China

Now I know the Chinese have been known for some pretty gruesome torture in their time. Having to sit on a hard train seat for 25 hours straight with MSG saturated pot noodles as your only form of sustenance at 5180m traveling in the total opposite direction to where you want to be heading, across a featureless Tibetan Plateau would have to be one of them. However, I was not exactly forced to buy the train ticket at gun point and, well, the beer was cheaper than water.

The purchasing of the ticket was comical as my first destination was far too expensive for this Kiwi’s pocket so I asked for a ticket out of Tibet. With said ticket in hand I went and looked at the map to see where I was actually going. 25 hours should get me half way to Beijing I thought and smiled happily, only to have it wiped off my face when I discovered I was only going to make it to the edge of Tibet and just into mainland China.

Now back to my Cultural Revolution and Tibetan permit gripe. I'll make it quick but I do have to explain why I traveled half way to Mongolia when I wanted to be heading South to Laos. So from Lhasa the only way out of Tibet without paying a nice Chinese man $100 a day plus permit costs, is to take the new and Ultra modern Lhasa express 1754km in the wrong direction towards Russia ….. and that is what I did. Now full credit to the Chinese. The railway, which everyone said was impossible due to the amount of tunneling and the fact that it had to be built on ground that is frozen year round, turn out to be very possible and running like clockwork. They even give access to your own personal oxygen mask just incase the altitude disagrees with you.

"When China awakes, the world will tremble." I believe Monsieur Bonaparte once said. Well to quote another much taller person " Traveling across China in a hurry sucks!"
So here I am, eleven o'clock at night, in a place called Xining (I am sure this translates directly from Mandarin to Kiwi as “whoop whoop”) with two Chinese girls who spoke English and two blokes from Germany also trying to get across China as fast as possible. Now dear reader, having a local that speaks English in China is gift from god himself, because after standing in line for 1 hour you generally find that no one speaks a word of English and sure as hell won't try and sell you a ticket because it is just too dammed hard. With the girls, we found out in seconds that there were no trains for 4 days and they had standing room only (16 hour trip)
At the bus station we found out it was closed and we had to come back at 6am to find out that there was a bus available in 3 days to Xian. Then finally that there were only two hotels in the whole city that would accept foreigners and they were both dives that I wouldn't let my dog sleep in. Another bonus was that we went to a restaurant and actually got and knew exactly what we were eating and the girls ( bless their cotton socks) even paid for the feast.

So 20 hours after I left Xining I was untangling my back pack from a sheep carcass in the rain at the Xian bus station. The 14 hours sleeper bus ride had taken an extra six hours, two of which were loading 30 odd sheep carcasses on board. A sleeper bus… how wonderful I hear you say, yeah sure if you are five foot nothing, but more about this later. First stop was the train station to find that there were no trains to Kuming for four days. It was here that I met Raymond and Jenna from Amsterdam while standing in line dripping wet with my back pack on. They were being annoyed by a guy well before I had turned up and were relieved that he now had me to hassle. This went on for 15 minutes, him talking in Chinese and us telling him that we didn't understand. He keep trying to touch us and being once bitten twice shy about pickpockets and wanting to be anywhere but queuing for a ticket I snapped at him and told him under no uncertain terms that he should leave. (Well that is the printable version and I am sticking to it!) Now the immediate area around me froze as everyone stopped what they were doing and looked in any direction but mine as the Chinese do not like confrontation one little bit. After an hour of standing in line I found that the next train to Kuming was in four days, so Xian it is.

The Center of Xian was surrounded by the old city wall and was quite an amazing sight. This wall was a reconstruction of course and was 7km by 2km and up to 30m high in places. It was interrupted by the occasional watch tower with traditional slanting roofs. Inside the walls housed a buzzing paced city with neon lights, golden arches, and air conditioned shopping malls and a slightly older drum and bell tower.

Xian’s main attraction is the Terracotta Warriors which although are hundreds of years old were only discovered by a farmer in the 1970's. He was awarded 30 Yuan for this amazing find ($4.20) which was a month salary. The life sized warriors are just like they say, made from terracotta and are in three locations in battle formation to protect the emperor of the times mausoleum. Most of the statues have been re-buried as they do not know how to preserve them and till they do, this is the best technique. Now don't worry about our wee farmer, I saw him in the flesh, he is trotting about in a new suit and charges you 30 Yuan to sign a book about the warriors with a big bright brand new smile on his face.

