Sleeper Bus

There are several flights a day from Kashgar to the provincial capitol of Urumqi in the North. The flight is about 1 hour long and costs about $100. Looking back, it all seems so reasonable.

But, at the time, I had just finished reading two interesting books about crazy Westerners traveling around China by road (China Road by Rob Gifford and Country Driving by Peter Hessler). And after meeting all the other travelers in Kashgar, I was really gung ho about "traveling the Silk Road by land", whatever that means.

The first leg of my Silk Road journey would be a 26 hour bus ride to Urumqi.

I guess one week in Kashgar was long enough to make me forget how much I hated being cramped up in that stupid Land Cruiser.

In China, long distance bus routes are often serviced by "sleeper buses". Instead of seats, the buses are equipped with three rows of bunk beds. Each passenger is given a bunk to lay on for the duration of the trip.


I boarded in the afternoon and would be arriving in Urumqi the following afternoon. The other passengers were mostly Uygurs with a few Han Chinese mixed in. I was the only foreigner.


Part of the allure of bus travel in China, is that you are traveling among the common working class people, as opposed to an airplane full of Chinese yuppies. You get to see things you don't normally see back home... A big Chinese guy taking his shirt off and making himself comfortable in the bunk one over from you... Another Chinese guy asking to swap bunks with you for a bit, so he could smoke a cigarette by the bus window... Uygur children comfortably napping on the bus floor aisles...

One Uygur woman would periodically kneel up on her bed for her daily prayers.


We drove for many hours. Traveling along the northern edge of the Taklamakan Desert, one of the most inhospitable regions in the world, we passed through a variety of desert landscapes. Reddish mountains, desert sands, rocky crags...

Towns were few and far between, the only other vehicles on the road were trucks transporting goods to and from Kashgar. Every so often, we would stop in the middle of nowhere for a bathroom break or to grab a bite to eat.



Perhaps I was spoiled by the scenery in Tibet, but the scenery grew old after a few hours. I tried to pass the time by reading books on my Ipad and taking naps. The bed was comfortable enough and I got a full night's sleep. But even after 8 hours of sleep, there are still eighteen more hours of travel time to account for!

Before I knew it, my Ipad battery was drained and I lay on my bed listlessly staring out the window. At least I wasn't on a camel.

As afternoon approached, we passed oil refineries and vast wind farms. Soon we would be in the western metropolis of Urumqi, a Chinese boom town in the middle of the desert.

Kashgar

Having traveled around China for the past year, over time, the big Chinese cities start to blend together... The drab concrete architecture, the endless strips of convenience stores, diners, and cell phone shops, the sea of Chinese people going about their day-to-day business...

So getting to explore Kashgar for the first time, in all its diversity, was a breath of fresh air.


From the signage written in Arabic script, to the bulbous mosque rooftops, to the street side naan vendors, everything was new to me.

Most interesting were the people.

Xinjiang is home to 13 official ethnic minority groups. Besides the Uygurs, other prominent ethnic groups include the Kazakhs, the Tajiks, the Huis, the Kirgiz, and a bunch of others that I previously never knew existed.

In terms of appearance, they range from standard Han Chinese-looking, to Middle Eastern-looking, to never-seen-anyone-that-looks-like-that-before-looking. And everything in between.


Occasionally there would be an otherwise Chinese-looking person with bright green eyes or a cartoonishly husky beard. Or a Caucasian-looking person with red hair and rosy cheeks, but slightly Chinese-looking eyes.

People who, in other parts of China you would just assume were tourists, but here in Xinjiang were dressed as locals and conducting their day-to-day business in fluent Chinese. I had read that in Chinese cinema, particularly Caucasoid -featured Uygurs were often cast to play the white people roles, but had never been able to fully conceptualize it... until now.

I actually found it easier to communicate in Mandarin with the Uygurs than I have with actual Han Chinese people from other parts of China. Perhaps because they learn it as a second language and speak a more standard version of it, speaking in a slower more deliberate tone and with less of a local accent.

At the same time, the streets of Kashgar were typically Chinese in many respects, filled with people and bustling with commerce.


As I do in every new Chinese city, I tried all the local street foods I could find... lamb liver kabobs, lamb lung kabobs, lamb samosas, a popular cold noodle and lentil dish, and a variety of yogurt drinks. I tried "Big Plate Chicken" for the first time, a well-known chicken and potato dish local to Xinjiang.

I went to the Sunday Livestock Market, where ranchers from all over the region come to sell their livestock, like a swap meet for goats and cattle. Coming from a country where we get all our meet from a factory, it was an eye-opening experience to see a cute little goat get slaughtered for the first time.


I explored the alleys of "Old Town" Kashgar, currently being preserved and renovated, to be promoted as a tourist attraction.


Similar to Lhasa, there is also a growing Han Chinese part of town. I went to the mall there to replace the hard drive for my laptop, and it may as well have been any other city in China with nary a non-Han Chinese face to be found.

