Tibet

Brice is suffering a splitting sinus headache. I think this will go away with the medicine. It's his second since reaching Qinghai. We suppose the climatic change from humid Hong Kong to arid Golmud is responsible.

Yesterday, phoned Rudolph (a Danish citizen operating a hostel in Lhasa, whom we contacted by phone from Hong Kong) who told us he'd be inclined to almost just go without the permit. We're going to do that. We'll apologize profusely and either claim ignorance or explain that we couldn't get the permit from CITS.

Yesterday, also saw three blokes from Hangzhou (capital of Zhejiang Province, China) with bikes! They are at our hotel and arrived by train, ready to tackle Tibet. Almost. Each bike has an enormous duffel bag on the rear rack and each man has a giant internal-frame backpack on his back. This will be tortuous. I really don't think they've tried this out before.

They said we should go together. We explained that foreigners have a lot of trouble with permits. They didn't seem deterred. They suggested we all go out cycling together today and see how things go, and theoretically set off tomorrow. But it seems they've gone ahead today without us.

Back to Rudolph. He said there really isn't a 'permit' because in Lhasa the groups of individual travelers on buses disband and nobody's got a permit to show for it. So the hotels don't expect to see anything more than a Chinese visa.

Rudolph also said the only checkpoint he recalls en route is the one 30 kilometers south of Golmud. He said it's on pretty flat terrain and insinuated it might easily be skirted at dawn or dusk. "You'll see them before they see you." But we decided the best policy is to take the checkpoint head-on.

"What were we thinking five years ago?" I asked Brice, recalling the time on our last trip when we skirted underneath a checkpoint at night within a few feet of soldiers.

"I think we were just harder then," Brice replied. Yes, I thought, much harder. These years in civilization have softened us. Back then, we were fixed on our goal, and our route to it, like a laser. Nothing would have stopped us. We're hoping to re-discover that commitment in the coming days. Something tells me it will be critical.

Golmud is a great town. Full stop. It's a shame that people run around with guidebooks telling them what is interesting and what isn't. Wouldn't it be better to find out on one's own? We found a huge outdoor market in this city. The people are extraordinarily friendly. Lots of happy, smiling people. They love to come out at night and the sidewalks are full of pool tables, karaoke stands, food stalls, and drinks. People are so psyched to speak with a foreigner.

Yesterday, after wandering through the market, Brice heard what he calls "power chords." He stopped in his tracks. He heard more; they were coming from the basement of the building on his right. He dropped down the stairs into the basement and sure enough at the far end of the room were a bunch of long-haired Chinese guys playing rock and roll. Brice freaked. They talked for a while and Brice promised to come back with his friend.

We did just that and it was a hoot! They offered Brice the drums, which he used to play in a rock band in college, and he just started locking into a groove. The guitarist and bassist joined in and they jammed. A little rough around the edges but a thrill nonetheless. I was hugely charged by this.

We left for grub and came back at show time, 9 pm. We were disappointed to realize that there would be no more rock and roll, only cheesy pop songs the clientele could stomach. The club owner was excited by our presence and sat us at the bar. We ordered a couple of beers and watched a handful of couples trotting through their moves on the dance floor. Gender seemed unimportant; male-male and female-female pairs were as common as male-female pairs. "I know two cycling partners who will not be dancing together!" Brice said. Amen.

The guitarist saw us at the bar and came over to bring us back to his table with the rest of the band members. "I guess they (the clientele) don't like rock too much," I said.

"No. It's not that they don't like rock too much," he said. "They don't like it at all."

We drank beer together -- in an irritating half-friendly, half-competitive way -- listened to cheese music, and headed out together. They are a group of friends from Inner Mongolia who've moved to Golmud. "What do you do during the day?" I asked one of the singers.

"Sleep!"

So they had in mind a much longer night out with us, but we politely insisted to go back to the hotel. We turned in around 12:30 am.

That brings us to this morning's state. I've been to the loo about five times during the night and this morning, and feel ragged. HQ (Brice) is fast asleep trying to beat this headache.

But the point is that Golmud rules, and it reinforces my conviction that small- to medium-size Chinese cities rule it. For example, Xingtai in Hebei Province. And yet, the most popular guidebook describes Golmud as "one of the most depressing cities in China."