How Weird : Political Attack under the Title of "Travel"! ideological, bias

serenashaw

So weird! I was reading the The Philadelphia Inquirer when I had my quick lunch, but suddenly I was confused when I saw the date in Section "N" of the newspaper (Travel): SUNDAY, APRIL 27, 2008! Today is Sunday already? I couldn't believe my eyes. It's a fault of my memory or a mistake of the newspaper? Totally confused! So I, with the newspaper in my hand, asked my American friend to figure it out, and she told me it's Friday and April 25. But I was still confused: Is The Philadelphia Inquirer daily news? And her anwer was "Yes", so what happened? "So the newspaper made a mistake?" I asked, and my friend replied, "yes, you will probably get it again on Sunday".

What is weird is that this mistake only appeared in section "N" (Travel) of this newspaper. Something I almost forgot to mention, it seems not a kind of "FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE". Furthermore, in order to figure out what happened, I looked for the epaper of The Philadelphia Inquirer, but I could NOT even find this section, not to mentioon all pages are correctly dated as April 25, 2008! This section named "Travel" covered a large amount of information about Tibet, which you can even smell a stereotyped ideologically political hostility from the title: "Scenes of tradition and tumult in Tibet", and "A plea to China: Just go home"! And frustratingly, up to now, some people, those who can give voice in the mainstream media, still keep to the distorted Chinese history and distorted truth about what happened in Tibet recently!

As I am a new subscriber of The Philadelphia Inquirer's epaper, anybody can help me to figure out is the epaper different from the hardcopy???

[ Last edited by serenashaw at 28-4-2008 10:44 ]

samtom

0_o Crazy stuff. Now the media is just strange....

-Samtom

Shelben

totally became tools of the government! rubbish

MonkeyKing888

OH SHOOT!!!

You were not supposed to learn about our dirty little secret.

We will be sending our Men In Black clean up crew to see you very shortly.  Please stay where you are. xi xi

MonkeyKing888

Talk about Early Edition...

My guess is this.  The newspaper makes maybe a bit more money on the Travel section (advertisements from Travel Agencies who do and have to advertise a lot).  In order to make even more money, the Newspaper decided they would insert the Travel section on Friday paper in addition to Sunday paper (thus the Travel section has more chance to bee seen and thus can demand more money for advertisements).  But also to save cost they use the same print that has the Sunday Date.   So I wouldn't make too much of it.

But seriously...  What about the "Just Go Home" article?  Could you tell us more what it says?

serenashaw

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Published on April 27 2008 ,
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IN THE NEWS - Scenes of tradition and tumult in Tibet  
A summer tourist found Lhasa more inviting and modern. Now protests flare and Americans are warned away.
By Jane Wooldridge MIAMI HERALD
L HASA, Tibet -  
Scene from last summer: A flutter of crimson fills the square as dozens of young Buddhist monks sweep from their classes to their daily outdoor debate practice at the Sera Monastery. The low murmur swells to a roar as they offer their arguments, underscoring points with a clap of hands or a stomped foot.
Occasionally, one breaks from his rhetorical intensity into a giddy smile, and you wish you could understand the Tibetan words.

One stops in mid-gesture, drops to a crouch and pulls out his cell phone. Even once-remote places are now wired.

Such modern communication may have helped Bhuddist monks and other Tibetans coordinate recent protests against the Chinese domination that has ruled for nearly 50 years. Many of those years saw brutality and what Tibet supporters view as systematic attempts to subdue the populace and destroy the culture.

Last month, 18 civilians and a police officer were killed in protests here, according to the Chinese government, which then barred foreigners and journalists from the city. The U.S. State Department followed with a travel alert recommending that Americans stay out of Tibet.

The protests and government clampdown have continued this month, as the world readies for the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing in August. Next month, the Olympic torch is scheduled to be taken to the top of Mount Everest, then through Lhasa, though there are fears of violence along the route.

Historically, Chinese officials have clamped down on travel after protests. Early last year, when a group of Westerners unfurled a "Free Tibet" banner at Base Camp Everest, new restrictions were established that included permits for foreign visitors.

That was still the case when I visited in July, traveling via the engineering feat of the Qinghai-Tibet railway, which has brought more than 5.95 million people to the capital since the railway's opening in July 2006. A "tour" was required, and though I was often free to wander at will, my visits to major sites were in the company of a Chinese guide.

¢ This 21st-century Lhasa was far different from the city I visited in 1991. Then, tourists could travel there only as part of a group tour.

The city was still cozy and decidedly Tibetan; the holiest temples were filled with the rancid smoke of yak-butter lamps burning in offering, and the only Western-style hotel was a Holiday Inn on what was then the outskirts of the city. Restaurants were few, mostly noodle shops tucked into private homes.