Kashgar was recently designated a "Special Economic Zone" by the Chinese government. Businesses there will be granted certain economic incentives, the hope being that it will expedite economic growth and industrialization. The ultimate vision of Kashgar from the government's point of view, is as a multicultural hub of commerce for all of Central Asia. Newsweek recently published an article about dubbing it "A New Shenzhen".

I imagine, over time, as investment flows into the city, the Han Chinese part of the city will grow and Kashgar will become more and more "Chinese".

I can't say that this is necessarily a bad thing, because as it stands Kashgar and its surrounding regions are among the poorest and least developed in all of China. It would be hypocritical of me to decry the industrialization of Kashgar, while at the same time enjoying the relative luxuries available there like fast internet access, hot showers, and getting my laptop fixed at the snap of a finger.

At the same time, I am glad I got the chance to experience Kashgar rather than some nameless Chinese city.

Crossroads

Our next stop was the city of Kashgar, an historical oasis town and a crossroads on the old Silk Road. Our journey through Tibet had drawn to a close and I was left with the decision of where to go next.

Kashgar is out in the middle of nowhere. It is surrounded by huge expanses of desert and mountains, bordering a few Central Asian nations that most Americans have probably never heard of. It's historical relevance dates back to a time before there were trains or airplanes, when Silk Road merchants and adventurers would stop here to rest their weary bones or restock their camel caravans for the long trek around the Taklamakan Desert.

We couldn't help but feel a bit of pride at having finally arrived, having just traveled one of the most remote and desolate regions of the world, by Land Cruiser no less. We were like modern incarnations of the Silk Road heroes from centuries past...

Imagine my surprise, after settling into our hostel in Old Town Kashgar, at seeing a familiar face... A Japanese girl that I had met in Chengdu that had also been planning to travel to Tibet and had, in fact, just traveled the same road we did!

Only she did it by herself... Traveling illegally without a tour group... Having hitchhiked most of the way!

Not only that, but the next day she would be catching a bus to Pakistan. Again by herself, all 5 foot, 100 pounds of her!

I asked her if she thought it would be dangerous? If she was worried about the Taliban? She just giggled at me.

In these parts of the world, hearty adventurers come in all shapes and sizes.

Later while dining at a western cafe, we came across a large group of German and Swedish travelers. They were comprised of five smaller groups that had originally corresponded through the internet. They had all traveled individually by car from Europe through the Middle East to India, where they had met up. Then traveled as a caravan through Nepal and Tibet before arriving in Kashgar.

They had made the journey over the course of months, sleeping out of their vehicles when necessary. They had required a police escort when traveling through Pakistan and a tour guide through Tibet. Currently, they were waiting for their permits to drive through Kyrgyzstan, from which they would head to who knows where.

A pair of 22 year old German kids, just out of the military, had made the journey in an enormous red Mercedes Benz firetruck with a giant yak skull affixed to the hood.


A Swedish couple in their 50's was traveling out of a modified Land Cruiser, with a state of the art trailer attached to the back. They had just sold their business and were living out their dream of driving around the world. After traveling through Central Asia, they planned to double back through Mongolia, drive south through China and Southeast Asia, and then have their truck shipped to Australia so they could drive around there.

"We'll look you up in America in about four years," said the Swedish man, smiling but only half joking.

Later in the hostel, I met yet another amazing traveler, a Canadian guy who had traveled to Kashgar all the way from southeast China in Shenzhen by bicycle! Equipped with only a couple small bags of luggage strapped to the back of his bike, he had been traveling for months. And he planned to follow the Silk Road all the way up to Europe.

I have often found, that when traveling off the beaten track, that the travelers you meet are just as inspirational as the locales. These certainly weren't the type of people you would meet with great frequency in Beijing or Shanghai, let alone Irvine.

When I had arrived in Kashgar, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do next. I was a bit travel weary, my group had disbanded, and my friend Naz was flying back to the US. The first world indoor plumbing and stable internet of Macau beckoned to me.

But the group of people I met in Kashgar helped make the decision for me. When was the next time I would be in this part of the world anyway?

After spending a bit of time in Kashgar recharging my batteries, I would head east along the old Silk Road toward the ancient Chinese capitol of Xi'an. I would do so alone and, in the spirit of the ancient Silk Road travelers, would do so by land.

Into the New Frontier

Emerging on the other side of the Kunlun Mountains, mountains gave way to desert and soon we found ourselves in Xinjiang.

Although a part of China, in much the same manner that Tibet is, Xinjiang shares more in common with Central Asia than with the rest of China.

In the southwest, Xinjiang borders the Central Asian countries of Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan, and Pakistan. The people there are primarily Uyghur. Their ethnic and cultural roots are Turkic rather than Chinese. Their script is Arabic, their customs and clothing heavily influenced by Islam.

I had seen Uyghurs throughout China before. They are often found in bigger cities, selling amazing lamb kabobs at street side food stands.

But arriving in Xinjiang for the first time felt like being in a whole new country. As we pulled into the first small village, my eyes were agape as my brain processed all the new sights and sounds. Donkeys pulling carts down the main road... Street vendors selling freshly baked naan... Women covered in burkas... Bearded old Uyghur men wearing western suits with stylish round Muslim caps...


