The Stunning Adventures "Not all those who wander are lost." Tolkien

Having entered China four times in the past four months, the Stunnings had finally gotten their fill of China. Not to say that we did not love China, we were just ready for something new. While still technically China, the absorbed state of Tibet was focused firmly in our sights. Getting into Tibet has been made a ridiculously expensive and difficult process by the Chinese government. The process could have been so expensive that we almost scrapped the plan altogether to go to Myanmar; that is, before another oppressive and illegitamate government foiled our plans. We had already had a Chinese friend try to buy us tickets, only to be turned away. We had heard terrible tales of people spending nearly 300 dollars apiece for the "permit", which you actually never see, and a train ride. This was worrying us, as we do not typically like to throw around money needlessly. Once in Chengdu, we met other travelers that had all been told different stories by different, and sometimes, the same people. Some people were "training" it, while others were flying. Some people had paid a lot for a permit, others got a great deal, and still, others were daring the passage "permit-less". After some discussions, good information from our Chinese friend, and also some crack advice from permit-less friends already in Lhasa, we decided to be daring. We wanted to snub our noses at an oppressive government that is actively carrying out, what amounts to be, cultural genocide on the Tibetan people; we also did not mind saving a few yuan.

We were then faced with how to buy a ticket. This "permit" is said to be necessary to buy a ticket. This "permit" is also said to be necessary to enter into the Autonomous Region of Tibet. With no clear answers, and a hot tip gleaned from an Anglo-Canadian duo, we headed for an independent train ticket window that is not directly affiliated with the train station. Trying to avoid the nay-saying, permit-touting, price-profiteering travel agents, we shuffled up to the ticket window; attempting to avoid eye contact. We were pleasantly surprised to be given options of seats and dates without the shrug of the representatives shoulders or the pressing of the red "panic" button that we saw lurking within fingertip's reach (although that turned out to be the "print ticket" button). With only having had to pay a 5 yuan service fee (65 cents), we happily skipped back to the hostel with huge shit-eating grins; we had beaten the system again!

Our next big Challenge was to get onto the train without being asked for our "permit". We were a bit late to the station (true Stunning fashion) and had to run to catch our train. We made it to the platform in the clear only to have one of our grocery bags give way, spilling some apples onto the concrete. Greg was nearly positive that if he had not bent down to retrieve the fruit, he surely would have been hit by the muffled shot from the sniper in the rafters. We snapped a couple photos in front of the train (masquerading as though we were care-free permit holding law abiders) and boarded the train for 44 hours to the roof of the world, Lhasa, Tibet.

As the ticket taker came around to check our tickets, we both thought that we were doomed. The three other Chinese people in our train compartment had forms in Chinese script with little red stamps all over them. The conductor looked to us, and we only had our tickets. Blasted! We were found out, we were certainly going to Chinese jail for life, with only gross toilets and a future of being chow-meined to death. She left our compartment, serious-faced, with no word otherwise. Elizabeth shot Greg her worried face, and Greg shot back his "shitting his pants" face. We sweated out the next few minutes of the ride until she returned with English versions of those same notes our compartment mates had. Much to our relief, they were just waivers we had to sign, absolving the Chinese government if we were to explode from the pressure change caused by crossing 5000m+ passes on the way to Lhasa. We had just dodged another bullet. Relieved and relaxed the Stunnings grabbed their books and laid down in their bunks.

It was not long before a train attendant came around handing out nasal oxygen masks; the same kind you see people wearing in the hospital. We had never heard about anybody having a problem on the train ride, but the sight of the masks (that you usually see on sick or injured people) kind of freaked both of us out. As it turns out, neither of us needed supplemental oxygen during the trip. We whiled away the time reading, sleeping and staring out the window at the incredible landscape that makes up Northern Tibet. We finally pulled into the Train Station, only a couple hours late. Now all we had left was one last hurtle, evading the army of soldiers, police and permit checkers on our way out of the train station.

As it turns out, there were not permit checkers. We walked out of the train station only to find a whole brigade of Chinese soldiers! (maybe a slight exaggeration). We felt like pinballs in a great game, bouncing each and every way, changing directions to avoid contact with one of the soldiers. They looked nice enough (probably a big exaggeration), but we were sure they were going to drop kick us out of Tibet. We managed to avoid their clutches and hopped into the first Tibetan driven taxi we could see and agreed to an exorbitant price just to put the peddle to the metal and high tail it to the Tibetan part of the city. Phew! We made it!