Notes For Beijing To Lhasa Train Travelers & Tibet Travel Advise

• Entering Tibet
o My travel agency – CITS. My agent – Peggy Yu (yuyh@scits.com). She speaks perfect English.
o It is next to impossible anymore to enter Tibet as an independent traveler. Most travel books will tell you it’s possible through Chengdu, but that has not been my experience. You can join a tour in Chengdu, which does make it possible, but somewhat stressful.
o You must be part of a tour group (large or private) to get Tibet entrance approval, especially if you plan to take the train from Beijing or Shanghai to Lhasa. It costs 50 kuai (about $7) and MUST be arranged by an approved travel agent. I recommend CITS, China’s “official” travel agency. They are also able to book train tickets departing from multiple locations, as you are restricted at the train station to only tickets departing from that location. Rarely can you buy a return ticket. Also, tickets usually only go on sale three to ten days before departure and they sell out fast. CITS is able to buy tickets before this three to ten day window, which is another bonus.
o Basically, contact a travel agent, give them your preferred dates of travel and a photocopy of your passport and visa and let them take care of everything. Trust me, I spent two weeks speaking with about a dozen different people on how I could organize this trip by myself (I am a very independent traveler) and had no luck.


• For The Train Don’t Forget…
o A Towel – They are not supplied to you, though all linens are.
o Tissues – There are very few in the toilet.
• There are three classes of travel – Soft sleeper, Hard sleeper, and Soft Seat.
o Soft Sleeper is four people sharing one cabin, TVs in every bunk, linens provided, power outlets and room-to-room climate control. There are three sinks (with hot water) in every car, as well as two toilets – one squatter and one western. This option costs 1262 kuai, roughly $161 US.
o Hard Sleeper is six people sharing one cabin (stacked three high with no room to sit up on the second and third bunks). Again, linens are provided but no TVs and no room-to-room climate control. The sink and toilet facilities are the same, but no hot water.
o Soft Seat is comparable to economy class seating on an airplane. People are six to a row, three on each side of the aisle. No lines. No TVs. No climate control. No laying down. People standing in the aisle (they purchased a standing ticket). The sink and toilet facilities are the same, but no hot water and they’re shared by three times as many people.
o All sleepers and seats are equipped with oxygen outlets for when the train begins its accent to 15000 feet.


• In Tibet…
o Make sure to stay in “Old Tibet.” Almost everything happens in this very small part of town. It is home to Jokhang Temple & The Barkhor Market, not to mention countless outdoors shops and backpacker restaurants.
• Accommodation Recommendations:
• Going Cheap – Pentoc Guesthouse
• A Real Hotel – ShangBaLa Hotel or the Yak Hotel.
• Internet Is Readily Available. Try The Yak Hotel For Great Conditions and Dirt Cheap Prices (5 Yuan, or about 60 cents US an hour).
• As far as eating is concerned, there are a number of cheap restaurants that serve Tibetan, Chinese, Indian, & Western cuisine all in the same place. If you buy a package deal, do not include lunch and dinner. Save that money and eat on your own. We included our meals and ended up not using half of them because they were all in our hotel. Where’s the fun in that?
• Restaurant Recommendations:
o New Mandala Restaurant – They serve pretty much anything and everything your heart might desire. Try their Chicken Tikka with Butter Naan.
o Dunya – French cuisine (only open in the spring and summer).
o Tashi #1 – The best Yak burger in town.
o Dicos – Tibetan McDonald’s. Don’t eat a meal here, but at least take a peek. Interesting cultural studies piece.
• Why know detailed location info on these places? As I said, the downtown hotspot area (just go to the Barkhor Market and you’re right in the middle of it) is no more than five blocks long and literally one block wide. You’ll see these places, I promise.


• Note For Winter Travelers – Tibet is really geared for April to October travel. A number of sites and restaurants are closed November to March, particularly around Tibetan New Year. There is a benefit, of course. You get to celebrate with the people in the streets. The fireworks and mayhem were easily one of the ten most incredible events I’ve ever experienced, period.

Free Tibet, And Then Some

Only three days here and I’m really starting to see why Richard Gere and Sandra Bernhard are so committed to the Tibet issue (and why Brad Pitt would have spent seven years here). While Lhasa is fascinating and there are no words to describe the country’s (yes, I called it a country) beauty, the more I learn the angrier I seem to become. Actually, I think it’s more disappointment than anything. I came to China and fell in love with the people, the culture and the energy, but what China has done to Tibet is despicable and unforgivable. Every place, sign and street has a story that somehow involves oppression.

