Point2Point

To say the day started out like any other would be a bona fide lie. I had after all regained my youthful confidence. My headache was gone, we were off to see the Jokhang Temple. No time for a shower, my late night meant a rush job of an Italian style morning refresher. I was hungover, tired, and full of a new confidence.

Much like the rest of the Tibetan Temples, this holy Jokhang did little to impress me personally. Heavy reds and yellows painted the musty walls with some equally heavy incense clogging up the air inside. The temple had a square layout, an inner courtyard was bustling with red robbed monks and a throng of locals pushing forward into an inner sanctum. They were there to see the most holy of Buddha statues, one that would bring good fortune to those believers who see it. The inner square was a little different to most as it was surrounded by a wooden fence that cordoned off an area that was lined with 25 wooden benches. Tall red monk style hats standing atop marking their owners seating positions.

We toured around, watching as monks pushed and squeezed people forward. Faces peered into open doorways, taking brisk glimpses at the holy statues that glared down at them from atop. Perhaps the most uplifting sight to me was watching a tiny old robed lady swinging her prayer wheel around in quite a dull fashion, until the shrill ring of her mobile phone and the mad flapping of her clothing layers broke the monotony as she answered it.

I was itching to move on. Somehow Tibetan life was not doing it for me, Nepal seemed more Tibetan than Tibet itself. The Chinese guards went berserk if you stepped out of line, or took a photo in the wrong direction. It was as if the Tibetan culture was now on show at a museum. In Nepal you were free to explore and ask questions, here you told what to believe. What's more, there were construction sites everywhere. Nothing fancy, nothing architecturally astute. Just more mass produce dull looking blocks being created along most roads.

Stefan was equally unimpressed, he towered above the monks and several tourists were more impressed with that than monks. Quinnell was on a separate mission. He too was not so happy with pushing and shoving inside the temple, nor with the countless Buddha statues on display. We were were worn out on Temples and felt like it was all a show put on by the Chinese. We has seen the most spectacular vistas en route to Lhasa and now all we saw were temples run with a heavy big brother presence.

As we left the usual Chinese military presence marched up and down in the courtyard.

"I tink they are robots in disguise", nodded Quinnell to himself more than to us. "It is quite strange to watch them 'ere."

"Ya man," comment big Stefan, "It's all getting a bit monotonous for me too."

Pointing over to a stall selling tourist items outside I shook my head, "Not even a bloody singing bowl for sale."

"And if there was, " continued Stefan, "it would be made in Nepal."

"Internet?" I said offering up our usual time passer.

There was nothing planned for the afternoon. Our guide Anil had confessed that he had come up short with things to do as most of the Monasteries were still closed. We had the option of going to Natural history Museum. But instead were about to walk into modern history.

Quinnell parted way's with us, he was opting for an early lunch at a local Tibetan eatery he had found. Hangover's still fresh we bought some coke and a supply of sweet breads from the local supermarket before heading down the main road to the nearby internet café.

We both looked up at where we thought the café was yesterday.

Stefan squinted through puffy eyes, "This is it right?"

"Should be," I replied looking left and right at the buildings on either side. We were doubting our own sense of direction due to our sore heads and it took a while to register that the building was closed. "I think there's another up the road a bit."

Stefan grunted in reply as a distant construction site rumbled. "I dunno, maybe I just head back. My head hurts and it's nearly lunch time."

The empty main road made for an easy crossing as we walked back towards the hotel. My mind was on the plane ticket from Shanghai, the airline still had not sent me a receipt and I really wanted to put it at rest. I stopped in the center of the road.

"What's up?" mumbled Stefan a little ahead of me.

Looking up at him I noticed a dark plume of smoke in the distance. And then another to the east of the city. Turning around I looked back down the near traffic free road. Then back at Stefan.

"What's going on?"

"What do mean?" he replied shrugging his shoulders and finishing his coke.

Pointing ahead I saw people walking hurriedly in our direction. "Something's up. Look around. People are shutting down their stores and they're moving out. The smoke. The..."