We sat for lunch at a roadside eatery, Islamic music from the local mosque blaring in the background, dining on fresh hand pulled noodles and mutton. I've never been to Central Asia before, but in my mind, this is what I might have imagined.

Arriving in the first major town of Karghalik, our Tibetan tour group was thankfully disbanded. My friend, Naz, and I set about on our own to explore the city. We strolled around the local night market, sampling the street food and people watching.


Now Karghalik is quite a ways off the beaten tourist track. Far removed from any major tourist attractions, on the map it looks like just another non-descript town in the middle of nowhere. In fact, during our time there, we did not see any other tourists. What's more, the locals seemed so unaccustomed to foreigners, that they were just as amused with us as we were with them.

Naz, who is a second generation Afghan-American, was practically granted celebrity status. Every few minutes someone would approach and ask, with me acting as interpreter, where she was from and whether or not she was married. At one point, as we were eating kabobs and chatting with the locals, a random Uyghur man came up and handed her his baby.

Later that evening, a Uyghur kid invited us to dine at his family's restaurant. Before we knew it, another crowd had gathered around us. While Naz was given yet another baby to hold, I showed the children pictures from my Ipad. We stayed until late in the evening making smalltalk and joking around with the kids.


What on the map had looked like just another non-descript town in the middle of nowhere, ended up being one of the best nights of our trip.

Can you guess which one of us below is not Chinese? (Hint: it's the one with the hideously sunburned face)

The Xinjiang-Tibet Highway

The Xinjiang-Tibet Highway is the only road that links Tibet to Xinjiang, the province directly north of Tibet and the final destination of our itinerary. For days we had been hearing rumors that the road was being shut down for construction and they were not letting anyone through.

As we were leaving Guge Kingdom, we got confirmation from a group of tourists that had just come from the north that the road was indeed closed for construction at the border. They were only letting pedestrian traffic through on the 1st, the 11th, and the 21st of each month. Otherwise they were just letting military vehicles and oil rigs through. If we continued onward, it would take another two days of driving to reach the border, and we would be getting there on the 14th.

Waiting in Tibet until the 21st was not an option, as two of our group members had to leave the country before then.

Naturally we were quite upset, as we had paid an extra $400 each for the last leg of this trip and delivery into Xinjiang, and our tour agency didn't have the slightest clue as to what was going on.

I wanted to go back to Lhasa and just write it off as a sunk cost. There weren't any major attractions on the final leg of the journey and I could just fly to Xinjiang from Lhasa. Plus the thought of spending another two days in the Land Cruiser, being turned back, then having to spend another four days driving back to Lhasa was unbearable to me.

The other members of our group wanted to continue onward. We had already paid for the car and the driver anyway. Just go to the border and figure something out from there! What could possibly go wrong!

And so we drove on. After another full day of driving, we reached Ali, the last major city in Tibet. The government officials there told us the same thing, that we would be turned back at the border and that we would have to wait til the 21st if we wanted to pass by car. Let's keep going!

We set off early the next morning and drove all day before reaching the provincial border town of Duoma. As we had been told, the border was closed. Our tour guide talked with the border patrol there, but to no avail.

My backpacker friend, the organizer of the trip, got out and tried to reason with them. She went over every possible solution she could think of. At one point, we thought we would be cramming ourselves into the back of an oil rig to cross the border before that plan was eventually shot down.

Having no luck with the border patrol, she went to talk to the military police. As she left to go talk with them, our tour guide confided in me that we should get ready to start heading back to Lhasa. But after what seemed like forever, she came back with the good news that they were letting us drive through. I'm not sure if it had anything to do with it, but my backpacker friend is an attractive young Taiwanese girl, while the military police are all 20 year old Chinese dudes.

We jumped into the back of the Land Cruiser and set off before they could change their minds.

That evening we drove until nightfall, stopping for the night at a trucker dorm in the middle of nowhere. I went to sleep on a huge communal bed and awoke the next morning with a Chinese trucker sleeping right next to me.


We hit the road again. The road was, as advertised, in poor condition and undergoing massive construction. We were held up for three hours at one point, as construction crews repeatedly dynamited debris off the side of a mountain and then cleared it from the road. At other points, Tibetan laborers built fortifications along the side of the road.


Looking back, some of the scenery we saw was quite amazing, though I was in no mood to appreciate it at the time. We drove past salt lakes, deserts, snow flurries, frozen rivers, mountain ranges... you name it. We saw Tibetan antelopes running wild.


That evening, we spent the night in a small town called Hongliutan, where we saw wild camels feeding in the town garbage dump.


The next day, after another full day of driving through the Kunlun Mountains, we would be arriving in Xinjiang, which in Chinese means "The New Frontier".

Guge Kingdom

Earlier on our trip, while dining at a restaurant in Lhasa, we came upon some stunning photographs of a fortress perched atop a rocky cliff. In the background, an other-worldly landscape of canyons and mountains. It looked like something straight out of a Lord of the Rings movie. We were told they were pictures of the Guge Kingdom in southwestern Tibet, a short four hour drive from Mount Kailas.

