Successful people throughout the ages have all agreed on one timeless truth: “Tibet is always reserved for those who are prepared.” Our elders also constantly remind us:Never, ever underestimate “Xi.”I suppose I failed to take this ancient wisdom seriously—and thus began this tale of our turbulent, terrifying trip to Tibet…
[ Even if you call yourself Xi Min-jun, you’d better believe it ] (Photo sourced from the internet)
Back when I was still a Tibet novice, I heard that this year marked Tibet’s grand 50th anniversary celebration. Delusions immediately flooded my brain, and I thought we were incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon such a meaningful occasion. Little did I know thatthe “50 years” actually referred to how long China had been idiotically—oops, I mean administratively—ruling Tibet.Given China’s one-sided jubilation, a spectacular SHOW TIME ceremony was inevitable. Fortunately, a savvy forum member on Backpackers.com.tw had “dreamed” that:The Xi administration planned to visit Tibet in mid-September, and Tibet would be closed to outsiders during that period!(Would you look at that—the SHOW could only be broadcast; no one was allowed to watch it LIVE.)
[ Close the doors—put on the show—(I’m genuinely afraid I’ll mysteriously vanish from the face of the earth after writing this) ](Photo sourced from the internet)
We actually started planning this trip extremely late. The silly wish to visit Tibet had popped into my head a year earlier; I had found my coworker, Miss Y, who was willing to be silly with me; and we had even attended a travel agency’s Tibet seminar for lazy people. Yet we did not truly get moving until a hurried two or three months before departure. Two or three months?! That was still early compared with my other trips—I now barely plan anything until a week before leaving. But for heaven’s sake, we were going to “Tibet,” “Tibet” (cue infinite echoes)!
[ We attended this Tibet seminar in early February, and the biggest thing we gained was a map ]
This was a politically sensitive region governed by an organization with neither human rights nor democracy, where you could not simply jump on the “spontaneous getaway” bandwagon. And whenever something like this happens, we Taiwanese are immediately treated the same as foreign nationals (which I honestly don’t mind): “You must apply for a Tibet Travel Permit one month in advance, and your itinerary usually has to be led by a guide.” If either condition is missing, your application is “handled on a case-by-case basis (head-scratching).” And untilyour feet physically touch Tibetan soil, absolutely anything can change.All it takes is for a Tibetan to suddenly decide to self-immolate, or for the Xi administration to feel like making some “contribution” to Tibet and throw itself a birthday celebration. Who cares if you have already paid for your flights and itinerary or are due to arrive the next day? One order comes down, and the whole thing is overturned.
So, you see,being unable to enter Tibet is perfectly normal; being allowed in is good fortune bestowed by “Xi.”。
[ At least, I think that’s how it works—you could scratch your head raw and still never figure it out ](Photo sourced from the internet)
Thinking ourselves clever, we avoided the September festivities and decided to depart in early October. But an exciting story never begins that smoothly. Despite calculating every possibility, we failed to anticipate thatnot only were we pesky foreigners barred from the grand celebration, but the officials who normally reviewed Tibet permit applications had all been dragged away to attend to officials from the Xi administration.In other words, although we had submitted our Tibet permit application on September 1, it could not officially enter the review process until the festivities and official tour ended on September 14. Since we were due to enter Tibet from Chengdu on October 4, that left us withnowhere near the full month needed for a safe review window.With the Mid-Autumn Festival and the National Day Golden Week coming up next, our youthful hands began trembling involuntarily. This entire messmade it wildly uncertain whether we would receive our Tibet Travel Permits in time!
[ Everyone seems delighted about the grand celebration, but none of them are actually Tibetan—what is that about? ](Photo sourced from the internet)
Meanwhile, we heard that a neighboring company had originally planned to take its staff trip to Tibet, only to collide head-on with the celebration dates. Their travel agency initially guaranteed that the permits would arrive without a hitch, but the story kept changing until the permits were supposedly going to be delayed by another two or three days. With the whole itinerary thrown into chaos, they had no choice but to cancel. The news dealt a devastating blow to our confidence. All we could do was repeatedly ask the local Tibetan travel agency arranging our trip for updates while convincing ourselves, “If Tibet falls through, we can always spend fourteen days in Sichuan or Xinjiang.” (As the saying goes, take a step back and the world opens up. Even without Tibet, Sichuan is still beautiful.)
Finally, justsix days before our flight was due to take off—or our Tibet trip was due to get off the ground—…
“Your Tibet entry letter has been approved. Please don’t worry.”Brother Changhao from the travel agencyfinally sent us some good news!
For the first time in ten years, yours truly relived the suspense of waiting for exam results (don’t you dare start calculating my age). We could finally go to Tibet!!
[ And all because of this 50th-anniversary celebration ]
BUT！Does life really need this many BUTs?
Our Tibet entry letter had indeed been approved, but it was still clocked in for work over in Tibet. The problem was thatwe had to hand the original document to the authorities for inspection when entering Tibet.Getting it delivered to Taiwan within five days would have been extremely risky. Travel agencies normally mail it to the accommodation where travelers stay during a mainland China layover. But because our connection was less than six short hours, we had decided to remain at the airport and wait for the next flight. Sowe had no address to send it to at all.Although Brother Changhao and I were separated by a layer of WeChat, I could practically sense his face turning Hulk-green. Then we told him, “Our flight doesn’t arrive until 11:35 p.m.” If he had been holding a machete, I would not have found it surprising. Still, Brother Changhao shouldered the responsibility and replied, “I’ll figure something out.” (Extremely MANLY!)