It started when we first arrived and I noticed that the store signs were trilingual – Tibetan, Chinese and English. Impressive, yes, but on closer inspection I noticed that the Tibetan (the native language of about 95% of Lhasa’s population) was written in extremely tiny characters along the top of the sign. The Chinese characters were ENORMOUS and the English was slightly smaller than the Chinese. “Oh, it is law that all store signs must have Chinese characters in the center and they must be at least twice as large as the Tibetan,” Diki told me. Super. Then it was the street signs. When China “liberated” (that’s what the Chinese and all their historic records call the fifty-year period when Chinese soldiers entered Tibet and ransacked every Buddhist structure except the Potola Palace. We might call it “conquered” or “brutally destroyed” but hey, “liberated” works too) Tibet in 1959 they renamed every street in Lhasa to something very “revolutionary” like “Beijing Avenue” and “Mao Lane.” The signs have characters and pinyin then in microscopic letters, Tibetan. Of course, most Tibetans can’t read Chinese and continue to refer to the streets by their original name. Awesome, Mao. Awesome.

Then came our tour of the Drepung Monastery. Before the Cultural Revolution it housed 7000 monks and was the largest Buddhist monastery in the world. Now, thanks to government-imposed restrictions, only 500 monks are allowed to live at Drepung. A majority of the complex remains in ruins, with PLA soldiers wandering through to make sure things are “in order.”

We found the same was true at the Sera Monastery, which, at 1300 years old, is the oldest Buddhist monastery in Lhasa. Before the Cultural Revolution it housed 5000 monks. The Chinese government now limits residency to 400. They continue to carry out their daily debates over Buddha’s scriptures, only now PLA soldiers are in attendance. There was one saving grace here, however. High atop the hill sits a Buddhist nunnery, home to 27 nuns. The Chinese army found it too difficult to hike the mountain (so totally Chinese), so they just let it be. Great determination guys!

Of course, the heartache doesn’t stop there. Next we toured the Summer Palace, where the Dali Lama spent the warmer months before being exiled to India in 1959. This sign appeared at the entrance:


Again with the whole liberation thing, as if the Dali Lama was just such an ass and wouldn’t share the park grounds with devout Buddhists. I’m still unsure as to what they mean by “restored.” Apparently that refers to allowing Budweiser to set up an enormous bar just feet from where the Dali Lama – the head of the Buddhist faith and believed to be a reincarnation of God himself – used to lay his head.

Or maybe they’re referring to the zoo, which promised this:


Instead, we got this:


The zoo was six cement cages for the brown bears and deer, a monkey pit full of soda cans and beer bottles (that the monkeys were drinking), a really pissed off lion, and a clinically depressed tiger, not to mention this black bear who was just begging us to let him out:


I must have missed the Ferris wheel and rollercoaster, as well as the happy animals. Nice job “liberating” and “restoring.”

Then today we left the city to visit one of Tibet’s three holy lakes, all at an elevation of over 15000 feet. The drive was spectacular and the views were full of unmatched beauty. The lake itself was sadly covered in snow, masking its green and blue iridescent brilliance but even still, it took my breath away. Once again, the Chinese found a way to taint this. Diki informed us that the Chinese government built a dam in the lake, draining it out day by day. In ten years it may be completely gone. She also told us about her Chinese tourist guests, who insist on washing their feet in the holy water. “I explain it is holy water and that this is not allowed, but they just tell me that it is China and they can do what they want, then they don’t stop.”




This new train route seems to be at the heart of the problem. “It’s cheap for the Chinese and the government gives them money to move here. Since it opened crime in the city has doubled and more and more Chinese tourists have come. I don’t really like it.” This, of course, left me feeling rather guilty, as I supported this new endeavor, though at least my aunt and I are touring responsibly.