Despite having just read several books on Tibet, I had never heard of the Guge Kingdom before, nor had my backpacker friend who had organized the trip. In fact, we had not even scheduled it on our itinerary or obtained the proper permits to go see it, even though we were passing right by it.

After a week of administrative finagling, we were able to obtain the permits and squeeze it into our schedule.

From Darchen, we drove through the valley of the Sutlej, passing vast canyons, mountains, and geological formations that I don't even know how to describe. Signs of civilization were few and far between, often driving for many miles without seeing another car on the road.


We arrived in the town of Zhada, near the border of India, where we would be spending the night. At first glance, the town seemed fairly developed, with rows of restaurants, hotels, internet bars, and even a post office. But on closer inspection, half of the businesses had long since been closed down. We got a kick out of the billboard above the abandoned music store that was promoting Tupac's latest album. At night, the streets were deserted like a strange Chinese ghost town, without another tourist to be found.

The next morning we drove out to the ruins of Tsaparang, the ancient capitol of the Guge Kingdom and the fortress whose pictures we had seen earlier.


The Guge Kingdom rose to prominence with Tsaparang as its capitol in the 10th century, shortly after the fall of the first Tibetan Empire. This was a period of unrest in Tibetan history, as warlords and politicians staked their claims on various regions of Tibet and the outlying territories. Despite centuries of military conflict, the fortress at Tsaparang would stand until the 17th century, when it was conquered by the Ladahkis from what is now Northern India, after which it would fall into oblivion.

Tsaparang, the second largest fortification in Tibet after the Potala Palace, was every bit as impressive in person as it was in pictures.


The views of the surrounding landscape were majestic. The Buddhist temples and artwork, for the most part unrestored for the past 400 years, were both eerie and breathtaking. The sights put to shame many of the other more prominent tourist attractions I had visited during my year in China.


And perhaps best of all, we practically had the entire fortress to ourselves. In our three hours there, we saw only one other small group of Chinese tourists.


How could such a scenic and historical site like this go unnoticed by tourists and by society at large? Certainly the fact that it is 1200 miles away or several days by car from the nearest major airport has something to do with it.

But moreover, having fallen into oblivion in the 17th century, it is a part of history deemed irrelevant by subsequent generations. No where in the Tibetan history book I had just read (which was written by a western scholar with significant input from the Dalai Lama) was the Guge Kingdom mentioned. The period after the fall of the Tibetan Empire is characterized only by chaos and war. The narrative only picks up again several centuries later with the rise of the Dalai Lamas in Central Tibet, emphasizing Tibet as a united and sovereign nation.

Thus what was once a powerful military state is now just a structure collecting dust in the middle of the desert and a historical footnote.

History is written by the victors. What will subsequent generations have to say about once sovereign nations such as Tibet and Xinjiang?

Mount Kailas

The next morning we would begin the three day, 32 mile long kora around Mount Kailas. I was a bit groggy and tired from the previous night's activities, but looking forward to the hike nonetheless. The scenery would surely be amazing and it would provide a much needed respite from being stuffed in the back of that Land Cruiser.

While I anticipated the hike to be strenuous, I wasn't too worried.

I've done my share of hiking in China... hiking for 12 hours straight at Tiger Leaping Gorge, scaling altitudes of 5000M+ at Yading, trekking through muddy rice fields in the rain at Longji. And I consider myself to be in decent shape fitness wise, working out on a regular basis and having completed a marathon just two years ago.

Furthermore, we wouldn't actually be climbing to the peak of Kailas, which has never been scaled. We would only be taking a nice leisurely walk around it.

If thousands of third world pilgrims from all over Tibet, Nepal, and India could make this trek every year, malnourished and frail, then how hard could it really be?


A couple hours into the first day, I knew I had grossly miscalculated my abilities.

My head throbbed and lungs gasped for every bit of oxygen it could find in the thin mountain air. Meanwhile "malnourished and frail" Tibetans were bounding along the trail effortlessly.

A Tibetan family, the mother carrying her baby... An elderly monk wearing nothing but robes in the cold mountain air... A small woman with a bag of rice seemingly bigger than she was strapped to her back... All passing us by as we tried to catch our breath.

Most impressive were the pilgrims that were prostrating themselves with every step - getting down on their hands and knees, prostrating themselves flat on the ground as a sign of devotion, crawling forward, and repeating with every step. It takes weeks to make the strenuous trek around Kailas this manner, but we saw dozens of pilgrims going about it undeterred, a testament to their religious faith. They were a bit flustered though when my travel mates started swarming around them and snapping pictures of them as if they were zoo animals.


We plodded along for hours. One of my travel mates, a chain smoker and the least physically fit among us, provided at least some entertainment for the day when she had a mental breakdown and started crying after she fell in the snow and couldn't get up for the umpteenth time. LOL!

We arrived at the guesthouse for the first night at 6 in the evening and collapsed into bed.

At night, the temperature plummeted. Our unheated shack provided little protection from the elements. Despite wearing practically every layer of clothing I had - a shirt and two fleeces, flannel boxers and three layers of pants, two pairs of hiking socks, and a wool beanie - in addition to two blankets, I was awoken by the cold in the middle of the night and could not get back to sleep. I went for a sip of bottled water only to discover it had frozen over.

