REBKONG, August 6, 2008 (AFP) - Five months after violent protests swept though Tibetan areas of western China, a river of tension runs deep and locals remain too scared to talk to foreigners.

'You're being watched, you know, and they're watching us too,' one Tibetan man, who could not be named for fear of reprisals, said in Rebkong, a bustling mountain town famous for its three Tibetan Buddhist monasteries.

Rebkong was one of dozens of towns in western China with Tibetan populations that saw protests against Chinese rule of their Himalayan region, a dark period for the nation's communist rulers as they prepared for the Beijing Olympics.

The unrest began in Lhasa, the capital of Tibet, on March 14 after four days of peaceful protests against Chinese rule, and spread to the neighbouring Tibetan-inhabited regions, including Qinghai province where Rebkong lies.

China reacted by sending in a massive military presence to quell the unrest and sealing the regions off from foreign reporters and tourists, actions that drew condemnation from world leaders and a wide range of human rights groups.

Exiled Tibetan leaders say 203 people died in the clampdown, although China has reported killing just one Tibetan 'insurgent' and accused 'rioters' of being responsible for 21 deaths.

Activists say 140 people were detained in Rebkong over the biggest protests that erupted there in April.

China has since allowed foreigners back into Tibet and the other areas of unrest, and an outward appearance of normalcy has returned to Rebkong, also called Tongren in Chinese.

The occasional military patrol and police car were all that reminded visitors of the protests, and the tension was only palpable in what little the few who dared to speak to foreigners had to say.

'I don't know,' or 'It's all fine' were the standard answers to sensitive queries about the situation.

The three monasteries in and around Rebkong -- Longwu and Upper and Lower Wutun -- were all reopened to tourists, including foreigners, after being closed off until the end of June.

On the road down from Xining, the capital of Qinghai, which winds through sheer cliffs along the Yellow River, just one police checkpoint waved the car through after checking the driver's licence.

But one monk at Wutun monastery, who could not be named for fear of reprisal, said that tourists were still few and far between.

'There are not many tourists, because of the situation before, but we must not say anymore,' he said.

Another monk at one of the monasteries initially refused to answer questions about what the situation was like, but his facial expression gave away a strong feeling of anger.

Later on in the conversation, he whispered: 'I am a friend of 314,' referring to the date on which the riots broke out in Lhasa.

'There is still pressure now,' he said, signalling with a gesture in which his hands came closer and closer together that Chinese authorities were increasingly tightening restrictions on monks at the monastery.

'They don't let us go anywhere anymore,' he added, before changing the subject.

The tension was just as palpable in Taktser, or Hongya in Chinese, the birthplace of Tibetan spiritual leader the Dalai Lama which sits deep in the mountains outside Xining.

The journey from Qinghai's capital, which takes a few hours, was problem-free, and police roadblocks that were reported at the height of the March and April unrest had disappeared.

But once in front of the closed compound that once housed a young Lhamo Thondrup, born in 1935, until he was identified as the reincarnation of the 13th Dalai Lama, a local came over to say that foreigners were not allowed here.

'We must go now,' the driver said, 'or you will have trouble and I will have trouble too.'