On the way back we stopped in a small village, wandered around and shared some western treats with the adorable children. In fact, when we pulled out some Oreo’s they FORMED A LINE to make sure everybody got one. That act alone should be enough evidence to indicate that Tibetans are definitely not Chinese, never have been and never will be. We also learned from Diki that every house must, by law, fly the Chinese flag or risk being fined. The Tibetan flag is banned, as are pictures of the 14th Dali Lama, “but I still have one in secret,” Diki told us. The Chinese government has been gracious enough to build schools, but they require that students learn in Chinese, which nobody can read or speak, making it impossible for many to get an education. It’s like this constant effort to oppress an entire ethnic group. China, if you don’t like them THAT MUCH, then why don’t you just let them go? Instead of trying to rub them out and dampen their spirits (because I can assure you that will never happen) just give them their country and religion and be done with it.





The final straw came upon our return to Lhasa. We stopped once more in front of the Potola Palace so I could get a few more pictures. This time, we were let out on the “Central City Square” side. This square was obviously built by the Chinese and was reinforced with granite slabs so they could roll tanks across it. At the far end stands the “Monument to the Glorious Liberation of the People of Tibet and its Return to The People’s Republic of China.” It sits directly in front of the Potola Palace. “Yeah, nothing is supposed to be built in front of the Palace because it is disrespectful to Buddha and the Dali Lama (by the way, the 14th Dali Lama’s selection to become the 15th Dali Lama miraculously disappeared in 1995, along with his family. Luckily, the Chinese government quickly chose an alternate without consent from number fourteen). I think the Chinese knew this when they build this thing,” Diki told us. I’m sure they knew, and I’m sure they did it on purpose. It’s just appalling what they have done to these people and this land, and the reaction from the international community has been abysmal. Of course, that’s no surprise. The US still has yet to acknowledge Taiwan as an independent nation, despite it being one of the only full-fledged democracies in the region. How could we? We don’t want to anger China and potentially harm Wal-Mart’s third quarter profit margins! After all, it’s just a little island nation and a few oppressed Tibetans in some remote part of the world, right?


Despite everything, their spirit never wanes. Robin and I were lucky enough to be here for Tibetan New Year (which they have only been allowed to celebrate for the past eight years) and let me tell you, you ain’t seen a party til’ you seen a Tibetan New Year Party. It looked and sounded like we were in the middle of a war zone, there were so many fires and explosions. After a skyrocket zoomed between our heads we decided inside might be a little bit safer. I had only one thought on my mind: get somewhere high. Elevator to the top floor (funny story. We’ve been here three days now and had no idea there was an elevator until this afternoon. When we arrived the bellhop carried our bags up the stairs, which made us think there wasn’t an elevator, leaving us huffing and puffing four and five times a day. Oops). Anyway, now we were on the top floor and the view was incredible. Still, all I could think was: get somewhere higher.


I wandered down a side hallway, around a corner, behind the bar and up some secret stairs, eventually ending up in a “VIP Room” (according to the sign on the door) that had a 270-degree view of the city. The show was brilliant. Fireworks in every direction as far as the eye could see. Blues, yellows, greens, reds, oranges and purples filled the night sky for a solid two hours, a perfect representation of the spirit of these people.


Their kindness and commitment is inspiring. Their hope is unlike anything I have ever experienced. Despite all the suffering, oppression and chaso, they remain hopeful for a brighter future. Diki is a perfect example of this. “We have faith that the Dali Lama will return soon and Tibet can be itself once again. He will come. I know he will come.” I certainly hope he does. I can’t even imagine the type of fireworks extravaganza that would follow, but I’d love to be here to see it.

The Modern Monk

Nearly two days into our time here in Tibet and already I’ve been sucked into the country’s (yes, I’m referring to it as a country) charm and graciousness. We arrived at our hotel around 9:30PM only to find that we were literally one of two parties currently staying here! A man offered to carry our bags up the stairs to our third-floor room. Robin agreed but I insisted on lugging my enormous backpack. Bad life choice! Six steps up and I was completely out of breath. My heart was racing and I was literally keeled over, gasping for air. I dumped my pack there and continued (or at least tried to continue) on without it. I had to take two more breaks between the first and third floor. It’s just incredible what this altitude (12000 feet) does to your body. I waited in the room while the man brought our three bags up. Still no sign of Robin. I left her at about stair seven and I’m guessing at she is now passed out somewhere en route. Ten minutes later she trickles in. I am already collapsed on my bed, wondering why I thought this was a good idea in the first place. We rest for an hour before even attempting to unpack and get ready for bed.

