The ride from Xining to Xiahe was exceptionally pleasant. It was nothing I had ever experienced. We were heading towards non-touristic Tibetan territory and the first sign of this was when our driver spoke in Tibetan. I was the only Chinese on the bus. We were less than 20 passengers, everyone seemed to be wearing woolen hats and masks and I was most glad when the bus driver followed up with a Chinese translation of his instructions. He himself was Tibetan and with every rest stop, he would convey information in both Tibetan and Chinese, almost like a tour guide. 

We were out in the countryside, most of the time as the bus drove along the inclines of rolling hills, grazing animals and an abundance of yellow flowers (油菜花) dotting the landscape. I was told these flowers only reach full bloom in the autumn in Xining, but I was already seeing plenty in this bus journey. The weather held up well, the skies were a vast expanse of blue, all the road signages and Chinese slogans printed on red banners were now in both Tibetan and Chinese. There was so much on both sides of the bus a Tibetan man eyed me questioningly as I scumbled from the left to right seats and vice versa, swaying in my steps on the moving bus to watch the passing scenery. We stopped at small towns as the driver either dropped or picked up goods, these towns had Chinese sounding names but were culturally Tibetan, the Chinese are everywhere but I felt quite certain no Chinese lived in these areas. Most shops had no signs above their storefronts.