Setting off early the next morning, we would ascend another 1000M to cross Dolma La Pass, the highest point of our journey at an altitude of over 5600M. Feet numb from the cold and our lungs heaving with each labored breath, we trudged up the icy mountainside at a snail's pace. At increasingly frequent intervals, we would find a comfortable rock to lay on and catch our breath, as our Tibetan guide watched on bemused.


Every so often, we would see a dejected hiker going in the opposite direction, unable to continue, making the "walk of shame" back to guesthouse, where they would take a truck back down to the bottom. Our chain smoking companion likewise did not last long on Day 2 and had to be escorted back to Darchen.

My travel companion, Naz, in her infinite wisdom had brought along her massive North Face backpack packed to the brim with (among other things) her sleeping bag, her makeup kit, and assorted food items to pass out as gifts to random Tibetans. To her credit, she did not complain once, and gallantly trudged her way up the mountainside.

After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the high point of the Dolma-La pass at 5630M (18,470ft). The Tibetans say that in crossing the Dolma-La Pass, you are reborn. That the Tibetan deity Dolma in her infinite compassion absolves you of a lifetime of sins.

I don't know about that, but I do know that walking down a mountain is a hell of a lot easier than walking up one. We continued onward for many hours, walking across rocky mountainsides, frozen lakes and streams, and frozen plains covered with grazing yaks.


As dusk approached, we came upon a Tibetan who had setup some tents along the side of the road for weary travelers. We got the bright idea of staying overnight in one of his tents, figuring they couldn't be any colder than the shack we had stayed at the previous night. This turned out to be an incorrect assumption.

The next day, in the morning cold, we plowed through the final three hours of the hike back to Darchen.

Physically, I was spent. My entire face was sunburned, except for two shockingly pale white patches around my eyes where I had been wearing my sunglasses.

But I was officially sin-free and my mind was at ease. We chowed down on cucumber salad and meat and potatoes at our favorite restaurant with smiles on our faces, as we prepared to hit the road again in a couple hours.

Darchen

From Lake Manasarovar, it was a short one hour drive to Darchen, at the base of Mount Kailas.

Mount Kailas is a 6600M peak in the Tibetan Himalayas and the source of 4 of Asia's longest rivers. It is renowned in Tibet and throughout Asia as a holy mountain, considered sacred by followers of Bon, Buddhism, Hinduism, and Jainism.

Pilgrims from all over Asia make the journey out to Kailas, so they can perform the ancient holy ritual of trekking around the mountain on foot. Called a "kora" in Buddhist terminology, the 32 mile trek at altitudes as high as 6000M is believed to cleanse a person of his or her sins.


The small village of Darchen, at the base of the mountain, serves as somewhat of a basecamp for pilgrims and hikers alike. Arriving there in the early afternoon, we had the rest of the day to mingle with the locals and make preparations before setting off on the kora the next morning.

Since arriving in Tibet, I had been spending a lot of time alone or with my travel mate Naz, a fellow Californian, hanging out in local eateries or guesthouses. English, for the most part, is not spoken outside of Lhasa so I had been relying on my broken Chinese to get by. I had improved considerably since my last trip to the mainland and could now make a bit of smalltalk with the locals, even acting as translator for my non-Chinese speaking friend.

In Darchen, I sat and chatted for a while with the proprietor of a Chinese restaurant that hailed from Shenyang in the Northeastern part of China.

Han Chinese settlers in Tibet get somewhat of a bad rap. But for the most part they are ordinary people from poor rural backgrounds and move to Tibet in search of opportunity and a better life, having nothing to do with their government's politics.

I had always wondered what would compel a person to move out to the middle of nowhere, setting up shop in a place as seemingly foreign and primitive as Tibet. But she seemed to have carved out a comfortable niche for herself, serving up Northeastern Chinese cuisine for tourists and local Chinese. And as cold as it was here, it was at least warmer than back home in Dongbei. She outlined some advice for me on our upcoming hike and furthermore served up the best cucumber salad I've ever had.

At night, I went to the common area of our guesthouse. Though our guest house again lacked running water and indoor toilets, it did have solar panels that provided electricity. The caveat being that electricity was provided only in the common room and only between the hours of 7PM til midnight.

Arriving at 8PM, the room was packed with Tibetan men... warming themselves around the furnace, drinking beer, playing some kind of local gambling game. As the only non-Tibetan in the room, I felt a bit out of place, sitting in the corner sipping tea and charging my IPhone.


A group of Tibetan truck drivers graciously invited me to their table, to drink beer and chat with them.

I wish I could say that I had a profound discussion with them on Tibetan Buddhism and on the state of Tibet under the Chinese Communist Party, but in reality we talked about whatever it is guys talk about in bars. We talked about women. I showed them some travel photos on my Ipad as they asked me questions about the outside world. And they poured me beer after beer until the lights went out at midnight.

