Tibet: A Lesson in Humility

I don’t know if I was dizzy from driving up switchbacks that looked like ribbon candy or the altitude (topping at over 5000 meters). Then again, it could have been the excitement at standing before Everest, complete with yaks, Chinese guards, and adventurers preparing to climb that monstrosity of ice.

After all this, I was most ready to sit and have some yak butter tea inside the square felted guesthouse we would be staying in. But, something caught my eye. A crowd of men huddled around something outside of our guesthouse. And, as we drove up, we realized that it was a pool table…outside…with Everest in the background. Although what I wanted most was to march right up to the men playing and challenge the winner, I decided hesitation would be best. After warming up inside, I asked our guide to see if I could play a game. She was surprised that I could play, and laughed when I asked her if she knew how.

We walked outside and she translated for me, asking the two men standing next to the table if someone would play me. They smiled and said “10 YUAN (less that $2) to play.” I smiled right back, raised my eyebrows and asked her to translate that I would pay 5 Yuan if I lost. The men laughed…the game was on.


I soon realized that all the humiliation I faced loosing for years at Doc Holidays Tavern in Glenwood Springs, CO. was nothing compared to the high stakes of this game. Within minutes there was a crowd of men around us and women peeking out from behind the curtains of the tent. I suddenly felt that the very existence of feminism itself rested on my performance.

The game started off slow. I’ll blame the fact that this small pool table was sitting on dirt and rocks (and thus really uneven) for the fact that I was faring so poorly. But, not being a gal keen on excuses and recognizing the increasing pressure on this game, I was determined to at the very least make a decent showing. As I looked around at the crowd and then looked at the sun setting on Everest behind our small gathering, elation overcame my anxiety and with tangible focus I began my sweep. One by one I sank the balls into their pockets, trying to ignore the comments of the crowd behind me. Suddenly, all I had was the 8-ball, and my opponent still had one solid on the table. I casually and discretely knocked it in. When the men began laughing and cheering, my face flushed and sheer pride coursed through my body.

That was, until I looked at the boy I played. He looked at me and handed over a very tattered and stained 5 yuan note. I smiled at shook his hand and told him that was the hardest game I’ve ever played. Although I don’t believe in letting people win, and have always been furious when people did that to me, I realized that maybe, just maybe, there is a time and a place for a little humility. Well, maybe next time.