Carol's diary Days 19 - 25, Beijing to Lhasa.

Back on line and a lot of catching up to do!!
Hard to find the time when there is so much going on… From the monsoons of Nepal to the monsoons of Europe. The English blame it on the Cubans, the Nepalese blame it on India!!


On the train to Beijing, we met Paul and Andy from Sheffield who had cycled from Irkutsk to Ulaan Baatar with adventures that rather made ours pale into insignificance. Bear prints the size of footballs, mosquitoes the size of pigeons, Russian Mafia with purple silk ties, evil eyes and guns the size of cricket bats ...that sort of thing.
Still they were very excited to meet someone who knew where Stannage Edge was…



Day 19, July 15th, Sunday, Irkutsk to Beijing

Off the train and out into the streets, it’s suddenly very hectic! A thronging crowd pulsating in the heavy rain, a bunch of men shouting about taxis, touching us, pulling ferociously at Tom’s jacket. We push through it all to get to a gridlock of taxis. Our first taxi driver can’t read our Chinese map or the Chinese writing for the hotel. Ah! couldn’t prepare for that one. Bags back out of his boot and into the next.
A long drive down the wide streets, fringed with fashionable shops and smart new apartment blocks. We’re in Beijing and its FANTASTIC!

Past Herbal Heaven, past Beijing’s Modern Women’s Hospital, left down a narrow Hutong. Our hotel is beautiful. It’s listed as an old courtyard hotel. The low buildings are painted red and jade green with ornate ironwork and rosewood furniture, the rooms face small courtyards with trees and ornate pots of goldfish, brightly coloured umbrellas and plastic rattan chairs to sit and drink tea under.
The owner tells us cheerfully that 40 families were relocated to turn this old building into a hotel. They are now living in a high rise concrete block.
Er! Did they want to go or were they pushed?
Oh they are very happy, they have much more room now!
The chirpings of canaries in cages filters in through the window, singing as happily as the previous tenants.

Strangely and perhaps rather sinisterly we discover we can’t
actually view the Blog from China.
We try setting up another Blog called Potnoodles to see if it’s something to do with the reference to Lhasa. This doesn’t work either. The next day Patrick tells us that the Great Firewall of China is all embracing.

Day 20, July 16th, Beijing.

Tiananmen Square is huge. Much bigger than Red Square. In fact everything about Beijing is massive. It makes Moscow seem positively provincial. The taxi dropped us off way past the Forbidden City, somewhere vaguely close to the South Gate and we were immediately confronted with aggressive vendors. A big surprise because we haven’t had to deal with this at all up until now. We clambered down into the subway and came up again in Tiananmen Square…. Er, no we were just on the other side of the street, further away from the square. Down again and up to reveal we were no nearer to our goal. We walked along the railings on the south side of the road descended the Metro stairs and up again…. Still no closer. They are damn good at keeping people out of the square. Further along and this time we found a way out that led us into the square! There was Chairman Mao’s Mausoleum, ten times bigger than Lenin’s Mausoleum. The official souvenir shop was selling watches with pictures of Mao on them and Tom, who has been incensed that I could come away on a railway journey without a watch, ceremoniously bought me one. It’s rather big, hanging off my arm even when he moved the catch, but it’s lovely.
We were chased across Tiananmen Square by more vendors selling watches… and kites… and stamps and various other artefacts, till we got to the railings where people stand to be photographed before a huge portrait of Chairman Mao. Everyone here has a camera, everyone is posing and clicking, clicking and posing. An old woman looked over my shoulder as I checked the pictures I’d just clicked. Suddenly she grabbed me by the hand and thrusting her camera in her hand she asked me to photograph her, her and her sister, her daughters. Not content with this she got very excited and beaming with delight asked me to be in the photos, first with her, then with her and her sister, then with her daughters. We thanked each other profusely. I had the feeling I had just been the monkey on the stick!

