Point2Point

Turning around from the window of our hotel room I looked on at the group that hand congregated in our once luxury style abode. Our bags were hasty packed and we ready to move.

Stefan was standing half in and out of the door. The hallway outside was smoky and an occasional porter ran by avoiding all contact. Karla had just finished bandaging up the old Dutch guy's bloodied eye. It had swollen shut and the old guy was drinking from the mini bar so I figured he was not going into shock. Mara and Natashka were with the subdued Australasians next door. Anil had caught the Australians trying to make their way out onto the streets and sent them back up with an unknown warning about the Chinese Army were out enforce. Meanwhile zipping between rooms was Chris, hell bent on winding everyone up with his mothers rantings about being trapped in a burning building.

Their panicking worsened when two porters rushed down the hallway shouting at us to evacuate. The building was on fire. Chris and his mother tore off by themselves at full speed. I have never seen people panic as much as that mother and son duo.

Stefan put it down to 9/11. "They all think people are out to get them now."

"They're a danger to us as well." commented Karla as she helped the Old Dutch guy to the door.

We made our way to the stairwell just in time for the emergency lighting system to flicker off. Disaster films could not portray the feeling of lost hopelessness and uncertainty when you have to descend a smoke filled stairwell in the dark. It was not a choking smoke, but it was enough to make one gasp for air. In my mind I could help but think about why we were in going down the stairs. No one had told us where the fire was. The burning car was after all closer to the ground floor entrance than we were. Were we heading into burning reception trap?

The answer was a resolute no. The reception area was deserted. A light haze hung in the air as we all ground into the foyer. The entire front bay window has been shattered by unknown assailants. Tables, chairs and a giant potted plant barricaded the area.

From a clearing near to where the door from was Anil appeared. "Go back. Go Upstairs now."

Chris shook his head wildly, "No fucking way man. The fucking buildings on Fire. They told us to get out."

Anil looked over to Stefan and me as we shrugged back. "The hotel Porters told us to evacuate and come down here." I said.

"It is fine," Anil shook his worried and now tired head in confusion, "No fire. Please go back. No Fire. Please do this for me and go back."

Remembering, I looked Anil in the eyes, "Is there any sign of the French, Quinnell?"

Anil looked to the ground, had he forgotten? He made a calming gesture with his hands. "I will inform the authorities of this. Now please go back upstairs."

Outside a Chinese military transport drove by. Defeated by sheer exhaustion and a pat from one the hotel workers Anil stood aside as some of us walked our into the war zone.

A burning tire was still in full flame not three feet away from reception. But out eyes were all searching for the car. It lay on its roof, pressed up against the hotels side. Grey with black scorch marks. Extinguished. I have actually seen more car fires than I care to recall. Mainly from my time in Nigeria the public transport system from the killing zone. Fires have raged before me like this car had only moments ago. But never have a seen an explosion like it is often portrayed in Hollywood blockbusters.

Shattered glass surrounded us as we watched another troop transport rush by. The troops were dressed in green fatigues, some with gas masks others just clutched there rifles. A fire truck passed soon after followed by a ringing noise. We looked on as Anil suddenly appeared to push us back. A tank appeared along the road, moving at a surprisingly fast pace. Its tracks sending out a strange metal on tarmac sound that seemed to indicated damage to the later.

"Please," pleaded Anil, his face truly vexed with concern. "Please no camera. They... They will take it. And big trouble for us all. Please. Please go back inside."

His pleas were that of a desperate man. He looked over his shoulder at the incoming forces and we could see he was genuinely scared. All things considered it was safer inside for now.

As we made it back upstairs my mind started to think about the sheer number of troops outside. I also though about Anil's comment about the no camera's. We were safe for now. The troops would be busy trying to disperse the rioters, or hunting them down. How long would it take them to come into the hotel and demand to know what we saw?

We all had photographs, video and even interviews from the uprising. If the military suspected this to be a bad thing, then they could easily confiscate out material. While the others gathered in the main bar area upstairs that had a to good to be true panoramic window overlooking the crossroads outside, I spent my time copying and hiding my memory cards. There was no way in hell I was about to surrender my most coveted photographs and video to the Chinese military. An Italian on our tour had a similar notion, only he was preparing a condom for a hiding place I wasn't prepared to sacrifice myself.

Whether it was the situation, or a genuine fear, in hindsight I know one of two things. I was right to copy the files and hide the memory cards. But I should have continued to take photographs that evening from the balcony.

We all sat by the huge panoramic bay windows as if watching a huge TV screen. Outside a team of fire-fighters did battle with the blazing block of buildings across from us. Night started to fall and along the cross roads a line of several hundred Chinese troops gathered in a long line. Chinese state media taking their own photographs and video from well chosen angles.

Karla clicked her camera and the flash went off. Anil grabbed the back of her chair and pulled it back from the window in one swift motion as she received a verbal reprimand from a large section of the group. All eyes turned to our large windowed view to the outside world. Two fire-fighters were staring up at us attracted by the flash that resembled one of the many electrical type faults there were sparking throughout the city. The large line of Chinese troops had their backs to us and thankfully were too robotic to turn.

It was a strange feeling to be sitting there. The privilege of having such huge bay windows was surreal. We were looking out at a war movie like scene, yet at the same time caught up in the middle of it. The harsh reality of a round holes and jagged cracks in the window helped remind us of how vulnerable we actually were. At any time the Chinese could come in and ransack the place. Accuse us of helping or supporting the Tibetans. Confiscated our photographs, cameras and passports. Detain us in the local prison while we were given on call to our embassy. It might seem like far flung scenario, but sitting there in the dark looking out at tanks rolling by and a thousand blank faced soldiers made it very real.