I was interrupted by a loud blast. It echoed down a side street before the sound spread out onto the main road. We were on Beijing Xilu Road, one of the largest roads that cut through Lhasa. It gave us a long range view from one end of the city to the next. Mainly due to now being nearly completely devoid of traffic. To the North all we saw were more and more stacks of black smoke. To our east more sounds of dull explosions.

Soon came random shouts from people on our road. Some waved at each other to follow them. Others looked back in the direction we were facing towards Jokhang temple, then turn and ran in the opposite. Others still scrambled to push down shutters on their store fronts.

Stefan looked at me and then over at our hotel. "We better head back, this is not looking good."

Nodding in agreement we walked swiftly to the hotel reception. Anil was outside with a group of the drivers all looking anxious.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Is fine," he said shaking his head furiously, "get inside now."

Not knowing what the situation was, we obed. Most of the tour group were waiting around in the lobby. They had been about to leave for the natural history museum when Anil had told them all to wait. Now they knew less then we did about what was happening.

Outside things were heating up. A large group of people ran past with bandanas around their faces. Some carrying makeshift clubs and batons. If I had known what was happening I would not have been so worried. It could have been anything from a gangland war to a hostile invasion. Anil now refused to let anyone near the reception entrance way. Nor would he tell us what he even thought was happening. It was the not knowing that had me tearing up the stairs towards the roof top.

"Where are you going man?" shouted Stefan after me.

"The roof," I shouted back, "We can see what's really happening on the street outside from there."

We could see more than the street. The hotel roof offered a panoramic view of the whole city. A sight that was chilling. There was already a row of hotel workers lined up alongside one walled ledge. Their eyes looking out at the distant skyline that could have been a scene from and war movie. Loud thuds and distant explosions filled the air as torrents of thick black smoke rose up from all corners of the city. To the east several rounds of gunfire sounded off as a thunderous boom shook the building. Another plume of smoke rose up from a behind a group of buildings that sat under the picturesque ice capped mountains in the distance.

My camera already poised I pushed past a few bell boys and hoisted myself up on the 4 foot high rooftop ledge. It gave me a clear view of the streets below. We were at an intersection. There was massive crowd taking up the road directly north from our position, while to the south only a few people seemed to on the streets. Some looking around as if searching for their own answers, others still pulling down metal shutters. To the east was a few of the city sky line under the serene mountains, to the west an obscured street with only a row of banks and shops visible.

There was movement ahead. A small moped came through, dodging its way through the crowd. A man in a light brown leather jacket was hunkered down low as its tiny engines revved high. He swerved as far from every person as he could. A man up ahead ran towards him as if trying to tell him something. The moped veered sharply to the right to avoid the man. But in doing so forced to slow down. A few more people ran towards the moped from the left. The moped stopped. The rider looked up for a second before putting his head down again and darting up onto the footpath. It was now apparent he was running from the closing people.

The footpath had been a bad escape path. It was directly beneath my vantage point where a woman had a small flower stall. She stood out in front of the small bike. The rider kept going as if he was about to hit the lady only to find a rush of new comers grab hold of his little silver bike and bring it to a whining halt. While not speeding the leather coated rider still toppled over to his left. No one helped. A small crowd closed as he tried to get up.

A woman lashed out with a hard kick to the riders head. He fell back down to a seated position immediately. Another kick came in and this time jarred his shoulder. He sat, legs spread eagled, as if stunned, or excepting fate. A man with a wooden stick ran up and smacked the rider squarely across the top of the head, snapping the wooden stick in two. The rider now covered up sluggishly. Another belt from the broken end of the stick sent out a load moan from the man. The crowd stood for second or two before dispersing. A lone young woman took another kick at the riders head as she walked away.

These were ordinary people. Men and women who moments ago were walking along with equal concern as those of us on the rooftop. They could not have known the rider unless he had been a wanted felon on the news. But that seemed unlikely. It was random calculated violence the likes of which I had never seen before. The only thing I could associate with it was gang violence. They knew why and who they were fighting, we didn't.

