A gentle voice came from the train's loudspeaker. "Passengers who are seeing off friends and family, please leave the train and be reassured that we will take good care of your beloved. We will make sure they arrive safe and sound."

The brief announcement was spoken in Chinese, English and Tibetan and was relief for me and others on board the N971 from Xining to Lhasa.

I had been feeling slightly dizzy and it took me half a day to overcome this short-of-breath feeling at Golmud, which sits at about 2,800 meters above sea level. We would soon be traveling some 960 kilometers, or 84 per cent of the 1,142-kilometre trip from Golmud to Lhasa, at an elevation of above 4,000 meters.

Although the train is renowned for the "dispersion-mode" oxygen supply system, I wasn't sure whether altitude sickness would leave me unscratched during the trip. My doubts were soon calmed by the reassuring smile of Mu Juan, our broadcaster on the train.

On both ends of each carriage, a screen above the corridor shows the velocity, altitude, outside temperature and coming stop in three languages. Showing such information is one of many responsibilities that Mu takes care of. Before and after each stop, she tells some interesting stories. The Fenghuoshan (Wind and Fire Hill) Stop, for instance, is named after a hill burnt by the Monkey King in the story "Journey to the West."

But besides the tales, Mu also talks with passion about how the railway was built on 550 kilometres of permafrost and advises passengers to pay more attention to protecting the fragile environment.

On my way back from Mu's broadcasting studio, I noticed a long-haired young man working on a machine near the juncture of two carriages. The machine showed two red figures: 42.7 and 23.7. "It means oxygen is being produced at a density of 42.7 per cent, which is within the standard of 38-45 per cent," said Jin Fenglong, who provides customer service for the oxygen generator.

No extra oxygen is provided before Golmud. And after that, Jin advises me to rely on myself as much as possible, instead of inhaling oxygen through a pipeline linked with an outlet between each window. "I'm adjusting it because we are sending oxygen into this carriage at a density of 23.7 per cent, which is a bit higher than the standard of 21-23 per cent," revealed Jin.

Jin Fenglong provides customer service for the oxygen generator manufactured in a company in Dalian of Northeast China's Liaoning Province

"It's not good for the passengers to have too much oxygen, because they have to face the scarcity of oxygen once they get off the train," he explained.

Each carriage has its own oxygen generator, which costs well over 500,000 yuan (US$62,500). Since July 1, no malfunction has occurred, said Jin, however sometimes the oxygen density is a bit higher or lower than the standard.

A handsome man wearing a peaked cap with cockade glided by. Like most other personnel on the train, his collar was decorated with a narrow purple lace of Tibetan style. But his badge on the white uniform read: "Head of Crew."

"Don't worry about the altitude sickness or anything else," said Liu Lijun, 35. "Each of our attendants knows clearly the physical condition of the weakest passengers in his or her carriage based on a written survey, and we have two doctors ready for any emergency."

The double-layered window and curtain can protect passengers from the strong ultraviolet rays; each pillow has two different sides: soft, warm silk floss or buckwheat that can absorb sweat. "Making our passengers at home is our ultimate aim," he said.

Protecting the environment is another priority of Liu and his colleagues. All the water, vegetables, diesel fuel and other necessities are added at Golmud, where the garbage and sewage are also collected for disposal in a special place. The same happens in Lhasa, to reduce pollutants discharged along the way.

The attendants are also vigilant to collect any garbage, mainly plastic bags and packages for food. On average, 11 trash bags will be collected at each carriage at Lhasa, Liu said.

Tibetan zamba

Following Liu's direction, I found the dining car at the eighth carriage. There were five chefs busy in the kitchen. Besides rice and vegetables and meat dishes, the train also serves Tibetan zamba and Muslim cuisine, which is prepared and served with a separate set of utensils.

One of the dining car's four attendants, whose badge is numbered 311, was loading cups of yogurt and bags of cucumbers with small tomatoes into a narrow cart. The yogurt and vegetables each sells at 3 yuan (US 37 cents). The dish with rice is 20 yuan (US$2.5).

"We were trained at two-star hotels for two months to learn about professional service like how to smile sincerely," said the mother of a daughter, who declined to reveal her name. "We have a new saying among this train's attendants: With the lack of oxygen, you must not lack of vigour."

Mao Linglong, the train's police captain, was taking a short rest in the dining car. He and his colleague had been patrolling the carriages night and day. A miniature Tibetan antelope stood beside some flowers on the neat table. Behind him, a colourful painting of a Tibetan girl hung on the wall.

Most passengers are tourists and they bring digital cameras, mobile phones and laptops. It's common to see them recharging the equipment through the sockets below the window. Sometimes the passengers forget their belongings at the dining car. All this puts heavier responsibilities on Mao, but so far, no theft has been reported.

There are many local Tibetans and other ethnic minorities among the passengers. The train has become an important vehicle for the local people.

Khenkyi Drolma, 23, was accompanying her parents-in-law for a 20-day journey from their hometown in Guide of Qinghai to Lhasa. Drolma had just graduated from the English Department at the Qinghai Ethnic Minority Institute based in Xining.

She aspires to follow her husband's example in working for international charity organizations to help her own people. "I'm very happy because this is the first time I've gone to Lhasa on a train," said Choden, Drolma's father-in-law, in Tibetan. He has been planting wheat, apricots, peaches and others crops. Like other villagers, the family has bought a TV, washing machine, refrigerator and other modern appliances.

"We celebrate our New Year with shooting and horse racing," said Drolma, who sang a short song in Tibetan about the happiness of meeting new friends on a festival.

As I made my way through the corridor of soft berths, I overheard the attendant inquiring after the physical condition of some elderly Japanese tourists. It turns out that 19 Japanese, aged between 35 to 80, are going to Lhasa for the Potala Palace, the Jokhang Monastery and other holy sites.

When I went back several times to take more pictures of Murata Miyoko, she was always resting, with an oxygen pipe. "You must understand the reason why we don't want to disturb her," said Huang Zheng, the Chinese interpreter. "We must help her save energy to fulfil her dreams."

While most passengers head for Lhasa, Professor Li Weishi and his friends were heading for the mysterious ruins of the ancient Guge Kingdom in Ngari of western Tibet.

"This train is remarkably smooth," he said. "I woke up at midnight and thought the train had stopped because I heard so little noise."

Li has been to many parts of the country but he remembers a 70-day trip to the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region the most clearly. "I stayed with the workers of a primitive forestry farm at Yili. We often gathered grass as bed and slept as soundly as at home."

Emergency plan

Despite the sign "off-limits to passengers," I ventured into the first carriage where the train staff take turns to rest. Outside the restroom, I found an emergency plan, which clearly states procedures of 21 kinds of emergencies.

When passengers take cats or dogs aboard, they should be responsible for the little pets and any accidents they cause. But more grave situations, such as when a strong wind blows a rock to hit a passenger, would demand more serious measures.

Doctors will reach the wounded as soon as possible, and if the passenger can't continue the trip, he or she will be sent to the nearest stop with access to a county hospital. Meanwhile, the head of crew and the train police must note the passenger's ticket number, departure and arrival stations and other information.

"When a grave situation happens, our rescue team can reach the train in about one hour," said Zhang Xiqing, chief controller of the Qinghai-Tibet Railway Company, at the railway's controlling headquarters in Xining.

Having learned so much about the train and its staff, I have good reason to believe that my fellow passengers and I have found a reliable team and it's time I concentrated more on the ethereal scenery outside.

(China Daily August 17, 2006)