Trapped at the Chinese Border

We started off the day with a 9:30 call time for the bus to travel from Kathmandu to the Tibetan border. The Chinese are very sensitive about travel in Tibet, and there was some doubt earlier in the week that we would, in fact, be able to go. In order to travel in Tibet, you need to be part of a large group, so many travel agents in Nepal group people together. We joined a group of about 13 on an old bus driving about 5 hours to the Nepal-Tibet border.

The roads in this part of Nepal are very bad. Kidney-rattling bad. And of course, even though we have missed most of the actual monsoons ourselves, they have been doing their worst to wash the roads out. Several times, we wondered if the bus would fall off the road, which is really a dirt path cut into the side of the mountain. On the right, a sheer uphill mountain. On the left, a stiff drop down. And these are the Himalayas, not the wimpy mountains of the east coast. Nonetheless, we made it in one piece, just as the Chinese were getting ready to close the border for the day. On the Nepalese side, numerous "porters" offer to carry your bags for a fee. The porters are mostly kids, with an occasional old man, and they literally had to be beaten off the bus by the drivers. After escaping the porters, we exchanged some cash for Chinese yuan and carried our things to the Friendship Bridge which links Nepal and China. There, we quickly filled out paperwork, and were rushed past the ominous looking guards flipped around a set of handcuffs, and dispersed into several decrepit 4WD vehicles. My confidence was not enhanced by the large spiderweb crack on the driver's side windshield, right were his head would have gone in a collision. I'm pretty sure the vehicle did not meet US safety standards. We crowded 5 people plus the driver in, and sans seatbelts or airbags, trucked down into the border town in Tsang. There we quickly surrendered our passports and went to the Gang Gwen Hotel, or as I think of it, the Gangrene Hotel. These are dormitory style accommodations, 5-6 to a room, with shared bathrooms on the floor.

Now when I say "bathroom", you should not think of a nice, western-style bathroom, with gleaming stainless steel and clean porcelain. Instead, I want you to picture the grimiest, most foul gas station bathroom located so far off the beaten path, that they just KNOW you must be desperate to use the facilities, so hygiene is not a concern. This would be a step up. Literally. The "toilets" are Asian-style pit toilets- literally a hole in the ground. Aim is crucial, or at least it should be, though judging from the evidence, my standards are perhaps too high. Chinese toilets are known as amongst the worst in the world, and Lonely Planet notes that the Tibetan toilets make the rest of China "A bower of heaven". They are right. I initially regret having left my Tevas in Kathmandu, since you clearly do not want bare feet near this toilet, then I realize I am actually better off using my hiking boots in the first place. Clearly not a destination for those with "bathroom issues".

We dine en mass at the Himalaya Restaurant, just across the street from our hotel. There are a pair of sisters from Spain, a trio from Holland (actually a couple and another Hollander), Tom, a German who is riding his recumbent bike around the world (so far since last October, he has gone 14000 kn, or about 10000 miles), Tony, from Singapore, who has been travelling the world since he sold his house in December, and came to Tibet because he had a dream that someone sent his a postcard from Lhasa, Simon from Italy, who is very engaging and friendly, and happy to be practicing his English, and Kristen from California, who was in the Navy, but most recently working for an NGO in the Himalayas providing medical care to children. After dinner, Tom, Tony, Kirsten, Simon, Daughter #1 and myself return to our room (yes, room, singular), where we all read or journal a bit before turning in.

In the morning, we have breakfast at the restaurant next door before heading to Chinese immigration. Our guide, who barely speaks English, and has never guided a trip before, has little idea of what we are supposed to do, or how to tell us what is going on. After standing in the line for an hour (and by the way, it's been raining since the middle of the night),we get to show our passports and visas to the humorless Chinese official, and then wait for further instructions. It turns out there is construction on the road to Nyalam, our next scheduled stop. Unlike in America, construction does not mean traffic is slowed. It means that during daylight hours, no one passes on the road. There are checkpoints along the way. We will be allowed to pass between 1 and 4 AM. Yes, AM. So we are trapped at the Chinese border, in the rain, in what is literally a one street town with no traffic lights.

I join a small group to explore the sights, such as they are. we hear from others that we are to come back to the hotel at 1:30, so we do. Checkout is at 2, so all the gear needs to be loaded in the cars while we wait for an 11 pm departure. We go back to the Himalaya for lunch when the guide shows up again needed our passports and visas for some reason. He can't tell us why, even if he himself knows why. We have no idea overall if our bags have yet to be inspected by immigration (they are especially sensitive to any pictures of the former leader of Tibet, or other "political splittism" propaganda. We don't know if we will be allowed to leave the town to continue our journey, or what time we would be allowed to go. And it started raining again.

It seems as though we have moved even further down the scale of things- when we told people in Thailand we going to Nepal, they were appalled. When we told people in Nepal of our plans to go to Tibet, they told us how primitive things are. At least we will learn to appreciate things a bit more when we get home!