More people emerged from the street to the east. A group holding an elderly Tibetan lady that was bleeding profusely from the forehead. I was filling my camera with images I never thought I would see. Images that made no sense. They worried me. I had no answers as to what was going on.

The rooftop was full of the tour guests and staff by now. Everyone jostling for the relative safety of the incredible scenes bellow.

"It's about time they fought back."

I looked around and saw Stefan's large frame standing beside me peering over the ledge.

"What's going on?" I asked replacing the batteries in my camera.

"It's the Tibetans I think," Stefan answered in his Dutch drawl. "They are protesting against the Chinese."

"We want out freedom."

We both looked over at a red jacketed mitre d' from the hotel as he looked seriously at our perplexed faces. "We want our rights back and we want the Chinese to go."

My mind flashed over history in an instant and with it I relaxed. This was now random mob. No killer virus on the rampage. It was the long speculated Second Tibetan uprising. And we were in the middle of it.

A sudden cry of pain and panic came from our right. I looked over to see the old white haired Dutch guy from our tour being led away by hotel staff. His left eye a pocket of blood. He's been hit by bottle thrown by a mob below our hotel.

More debris came flying up as we launched ourselves off the ledge. Bottles, sticks, rods of metal and the odd brick landed sporadically around us. Taking heed the majority ran for the door leading back down. I sat behind the ledge with a few others. We were safe from projectiles there, but also pinned down. It was a mob, not an army and I figured the barrage wouldn't last long. It didn't. The mob dispersed. I looked over the ledge and instead of seeing an angry mob I saw the two young Australians from our tour running after them video camera in hand.

Looking over at the Tibetan maitre d' shook my head, "Are they stupid? They'll be killed?"

The pock faced Tibetan looked at me as if in shock. "No! Never. They were guests. They would never hurt them. In fact they will protect them. We want this story to get out."

My chest filled with excitement. Memories of being in the riots in Nepal flashed by. I needed to get outside.

Downstairs and Anil was still standing guard by the reception bay doors. They were open and both he and his band of drivers seemed at ease themselves we the violence around them. Reception was quite empty, only Anil's drivers and a few from the tour were around. Keeping an anxious but serous look on my face I approached him.

"It's calming down outside." I lied.

Anil ignored me.

Using a more helpful tactic I asked Anil if he had all the tour members inside. His sad eyes flashed for a minute, then he nodded confirmation.

Taking this opportunity I poised a series of question that sent him looking right and left. "Do you know if the American's are still outside? They were having an early lunch and are not inside the hotel."

"Alright, go back please." Nodded Anil as he walked over to three of his drivers on the other side door.

The door was unattended and people were not looking. I slipped outside and walked quickly away down the road.

My heart thumping more at the thought of escaping the hotel rather than the outside world I stopped around a corner. The streets were not so deserted looking now. Random people in small groups or alone walked around. Some looking as if lost. Others looking as if trying to find something or person. Leaning back I felt a soft material brush across my hand. A white silk scarf had been tied to the door handle of the office door I was leaning on. Looking across the road I saw other silk scarves tied to carious buildings and doors. They were marker. I glimpsed the pink t shirt of one of the Australians. He was videoing a mob destroy a store front. One without a silk scarf attached to it. I decided the best course of action was not to join them. My ego for one would not allow it, I wanted original shots I gathered myself.

Taking a relaxed approached I set off down the road away from the violence, as if taking a leisurely stroll. What else to do? Running like a combat soldier would only draw attention to my already foreign look. A street to my right was deserted so I went with the flow. My plan was to double back. The Tibetan maitre d' had mentioned that the violence had started at the Jokhang Temple shortly after we had left it that morning. If I could make my way back there I was sure it would offer up the world of photographic material.

A man in a black jacket turned onto the street ahead of me, followed by another. It had been street I was planning on heading down. But now I was faced with a group of a dozen or so angry mobsters. One with a crowbar lashed out at a traffic light, repeatability smashing at it until the glass broken with a pop. I slowed down. They were looking for anything to tear apart. A double back might look suspicious yet moving on forward be putting the Tibetans maitre d' word to the test. [i]They will even protect you. [/i]

I looked at my reflection at an abandoned restaurant to my right. I smiled at myself. This is what you always wanted. You are in the heart of the shit now aren't you?