Patrick, an old friend of Martin’s turned up at the hotel at 6.00 to take us out to dinner. Patrick is a filmmaker based in Beijing. He’s lived here on and off for 12 years and his Chinese is impressive. Driving through the busy streets he described a China that is changing slowly but surely towards greater personal freedom, greater tolerance. He says the official title now is; Socialism with Chinese characteristics or literally translated; Socialism of a special Chinese colour. All around us are design shops, fashion houses, elegant hotels, well built apartment blocks, and new cars. It’s a prosperous, thriving city. Strange to think that only 25 years ago there were hardly any cars here, just bicycles. Patrick said taking a driving test here doesn’t actually involve any driving. People pass their test then get in a car and drive off for the first time. They often completely misjudge the width of the car, taking a corner like on a bicycle.
Yuping was waiting for us at The Loft, an elegant noodle restaurant, and here we were treated to the best meal of the journey. Looking through the menu I found dishes with enchanting titles: Drip Fried Turtle Rim, Braised chicken in Secret Recipe, The Shark Fin’s Victory over the Rice, Quick Fried Mutton Offal with Pitaya Flower, and The Morning Star Lily is Coloured with Fish Ball. We wisely left the ordering to Yuping -Whole fish bathed in a fennel sauce, crispy duck, noodles with a variety of delicious sauces, sprouting peanuts with coriander, wafer thin slices of bamboo, cabbage in a delicious vinegar, one single strand of long green noodle. My tea was filled with tiny chrysanthemum flowers.
On the menu it’s listed as Chrysan The Mum.
We went back to Patrick’s lovely apartment to eat French Raspberry Gateau. Is this what is meant by decadence?


Day 21, July 17th, Beijing.

Tom and I cycled round the hutongs this morning. Cycling in Beijing is GREAT! My bike is too small but the saddle won't go any higher so my knees are somewhere near my chin. Beijing has huge roads like motorways full of cars but fairly wide cycle lanes and lots of ladies in uniforms with flags to help you across the big junctions.
But the air is thick with smog, which catches at the back of the throat and nose and grits up the eyes. It was so hot that all the water in my body seeped out through my skin avoiding the need for a pee. Back at the hotel I stripped off and threw myself in a cold shower.

The afternoon heated up vigorously, a great dome of thick smog trapping the damp heat. Jian, an ex PhD student from Bristol, arrived at 2.00 to meet up with Tom, and to take us for a trip to the Temple of Heaven. Rashly we took the bus. It looks like such a short distance on the map… An hour of traffic later and we stepped off the bus, wet through with sweat. My legs stuck together under my skirt which made me waddle when no one was looking. Accosted by more vendors Jian taught me how to say no thank you I don’t want it, in Chinese: Boo Eeiow! And It works! They just laugh at me good-naturedly and wander off. The Temple of Heaven was the place where the Emperor would go from the Forbidden City to worship heaven. He had another Temple on the other side of town called, of course, the Temple of Earth. The Temple of Heaven is in two parts; a plinth leading up to a highly decorated Temple and across the park a plinth leading up to nothing, or rather heaven. The place was thronging once more with people clicking cameras and this time Tom gets the monkey treatment. Laughs all round. Strange to think he‘ll be appearing on someone’s holiday snaps. At the plinth leading up to heaven a small circular disk of marble on the ground marks the central point. The plinth was thronging with visitors, mostly Chinese, all jostling for position, trying to jump onto this central disk and have their photo taken. Everyone was in a great humour, laughing as it came free and leaping forward to be the next one, like a great game. Photo achieved, step off and the next person jumped on. Above us the pale disk of the sun barely getting a look in through the thick white heat.

Sadly our train trail has gone cold. The wave function has collapsed. The cat is dead. Every avenue explored. We have tried for months to get tickets for the train to Lhasa. Various people have been to the station both here in Beijing and in Chengdu where the exciting part of the train starts. And we have been given a range of reasons why we can’t get them, from black marketing to all the tickets being sold to large travel agents; it may as well have been to Manchester United supporters. Tom has been sending texts and telephoning throughout our journey but today we have decided to take the plane instead. We head off to Lhasa on the 20th and the overland trip to Kathmandu continues....

Day 22 18th July Beijing

Aargh! I’ve got the Beijing Bug! A very ferocious cold. Sounds like the whole of Beijing has got it with all the clearing of throats. I will lie low.