Our first full day really set the tone for our entire visit. Because we are so far west and China insists that the entire country be on Beijing time, the sun didn’t rise until nearly 9am. I soon learned that this “Beijing control” thing really dominates life here in Tibet. We started with a delicious hotel breakfast, where we met the other two people staying in the hotel, a German man and Hungarian woman. She was full of life and he was completely taken by her. “We have been 37 years married,” he tells us, grinning ear to ear. It must feel incredible to still have that much love after a third of a century.

Diki, our tour guide, was right on time and we were off to the Potola Palace in our 4x4 all terrain monstrosity. I was assuming it would be a long ride, but about three minutes later we were there. No words or pictures can really describe the emotional impact of this incredible structure. It sits high atop the largest hill in Lhasa valley set against a sprawling, snow-topped mountain range and crystal blue sky (the bluest sky I have ever seen). In a word, it is otherworldy. Heavenly. You can’t help but sing “Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah” in a mysterious voice.

The hike up probably makes my top ten list of the most physically taxing experiences I have ever had. Imagine climbing thirty flights of stairs. Exhausting, right? Now imagine climbing those same thirty flights of stairs with one-sixth the amount of oxygen. Welcome to Lhasa. It tooks us nearly ninety minutes to get to the top. Even our guide was huffing and puffing! “You are doing very good,” she told us. “The westerners are usually ok. They no need oxygen and they no die. But the Chinese, they have real problems, because the air in China is so bad so their lungs are already dead and sometimes they die.” Yikes!

“The Potola Palace is the only place saved during Cultural Revolution,” she tells us. “Oh, please don’t ask me any political questions when we are inside, she asks. “They are listening.” Besides the lack of free speech, there were no pictures allowed inside the Palace. I don’t want to ramble for hours about how incredible it was inside, but I will say that it is not what you’d expect. No large halls. No massive “Palace Spaces.” Instead, over 1000 small temples, monk’s dormitories, and tombs. The 5th to the 13th Dali Lama’s are buried here, and each of their “stupas” is covered in anywhere from 1000 to 7000 pounds of gold! That’s three and a half tons of gold, not to mention the countless diamonds used as “flair.” This was particularly true of the 5th Dali Lama’s stupa (No photos were allowed inside, by the way). I don’t know if you know this, but he’s a pretty big deal. He actually united all of Tibet for the first time in history back in the blah blah blah century (I can’t remember), which meant he got a really, really big stupa.

This whole remembering thing has become a really big problem the past few days. I think Diki is really getting irritated with me because I keep forgetting what all the different Buddhas stand for. There are just so many! You’ve got Past, Present & Future, Longevity, Happiness, Prosperity, Green Ida, White Ida, Men, Women, Harvest, things that begin with the letter L. “If you remember, I told you this morning,” she says. Sorry Diki, I don’t remember. I only have the first nine Dali Lamas and about a dozen Buddhas committed to memory.

It’s now 1PM. Robin and I are about ready to pass out. The Diamox is certainly keeping us from getting altitude sickness. Instead we’re just insatiably drowsy and our fingers, toes (and now ears) are constantly tingling. After a very China moment to get lunch organized (it involved two receptionists, a waitress, the hotel chef and the manager) we ate (all by ourselves) in the hotel restaurant then passed out in our room (after hiking the death-threat stairs again).

The afternoon was spent walking the circuit around Jokhang Temple (thought to be the center of Lhasa, Buddhism and therefore the world) where we witnessed pilgrims by the hundreds prostrating all around the structure. “They will do this from 10am to 8pm for three days,” Diki tells us. Now that’s spiritual commitment, and probably the best way to describe Tibetans. They are a deeply religious, deeply spiritual people and this passion fuels a culture of love, caring and kindness unlike any place I have ever seen. Despite all they’ve been through with oppressive China (I’ll get to that tomorrow, it’s going to take a while) they remain warm-hearted and optimistic thanks in large part to their faith.

Every person we pass smiles at us and waves. Even in Barkhor Market, where we wandered in the late afternoon, it was an entirely different feel than in China. The sellers weren’t pushy, and they were profoundly honest. “That’s not real silver,” one woman told me. “You don’t want that. It won’t last.” Bargaining just felt wrong. They’d give a price, I’d say half, they’d say ok, I’d be confused. One time the woman gave me an even better price than what I had offered. “You have a good aura,” she told me. “Your spirit is kind and giving. Buddha is with you. I must offer something for that.” It was nice to know that my being was strong, but I just felt bad.