At some point, before my judgment became impaired, I had to make the conscious decision on whether to go to bed early and rest up for the three day hike that I was about to undertake or whether to stay up drinking all night with a bunch of Tibetan truck drivers and likely be hungover the next morning.

The choice was a relatively easy one. As even though I don't have any amazing photos or spectacular tales of adventure to show for it, I've found in my travels that nights like these are the ones I look back fondly on and remember best.

I staggered to bed drunk and nauseous, and would awaken several times during the night to go to the outdoor toilet in the frigid nighttime air, the freezing wind biting at me and stray dogs barking as I took a leak.


The next morning, tired and hungover, I would begin my trek around Kailas.

Rooftop of the World

After three days of decompressing in Lhasa (both figuratively and literally in this case, as tourists usually spend a few days in Lhasa to acclimate to the altitude), we hit the road west, driving up and down mountain roads and across the plains of the Tibetan plateau.

Tibet is the least densely populated region of China. Villages, people, and even other cars, were few and far between. For the most part, it was just us, the highway, and a stunning array of landscapes. Occasionally a Tibetan shepherd would appear in the middle of nowhere herding his flock of sheep or a nomadic family would be gathered alongside a lone shack in the remotest of places, leaving us wondering how they survived so far removed from civilization. How would they update their Facebook statuses?

We progressed westward in chunks. Driving for several hours, then stopping for food or to relieve ourselves along the side of the road. As I was barely on speaking terms with a couple of my travel mates at this point, I mostly napped or stared out at the mountains. Periodically the monotony of the drive would be punctuated by the odd, the spectacular, or the flat-out surreal.

A flock of sheep blocking traffic... A gigantic glacier perched atop a mountain pass... A truck toppled over the side of the road as workers scrambled to collect its cargo...


Having grown up in the suburbs of Orange County, some of the scenery was like something out of a movie for me. I must say that coming up on Lake Yamdrok for the first time was a bit awe-inspiring. Our irritability washed away, we all jumped out of the car and ran toward the lake like a bunch of school kids, snapping pictures and posing for photos.


As our itinerary dictated that we cover a few hundred kilometers a day, we were pressed for time and constantly on the move.

From Lhasa, we first traveled to Shigatse, the second largest city in Tibet. The city was under heavy construction, even by Chinese standards, as it was preparing for a visit from Communist Party leader Hu Jintao this summer. New buildings, roads, and other instruments of modernization abounded. Here we were given a brief reminder that we were still in the third world, when my travel mate left her hotel door open and got her camera stolen. I wish I could tell you more about the city, but before I could unpack my bags we were on the move again the next morning.

From there we traveled to Saga, a military town halfway between Lhasa and western Tibet, known more as an overnight travel hub than a travel destination unto itself. It was here that our accommodations began noticeably lacking certain things such as 24 hour electricity, internet, phone service, indoor plumbing, and showers. This is where taking a dump in the field started to become preferable to venturing into the designated restroom area.

The town was a mixture of Tibetans and a few entrepreneurial Han Chinese catering to the locally stationed military personnel. Although my Tibetan activist friend had sworn off patronizing Han Chinese owned businesses in Tibet, she had no qualms about coming along with me went I went to hit up the Han Chinese owned bathhouse for a hot shower. A few Han Chinese tourists also on their way to western Tibet and us westerners were the only clientele.

After another long day of traveling, we arrived at Lake Manasarovar, as a flock of sheep pastured along its shore.


We spent the night at a tiny village along the side of the lake. Our guesthouse was little more than a shack, lacking indoor plumbing and electricity. The light in our room was powered by a car battery wired to a light bulb.


I ate tsampa for the first time, a porridge mixture of yak butter tea and barley flour that is a staple of the Tibetan diet. Like yak butter tea, tsampa is high in calories, easy to prepare, and dirt cheap making it a convenient food for nomadic travelers. Also like yak butter tea, it tastes awful. We sat in the common room, warming ourselves around the furnace, making smalltalk with our Tibetan hosts, and pretending to like our food.


The next morning, it would be just a short trip over to Darchen, which would serve as the base camp for our three day kora around Mount Kailas.

China's Tibet

Tibet is not your ordinary Chinese province.

Since being claimed by the People's Liberation Army in 1950, Tibet has been held in check by the Chinese government, for the most part, through threat of military force.

Periodic sparks of protest or civil unrest have been put down swiftly and ruthlessly. Highly visible and highly armed soldiers are stationed throughout the city of Lhasa.

What's more, Tibet is now dealing with a sort of cultural imperialism.

In recent years, the Chinese government has been pushing a "develop the west" campaign, encouraging and providing economic incentive for Han Chinese to settle in Tibet. While this has brought modernization and greater economic opportunity, critics decry the erosion of traditional Tibetan culture. As more and more Han Chinese flood into Tibet each year, with their cell phone shops and convenience stores, the fear is that Tibetans will eventually be a minority in their own city and a repressed minority at that.

As a tourist arriving in Lhasa, it was eye opening visiting what is more or less a militarily occupied state for the first time. I was told that the Chinese military could lock down the city of Lhasa within an hour, and having been there I can believe it. Seeing armed soldiers being marched around the city or military snipers stationed on top of buildings, while tourists roam around down below snapping photos.