As the saying goes, you make your own mess, you clean it up. We had handed Brother Changhao a huge problem, so we would have to suffer the consequences ourselves.
[ In the end, we cornered ourselves too](Photo sourced from the internet)
At last, Brother Changhao managed to find someone who would personally deliver our Tibet entry letter to Chengdu Shuangliu Airport, where we were connecting, in the middle of the night. I alsogave him the prepaid mobile number I had purchased during an earlier trip to Shanghai.When I left Shanghai, I had paid to keep the number while suspending service, and I had even used it to receive verification messages in the meantime. I was absolutely certain the plan was foolproof: as soon as we landed, we would call the courier, collect the document, and make it safely to Tibet.
But who could have known that after landing, inserting the SIM card, and trying to reactivate the service, a heavily retroflex recorded voice would repeatedly tell me thatit was outside business hours and no customer-service staff were available.(Who knew mainland Chinese telecom companies could be so humane toward their employees? Their customers, however, were furious.) Without reactivating the service, I could not make calls. Fine, text messages and mobile data were dead too—but I could not even receive calls! All we had was the airport’s feeble WIFI signal, through which we exchanged broken, intermittent messages via Brother Changhao to confirm the courier’s location. (Once again, I felt we were driving Brother Changhao insane.)
[ This is the SIM card I bought in Shanghai. That is another story about being conned ]
Eventually, we received an instruction: “There’s a 50-year-old man holding a box at Exit 4.」
Roger that, Captain! Let the scavenger hunt begin.
We began searching Terminal 1 of Chengdu Shuangliu Airport for Exit 4. But whether we walked left to right or sprinted from one end to the other, all we could find were Exits 1 and 2! The missing Exit 4 was as mysterious as Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. At last, we summoned the courage to approach a fierce-looking security guard whose face screamed “do not bother me” and ask where it was. “Go outside, turn right, and walk 800 metres.” Before us lay a road leading who knew where. It was the middle of the night, we had no working phone, there was no WIFI outside the terminal, and we were terrified of failing to collect our crucial Tibet Travel Permits. Still, we had no choice but to try!
[ The buildings are all miles away, with nothing but shrubs on either side. Where on earth am I? ]
Anxious and pressed for time—and terrified that Box Man would lose patience and abandon us—I broke into a full sprint.After running what was definitely more than 1,000 metres, I finally spotted a distant sign for Exit 4.It turned out Exit 4 was in Terminal 2.And Chengdu Shuangliu Airport was freaking enormous, with crowds of people leaving and meeting arriving passengers around the exit. Amid the sea of humanity, I ran in and out of the airport over and over, constantly searching for “the 50-year-old man holding a box.”This must be exactly how a TV-drama hero feels when he races to the airport to stop the heroine from leaving.I was terrified that Box Man would simply give up and leave, and worried that we were about to miss each other… But the bigger problem was that I had absolutely no idea what the man looked like!
[ After leaving our luggage with two of our coworkers, another coworker and I took off running ]
After more than ten minutes of searching, I suddenly caught sight of a man in the corner of the crowd. He was holding a paper bag and a phone, looked worried, appeared to be about 50, and was turning to leave. Refusing to let any opportunity slip away, I hurried over and asked, “Excuse me, are you here to hand over the Tibet Travel Permits?” Box Man—who was clearly Bag Man—froze for a moment. After repeatedly checking our names and the number of people in our group, we finally confirmed that we were the ones each other had been searching for. We poured out the hardships of our respective searches (such a shame he was already 50—just kidding…), then finally let go of the weight on our shoulders. Clutching the Tibet Travel Permits tightly to my chest, we waited to board our pre-dawn flight from Chengdu to Lhasa.After more than a month of anxious waiting, we could finally declare that we were going to enter Tibet after all!
[ Meeting the 50-year-old box-carrying man in person—this scene was honestly more iconic and moving than the entire 50th-anniversary celebration ]
Good thing yours truly had trained for this—and happened to be wearing the trusty Nike running shoes that had accompanied me through many campaigns. As a result,I unexpectedly unlocked the special achievement: Running in Chengdu.！
Perhaps it was precisely because we had endured all that anxiety and turmoil that seeing Tibet with my own eyes made me feel especially grateful and appreciative(so life really isn’t supposed to go too smoothly, is that it?!).
[ Tibet entry token in hand—surely you’ll let us through the door now! ]
✈ Travel dates: 2015/10/3–2015/10/4
| Tibet 西藏踢北去 | Series: (Travel dates: 2015/10/3–2015/10/16)
● Lifting Tibet’s veil with my own eyes: a dream I once thought was beyond reach
● We had made it all the way to Chengdu, right at Tibet’s doorstep—but would we actually get in?
● Finally setting foot in Lhasa: breathing the legendary thin air and battling altitude sickness
● The Potala Palace, spiritual sanctuary of the Tibetan people—though perhaps altitude sickness wasn’t the only reason we lacked energy
● Searching for the true Tibetan heart of Lhasa: awestruck by the power of faith at Jokhang Temple and in the Old City
● A road trip that pushed body and mind beyond their limits: eastward from Lhasa to Nyingchi (Part 1—Mila Mountain Pass and toilet tales)
