Tibet is a Teacher

The flight from Beijing to Lhasa, Tibet’s capital city, has its own security check at the Beijing airport. The entrance is marked by the flight number, CA4112, rather than by the destination. But it doesn’t take long to establish that this is the queue for the Tibet Autonomous Region, as it’s known in official Chinese government-speak. “You are going to Lhasa!” says the woman who checks my boarding pass before I walk through the metal detector. It’s not a question, it’s an accusation. I nod yes and start to proceed. She waves me back: “Papers!” she says, not quite shouting.

I know that a special permit is required before going to Tibet. Mine is in my pocket. Nobody requested to see it in Bangkok, where my luggage was checked straight through to Lhasa. I hand it over now, to the woman who might be working for the airline, or perhaps for the airport, or for the Chinese equivalent of the Department of Homeland Security—it’s hard to say. She studies the permit with the care of a jeweler. This doesn’t seem to be a routine bureaucratic transaction.

Soon I’m passed along to the frisker. As with the papers inspector, the message seems to be, “No sudden moves, buster.” The pat-down is very thorough. A few minutes later he sends me on my way, still carrying everything I started with. Something tells me this trip will teach many lessons.