Because Lhasa is so small and I spent much of my week there just walking and biking around, when I read accounts of what's happened there, I have a pretty good idea of the lay of the land. Also, I have to say that while some of the photos and news coming out of there has been horrific, I'm not completely shocked. I did sense a tense undercurrent in the capital, despite some Western traveler's exclamations to the effect of: "Look how happy these people are, even in their poverty." There was an edge in the air there, especially in the Barkhor area. And it was exacerbated among young people by extreme boredom. Despite the money being invested in the region, there seemed to be virtually nothing in the way of safe places for kids to play and hang out. And in stark contrast to every other Chinese city that I've been in, internet bars were almost impossible to find. Not that sitting in those nasty smoky dens playing online games is healthy, but at least it is something to do.
The closest I came to understanding how any everyday Tibetans feel about the Chinese government was one afternoon on the ride back from Ganden Monastery. Ganden is possibly the most beautiful place I've seen in my life, so beautiful that even my crumby camera couldn't help but produce some stunning photos. 
But on the bus ride back to Lhasa, you pass some pretty hideous monstrosities—factories, ugly residential developments, sloppy new bridges. In the local branch of Buddhism, nature is paramount. The pilgrims who shared the bus with me had come from far-fetched parts of the region not just to visit Lhasa's important temples, but also to walk its koras, paths that loop up into the mountains above monasteries. To my travel companion and I, they were awesome for their beauty; to these pilgrims, they had deep religious significance. On the ride back, they pointed out the ugly new homes and factories with obvious disappointment. Tibet is developing fast, and ordinary native people there have no say in how that is happening (not so different from what happened in the United States a couple hundred years ago). I was frustrated that my inability to speak any Tibetan kept me
completely on the outside and unable to understand the people in this
place. I came away from Tibet with two words: beautiful and inscrutable.
I've watched as reports have come out and listened as foreigners have discussed the situation (for most Chinese, there is really nothing to discuss; just a question: "Why are the Dalai Clique and YOUR governments trying to ruin OUR Olympics?"). I definitely see that mainstream non-Chinese media has its biases here, and that many people are too quick to paint this as a "peaceful protest followed by unjust crackdown" scenario. In fact, I think there is a lot of self-righteousness in American views of Tibet.
Unfortunately, no one's really been allowed in since two weeks ago, but I'm sure they would find that it is really not that simple.
During all of this, I've rekindled my relationship with the International Herald Tribune. I've also discovered the work of the wise, well-spoken Lindsey Hilsum from the UK's Channel 4.
And for a look at some more local sources, check here.