We were all pensive about the next few hours. What would happen next? What was happening out there? Some tour group members were still receiving texts from relatives overseas. Updates on what the international media was saying.

How strange it was to be sitting there in the very heart of it all, and yet waiting for a CNN report to be sent to us via an text message. We had no idea how far the violence had spread. Was all China in a curfew now? Who was in control? Was it just inside Lhasa? No one knew.

We made a few loose jokes, but always the conversation returned to the day's events. How people reacted. Where they were. What they saw?

"Allo everybody!"

It was Quinnell!

Our French Jeep companion had been missing since the morning. No one had seen him and we did not want to think the worst. Now he was standing there in his ever present green sweater. His face was paler than usual and bore the hallmarks to black smoke that we all did.

"Where have you been?" A woman from the tour asked.

He shrugged, and then with a cheeky grin replied. "Oh, I went for a massage."

The room relaxed with the spread of humour as we sat back down. Quinnell joined our table, away now from the room, for a beer. He explained that he had indeed gone to a local restaurant for lunch. The locals told him to stay with them as they pulled the metal shutters down on their café. The Frenchman then stayed with the family for the afternoon in relative darkness. Listening only to the chaotic sounds from outside. He was able to glance from a bathroom window once. Only to see a burning tire and motorbike in the center of the road. The Tibetan family had protected him until the troops had arrive and they deemed it safe for him to leave.

Just as he was explaining how not one of the Chinese military stopped him on the way back, or for that matter asked if he was alright, I looked up to see a large man in uniform loom out of the darkness. All eyes turned to him as he walked up to within five feet of where we were sitting. I couldn't tell what rank he was, just that his chest seemed to be full of ribbons and medals. Anil stood up warily and headed over. The uniformed man scanned over us with unsmiling eyes. Turned and then left with Anil trailing behind.

We headed to bed that night in relative darkness. The hotel's emergency generator was back on by ten o'clock but the lights were still quite dim. From my bed I could still hear distant explosions from the cities suburbs. The sound of marching troops echoed into my sleep as I dozed off.

Spending most of the morning glued to out bay window we watch more troops arrive. Armoured cars trundled by, squads of riot police marched up the road, and the odd tank swept through. More impressive than all of the heavy machinery were the seemingly unlimited trucks full of troops that past by the the crossroads below. A non stop convoy of emotionless faces, armed and ready to perform their duty.

Anil was more active this morning. He was outside on the footpath by the main reception. The whole area still looked like a war zone. Smoke still rose up from car tires along the road. Buildings still spewed out black wisps of toxic fumes. Shattered glass and debris covered the ground. But gone were the massive flames, the mob groups and the sound of explosions. There were even some people wandering around. Most with a mobile phone in hand looking around at specific areas. Some staring dumbfounded at what might once have been their business.

Further down the road the military had put up check points. We were now entering the waiting game faze. What was our fate? Information was short. Anil refused to comment much. Though we suspected he knew a lot.

We took turns in asking him random questions for the morning. Eventually prying loose the information that he was expecting a bus to come and collect us soon. We were to be escorted out of the city by the military.

The hotel continued to supply us with meals and were doing well aside from their fire evacuation plan and the fact that they were now presenting me with a bill for the mini bar in our room! I had placed the deposit on the key card and so it seemed like I would not be getting my equivalent of ten Eurostar back unless the mini bar bill was settled. It came to around 8 Euro. I explained that the mini bar had been used by the tour group yesterday as there was no food or water available anywhere. My pleas fell on deaf ears and Anil announced that the bus was on the way an we should be ready to leave.

I was not about to quit on the mini bar issue and soon returned with my bags to find a few others from the tour also having problems getting their deposits back. The hotel management's response was that they were short staffed but their policy was to have housekeeping check and make up all rooms before returning the deposits. I called Anil and a driver over and made the only statement I knew that made sense.

"Anil, please translate to the management of this hotel the following. I want my deposit back or I will go outside to the first officer and tell him that yesterday the hotel did not provide medical services to the Old Dutch Guy and we used my room and mini bar to shelter and provide water and drinks for those of us trapped here. A hotel without medical supplies is not good, and to see a wounded foreigner during these riots be treated this way is very bad."

As I ranted on I realised that I was getting my own back up. A crowd was drawing around as I was met with silence, so I continued my threat to go out and find the nearest military office. Anil was not sure if my threat would be carried out. But as I handed my bags to Stefan and headed to the door he knew that I was serious.

A few words were spoken between Anil and the hotel manager. The manager nodded while looking at me with both contempt and uncertainty. We all got our money back.

Minutes later the large tour bus pulled up outside, flanked at both ends by military cars. As we queued up to enter I looked around a the torn city. The burnt out car was still propped up against the hotel wall. And I still wonder how the hotel never caught fire. I knelled down and picked up a piece of glass from the hotels main door.

The hotel manager looked over at me, "We lucky."

"Yes I think so," I nodded back.

The manager smiled at me and nodded in return. "Good luck on your journey now."

Thanking him I headed onto the bus. There was a what silk scarf fluttering from the handle of a restaurant building next door. The building was untouched.

Our shattered hotel door never had a silk scarf to protect us, it had been a Chinese building; but we did have a symbolic raised fist.

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