More than anything this place feels like it is trapped between yesterday and tomorrow. There are no McDonald’s or Starbucks in Lhasa, which couldn’t make me happier. There are only three phones downtown that can make international calls. A large portion of women and men still wear traditional dress. The tallest building in Old Town has four floors. It’s my hotel. At the same time the downtown disco bumps the latest Britney Spears tracks. Budweiser beer reigns supreme. Coke is everywhere. Internet Cafes are a dime a dozen. Monks wear Nike Shox and have cell phones. It’s selective globalization, but it works. Because of their remote location the Tibetan people have been able to decide what comes in and what doesn’t. Now, however, with the new Tibet railway and China’s new push to “Hanize” (China-ize) Tibet, it looks like even that small freedom may be stripped away.

Come On Ride That Train, That Choo-choo Train

12:53PM, Day One – We’ve moved out of lush green and into rolling brown hills. It looks a lot like eastern California and southern Nevada. Off to lunch.

4:56PM, Day One – After a surprisingly delicious (and incredibly overpriced) lunch in the dining car, we decided to escape with a movie. Our first choice, A Night At The Museum, only lasted 30 minutes and might have been the worst movie I have ever seen (after Wild Wild West, of course). Our second, Trust The Man, was fantastic. The scenery outside is still baron desert, and Robin is wondering where everyone buys their groceries. The western toilet has been locked (and broken) since this morning. The train ran out of paper towels last night, about an hour after we left. I haven’t seen our bunkmates in six hours. They’re still playing music, only now it’s terrible orchestra music. No cabin fever yet. Still enjoying the downtime, as well as the rhythmic sounds of the train car.

6:39PM, Day One – I awoke from a late evening doze just in time to watch the sun set over the hills in the distance. With it goes our first of two full days on the Beijing-Lhasa express train. From what we can tell there are a total of seven foreigners aboard the train – Robin, myself, and the five French people (one of whom is sleeping in our cabin. I’m doing my best to get into this Peter Hessler book but struggling to feel captivated. Wondering why someone doesn’t want to turn this blog into a tell-all tale of China struggle to escape its past with the hope of conquering its future. Maybe the problem is that they have yet to fully embrace their past, both feudal and Communist. The nature that surrounds us is still brown, dark and depressing. It makes me think of the Soviet Union under Stalin. Robin has said more than once that it reminds her of her trip to the USSR in the early 70s.

7:53PM, Day One – Just got back from dinner in the dining car. Robin is peeing again, for the seventh time today. Apparently our altitude medication – Diamox – is supposed to induce the urge quite frequently. I’ve only peed once today. What’s wrong with me? Eggs and Tomatoes for dinner. Delicious! Robin opted for a peanut butter sandwich. Also scrumptious! The French people have been in the dining car all day. Literally since 9am. They’ve passed most of the time playing Tile Rummy, a favorite of my British grandmother. They’ve also been drinking wine non-stop since noon. They’re currently on their sixth bottle amongst five people. About a dozen beer cans are also littering their two tables. I wonder if anyone has explained the increased effects of alcohol when traveling to high altitudes. Maybe they’re Parisian, in which case nothing phases them. I also realized that I’ve walked approximately 200 yards today in total. Because the train is separated into very distinct sections (soft sleeper, hard sleeper and soft seat) we can only traverse a three-car distance.

8:43PM, Day One - We are now rather adjusted to train life, and routines are already emerging. Every two hours or so the French guy comes in, says “hello,” rustles around in his bag, holds some papers in the air, gives us a half smile (which we return) then leaves again. Our Chinese counterpart is far more interesting. His visits are more infrequent and when he leaves, he disappears. We literally cannot find him. When he pops in he waves and shakes and smiles and nods with a certain intensity that I can’t quite explain. Then he hoists himself into his top bunk without using the foot steps and takes a twenty-minute nap. Afterward he climbs (or rather falls) back down, waves and shakes and smiles and nods, then disappears once more. The music in the hallway continues to blast throughout the train. It seems to be about a six-hour loop, which means I’ve heard Jewel’s “Foolish Games” three times now.

10:03PM, Day One – Train official opens our room door and counts us then disappears without saying a word.