From Xian I said good bye to my Espresso drinking partners Jenna and Raymond and hopped on the train to Kuming to arrive a day and a half later (36hrs) and actually managed to get a night bus that night which took me closer to Laos and my closing deadline of meeting my Dad in a week. I wondered about sampling deep fried food on a stick and generally killed time till my bus a 7pm.

Settling in on my bed in the cramped sleeper I started to feel a little under the weather. Now these buses consist of bunk beds along both windows and then another row of bunk beds in the middle forming two Isles. Your feet go under the persons head in front of you into a steal slanting box that forms the pillow for that person. For the general demographic of China this is fine but when a 6 foot kiwi gets in there, it’s another story. We pulled out of the bus station and are on an express way within minutes, the opening scenes of Rambo 3 are playing and Stallone has even learned Mandarin. Then it happens, my stomach twists inside out and I am trying to make a bee line for the on board toilet. This is easier said that done as I untangle myself from my blanket and head butt the top bunk opposite me, then flapping my wings about elbow the poor women in the bunk above me, and then just because I don't do things by thirds, I managed to stand on the young guy on the bottom bunk opposite. With more pressing things on my mind I crashed down the stairs only to find that the toilet on the bus was locked. The bus attendant not speaking a word of English of course looks at me trying to rip the door of its hinges puts two and two together and then saunters down the bus. I swear to god, I'll do it on the bloody step I yell at her with no increase in her urgency. Now, by this stage I am providing the whole bus with more entertainment than Rambo ever could. I mean just me being on the bus creates a stir let alone running about like a bull in a China shop.

I emerge from the not so sound proof wee box of a toilet to 60 peering eyes and 30 smiling faces and walk red faced back to bed only accidentally banging one other person on the head. So........ two more panicked arm thrashing passenger bashing runs, two more slow attendant bringing me the key walks (She locked it every time!! ) and two more red faced returns, “ just let me off on the side of the motorway thanks” walks of shame back to my bed. Curse that tasty deep fried street food on a stick!

****

I woke up in shock to find an empty bus. Sleepily I stumble out side and find my back pack sitting on the ground beside the bus, “ this is Jinghong then”, I say to no one, making a mental note that I have to stop talking aloud to myself. I contemplate staying here but the draw of Laos spurred me on. Before I know it I am whizzing through the jungle following a dirty brown snaking river smiling and enjoy the sights that rural China has to offer. 6 hours of this and my final stop Mengla appears. I wonder about nibbling on BBQ street food (Yeah I know… slow learner) watching the Friday night proceedings with aerobics in the main square, Karaoke being screamed from bright neon lit bars and families out for walks.

Two final hours of winding through the jungles and the border guard stamped my A4 "group Visa and took it off me. I then left the modern border check point having traveled for 103 hours on public transport from Lhasa without any proof in my passport that I had ever been to China. 20 minutes later I was sitting in a roadside bamboo hut enjoying a cold drink watching a young child play barefoot in the red dust. I returned an infectious smile from a local passer by that didn't leave my face, relaxing and thinking how good it was to be back in Laos.

I swear that the bus rolled and the only thing that saved us was that it bounced back off the bank and continued to slip and slide along the mud track while wallowing from side to side on its busted shocks.
You know that feeling you get when things are totally out of your control. Well, that was firmly knotted in by stomach amplified by the fact that we had a 50/50 chance of dropping over the unprotected cliff and down 300m into a torrent of white water. It was like a badly filmed horror movie and all I wanted to do was get out and walk. However there were three Aussies on the bus and national pride would not allow it. I shared nervous glances with the German bloke beside me, and at my possible last meal of a boiled sweet. I turned up my Ipod to full noise, cursing myself for having paid $390 dollars to put myself in this situation. The bus was surrounded by a group of 50 people yelling and shouting and climbing on the roof finally I could smile and relax. Stepping off the bus into the rain I was glad to be on terra ferma, even though I was in the thick of the mob of Money changers, porters and hawkers all fighting for business before we crossed teh border from Nepal into Tibet.

