There are few places that I go as an American where I get an unmitigated welcome mat thrown out for me.

As often as not, the “unwelcome mat” is at the door. It seemed to reach an extreme following the 2003 U.S. invasion of Iraq. After I did a stint in Baghdad in late 2004, I remember passing through Amman, Jordan, and literally stammering when a bearded Jordanian asked me where I was. My mind raced. Should I say Canada, just for my own safety?
 
In Latin America, even friends would refer to us Americans as “los gringos.” There was always a slight edge to it. They’d deny it was pejorative. But it didn’t always go down like honey tea.

East Asia is different. The reception is usually friendly. Here in China, people on the street often ask where I’m from. I ask them to guess. When I tell them that, yes, they guessed right, I am from “meiguo,” literally “beautiful country,” they often give a thumbs up. When I ask their impression of the U.S., it’s often “strong” or “rich,” at least before the current financial meltdown.

But I can report one area where the reception is uniformly friendly, and it has little to do with envy of power and wealth.

Whenever I have traveled in ethnic Tibetan areas of China and locals find out I am American, they are always -- and I mean always -- friendly. They treat me as if I come from a place of benevolence. It certainly has something to do with Washington’s expressions of concern about Tibet. Sometimes I wish my Han Chinese friends could experience the same sensation of “welcome” in the Tibetan areas of their own country that I feel there.

I was just in eastern Qinghai province late last week and took these pictures of Tibetans on the street. Everywhere, people treated an American colleague and I as if we were esteemed friends.

I miss that feeling. I’m glad to find it from time to time.