一只张牙舞爪的虫子

I have a bad headache and couldn’t sleep for the past few nights. High altitude sickness is nothing new for people taken from low areas and are suddenly dropped by a plane on a mountain plateau, but the worst thing is that all the drug stores are closed! Early morning I had to walk a long way to a local hospital to find altitude sickness medicine. Breathing is so difficult, that I felt like I was going to die when I finally walked up to my third-floor room in this no-elevator hotel. Fortunately the medicine works right away.

Last night was the deadline for the criminals to turn themselves in. It was a quiet night for me, but a German girl I met in a café said she had heard 3 gunshots. She also said she had heard around 200-300 people were arrested.

The checkpoints are not as lenient as yesterday—I was stopped in the morning when I tried to go down Beijing East Road. Soldiers wouldn’t even let local residents in unless they had proofs to show they lived or worked within the blocked areas.

Things became less tense in the afternoon. I managed to go down the street after showing the soldiers my ID—I can’t remember a single day in my life that I have to take out my ID so many times as there were checkpoints everywhere.

Small alleys leading to Jokhang Monastery and Barkhor Streets were still blocked by soldiers with more thorough searches—anyone who tried to go in had to hold a temporary residential card in addition to their national ID cards, and all had to be searched by the soldiers. I didn’t have a temporary residential card on me of course, but the female police searcher there was obviously too busy and didn’t pay much attention to me—so I just snuck in.

The city was even more dead on the other side of the checkpoints. To my surprise I didn’t see the community as badly ruined as on Beijing Donglu. I only saw 2 residential buildings burned down. What was really creepy here is that it absolutely looked like a ghost town—all shops closed, almost nobody on the streets.  Just an eerie silence.

A few Tibetans were hanging outside, sitting on doorsteps, chatting, and doing nothing. In front of a police station a bunch of locals were waiting for their temporary resident cards to be issued. They all looked at me because I was the only tourist looking person there.

A young Tibetan lady approached me and asked me what I was doing there. I told her I was just hanging out. “No it’s too dangerous here”, she waved her hand at me, “You don’t want to stay here too long.”

“Are you scared?” I asked her. “Yes of course I’m scared!  It is too chaotic these days.” She smiled at me, pointed the way out and walked away quickly.

I kept walking past all the closed souvenir shops, galleries and restaurants and couldn’t imagine how much bustle there was only a few days ago in such a tourist center. Now the  only people I see are a few soldiers on the rooftop of one building alertly watching downward. Then suddenly three men appeared—two soldiers on the side with one young Tibetan man in the middle. He was not handcuffed or tied up but I could tell he had been arrested.

I saw more soldiers as I walked down Barkhor Street. At one intersection I saw four armored vehicles and at least ten army trucks full of soldiers. The square in front of the Lokhang Monastery was sealed and I had to find my way out—hours of walk at these altitudes is as exhausting as climbing a mountain and a slight headache hit me again.

I almost ran into a bit trouble when I tried to walk out of the area when the soldier at the checkpoint couldn’t figure out how I got there in the first place. Fortunately he saw my ID and told me he’s from the same province—an “Old home town” rapport ensued and he let me go with a warning not to come back again.

Outside the Lokhank Monastery and Barkhor Street areas that were blocked off, life seemed to be gradually returning to normal. Some trash had been cleared up and a few shops were open again. It was already hard to tell that this is a town that just went through so much damage and rioting if it wasn’t for the patrolling soldiers and closed shops. Every Tibetan smiled at me when I smiled at them. Every Tibetan girl I saw was very beautiful, even though most of them wore face masks (to avoid sunburn?)

Back in the hotel, two trucks drove past by my window with a loud speaker blaring an announcement to the citizens: “Let’s unite closely and denounce Dalai Lama’s attempt to split Tibet from China!”