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Our Jeep cruised along the mountain road at what seemed like a safe speed, probably 40 kph. Safe, of course, is a relative term. A small truck soon appeared in front, slowing us down. Our driver decided to overtake, just as the two vehicles were turning a bend. He sped up and came abreast of the truck. My heart pounded as I looked at the blind corner that we were careering into and the sharp drop beside us down the mountainside. Everyone in the jeep held their breath. Even Penelope shivered from fear. I screamed at the driver the only words at my command that might express my fear: “Man man zhou, wo de mama bu gao xing”, Slow down my mother is not happy! The driver repeated my words (probably trying to understand them) before responding with “Hao de”, Alright. I was not impressed.
We peered out of the window in silence. The alpine forest was periodically broken by waterfalls tumbling onto the road from the snowy peaks above us. Pretty soon the mountains turned brown and became desert-like. It reminded me of the Judean desert. Being in unfamiliar territory, I could easily imagine this to be somewhere in the wilds of Afghanistan. Indeed, we were somewhere in the wilds of China! Below us, the upper reaches of the Yangze river flowed on its way eastwards. The road inclined downwards, and upon reaching the river we crossed a large bridge.
“What are those markings on the side of the road?” I asked our interpreter.
“They mark the distance to Lhasa, the capital of Tibet. 1931 km from here.” So this was the road to Tibet, a place that is off limits to foreigners like me. P looked up at me with one of her cheeky looks. “I bet they wouldn’t stop me at the border” She said. She can be such a smart arse sometimes.
A soldier suddenly appeared on the road, thrusting out a stop sign shaped like a tennis racket. We pulled over. Everyone was asked to leave the jeep and submit passports for inspection. For all of her bravado, Penelope seemed to have suddenly disappeared. Although we were not crossing any official border, we were entering a restricted zone. The stern faced officer watched as I took out my documents. Somehow I wanted to see whether his harsh demeanour was real just a show. I pointed to my camera and motioned that I wanted to take a picture. “Keyi”, Sure, he responded, his face breaking into an enormous smile. It was a wonderful moment of humanity.
We piled back into the jeep and continued on our way. The road rose again and greenery returned to the hills. Flowers of purple and white added splashes of colour. Pine trees gave a beautiful smell and fresh appearance. The temperature cooled. The roads that cut into the steep mountainsides and the valleys that fell away all afforded a sense of grandeur to the experience. And then, almost without warning, here we were, driving above the snow line. The jeep crossed over the saddle of the mountains and we stopped for a photo. We stood at an altitude of 4100 metres. Penelope looked instantly pale from a lack of oxygen and lay down on the car seat. My head went giddy as I walked to higher ground only a dozen metres away for a better vantage point, and I had to stop a few times as I lost my breath.
This was our last stop. It had been a long drive, almost 6 hours. But within 30 minutes we could see Deqin, a dirty little town nestled in the slope of a mountain valley. We took the time to inspect 5 hotels before settling on one recommended in our Lonely Planet guide book. It was cheap and at first glance appeared to be of similar standard to the others we saw. Seeing rest at hand, we checked in.
The TV didn’t work. The toilet tank either didn’t refill or constantly overflowed. The girl from reception had to come and get the electricity switch to function. The bed covers were grubby. The drinking water provided in each room was a shade of something not potable. The lights didn’t work. The rooms faced the street and the tooting trucks that traversed it. The provided soap and toothbrushes were stuck to the bathroom sink. Apparently no guest would dare touch them. Only scalding water came out of the shower. And best of all, (2) condoms were provided free of charge in every room. A sign on the door from the local police made it clear that, amongst other things, “prostitution and whoring” are prohibited.
Other things started to make sense. In one of the hotels I inspected, the young lady who showed me the room was overly friendly in introducing herself. ‘Sophie’ enthusiastically grabbed my hand and gave me a knowing smile. Room prices displayed at the reception of another hotel included “hourly rate”. With nothing much to do here and frequent travellers passing through from Tibet, a bit of private entertainment would be just the ticket.