I walked forward towards the oncoming mob just as a hand waved out to me from the restaurant door. It was the American Kid.

"Dude, get in side man. Fast!" His eyes here jumping around as if he was on speed.

Behind him I saw his mother on her cell phone. I was amazed it still worked. I was even more amazed by her conversation.

"No Ma, they're everywhere. If I had my gun now I would be a whole lot better off."

I looked at Chris and then back at this mother. "What the hell are you guy's doing!!?"

He looked out the window as if acting in a recent straight to video combat film. Eyes darting around and then back toward his mother. I noticed the door I had just walked through. No white scarf.

"Chris man," I said, trying to let my voice sound as American as possible in every hope he would listen to sense. "You should move out of here now. It's not safe."

"It's fucking nuts man!!" He snapped back. "They've all snapped."

Looking over at Valerie I motioned her forward, "The hotel is around the corner. They have protection there. We need to move now!"

Valerie's eyes narrowed as my words sunk in. "Mom, I'll call you back." She hung up the phone. "I didn't know the hotel was so close."

"It's around the corner guys," I said through clenched teeth. "Now let go!"

It was as if it were never to be. At the hotel entrance Anil nabbed me at the same time that I arrived with Chris and his mother. I was back inside the hotel, and by the looks of the barricade Anil was putting up I was not getting out again.

The Australians had also been captured by Anil, they had made it back to the rooftop and were videoing the bank across the street. The mob had torn it apart and were busy ripping the ATM out from the wall. No cash, just lots of wires. The air had grown think with smoke, and as I sniffed at it I got the whiff of that familiar nasal clenching smell of tear gas. It meant the Chinese military were nearby.

The two Australians had overheard me telling Stefan what had happened outside to get back out themselves. For me the situation was now moving into a new key faze. The Chinese were coming. And they would not be so friendly. Even the Tibetan maitre d' warned them off, but it was no use. They were high on adrenaline and youthful immortality.

Another glaring fact hit me as I looked around the rooftop. Where was the our French companion Quinnell? No one had seen him since the morning. The bugger was still out there.

I peered over the rooftop ledge in time to photograph a group of men set fire to an abandoned moped. The fire must have given them an idea along with the money less ATM. Jerry can's of gasoline were soon being emptied out over the pillaged store fronts. The watery liquid ran like a burst main over the store fronts pathway.

A face from the mob stared up at me. It was a woman. His face blackened by smoke. She looked behind to the rest of the mob and then pointed up at us. My find froze on the thoughts of the old Dutch man's injured eye and of the mob now rushing forward to begin dousing our hotel in gasoline.

To my right I caught a glimpse of the maitre d'. His right hand raised high into the air in a fist. He looked on at the mob in stern proud solidarity. I did the same and raised my fist into the air. Behind us others followed. Below the mob looked up. And then, one by one they raised their own hands up into fists of unison.

A man turned and threw a burning rag into the shop fronts and the within seconds the orange flames burst out from the broken windows. The fire spread like an all consuming beast. The whole block was soon ablaze. The mob's work done they dispersed into different directions.

The black smoke was thick and the wind was in our direction. Breathing became hard without covering our mouths. A few people panicked that the fire would spread across the road and catch onto our hotel. I didn't see it happening, it was too barren a road. The only was it could happen was if the tree alongside our path caught fire and then fell into us. A long shot. I was more concerned by the toxic fumes from the fire as they swept down on us.

A hotel worker called out in Tibetan from the other side of the hotel roof. A huge trail of think smoke was swirling up behind him. Running over to the other side I peer down to the roadside below. Nothing. I stretched further out, my fear of heights was no where to be found.

My heart began to pump fast as adrenaline launched into my blood. There was an upturned car on fire right against the wall of our hotel. Flames leapt up as people ran from the impending explosion along the street.

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