Solo Eight-Day Tibet Travel Notes (Part Three): On the Train (Part 2) — Snapshots of Z21 Passengers

From what I observed, most passengers who boarded before Nagqu Station were travelers heading to Tibet, whether for the first time, returning, in groups, or solo. Perhaps because everyone shared the same destination, or simply because the journey was so long, passengers in our Z21 carriage talked quite a bit, unlike the typical short-haul train experience. It was this light-hearted conversation that kept the long hours in a confined space from feeling oppressive — an experience you could never get on a road trip. Even the briefest, most casual exchanges taught me something new, broadened my horizons, or lifted my spirits. I can’t help but remember these strangers who passed through my life in such a hurry. Look, here they are —

**“Northeast Brother”** – Mr. Zhang, 64, from Shenyang, traveling by himself this time and will be hosted by friends in Lhasa. Though he doesn’t have the glib tongue of Uncle Benshan, he’s every bit the warm, openhearted, talkative Northeasterner. It was Brother Zhang’s gentle prompts that slowly got our carriage chatting more and more. He has just one daughter, who settled in the United States ten years ago; his little grandson was born there. Whenever no one was talking, he’d often open his phone to watch videos of the child, a blissful smile on his face. As the parent of an only child, he showed no sign of worrying about his own old age. He and his wife had visited the U.S. twice, including spending over half a year there when the grandson was born. When the topic turned to America, he simply said people there seemed to lead very relaxed lives, without a trace of envy. I’ve never been abroad, let alone to a developed Western country, but chatting with Brother Zhang, I could sense a shift in people’s mindset. As our country’s economy grows and more people go out into the world, we ought to hold a calm and inclusive attitude towards a diverse planet. I look forward to the day I can step beyond our borders, see and experience different cultures.

(Scenery outside the train window)

**“Straight-Talking Bro”** – He boarded in Lanzhou, from Linxia in Gansu, Dongxiang ethnicity, 38 years old. The brother on the berth opposite mine — a man with stories. Soon after getting on, he took out his own tea leaves and urged us to try them, though at that point we weren’t yet familiar with each other and just politely thanked him. No one drank. Seeing everyone so hesitant, he said, “Yours is no good, mine is good — drink, drink!” (think of the Mandarin spoken by a Uyghur vendor). Another time, completely joking around, he kept pestering Brother Zhang to admit he was henpecked. The blunt, transparent nature of our ethnic-minority brother made me feel that maybe people are meant to be this way after all, so I’ll just call him “Straight-Talking Bro.”

Unlike the rest of us, Straight-Talking Bro was heading to Tibet because he works there. By his own account, he works for a Beijing boss and has been in and out of Tibet on and off for fifteen years. After chatting more, we understood that their work involves going deep into remote herders’ settlements to collect “old objects” for the boss, some of which operate in a grey zone. He has two wives (the first with a marriage certificate, the second without; they all live together, which he says conforms to their ethnic customs) and three children — two girls and a boy, all married with kids. When everyone realized he was only 38, we silently did the math on his marriage and childbearing age and compared it with our own — first gasps of disbelief, then genuine admiration. Providing for such a large family, you could sense both the hardship of life and the sizable income his job must have brought in. “Work’s hard now — you can’t find anything in the settled communities, you’ve got to go where people are scarce,” he said of the current situation, which also hinted at how much easier the money used to be.

Chatting with Straight-Talking Bro, I found some of his views seemed utterly from another age, yet from his perspective they were simple and practical. One: Education is useless. He set up a plumbing supply shop for his son in the county seat back home, and his youngest got married and started working early. The basic education there is no good, he said; spending all that money on a so-so university doesn’t guarantee a job anyway, so he was quite proud of his arrangement. Two: Never sell stored grain. He proudly told us his family never sells the grain they grow, and they now have enough stockpiled to feed this huge family for two years. With food and drink, what’s there to fear? My own parents’ generation held that view up until a decade-plus ago. Three: An eye for an eye. Straight-Talking Bro takes trust and dignity seriously. If a disagreement turns into a fistfight, a round of drinks can smooth it over, but he won’t tolerate being insulted or wrongly accused. If someone offends them, they retaliate in kind. Once, when someone falsely accused him and his mate of stealing, they beat the man up, yet still felt it wasn’t settled. The two of them plotted together, stole the man’s bag back, and instead of keeping the thick wad of cash inside, they put it to the torch. Compared to most people today who “live inside a shell,” I feel a certain envy for Straight-Talking Bro’s earthy, unvarnished principles.

(Scenery outside the train window)

**“Bald Bro”** – In his forties, a northerner, freelancer. Bald Bro joined our conversation and offered travel tips to those of us visiting Tibet for the first time. As it turned out, he and a friend had driven from Beijing all the way to Lhasa and were about to head down to Yunnan, when some family business forced him to fly back to Beijing and leave his friend and the vehicle in Lhasa. Now that the matters were settled, he was on his way to reunite with his friend. Bald Bro takes a road trip every year and has been to Tibet several times. Their trips are always spontaneous, with no strict itinerary — they go entirely on whim, spending most nights bunking in their vehicle, and taking a proper hotel to shower and rest only when exhaustion sets in. His manner and conversation radiate the seasoned savvy of someone who’s seen a great deal of the country.

(Scenery outside the train window)

**“Sunset Glow”** – Half our carriage was a tour group from Beijing, composed entirely of retirees. Some clearly knew each other well, likely frequent travel companions. But what left the strongest impression were three cheerful, chatty ladies in their sixties, all in loose, comfortable leisure wear accented with red and green floral accessories. Huddled together, they rehashed past trips — Lake Baikal, Europe, Thailand — and each time a destination was mentioned, it was as if they were right back on that journey again. Whenever the scenery outside turned postcard-pretty, they scrambled to take photos, the one with the red silk scarf even supplying a voice-over: “Beautiful prairie — here I come!” Then all three would chirp and squabble over who got the best shot, and the one deemed to have taken the worst would blame her mobile phone. They picked their best photos, sent them to each other on WeChat, and posted them to their Moments. One older sister, not quite satisfied with how she looked in photos, turned to the others for help with the beauty-filter function — but they searched high and low without finding it and finally had to ask the young woman on the upper berth to sort it out. The whole journey, they laughed and chatted without being rowdy, brimmed with enthusiasm without reserve, and added a great deal of cheerful warmth to our carriage.