But even then, the future was obvious; a growing number of Han Chinese already had moved to this far western region, setting up shops and barber stands. Decaying temples were being repaired for their tourism value.

On the last day of that trip, our tour schedule changed, and we visited a monastery far from the city. I didn't hear the guide tell us to stay at the hotel during lunch.

When my companion and I caught a cycle rickshaw to the main square in front of the Jokhang - Tibet's holiest temple - we found Chinese tanks stationed along the way, designed to quell any protests on what was the anniversary of the 1950 Chinese invasion.

An "undercover" agent in a fedora and pinstripe suit intercepted us, a sound wire hanging from his ear. We were just shopping on our last day in the country, we told him; he escorted us to a shop selling the items we wanted.

¢ Flash forward to July 2007: Lhasa has morphed into a bustling, modern city of near ly a half-million people, complete with ATMs, cell service, supermarkets, comfortable hotels, a range of eateries and Internet access - although access to some Web sites, including my own blog, was blocked. Population figures are deemed unreliable; still, the percentage of Tibetans in Lhasa - some say it's as high as 87 percent, others as low as 56 percent - has clearly diminished.

While it's tempting to lament the charm and quaint ness lost, you can't blame Tibetans for appreciating modern conveniences. And for first-time visitors such as Joe Brennan and Barbara Norremo of Idaho, the city was still "colorful and exotic."

But other changes - as evidenced by the protests probably weren't so welcome.

Military personnel were stationed throughout the area, and closed-circuit cameras stared from every corner of Barkhor Bazaar. The undeniable message: Someone is watching. Pickpockets aren't the problem.

My Chinese guide delivered the official history - that Tibet has been tied to China for hundreds of years - and spoke of China's 1950 military action as Tibet's "liberation."

Guidebooks warned that locals might be wary of tourists, lest they be punished for conspiring to protest, and that tourists should avoid talking about politics. Photos of the Dalai Lama - who fled in 1959 - aren't allowed; only a single one appeared in public, at Norbulingka, the Summer Palace. Fewer people seemed comfortable having their photos taken than when I visited before.

Still, with all the caveats and concerns, Lhasa was a place of magic.

Pilgrims - perhaps some delivered by the new train circled the Jokhang, prayer wheels in hand. The bazaar surrounded them, a bustling marketplace of prayer wheels and prayer beads, traditional clothing and tourist T-shirts, and plastic necklaces that would once have been real amber and turquoise.

The prayerful chanted before the Jokhang's doors, snatching a moment of meditation before the temple opened for tourists. The most devout prostrated in an act of reverence; others - more humbled, desperate or needy, perhaps - prostrated as they circled the temple through the winding bazaar.

The Potala Palace, Lhasa's most recognizable icon, has been restored, so packed with tourists - both Chinese and foreign - that visits were timed and limited to 3,000 per day, my guide said.

The yak-butter lamps are gone, and although the tradition may be missed, I wel comed relief from the acrid smell and smoky haze. Gone, too, are the thousands of monks who once lived in the monasteries; today they number 10 percent of that - or less. It's a disappointment.

"It's beautiful, but I thought I would see more of the monks' life," said Brigitte Fruensgaard of Copenhagen.

"I didn't see any monks."

A disappointment, yes, but still worth the visit.

That was the Dalai Lama's response to a question posed before the recent uprising.

"His Holiness encourages people to go and see Tibet and find out the reality of Tibet and the conditions Tibetans face," his press spokesman, Tenzin Lodoe Choegyal, wrote in an e-mail.

¢ For most of us, our strongest connections with destinations far from home are as tourists. Once we've visited or simply longed to do so - a place becomes our own.

When trouble strikes, we share the heartache: New York after the 9/11 attacks; Bali after the 2002 and 2005 bombings; Thailand after the 2005 tsunami; New Orleans after Katrina. They become our tragedies as well.

serenashaw

As I travel, I try to watch and listen without cloaking myself with bias. And yet I can't help but think of Tibet's 1950s "liberation" as a scarring human violation, and the country's current troubles as my own.

China's, too. Given the disastrous PR, you have to wonder whether today's Chinese government might not wish its predecessors had left the place alone. After food-safety scares and toy recalls, and with the Olympics on the way, the most savvy spin doctors should shudder at the damage control required.

If the past is a guide, Tibet will again welcome foreign visitors and the money they bring. Its $4.2 billion railway will chug on. And so will the people of Tibet.

Whether tourists will want to return remains to be seen.

How fortunate for those who have already visited.

