Hitching to EBC

The first part of the trip was easy. Michael, Benny, Ingrid and I took the local bus to Shigatse. This used to be the capital city, "the birmingham of Tibet'. As soon as we were near the buses that left for Shigatse, we were grabbed by our bags, by the arms and pushed around in lots of different directions... all the conductors wanted us on their bus (nothing to do with the money:)) but we decided to go to the empty, green bus across the street and it was a great decision. With our 3 new tibetan friends we had the whole back area to ourselves. We shared food, cigarrettes (for those that smoked...you can smoke on buses here, unlike London) and stories and so the bus ride to Shigatse was really fun. Benny and Michael are just great. They are so funny and friendly we felt like we had been travelling with them for ages and not just a few hours.
As soon as we got to Shigatse we saw Ian (from the train) at our hotel. He was travelling in a jeep with 2 other peopel and a guide who didn't speak English or couldn't be bothered to show them around. So instead he decided that he was gonna hang around with us and that was great.
First stop in Shigatse after lunch in a local restaurant was the travel agency. We wanted to get to the next town of Tingri but here is where things got tricky. We needed a permit but we didn't really wanna pay for one as we were pretty sure no one checked. Little did we know.
The tibetan guy at the FIT agency was great. He warned us that they would not sell us tickets at the bus station and our best bet was to ask the drivers themselves. Would they take the risk and take us all the way to Tingri?
So we went to the bus station but there were no buses and no bus drivers going to Tingri, so stupidly enough we went to the ticket office. The chinese guy there just looked at us and said no and when we insisted he wrote NO in big letters on our piece of paper that had Tingri written on it in Chinese and Tibetan. Instead we were sent to a local chinese travel agent who just pointed at cards of 4x4's and jeeps.
Back at the FIT agency we looked at the different options we had. We could take a taxi for 800 yuan o we could get up early and wait at a petrol station 1km outside of town and hope that someone would give us a ride to Tingri.
That's exactly what we did. We got up early and were outside town at the petrol station asking every vehicle that went buy and we did get lucky and a small bus going to Tingri was willing to take us. Ingrid, Benni and I got a seat at the back while Michael sat on a sack of potatoes in the aisle. Next to him on the seats were two chinese officials in full uniform:) It was a pretty easy rie till we got to the police checkpoint and then the local passengers started to draw curtains and the driver got a little nervous. Benni pretended to sleep on my lap and I tried to hide the blonde hair with his jumper but Michael was in full view in the aisle so it was hopeless. The police officer came on board, checked a few id cards, we had our passports ready but without looking at them, all of a sudden he was gone and we were driving on. The relief, our hearts could finally beat at a normal pace. It was a moment of pure joy.
But our adventures were not over yet. We were dropped off on a main junction in the county of Tingri and not the town itself. And from here no one, absolutely no one was willing to give us a lift and take us further on into the town. Like everything here, there is never any clear information and we didn't even know which direction tingri was in or which road went towards EBC. The only direction we knew was the one we came on. Once again we started stopping every vehicle that passed us by and the immediate answer we got every time was NO. Even a monk travelling on a truck, who lived at the Rongphu monastery near EBC apologised that he could not give us a lift as there were police around.
Finally Ingrid and Benni, after a four hour hopeless wait in the burning sun, at the roadside of a big junction, they managed to convinve a local with a traditionally decorated!! and run down small jeep to take us all the way to EBC and back. He'd try and get us there and if he couldn't we'd only pay half. Sounded reasonable so we set off. Only after driving for a few kilometers did we realise why we couldn't get a ride. There was a big, main checkpoint where there was a queue of trucks and 4x4's and inside another queue of foreigners with their guides and permits. We thought for sure we are f****d and the panic was clear on all our faces no matter how hard we tried to appear cool and in control. But it was like magic, we walked in with our drive who went staright to the desk, one by one handed in passports, visa numbers and etc were written down and then we were in the car again being asked to pass to the other side. As we left the queue's of tourists behing us wondering, we laughed and jumped for joy at passing the checkpoint without a guide or a permit.
Our luck continued as we had our first sight of Everest, majestically looming in a clear, cloudless blue sky. And as if the heavens hadn't finished smiling on us, we were given a big Tibetan tent with a stove in the middle and a cook to stay in for tne next two nights. Tears of joy flowed as we realised we had made it, seen Everest in a clear sky, had great company and a cozy place to stay in at the foot of Mt. Everest.
After sleeping under the entire galaxy of stars, the next morning we had pancakes for breakfast and began our walk to the foot of Everest. We were told that if we passed the official brick building of EBC, then we would have to pay $100 each, which just seemed ridiculous. So we walked around and over and had breathtaking views of Everest and when we came back down walked right past base camp not having to pay a single penny.
It was just an amazing day. We came back, slept from exhaustion, had a late lunch, played cards, sang and just enjoyed the fact that we were at Everest. As we were getting ready for bed, a local policeman paid us a visit and asked us for our permit and guide. We told him our driver was in another tent and he should ask him, so he promised to return the next morning to check our permit.
Next morning, we said goodbye to Nawa, who had kept us warm and cooked for us, and left early in the morningon our way back to Shegar (the junction where we had been dropped off and stranded). I wonder if the local policeman ever returned to check our permits:)