Source: Xinhua

04-21-2008 16:12

By Venkatesan Vembu, Daily News & Analysis India

Travel writer Paul Theroux once prophesied that the erstwhile Hi-malayan kingdom of Tibet would remain protected from Han Chinese influence owing to an accident of geography. 　

The formidable Kunlun Range that divides Tibet from the rest of China, he wrote, would guarantee that a train to Lhasa - which Communist Chine has dreamed of ever since the 1950s - would never go all the way. "That," he had said, "is probably a good thing: I thought I liked railways until I saw Tibet, and then I realised I liked the wilderness much more."

On Saturday and Sunday, this correspondent, invited to be a member of the first Indian media delegation to travel in western China, bore wit-ness to the fact that Theroux's prophesy has been proved spectacularly wrong by the Chinese.

For 29 hours, we travelled on the newly inaugurated Qinghai-Tibet railway, in such extravagant comfort that would have done a Qing dynasty emperor proud, and marvel-ling in equal measure at both the surreal beauty of the landscape we were rushing through and the unsurpassed engineering feat that had made this journey possible.

For nearly a week before we boarded the train, we had been shepherded around in other Tibetan areas of northwestern China as the local governments showcased the work they have been doing to bring this relatively backward region back on the economic map while also preserving the Tibetan way of life. Enchanting as that experience was, for most of us the high point was the experience of being on the train to the rooftop of the world, which was inaugurated on July 1 this year.

We boarded the train - one of three that ferries passengers to and from Lhasa - at Lanzhou, the capital of Gansu province in northwestern China, at 4.45 pm Beijing time (2.15 pm) on Saturday. Golmud, the garri-son town from where the new line begins, was an overnight journey away. The remainder of that evening was therefore given over to the unalloyed admiration of the lunar landscape all around us. Over endless rounds of beer (trains in China aren't alcohol-free) and a steady stream of food from the live kitchen, we drank in the sights.

We weren't the only ones getting high on the view. The train was packed with tourists from across the world wanting to glimpse the delights of Shangri La that had been "liberated" (as the Chinese say) in the 1950s. Most of the tickets are booked for up to a year ahead, but invocation of authority can still get you on board at short notice.