Day 23 19th July Beijing

Head sore, chest sore, everything aches. Am very glad I’m not on a train climbing to over 5,000 meters right now. Tom has eaten the last of the Waitrose pot noodles. I’m popping pills to kill off all known germs and to counter the effects of the forthcoming altitude. Martin and Sue have gone off to visit the Great Wall of China. Someone has to do it…
Tom and I make a brief foray to the nearest post office. Welcome to our post office, says a beaming girl in a uniform.
Next stop the bank, and a VIP sign lights up above my head.
We walk past a VW Passta – someone has a sense of humour.
Sitting in the peaceful courtyard, the occasional mosquito sucking the juice from my legs, the budgerigars attempting to sleep on their perches, a flock of doves circle above with swishing wings, the gold fish swimming glumly in their pot. The gardeners shears snip at the bushes, a distant car hoots, blue skies.
All the places we have travelled through have been in a state of change. Nothing was quite what I expected, what I imagined. All the big cities have the same shops, the same cars, the same companies are ploughing up the land, dividing up the spoils. Russia with its brash New Rich, China with its huge work ethic. The vast stretches of wilderness in between.
Jian said to me, communism, capitalism, these are just words. What’s important is what happens in people’s everyday lives.
Tomorrow we will take the plane to Lhasa

Day 24 20th July Beijing to Lhasa.

And we’re off again! Very early in the morning, taxi to the Airport. The man in the reception seems to think we haven’t paid, which we have, and is rather territorial about the orange juice we ordered for breakfast. So we cut our losses, jump in the cab and hope all will become clear for him later in the day.
The airport is a totally different pace to the one we’ve become used to. A woman with a badge rescues us and heads us towards the China Airways check in. Strangely we bypass the queue, get dealt with straight away, tickets sorted, boom. Then she turns to us clutching our passports and tickets and demands money.

We fly above the mountains, then below us a great river, the Yurlong Tsangpo, dividing and subdividing into rivulets across the wide valley. The airport is at the end of one of these rivulets.
Lhasa and its still only 11.00 a.m. Though we are not actually in Lhasa yet. Its over 100ks away.

Tibet hits you like Nerve gas. Everything is an effort. Our heads feel light and everything is done in slow motion.

Kelsang, our guide and Noar, our driver are there to greet us. We climb into a Land Cruiser and head off. Kelsang gets in the back with the bags. Noar is solid and smiles a lot. He hoots his horn cheerfully at everything that moves, the lorry in front, the stationary van, the people walking by the side of the road. Every now and then there is a sign informing us that we are passing through a village and not to hoot. He hoots his horn at the sign.
As we pass through the villages we notice snooker tables in the streets, covered with plastic weighted down with heavy rocks. A group of young men are playing on one table. The Brits invaded Tibet in 1904. Are these a legacy from then ?

Entering Lhasa through Chinese streets with orderly rectangular modern buildings, then passing the Potala Palace high on the hill overlooking the old Tibetan part of the city, we turn off the large Chinese street and enter a different world. The Tibetan houses are white but decorated with blue and red. Everywhere are shops and stalls selling jewellery and paintings and more jewellery and bags and material and most of the people are wearing traditional clothing, old ladies and children and beautiful women with long plaits and bright red scarves wrapped round their dark hair. Our hotel is in the heart of the old city, next door to an Italian internet café, which sells cakes and real coffee! I didn’t think I would say this but it looks like Heaven.

I have entered a state of Can't-be-bothered. My head feels like it’s been hit by a plank of wood, in both directions. I keep thinking if I drink something, I’ll feel better. If I eat something, I’ll feel better. But nothing helps. The rest of the day feels like I’m walking through mud, upside down.


Day 25, 21st July, Lhasa. Potala Palace and Monastery

The day starts much too early. We find ourselves standing in a queue to enter the Potala Palace, or rather to climb up the hill to the palace. It’s huge and high, once the tallest building in the world, the home of the Dalai Lamas since the 18th century, the previous centre of Tibet’s government, now mostly a museum. Security is very tight, passports checked, bags X-rayed, Chinese officials abound. As we walk along we hear singing and on the roof of one of the buildings, the roof workers are having a knees up, standing in rows, jogging up and down, banging their tools on the ground to create the beat.
Kelsang turns out to be something of an expert in Buddhist statues and there are lots of them. The Buddha of Compassion (with lots of heads and arms), the Buddha of Infinite light, the Buddha of Wisdom (wielding a sword), the Buddha of the past, the Buddha of the Present and the Buddha of the Future (I like him the best, he lives on another planet) Tara the White Goddess, Tara the Green Goddess and all the Protectors with their huge eyes and long tongues….