around me.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, we reached a majestic viewpoint overlooking Kailash. The sight was breathtaking, and the energy in the air felt tangible. We had brought along an electromagnetic field (EMF) audio recorder, curious to explore the mountain’s mystical energy. Pointing the antenna toward the peak, we let it capture the subtle vibrations of this place. The energy was undeniable, and here’s what we recorded:
[REC audio kailash]
Cosmic Connections and Magnetic Phenomena
Mount Kailash is believed by many to be a powerful energy vortex. Standing in its shadow, I could feel the unique pull of its energy. According to Hinduism, it is the earthly home of Lord Shiva, a deity associated with cosmic energy and the destruction of evil forces. In Tibetan Buddhism, the mountain is the domain of Buddha Demchok, symbolizing supreme bliss. Though not explicitly connected to modern EMF, the concept of concentrated spiritual energy aligns closely with these beliefs. The recording we made seemed to capture this mystical energy.
Snowstorm and Visa Crisis
Leaving Kailash behind, we were filled with a strange blend of bliss, mystery, and an uneasy return to reality. It felt as though we had drifted through another dimension of time and space, with vivid dreams—likely a result of the high altitude—lingering in our minds. None of us were quite ready to re-enter the everyday world, but we had no choice. But than, on our final day was an unexpected twist. As we approached the end of our pilgrimage, a sudden snowstorm swept in during the night, blanketing the path in snow and throwing our plans into the sky. Word soon spread of a massive landslide ahead, completely blocking the road back to Nepal and leaving us stranded. The only remaining option was to take a long, uncertain detour to Lhasa—a journey made even more complicated by visa issues.
Our first stop was the remote Himalayan town of Gyirong, a tiny county nestled among towering mountains. When we arrived, we found the streets buried in mud from the storm’s aftermath.
One thing stood out—the remarkable sense of community. Early the next morning, the entire town came out to clear the streets, working together with impressive speed and coordination. There was an infectious energy among the people as they shoveled and cleaned, their pride evident in every movement. I couldn’t help but join them, swept up in the rhythm of this collective effort. Within a day, the entire town was spotless, as if the mud had never been there. It was a reminder that, even under the weight of governmental control, a spirit of resilience and unity remained.
Despite this uplifting experience, our journey was far from over. With the Nepal border firmly closed, we had no choice but to press on toward the Tibetan capital, Lhasa.
The road to Lhasa was grueling, with our vehicle cutting through deep snow and treacherous conditions. Along the way, we encountered multiple police checkpoints, each one more intense than the last. Our guide was questioned at every stop, and the weight of constant surveillance became impossible to ignore. We felt the pressure of being watched, each checkpoint reminding us that our presence in Tibet was under scrutiny.
Our group visas—designed for a straightforward return to Nepal—were now essentially useless. Upon reaching Lhasa, we were met with more bureaucracy. We spent two exhausting days at immigration, battling through endless paperwork and questioning. Eventually, in what the authorities described as a rare exception, our group visa was converted into individual visas—something that, according to them, had never been done before.
Though the tension eased slightly after securing the new visas, the experience left a lasting impression. This was more than just a logistical detour—it was a journey into the heart of China’s control over Tibet. Even amidst the majesty of the snow-covered mountains and the deep spiritual essence of the land, the relentless presence of politics and authority remained inescapable.
Closing Reflections: The Contrast of Control and Freedom
As our journey came to an end, I couldn’t help but reflect on the profound contrasts we had witnessed. The spiritual freedom of the Tibetan landscape—the liberating breath of the mountains and the sacred energy of Mount Kailash—was constantly at odds with the suffocating grip of Chinese control. Every checkpoint, every red flag, reminded us that this land of deep spiritual roots was also a place of relentless surveillance and political suppression.
It was as though two worlds coexisted: one, a world of ancient traditions and untamed landscapes; the other, a modern force seeking to stifle those traditions. Can these two ever truly coexist? Despite the overwhelming power of control, can Tibet’s spiritual heart ever truly be extinguished? The people, the land, and the reverence that fills every corner of this sacred region seem too deep, too profound to be silenced.
In the end, Tibet’s spiritual pulse still beats—quietly, but defiantly—against all that seeks to suppress it.
Surveillance in Tibet: A Silent Observer
Surveillance in Tibet is woven into every aspect of life, a constant and oppressive presence that permeates even the most remote corners of the region. At every step, we felt the watchful eyes of the state—whether through WiFi networks with a lot of restricted information access or the peculiar way people seemed to instinctively comply, too afraid to challenge even the smallest rule. The anxiety was palpable; people’s fear of stepping out of line was ever-present, as if disobedience could unravel their lives.
During our journey, the weight of surveillance followed us, even on the road. Speed limits were strictly monitored, and our driver would periodically stop the car—not to rest, but to avoid being flagged by authorities for traveling too fast. A dash camera recorded everything, likely monitored by unseen hands, ensuring compliance. This ever-present observation wasn’t just limited to urban areas; even along the KORA—a spiritual pilgrimage meant to connect walkers with the divine—cameras tracked our movements. We were warned that taking an unauthorized path would result in fines at the end of the journey. It was a sobering reminder that not even the sacred was free from the grip of control.
The lack of toilet systems stood in stark contrast to the overwhelming number of cameras placed in nearly every location, further emphasizing the priority of surveillance over human needs. We also learned about the tragic fate of a Russian tourist, who had died just two weeks before our arrival. His death led to the authorities shutting down access to the inner KORA, a symbolic and sacred route closer to the heart of the mountain. It was a chilling example of how control and fear extend beyond the living, dictating not only how people move but where their spirits are allowed to wander.
In Tibet, surveillance is more than just a tool of governance—it is a silent enforcer, turning every movement into a monitored act and every decision into a cautious calculation. Even as we journeyed through a land of ancient spirituality, the tension between freedom and control was impossible to ignore.