There was something in the air...

I was awakened to the jackhammer hum of helicopters circling in the air... but that's not what I mean at all.

I slid some dirty jeans on over my pajamas and dashed out into the frosty morning prompted by hunger into the staff cafeteria and I sniffed, I could smell again... but that's not what I mean either.

I didn't know what had changed until I went out to the school gate to meet some students for lunch later that frigid afternoon. Right next to the school gate was what appeared to be a newly posted bus route map. Not that I believe anything posted or have the ability to read what's posted anyway. So I turned my attention to the street where a row of huge blue buses was lined up and packed like human sardine cans on wheels... my jaw dropped... the days of chatting with bus drivers on tiny little puttering affairs while I temporarily became the bus cashier were over. I shrugged, I have lived that dream probably more frequently than any white girl ever would.

The cities promise/threat to buy new one yuan buses and change the number and routes was fulfilled this day. Mark it on your calendars, gone are the leisurely, stop anywhere you want on the unmarked route, carry your half a frozen yak with you days. A new era of public transportation in Lhasa has dawned... and let me tell you, it looks remarkably like chaos.

According to the signs all of the buses go to the same places. Hmmm. So I took my chances with the first one that stopped at our school gate. Already packed even at our lonely end of the route was a bad sign. I squeezed on. The buses were so new they still had plastic on the ceilings and doors and so crowded the harassed bus cashier was hoarse from yelling the stops and pushed her way to a window to lean out of it exhausted. I grabbed a shiny plastic handrail next to an old man whose milky eyes glinted in the sun and who couldn't stop giggling at the madness of it all. He was probably lost. I nearly fell into his lap when I was shoved from behind by some extra friendly passangers. Every time the air brakes hissed my eyes widened as more people somehow managed to get on... when the woman with a baby stroller holding what looked like an eight year old child nudged her way to the door I nearly swooned. Grandmothers gave me helpless looks of agony, nomads swore as their fingers got crushed in the new doors, small children gasped for breath like fish out of water, and I, recently on the up and up from a ferocious cold, shuddered every time someone coughed...the bus could barely handle the weight of way too many passengers so when a reckless pedicab dared to cut in front of it I was touched by at least a dozen people with long fingernails... I closed my eyes lest I notice how dirty the fingernails were.

Getting off the bus was a little like winning a marathon, or bursting triumphantly from a nasty bubble in the bitter cold. I took a second to get my balance and breathe in the sweetest air Lhasa had to offer near the Trumpsicon aka run down kmart esque shopping center complete with rancid butter, raw yak strips, and crunchy cheese.

At the tea house where I slurpped butter tea with one of my dearest friends the man next to us made quite a spectacle of pulling a long black hair out of his noodles. My friend nearly gagged. I nearly laughed myself out of all four layers of clothing I had on.

The bus stop I returned to was less of a stop and more of a wad of people milling about in the street. When the same bus I had arrived on screeched to a stop I was comforted only by the fact that I was at least marginally less clueless than nearly everyone else as people fought tooth and nail to get on the bus then, realizing that it didn't go where they wanted to, fought tooth and nail to get off.  I managed to avoid a black eye as I ducked behind a slightly taller man and lept on as the doors nearly caught the hood of my jacket.

The magic was gone by the return trip. Frazzled Chinese mothers began cussing at anyone who would catch their eye as they pushed their bug eyed children suffocatingly close to everyone else, touchy teens literally shoved the storming crowds off the bus at every available chance, three men who surrounded me discussed if they could get away with touching my hair, the weary bus cashier wished aloud for another job, and a middle school girl with watery eyes stared up at me and mouthed it's nice to meet you. I responded with a smile knowing that she was perhaps the only person on the bus who maintained her humanity... everyone else had become biting eels by all other appearances. I gulped and tried to avoid holding hands with the grinning nomad man who was trying desperately to hold hands with me. By the time it stopped at the Teacher's College I nearly wept for joy.

I ran to the school gate and grabbed the gate grandfather's hand and told him I'm scared. He laughed through gapped teeth and said where did you go? obviously not understanding that it was the how did I go that scared me, though the hairy noodles may return to haunt me.

Back at school the three chapped and filthy beggar children I have befriended were silding across the frozen lawn. After a few turns of their matted jump rope we filed over to a shop to buy some snacks. The time that they took to deliberate over what to buy was reminescent of a UN meeting for its seriousness and length. Two packs of chicken and a milk tea later we parted but not before the eldest boy confessed I saw you and said hello hello but you didn't see me I think your ears are bad. And we four burst out laughing in the quickly dimming evening light.

The buses may have changed, but little else has.

And to beat that change, I've enlisted a student to ride every single one with me tomorrow to see where they go. Take that Lhasa and your scary new buses. You will be tamed.