Snapping photos of the soldiers, by the way, is a no-no. After inadvertently taking a picture of one of the soldiers, my friend had her camera confiscated by a soldier and was forced to delete the picture.

I was also struck by the subtle forms of propaganda that permeate the city. During my tour of Potala Palace, after just having just read a book on Tibetan history, I listened to my Tibetan tour guide recount a very different version of historical events. Besides obviously omitting anything related to the currently exiled 14th Dalai Lama, the Chinese government is heavily invested in promoting the view that Tibet has continuously been a part of China since the Yuan dynasty of the 13th century.

Western historians recognize that Tibet has at different points been independent of the of any empire, and even while under the sway of the Mongol and Manchu empires was still unoccupied militarily and for the most part maintained autonomous rule.

I spoke frankly with my tour guide about it afterward, and he said that tour operators must recount the official Chinese governmental view of history or risk losing their jobs (or worse).

Bolder still is the monument in front of the Potala Palace commemorating the "liberation" of Tibet from foreign imperialists. This is how the Chinese government refers to military conquest of Tibet in 1950.

And even subtle everyday things like the English language tourist magazines that are explicitly titled "China's Tibet" rather than just being titled "Tibet".

The clash between Chinese and traditional Tibetan culture is interesting as well. A pattern I have seen throughout Tibet and Xinjiang over the past few weeks, is that the Han Chinese settle and develop on the outskirts of the original town, until eventually there is a Han Chinese side of of town and an "old town".

The Han Chinese part of Lhasa could just as well be any big city in China, filled with cookie cutter Chinese restaurants, convenience stores, and souvenir shops.

While the "old town" consists of traditional buildings, maybe a historical site or two, and locals going about their day-to-day business. Meanwhile mostly Chinese tourists stream through snapping photos and shopping for souvenirs.

So on one side of town I am able to walk the kora around Johkang Temple with Tibetan Buddhists, and half an hour later I can be shopping for new hiking shoes in a Chinese mall. Will the Han Chinese side of Lhasa continue to grow until it envelops the city completely and the aboriginal side of town is relegated to a historical curiosity for tourists?

I won't delve too much into politics. I will say that modernization is occurring all over the world in developing cities just as it is in Lhasa, as much a product of market forces as it is through any efforts of the Chinese government. And with the investment efforts pouring into Tibet come increased economic opportunity and a higher standard of living.

But while Lhasa was quite fascinating for me from a cultural and political point of view, it wasn't til I got out into rural Tibet that I really got a closer look at traditional Tibetan culture and the natural grandeur that Tibet is famous for...

Skytrain

From the city of Chengdu, there are two common ways to get to Lhasa.

The first option is flying. Several flights leave daily from the Chengdu airport, flying directly over the Tibetan plateau and into Lhasa in two hours. The cost of a plane ticket is 1650CNY or roughly $250.

The other option is aboard the recently completed "skytrain", a 45 hour train ride looping northward through Qinghai before traversing west toward Lhasa.


For comparison's sake, long distance trains in China offer three classes of tickets:

The bottom rung is the "hard seat" which consists only of a seat. As you can imagine, this could grow quite tiresome over the course of a 45 hour train ride. Furthermore, as this is typically the most cost effective means of travel in China, you will most likely be traveling among working class Chinese and whatever cultural mannerisms and personal hygiene standards that entails. The price of a hard seat to Lhasa goes for about 330CNY or $50.

The next class up is the "hard sleeper" which consists of a bunk bed in a 6 person cabin. The price of a hard sleeper to Lhasa is about 700CNY or $110.

And one step up from that is the "soft sleeper" which consists of a bunk bed in a 4 person cabin. These go for about 1100CNY or $170

Looking at it in these terms, most well-adjusted financially stable human beings would choose to fly.

But backpackers hate doing things the rational way. So naturally we chose the train, booking four soft sleeper seats.


The train ride was pleasant enough as far as train rides go. The beds were comfortable and the scenery was nice to look every now and then.

The problem is that you are stuck in a cramped room with three other people for 45 hours.

Back in LA, I have heard it said that after a four hour road trip to Vegas together, you either become the best of friends or you never want to speak to each other again. The same could be said of the 45 hour train ride to Lhasa, minus the becoming best of friends part.


For the most part, I spent the entire trip sleeping or standing out in the hallway reading books. I did manage to finish three books on Tibet, so for once I would not be completely clueless while touring a new destination. 7 Years in Tibet is an amazing book, by the way.

Arriving in Lhasa, I could not wait to get off that stupid skytrain.

Itinerary

I've been bouncing around Tibet and Xinjiang for the past few weeks, staying at a random assortment guesthouses, tents, trucker dorms, and creepy old Chinese hotels. Internet access has been sparse, as has hot water and indoor plumbing. I'm currently stationed in the relatively modern city of Kashgar (as modern as a city with donkeys pulling carts down the street can be, I guess) in Southwestern Xinjiang. The past few weeks have been kind of a blur, but I'm going to try to detail some of the high points while I have some free time...