Welcome to Deqin, a predominantly Tibetan town where some of the locals can’t understand Mandarin. Despite the friendliness of the locals and their obvious interest that I stay to play, I decided that it would have the pleasure of my company for exactly one night, before I moved on to greener pastures.
We peered out of the window in silence. The alpine forest was periodically broken by waterfalls tumbling onto the road from the snowy peaks above us. Pretty soon the mountains turned brown and became desert-like. It reminded me of the Judean desert. Being in unfamiliar territory, I could easily imagine this to be somewhere in the wilds of Afghanistan. Indeed, we were somewhere in the wilds of China! Below us, the upper reaches of the Yangze river flowed on its way eastwards. The road inclined downwards, and upon reaching the river we crossed a large bridge.
“What are those markings on the side of the road?” I asked our interpreter.
“They mark the distance to Lhasa, the capital of Tibet. 1931 km from here.” So this was the road to Tibet, a place that is off limits to foreigners like me. P looked up at me with one of her cheeky looks. “I bet they wouldn’t stop me at the border” She said. She can be such a smart arse sometimes.
A soldier suddenly appeared on the road, thrusting out a stop sign shaped like a tennis racket. We pulled over. Everyone was asked to leave the jeep and submit passports for inspection. For all of her bravado, Penelope seemed to have suddenly disappeared. Although we were not crossing any official border, we were entering a restricted zone. The stern faced officer watched as I took out my documents. Somehow I wanted to see whether his harsh demeanour was real just a show. I pointed to my camera and motioned that I wanted to take a picture. “Keyi”, Sure, he responded, his face breaking into an enormous smile. It was a wonderful moment of humanity.
We piled back into the jeep and continued on our way. The road rose again and greenery returned to the hills. Flowers of purple and white added splashes of colour. Pine trees gave a beautiful smell and fresh appearance. The temperature cooled. The roads that cut into the steep mountainsides and the valleys that fell away all afforded a sense of grandeur to the experience. And then, almost without warning, here we were, driving above the snow line. The jeep crossed over the saddle of the mountains and we stopped for a photo. We stood at an altitude of 4100 metres. Penelope looked instantly pale from a lack of oxygen and lay down on the car seat. My head went giddy as I walked to higher ground only a dozen metres away for a better vantage point, and I had to stop a few times as I lost my breath.
This was our last stop. It had been a long drive, almost 6 hours. But within 30 minutes we could see Deqin, a dirty little town nestled in the slope of a mountain valley. We took the time to inspect 5 hotels before settling on one recommended in our Lonely Planet guide book. It was cheap and at first glance appeared to be of similar standard to the others we saw. Seeing rest at hand, we checked in.
The TV didn’t work. The toilet tank either didn’t refill or constantly overflowed. The girl from reception had to come and get the electricity switch to function. The bed covers were grubby. The drinking water provided in each room was a shade of something not potable. The lights didn’t work. The rooms faced the street and the tooting trucks that traversed it. The provided soap and toothbrushes were stuck to the bathroom sink. Apparently no guest would dare touch them. Only scalding water came out of the shower. And best of all, (2) condoms were provided free of charge in every room. A sign on the door from the local police made it clear that, amongst other things, “prostitution and whoring” are prohibited.
Other things started to make sense. In one of the hotels I inspected, the young lady who showed me the room was overly friendly in introducing herself. ‘Sophie’ enthusiastically grabbed my hand and gave me a knowing smile. Room prices displayed at the reception of another hotel included “hourly rate”. With nothing much to do here and frequent travellers passing through from Tibet, a bit of private entertainment would be just the ticket.
Welcome to Deqin, a predominantly Tibetan town where some of the locals can’t understand Mandarin. Despite the friendliness of the locals and their obvious interest that I stay to play, I decided that it would have the pleasure of my company for exactly one night, before I moved on to greener pastures.
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