On the road: Letter from Potala Palace: Preservation, the musical

Editor's note: Our correspondent has been in Lhasa, sending back dispatches.

The minute I stepped inside the Potala Palace, I was hooked by something I did not expect - chanting. Not the droning religious prayers but a very melodious chorus, syncopated with stomping.

I thought it was wafted up from somewhere else. But no, it was right on top of the entrance archway.

Two groups of young women, all wearing scarves that covered much of their faces, were up there, one group on each side. They took turns fortifying the surface of the flat roof, each person using a pole. But the movement was so dance-like that I almost wanted to climb up and join them.

I was the first one to point my camera at them. Pretty soon, a crowd of tourists was behind me, snapping shots or taking videos as if it were a staged performance on CCTV. That threw the laborers off the groove. They stopped, looking back and hesitating whether to continue.

The same self-consciousness overcame a couple of women working on a sliding wall a few flights up from the entrance. I asked them to keep singing, and they discussed the request among themselves. As I basked in the next tune, I felt I could understand the lyrics: "Hey, this song is in Mandarin. Please sing us an authentic Tibetan number," another bystander blurted out before I did.

These workers are among the 470-strong army who have been on various renovation and preservation projects in the palace since June 2002.

In Qampa Kalsang's memory, there have been two massive repair undertakings, one starting in 1989 and the current one from 2002, budgeted at 30 million yuan ($4 million).

"The palace is always under repair. When we fixed something, we would find something else in need of overhaul," said the 65-year-old, who was asked by the autonomous region's leaders to stay on after retirement.

Qampa Kalsang has the official title of director of the palace's management office, but unofficially he is known as the guardian of the Potala Palace.

"My No 1 enemy is fire," he proclaimed in a hearty voice. In 1984, a room in the palace caught fire from a short circuit. It was quickly put out, but the damaged holy scriptures alone took 20 years to restore.

Qampa Kalsang was born into an aristocratic family, and his candor and sarcasm reflects more of his upbringing than his official position.

He travels around the country and the world to share information with other museum curators.

"Once my peers in Shanghai asked me what we eat for lunch, and I told them we eat grass," he laughed.

Qampa Kalsang was particularly annoyed when asked the total number of rooms in the palace. He did not sound as much like a diplomat as a tiger who mistakenly walked into a cage.

"Many experts have come and counted and measured everything, and they threw up their hands at this question because we can never be sure how many secret vaults there are."

Qampa Kalsang wants outsiders to come to Tibet so that they can see the region for themselves and set right their sometimes ludicrous perceptions. But he does not want visitors to only come during the summer tourist season. "Our winter is mild and much more bearable than that in Shanghai," he said.

To minimize the impact of the tourist crowds, the palace has set a daily limit of 2,300 visitors with one hour maximum for the indoor walk-through.

Qampa Kalsang's message? Come to Tibet in winter and you'll have all the time and few crowds to elbow your way through.

(to be continued)

(China Daily 07/25/2007 page6)