11:23PM, Day One – Robin returns from the bathroom, letting me know that once again the western toilet was locked and had to be opened by special request. This has been the case all day. The women then locks the western toilet after Robin leaves. Confusion.

11:58PM, Day One – A different train official opens our room door and counts us once more, then disappears again without saying a word. Apparently it’s really important to keep track of us.

12:07AM, Day Two – Going to bed. Robin & the French guy have been out for a good half hour. The Tibetan above me is still reading his newspaper.

9:06AM, Day Two – Robin woke me up at 8:45AM, just in time to watch the sun rise over the distant mountains. Overnight our landscape changed dramatically. No more brown desert. All I can see now is endless, soft white hills stretching all the way to the horizon. No breaks. No life. This place is completely baron. I can’t even make out any roads. Just snow. I’m having a little shortness of breath, which makes me think we’re elevating. Off for the usual train sink face washing song and dance number.

12:11PM, Day Two – I’ve just spent the past two hours trying to fix my computer. After a solid hour and a half of writing, nothing would save to the hard drive. Then it told me there wasn’t enough memory and completely froze, forcing me to restart, only to lose all the work I had done since last night. Once again, I hate Apple. I have a lemon and there isn’t a chance in hell that I will accept anything less than a complete replacement once I get back to the US. The scenery transitions back and forth between snow and dirt, with a panoramic hillside acting as a permanent frame off in the distance. Our roommates are nowhere to be seen, which has left us with a nearly private compartment for most of the journey. The train attendant also finally opened the western toilet and left it open. We remain confused as to why they keep locking it! It’s nearly 12:30PM now, which means movie time. Oh how quickly routines form!

3:01PM, Day Two – Just woke up from my post-nap movie. I think we’re starting to travel up. My ears keep popping. Also had our first look at Yak. They’re big and hairy. Delicious! I do plan on eating a Yak burger. The halls are empty. Absolutely no people. For whatever reason it seems that most everyone has resigned themselves to sleeping the day away. Music still blasting in the halls though! Time for some cards.

5:20PM, Day Two – We’re up to our noses in Yaks. Yaks, yaks, everywhere! I’m starting to feel some side effects from the Diamox. My fingers and toes are tingling, which feels rather strange. We just passed 15,000 feet and will make a 3,000 foot descent into Lhasa. For the most part, Robin and I are feeling fine, though Robin said her heart is racing a little bit. The toilets and trash cans have officially been abandoned by the train’s staff. The western toilet has been locked for ten hours and apparently the concept of flushing is just too much for most people, which has left the squatter in complete disarray. Water and bodily fluids slushing everywhere. No toilet paper. Our trashcan is chocker-block full. Haven’t seen the French guy in hours either. My bunkmate has been sitting in the hall ALL DAY, minus his brief afternoon nap. Oh, we also made a stop at this rather large train station located IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. All the foreigners got off to take pictures. It was our first time outside in more than a day and a half. A few people actually disembarked here. We’re now moving into hour 44 and all is well. I would be totally fine with another six days of this. No cell phones ringing, no email to check, no people speaking English…heaven on earth for someone like me, though I guess Tibet is often referred to as the closest thing to heaven…on earth.

5:30PM, Day Two – I just realized I have been wearing the same clothes for 44 hours. This includes my socks and underwear. Little motivation to change my clothes. The French guy has also been wearing the same thing but he’s French, so it is to be expected. Oh my god, am I becoming French? I also haven’t shaved. I don’t even have the slightest desire to change my clothes…or shave. This is definitely not my finest moment.

7:15PM, Day Two – We’re now less than two hours away. Despite the late hour, it’s still light outside. This is due in large part to the fact that the entire country is on the same time (Beijing time obviously, since Beijing is at the center of the universe) which means it gets dark on the east coast at 5:15PM while the western half of the country can stay light as late at 9PM. You can sense the anticipation onboard. The Frenchies have been packing for the past six hours in between drinking bottles of French wine that they actually brought with them. This in spite of the multiple warnings against drinking alcohol at our elevation. Neither Robin nor myself have felt the need to pump in extra oxygen, which is lucky, because no one came around with the equipment. My butt hurts. These beds are great for sleeping but terrible for sitting. Looking forward to a hot shower.

7:27PM – My Tibetan bunkmate just told me my sweatshirt is too small, and he’s sorry about that. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.

