I fought the Naw and the Naw Won

So I didn't intend for my first glimpse of Lhasa to be from 38,000 feet, but China's Public Security Bureau in Qamdo had other ideas. At the Zhongdian bus station I ran into Powell, an American I'd met 2 days before at the Tibet Cafe. We got off the bus at a wide spot in the road called Bangda, lured by rumors of hot springs and inspired by stories of a Neolithic site near Qamdo. The local governor heard us discussing the springs with a couple of Tibetans and began screaming that they did not exist. But I ran into a geologist from Beijing who'd been to them that day, so in the morning we set off hitchhiking. Who should stop us a kilometer or so down the road but the same geologist, who dropped us off at a bridge and drew a map. We set off on a trail following the river.

Passing a shrine, we encountered three ancient women who were circling with prayer wheels. I don't know who was more surprised. A few kilometers further, past a small village, we found ourselves in a huge and pristine valley populated almost solely with yaks. A Tibetan cowboy appeared on a small ornately saddled pony. I drew a picture that sort of looked like a hot spring, and ten minutes later we were luxuriating in hot sulphurous water, with only the yaks for company. (The small boys showed up to gape half an hour later.)



Springs accomplished, we caught a ride with a floral delivery van that evening to Qamdo. I hadn't been in the internet cafe for 15 minutes before a sharply tailored English-speaking guy approached. "Backpacker?"

"Ummm, history teacher." We scrammed but the next morning he was there in the bus station, demanding our passports. Mr. Smooth turned us over to his much-less fluent underling, who marched us down to the PSB. We were ordered to sit in a modern office decorated with the same crazy psychedelic Mao clock that I've seen in a couple other places.

The Brazilians got interrogated first, so we knew what to expect. "Where to?" the guy barked sternly, and we eventually figured out that this meant "Where have you come from?" and also "Where are you going?" What time did we catch the bus, where were we staying, etc.

He registered all of our information grimly. "We have decided," he announced gravely, "to fine you according to the naw." He collected $US25 from all of us and then served tea. The Brazilians were put on a bus to Chengdu, but we Americans had to wait until the next morning to be deported back to Zhongdian.

John Naw announced that we must stay in our hotel, and this is where I drew the line. "No way. It's filthy. Please let us move someplace cleaner."

He looked at Powell. "How is the hotel?"

"Well ... it's cleaner than the one at the bus station," and then gave a shrug that must be international for "Women. What are you going to do?" For the first time the cop laughed. "OK. You can get other rooms."

I decided to push my luck. "Well, can we go see the ruins at Karub? It's only 12 kilometers. We'll hire one of your people to supervise us."

No dice. "That gate is closed to foreigners." Apparently the Chinese fear we might steal some top-secret Neolithic technology. But, they did let us wander around the monastery and eat, with only 3 men on our tail. Had we been incoherent foreigners detained by Homeland Security, I doubt the treatment would have been as nice.

Batting .500, we returned to Zhongdian, where I said goodbye to Powell and caught a morning flight to Lhasa. (He's determined to try the overland route again; I didn't have the time.)

It's amazing here. I've fallen in with 2 nice American couples, and am being very, very careful not to break the naw. Or at least not to get caught breaking the naw. That's (almost) as good. Right?