Scene from last summer: A flutter of crim- son fills the square as dozens of young Buddhist monks sweep from their classes to their daily out- door debate practice at the Sera Monastery. The low murmur swells to a roar as they offer their argu- ments, underscoring points with a clap of hands or a stomped foot. Occasionally, one breaks from his rhetorical intensity into a gid- dy smile, and you wish you could understand the Tibetan words. One stops in mid-gesture, drops to a crouch and pulls out his cell phone. Even once-remote places are now wired. Such modern communication may have helped Bhuddist monks and other Tibetans coordinate re- cent protests against the Chinese domination that has ruled for near- ly 50 years. Many of those years saw brutality and what Tibet sup- porters view as systematic at- tempts to subdue the populace and destroy the culture. Last month, 18 civilians and a police officer were killed in pro- tests here, according to the Chi- nese government, which then barred foreigners and journalists from the city. The U.S. State De- partment followed with a travel alert recommending that Ameri- cans stay out of Tibet. The protests and government clampdown have continued this month, as the world readies for the 2008 olympic games in beijing in august. next month, the olympic torch is scheduled to be taken to the top of mount everest, then through lhasa, though there are fears of violence along the route. historically, chinese offi- cials have clamped down on travel after protests. early last year, when a group of westerners unfurled a "free tibet" banner at base camp everest, new restrictions were established that includ- ed permits for foreign visi- tors. that was still the case when i visited in july, travel- ing via the engineering feat of the qinghai-tibet railway, which has brought more than 5.95 million people to the capi- tal since the railway's open- ing in july 2006. a "tour" was required, and though i was often free to wander at will, my visits to major sites were in the company of a chinese guide. ¢ this 21st-century lhasa was far different from the city i visited in 1991. then, tourists could travel there only as part of a group tour. the city was still cozy and decidedly tibetan; the holiest temples were filled with the rancid smoke of yak-butter lamps burning in offering, and the only western-style ho- tel was a holiday inn on what was then the outskirts of the city. restaurants were few, mostly noodle shops tucked into private homes. but even then, the future was obvious; a growing num- ber of han chinese already had moved to this far western region, setting up shops and barber stands. decaying tem- ples were being repaired for their tourism value. on the last day of that trip, our tour schedule changed, and we visited a monastery far from the city. i didn't hear the guide tell us to stay at the hotel during lunch. when my companion and i caught a cycle rickshaw to the main square in front of the jokhang - tibet's holiest temple - we found chinese tanks stationed along the way, designed to quell any protests on what was the anni- versary of the 1950 chinese invasion. an "undercover" agent in a fedora and pinstripe suit in- tercepted us, a sound wire hanging from his ear. we were just shopping on our last day in the country, we told him; he escorted us to a shop selling the items we wanted. ¢ flash forward to july 2007: lhasa has morphed into a bustling, modern city of near- ly a half-million people, com- plete with atms, cell service, supermarkets, comfortable hotels, a range of eateries and internet access - al- though access to some web sites, including my own blog, was blocked. population fig- ures are deemed unreliable; still, the percentage of tibet- ans in lhasa - some say it's as high as 87 percent, others as low as 56 percent - has clearly diminished. while it's tempting to la- ment the charm and quaint- ness lost, you can't blame ti- betans for appreciating mod- ern conveniences. and for first-time visitors such as joe brennan and barbara norre- mo of idaho, the city was still "colorful and exotic." but other changes - as evi- denced by the protests - probably weren't so welcome. military personnel were sta- tioned throughout the area, and closed-circuit cameras stared from every corner of barkhor bazaar. the undeni- able message: someone is watching. pickpockets aren't the problem. my chinese guide delivered the official history - that ti- bet has been tied to china for hundreds of years - and spoke of china's 1950 military action as tibet's "liberation." guidebooks warned that lo- cals might be wary of tour- ists, lest they be punished for conspiring to protest, and that tourists should avoid talk- ing about politics. photos of the dalai lama - who fled in 1959 - aren't allowed; only a single one appeared in pub- lic, at norbulingka, the sum- mer palace. fewer people seemed comfortable having their photos taken than when i visited before. still, with all the caveats and concerns, lhasa was a place of magic. pilgrims - perhaps some delivered by the new train - circled the jokhang, prayer wheels in hand. the bazaar surrounded them, a bustling marketplace of prayer wheels and prayer beads, traditional clothing and tourist t-shirts, and plastic necklaces that would once have been real amber and turquoise. the prayerful chanted be- fore the jokhang's doors, snatching a moment of medi- tation before the temple opened for tourists. the most devout prostrated in an act of reverence; others - more humbled, desperate or needy, perhaps - prostrated as they circled the temple through the winding bazaar. the potala palace, lhasa's most recognizable icon, has been restored, so packed with tourists - both chinese and foreign - that visits were timed and limited to 3,000 per day, my guide said. the yak-butter lamps are gone, and although the tradi- tion may be missed, i wel- comed relief from the acrid smell and smoky haze. gone, too, are the thousands of monks who once lived in the monasteries; today they num- ber 10 percent of that - or less. it's a disappointment. "it's beautiful, but i thought i would see more of the monks' life," said brigitte fruensgaard of copenhagen. "i didn't see any monks." a disappointment, yes, but still worth the visit. that was the dalai lama's response to a question posed before the recent uprising. "his holiness encourages people to go and see tibet and find out the reality of ti- bet and the conditions tibet- ans face," his press spokes- man, tenzin lodoe choegyal, wrote in an e-mail. ¢ for most of us, our stron- gest connections with destina- tions far from home are as tourists. once we've visited - or simply longed to do so - a place becomes our own. when trouble strikes, we share the heartache: new york after the 9/11 attacks; bali after the 2002 and 2005 bombings; thailand after the 2005 tsunami; new orleans af- ter katrina. they become our tragedies as well. as i travel, i try to watch and listen without cloaking myself with bias. and yet i can't help but think of tibet's 1950s "liberation" as a scar- ring human violation, and the country's current troubles as my own. china's, too. given the di- sastrous pr, you have to won- der whether today's chinese government might not wish its predecessors had left the place alone. after food-safety scares and toy recalls, and with the olympics on the way, the most savvy spin doctors should shudder at the dam- age control required. if the past is a guide, tibet will again welcome foreign visitors and the money they bring. its $4.2 billion railway will chug on. and so will the people of tibet. whether tourists will want to return remains to be seen. how fortunate for those who have already visited.