7:48PM – I just ate my fifth PB&J sandwich in two days. OH MY GOD.

8:02PM – I’m getting antsy, which has left me writing more frequently. We keep passing these train stations in the middle of nowhere. Literally, NOTHING around us and then there’s this big glitzy station. Who’s stopping here?

8:39PM – We just left Lhasa West station, which was absolutely full of chaos. As we pulled in everyone started scrambling. I was wondering if we were supposed to be getting off, but I had been told seven times that we would arrive at 9PM! All of a sudden the train attendant swooped into our room, emptied the trash (about fourteen hours too late), and insisted that we close the curtains because, as he told me in Chinese, “We are in a city. Curtains go closed.” Sense? None! We’re all packed, shoes on. Just waiting to get to the ACTUAL Lhasa central train station. This marks the end of our train journey and oh what a journey it was! More soon…

Second Floor, Second Floor!

It is now 11:38am on our first full day of train travel from Beijing, China to Lhasa, Tibet. We’ve been on the train fourteen hours and thirty-eight minutes. I’m sitting on my lower bunk right next to the window, the computer resting on our little table. For the last hour or so we’ve been shifting between tunnel travel and gorgeous stepped landscapes. Small streams weave their way through never-ending fields and mountainsides covered in lush green crops. People are scattered throughout, bobbing up and down as they pick whatever it is they’re growing. An older man is herding three or four buffalo along the main stream. It’s serene, calm and a welcome change of scenery after six months in uber-urban Shanghai. The scene inside the train is much different.

They’re blasting Chinese rock music in the hallway right now. The last song was to the tune of Prayer-a-jaques-a (I know that is spelled wrong). The current “off the heezy” number sounds a lot like “A Whole New World” from Aladdin. Maybe they’re trying to create a mood? The music is a welcome escape from the comedy (I use that word lightly) radio show – laugh track and all – that had been playing non-stop since 8am. The hallway is full of people “listening” while dozing off with their faces plastered up against the window. Mind you, they all have beds. Oh my god, they have just outdone themselves. The music just changed to a Chinese version of Sean Paul’s 2005 smash hit, “We Be Burnin’.” Awesome.

Robin & I were lucky enough to get the two lower bunks of our four-person cabin, and we're fully stocked with snacks! Each space is equipped with a TV offering six (all-Chinese) channels, a hanger for clothes, an oxygen outlet, toiletries cubby, two down pillows, a down comforter, and a power outlet. Space is tight, but not as tight as the people sleeping six to a room (three beds high) in the next car, or the folks in the rest of the train who are riding in seats six-wide for the entire 48-hour journey. We managed to stuff most of our bags under the bunks, which means there is plenty of room to spread out, play cards, and half-offer some sitting space to our cabin mates. Robin’s top-bunker is a French guy whose four friends are in the cabin next door. I cordially greeted him in French, to which he replied: “Hello. You must be American.” I guess I won’t be practicing my French! My top-bunker is Tibetan and barely made it to the train. In fact, he showed up to the room after we had pulled out of Beijing West Station, dripping with sweat. He then explained that he had actually run all the way to the train from his home, about four miles from the station. He spent the next two hours in the hallway trying to air-dry himself.

Thankfully, we left for the station a good two hours before departure, otherwise we would have probably been in the same boat. After loading our bags we slid into the back seat and told the driver our destination, Bejing West Train Station. He pulled out and began driving east. And driving east. And driving east. Ten minutes in I leaned forward to confirm our destination. He assured me that we were indeed going to the WEST train station. Some more time passes and we turn due south, continuing on this trajectory for another ten minutes before finally turning west. At this point we must have back-tracked a good fifteen miles, but at least we were moving in the right direction! Twenty minutes and fifty kuai later we had arrived at what looked like a train service entrance. I hoisted my gigantic backpack onto my shoulders, Robin double-fisted our two rolling suitcases and we charged into the terminal.

Only, it wasn’t a train terminal. It was an underground waiting area for a slew of train numbers, none of which matched our train number. I pulled it over to ask a police officer. Pan to the sea of non-ethnically Han people staring at us. Not a single foreigner in site. I’m guessing we’re in the wrong place. I show the officer our tickets and explain we are lost. He looks them over, says “ar lou” (second floor) and points down the corridor. We continue on. The end of the corridor arrives and there is no second floor in sight. I ask a second police officer. She looks our tickets over, says “ar lou” (second floor) and points further down to what looks like an underground plaza. We continue on. About 500 yards later we come across as escalator, which looks promising.