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At this time last month, I knew next to nothing about Tibet.

That being said, it was a part of China I had not yet seen and it seemed interesting enough, so I set off to meet an old friend to organize an impromptu trip there. And knowing my friend, it would not likely be an ordinary trip down the well beaten tourist path, but an epic adventure to the very outskirts of civilization. We met up in the city of Chengdu, which is a launching port or sorts, as there are both regular flights and trains to and from Tibet as well as a number of travel agencies that specialize in all things Tibetan.

As it turns out, traveling to Tibet is a bit more complicated than traveling to other parts of China. Because of the political unrest in Tibet, the Chinese government likes to keep a close eye on everything there, including foreign tourists.

As a foreigner traveling to Tibet, you are first required to apply for a heap of government permits. Furthermore, throughout your stay in Tibet, you must be accompanied by a government approved tour guide (lest you wander off the tour bus and incite your own Tibetan uprising). Thus most trips to Tibet are arranged through a "tour" which includes all permits, a guide, a driver, and vehicle rental.

While most tours center around the city of Lhasa and the surrounding sites, we would be taking a more circuitous path. After arriving in Lhasa in central Tibet, we would head all the way west toward Mount Kailash near the border of India. From there we would head northward along the rather charitably entitled Xinjiang-Tibet "Highway", finally exiting into the Chinese province of Xinjiang. In total, we would be racking up over 3000 km and countless hours of driving over 15 days, stuffed in the back of a Toyota Land Cruiser.


The total cost for the permits, guide, driver, and car rental would come to 36,000 CNY or roughly $5500 USD - not including transportation to Lhasa, entrance fees, food, or lodging. To help defray the costs and to keep us company, we recruited another two travelers in Chengdu to come with us. The more the merrier and all.

Now if spending two weeks stuffed in the back of a Land Cruiser with three broke backpackers, driving great distances across poorly kept roads, at high altitude and in inclement weather DOES NOT sound like an ideal vacation to you... well then you are thinking a lot more clearly than I was at the time.

This was the original itinerary given to us by the travel agency (which as it turned out, may or may not have bore close relation to our actual itinerary):


To be continued...

Greetings from Tibet!

Just when you thought my travel blog had come to a grinding, ignominious halt, I am happy to announce that my latest blog is coming to you live from Tibet!

I arrived in Lhasa two days ago, having taken the 45 hour train ride from Chengdu. The train line to Lhasa, which finished construction 5 years ago, is the highest in the world and is considered quite a technical achievement. It runs along a number of notable sites, such as the Tibetan plains, the old Silk Road, and Lake Qinghai, and the scenery from the train was at times quite nice. Our 4 person sleeper cabin felt luxurious by Chinese standards, and I was able to complete a few books on Tibet during the downtime. That being said, the next time I will be taking the two hour plane ride.

I am stationed at a hostel in Lhasa with three travel companions that I met in Chengdu. Although I had been reading quite a few negative things about Lhasa from die-hard Tibet activists regarding over-development and the influx of Han Chinese immigrants, it is still a fascinating city. For the first time in a while, walking down the street and taking in the sights is a fresh and exciting experience.

Over the next two weeks, we will be taking a circuitous route around Tibet, heading west from Lhasa toward Mount Kailash, then northward toward Ali, then exiting into the Chinese province of Xinjiang.

I will definitely be doing some blogging this trip, but pictures and updates mights be few and far between. One thing modernization has not yet brought to Lhasa is fast internet access. Though I'm not sure if it's because of the lack of infrastructure or because of because of the Chinese secret police combing my emails for any mention of the Dalai Lama.

Poker for a Living

It's not as fun to blog about, and I'm sure it's not as fun to read about, but I've spent the last month (and two of the last four months) playing poker in Macau.

I've been playing poker seriously for over 8 years now and I usually don't like talking about it. Sometimes I find it boring and sometimes I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I make money playing a silly card game.

But after some introspection, I've really come to appreciate all the freedom and opportunity it offers me to live my current lifestyle. I'm planning to re-dedicate myself to poker this year... plugging some holes in my game, reading more strategy books, experimenting with more styles, playing more tournaments, and just putting in more hours.

I've had decent results playing the live cash games in Macau and am getting into the rhythm of being a "pro". I've settled down here more than in the past, having rented out a room in an apartment (one block from the Sands Casino) and joined a gym, rather than living out of a hotel and hanging out in the poker room everyday.

I don't want to glamorize the lifestyle too much. The ups and downs can be mentally draining at times, losing thousands of dollars on the turn of a card. And the vast majority of people who try to make money at this game fail miserably. For instance, one of the guys living in the apartment with me has lost about 300,000 HK$ in the past two weeks playing 10/25, which I didn't think was mathematically possible.

Because of visa restrictions, I do have to leave Macau periodically. So my current plan is to alternate monthly between playing live poker in Macau and traveling to different parts of Asia. My visa expires this Saturday, so I'll be moving on to a Chinese city soon to spend the next month working on my Chinese, watching the NBA playoffs, playing online poker, and hopefully getting into some blog-worthy adventures.