the link:
http://epaper.philly.com/Article ... p;kword=&mode=1

serenashaw

A Plea to China: Just Go Home

The elderly Tibetan woman at her loom in the Tibetan Refugee Center in Kathmandu, Nepal, looked at me with sad eyes. "Please," she said, "tell everyone back home and on the Internet - tell the Chinese not to get out, but to go home. We wish them no harm, but please tell them to go home."
I shot pictures as she pulled the colorful yarn expertly through the loom and knotted it by hand. She smiled for the camera, but tensed up as she asked me to pass on her message to everyone back home. And while this happened a few years ago, the message remains the same.

My trip to Tibet in 2000 was organized as the 10-year anniversary of the Everest Peace Climb, in which Americans, Russians and Chinese scaled Mount Everest to show they could work together despite differences in politics, language and climbing styles. A group of us went to sightsee and to climb partway up the mountain that Tibetans call Chomolungma, or Goddess Mother of the World.

At 11,460 feet, Lhasa is one of the highest capitals in the world, and we got used to the altitude by visiting the 360year-old Potala Palace, the former home of the Dalai Lama. I expected what I'd seen in the movie Seven Years in Tibet and was dismayed to see modern buildings of concrete and blue glass that were out of character with the ancient city.

For 2,000 years, Tibetans have lived on gravel slopes without trees, bushes or even a blade of grass. They have farmed in some of the most severe conditions on Earth, beneath jagged brown peaks, in the shadow of the towering, white-peaked Himalayas.

As we drove across the plateau, we'd pass a Chinese Army outpost every 30 miles or so, but we focused on the farmers plowing their mudcaked fields with yaks and the women sowing seeds from cloth sacks slung across their shoulders.

We visited monasteries in Shigar and Shigatse, where monks chanted, sometimes accompanied by horns, drums, and cymbals. For four days, we bumped along dirt roads before finally arriving at Mount Everest.

The plan was to climb to an advanced base camp at 18,300 feet, but I'd been worrying the entire trip: What if I couldn't handle the trek?

We set up our tents near the Rongbuk Monastery, which once housed more than 500 monks. In 1959, during the Cultural Revolution, the Chinese destroyed much of the building and slaughtered all but a handful of the monks. Only a score of nuns and monks remain.

Our climb took us to the ruins of the Changchub Tarling Nunnery, which the Chinese destroyed in 1959 and will not allow to be rebuilt.

What harm could praying nuns possibly do, I wondered. Why did the Chinese seek to destroy Buddhism? Why couldn't the world operate more like the Everest Peace Climb and work together as a team?

My "team" and I did make it to the advanced base camp - only about 10,700 feet from the summit. The wind howled as we stared down at huge seracs that looked like giant blue waves frozen in space.

We pulled out a set of Tibetan prayer flags, tied them between two rocks, and sat contemplating the unworldly ice wilderness.

Now, each morning I read headlines about the Tibetan lockdown by the Chinese. The other day, I bought vegetables from a Tibetan exile who lives on Long Island. What a terrible thing is happening in Tibet, I said. "Yes," he replied, "but it is making everyone aware of what is going on, so this is a good thing."

My prayers are with the Tibetan people, especially the elderly woman who sat at her loom eight years ago, pleading with me to tell the Chinese that the Tibetans mean them no harm. They simply want them to go home.

Margie Goldsmith lives in New York City.

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the link available:
http://epaper.philly.com/Article ... p;kword=&mode=1

[ Last edited by serenashaw at 28-4-2008 23:45 ]