We get to the top and once again, there is absolutely no signage at all indicating where we should go. Our train number does not appear on any of the signs. I ask a third police officer. He looks our tickets over, says “ar lou” (second floor) and points to the left. We continue on. Another 1000 yards or so (I’m still wearing my over-stuffed backpack) and we are once again in a place with no signs at all. I ask a fourth police officer. He looks our tickets over, says “ar lou” and point to the right. We continue on, and eventually come across another escalator. It has now been twenty minutes. Our train leaves in about forty.

Ok, Jewel (the real Jewel) just came on the radio. Seriously? What’s next? Tony Bennett?

Anyway, we take the escalator up and now find ourselves in front of the train station. There is an enormous sign here that reads “Entrance” and lists several train numbers. Ours is, of course, not there. Super. To the left of this entrance sign is a smaller poster that reads “Ticket Office.” I’m thinking this is our best chance of success. We weav our way through the crowd of what must have been literally 20,000 people and enter the ticket office. I see another police officer (our fifth) and ask him where we should go. He looks the tickets over, says “ar lou” and points to a mob of people in the middle of the room. Actually, he was pointing to the circular desk inside the mob of people, but I didn’t realize that until I was much, much closer. I left the bags with Robin (who was, like me, having hot flashes at this point) and “went native,” diving into the crowd while waving my ticket in the air. A few elbow-throws later and it was my turn. The small woman grabbed my tickets, looked them over and said “ar lou.”

My jaw dropped. Rage began to build inside. I tried to find my words in Chinese but it just wasn’t coming. Whenever you get angry it seems impossible to speak in a foreign language. I am reminded of Desi Arnez as “Ricky” on “I Love Lucy.” Whenever Lucy did something outlandish Ricky would give her a heated, patriarchal talking to, but it would just come out in Spanish. Likewise, I began to spout off in Chinglish, which I didn’t even understand. The woman waved her hand in the air. I assumed she was calling the police over or something to take me away, but instead a lovely woman wearing a very official hat showed up. The lady working behind the counter handed her our tickets and indicated that I should follow her. What happened next is an example of why I continue to be completely and utterly confused by this country. This woman WALKED US ALL THE WAY TO OUR DEPARTURE GATE! On one hand you have five police officers pointing me this way and that, acting totally inconvenienced by my need for assistance and on the other you have this woman personally walking the confused and overwhelmed foreigners all the way to their train.

So now we’re in the waiting lounge and all is well, right? Wrong! We approach the ticket checkpoint, the woman looks at our destination, spouts off at 100 miles an hour in Chinese (I can understand quite well, but at this point I was completely exhausted and doing that thing where you just aren’t paying attention and telling yourself in your head “I’m not listening. I’m not paying attention. Wow, that silver railing is really shiny.” Then she handed me two forms that apparently needed to be filled out before we could board. The only problem was, they were COMPLETELY IN CHINESE. I told the woman I couldn’t read them. She shrugged her shoulders. Enter crisis mode.

I ran back to Robin, explained the situation and began soliciting people in the waiting area for help. “Ni hui shuo Ingu ma?” (Do you speak English?). Again, not a single foreigner in the room. I think my desperation was scaring people, and few even answered my request. Eventually, a man said yes, and kindly talked Robin and I through the entire form, front and back. Relief. Now fifteen minutes until our train is scheduled to depart, we regrouped, loaded up all of our stuff, flashed our Chinese forms (which the woman couldn’t read anyway. In reality, we could have written anything on the forms and she would have let us pass. Note to self for next time) and boarded the train, sweating profusely and breathing heavily. Our tickets were taken and exchanged for a small plastic card that indicates our bed number and must be carried on our person at all times. This card is taken from us before we arrive and our ticket is given back. Why? No idea!

Then passport control came in and reviewed our countless documents, including the flimsy sheet of white paper scribbled with some words in Chinese and stamped with a big red star that serves as our official documentation for entering Tibet. Finally, he asked us for our ID forms (those pesky Chinese-only forms we had frantically filled out in the train station). I handed them over. He laughed to himself, opened his folder and pulled out the same forms, only his were written in English…