***
They had been abandoned by their driver at 2 a.m. in the pouring rain and mud on the side of the road. I woke to find them begging to be given a lift. We caught up with the white Toyota van, that had just left them stranded, half an hour later. We watched in horror and a slight feeling of justice as the driver got knocked over by the ice cold raging river that was up to the doors of the van he was trying to attach a tow rope to. The 4 wheel drive managed to tow him out of harms way and then back into it as they pulled him back across this river that flowed across the Friendship Highway somewhere just inside Tibet. 22 hours after we left Katmandu we crawled into our lumpy cold beds four to a room at 4350m in Nyalam somewhere on the road to Lhasa.

***

Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, had the forced organized tour that the Chinese Government makes tourist do, so that they can visit their occupied territory, kept up like the last two paragraphs it may well have been worth the money.
However, maybe to some readers delight, the Friendship Highway became just that …. a good highway. The accommodation moved from damp dark dorm rooms (alliteration he he) with leaking roofs and toilets that were a 50m walk away and didn't flush ( they just filled up with shit ) to twin rooms with TV, aircon and hygienic seals on Western flush toilets. The food remained crap with a piece of bread and a boil egg for breakfast, then … “get out here, you have five minutes to take photos!" and “spend your money in the restaurant as I get commission!” and thus the exciting 4x4 adventure turned into an everyday organized tour, … except it had 60 independent travels who didn't want to be on it.
My Aussie tour mates and I did laugh at our non English speaking drivers' consumption of cigarettes and cans of Red Bull. Pumba, as we had affectionately come to name him did add some excitement when he managed to back the landcruiser into me while I was taking photos from a view point and hence forfeited his tip. (Maybe he did speak English after all !!!!)

After coming from India and Nepal where everything is for free, ( even when you are getting ripped off) this stepped up to being heavily discounted in China. I was arguing over the price of a bottle of water with a Chinese shop keeper. My argument was that the clearly marked RRP on the bottle was 3 Yuan and that his asking price of 8 was a little steep even for the Himalayas. His argument was if I didn't like it to piss off back to my own country. My counter argument was: “why didn't he do the same!”

Following the irony we arrived one of the most remote and holy cities in the world, Lhasa. I had been looking forward to this moment the whole trip only to have it crushed by multi story concrete buildings, neon signs and Karaoke bars. The fact that it is illegal to bring a photo of the Deli Lama to Tibet and if you try the smallest protest such as wearing a “Free Tibet” tee shirt you will be band from Tibet and Mainland China for life. However, apparently, it is perfectly fine to have hard core porn and sex toy stores on every corner. (Well at least in the area of our tour provided hotel.) I am sure that this is an intricate part of the "cultural Revolution" that I just do not understand.

In the old city Tibetan culture is still struggling along with the hard core carrying out the pilgrims circuit by clapping their hands above their heads in a sort of leg less star jump, then dropping to their knees, then lying down on the ground at full length making sure that they bump their forehead quite hard on the ground. They then stand up and take one step and repeat the whole process, a very committed, all be it, time consuming, and by the look of the bump on their forehead a painful act. The temples set in amazing locations and albeit repetitious are stunning. They mainly consist of a few thousand Buddha's, a couple of gold Stompa’s, enough money offerings to finance the whole trip over again, monks with shaved heads in maroon robes talking on cell phones and drinking coke, and are lit by rancid yak butter candles, the smell of which is hard to get used to.

At this Sera Monastery, they have a stone garden where the monks are allowed to blow off steam and practice their patience in a debating session. When I first got within ear shot of this place I thought the Chinese army was putting down a riot, well, I will let you watch the video of this very peculiar debating practice.

The Potala Palace, the Deli Lama's residence, and you know when he comes to visit. It is an incredible structure, dominating the sky line of Lhasa, although possible more interesting for what you don't see as you wander through 30 of it's thousand or so rooms. But at the end of the day, I think it sucks when you have to deal with the frost nipped faces of Tibetan nomad children on 5000m snowy pass in the middle of nowhere trying to sell you prayer flags. Or when you walk down the streets of Lhasa and the only people begging for money are Tibetan.