Busride from hell

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Trip Start Oct 08, 2007 Previous
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  Yushu, Qinghai, China
Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Turns out, my trip through Tibet really starts when I leave the Autonomous Region of Tibet. Free to travel without the cumbersome permits and in tourist groups doing tourist things, I dive into experiencing the "real thing". I take a sleeper bus.
Sleeper buses are one of the marvels of Chinese transportation industry. Distances are huge. Planes or trains are not always available. Sleeper bus is the way to go. I show my ticket and get on. The driver points me to my bed. There are 3 rows of two level beds. I sigh with relieve when I discover that the good lady that sold me the ticket, has given me a bed on the first level by the window, as opposed to a bed on the second level in the middle row. I take my shoes and put them in the plastic bag handed to me at the door. It is all relatively clean and well organized. The slight problem is - these are beds for petite Chinese people, not for big fat Europeans. The space is tight. Now I know why the driver was making big circular motions with his hands first pointing to my small backpack and then to the luggage compartment outside. There is no space for it. I arrange and rearrange my belongings until I'm able to fit everything under the bed. That is everything, but my i-pod, my camera, a book, the lonely planet guide, a large pack of sweet race cakes, a big bottle of water, my sleeping bag still folded, a bunch of bananas and a packet of sunflower seeds. There is hardly space left for me on the bed, but at least I ensure I won't die from thirst, hunger or boredom on this 20 hour bus ride. You never really know when the bus will stop for a bathroom break, so it would be silly to over-hydrate. And living on sweet rice cakes and bananas can be a bit sickening but it is preferable to famishing yourself.
The bus leaves pronto. The passengers make final arrangements in their beds-seats. Eventually, everyone relaxes and the guys light a cigarette as to seal the deal that we have indeed departed. I crack the window open and try to read but I am all too excited to focus on the history of 15th century China. Still holding the book open, I stare blankly out the window as we drive on wide dusty suburban boulevards fringed by large monotonous grey residential buildings that remind me of the commi-style suburbs of my home town and put me in a comfortable state of mind. The landscape changes from suburbia to low grass lands and stays there, hour after hour, after hour. Eventually, the monotonous landscape and the rocking of the bus put me into a dream like state. After some time the dream like state morphs into a drunk like state. I can't take enough breath. I know it's the altitude. I don't know where exactly we are, but it must be high. Altitude is a very interesting thing. Every time is like the first time. You never know if it is going to affect you, or how exactly - symptoms ranging from lightheadedness, raised heart beat, numbed fingers, shortness of breath, mild headache, massive headache, vomit, complete inability to breath and in the extreme cases - death (hopefully not at this altitude). It is dark outside. The windows are frozen and I can't see the sky, which is a shame, because it is probably amazing. I huddle in my sleeping bag, trying to accept the fact that there is nothing I can do but wait for it to be over.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the bus stops for another bathroom break. Chinese toilets in the country side are something else. The first time I walked in one, I said: "Oh, sorry" and walked right out. There was a woman inside doing her business. But as I  waited embraced by the open door, another woman walked past me and squatted by the first one. Then it hit me - the long canal has been made that long not for luxury, but to be used by more than one person at a time. When in Rome...I took a deep breath and walked in. No-one seemed to care. From where I was squatting, I could see the waste of hundreds of women who were here before me. It was an unsettling experience. So when I stepped out of the bus and realized that there is no toilet at all at this particular toilet break, I rejoiced.
We are at the outskirts of some small village, parked next to a high mud wall. The guys go straight for the wall. The women squat on the other side of the street. It is a fool moon. Dogs are barking somewhere in the distance. I look around and eventually decide to walk around the corner where the wall casts a deep shade. Satisfied with my privacy, I unbuckle my belt, pull down my slacks, roll down my thermals and my underwear and squat. The barks are getting closer. I hesitate for a moment. The barks seem to be really close now. I stand up and pool everything up at once. Just as I do that, the pack clears the corner and in a second, I see the unfriendly bared teeth of the leader of the pack violently invading my personal space. It is a mid size dog of unidentifiable breed, and ugly one too. Its fur is in a dire state, but all of its teeth are in place. In a split second I'm running towards the bus. With my pants still unzipped, I fly out of the corner in the face of dozen peacefully peeing Chinese man with a pack of dogs on my ass. Moment of confusion for all the parties involved. The guys gain their baring admirably swiftly and start yelling at the dogs that now feel outnumbered and retreat. With my legs still shaking I cross the street and squat on the other side. Never again will I deny the safety of Chinese toilet, nor will I ever recover from my fear of dogs at night. As far as the dangers of traveling alone around the world goes, this is the closest I've ever felt to getting into a serious trouble. 
The rest of the ride is freezing, but uneventful. Eventually my pulse drops below 120. In the reassuring safety of the dawn, I fall asleep. We arrive shortly after. It is 4:30am.

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