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11/10/04  MK

Rio de Janeiro to Buenos Aires to Cape Town to Johannesburg to Kuala Lumpur to Bangkok.  Those were back-to-back flights over a period of about 30 hours, and definitely the worst leg on our world tour.  In Bangkok we had two days to relax and recuperate before continuing on to Chengdu, China where we have now been for 4 days. 

 

Chengdu is a fairly large city but is otherwise not much of a tourist spot.  It’s as if the Chinese culture was beaten out of it by the concrete that is being overused all over the city to erect a seemingly endless number of tall buildings alongside the already existing and empty tall buildings.  Other than cement, the one other popular material is neon, as in neon lights.  The area around our hotel is like Times Square meets drab communist gray.  It creates a very odd effect.  The reason for our coming here was solely because it is the easiest way to get to Tibet.  Since we had four days before our tickets and permits will be ready, we did a little exploring. 

 

Being in the Sichuan province Chengdu is best known for its Sichuan style Chinese food.  That said, wandering the streets looking in at the little restaurants and delis did little to whet our appetites.  The hanging meats, and the Chinese love for preserved and rotten foods, effectively deterred us from pursuing any gastronomic adventures.  In addition to the culinary delights, Sichuan province is also famous as the home of the Giant Panda.  Giant Pandas are the longest living mammals on earth, but today there are approximately 1000 left, about 70% of which are in the Sichuan province.  In the 80’s Chengdu built the Giant Panda Research Center.  Lisa and I spent a few hours wandering the grounds where they have dozens of Giant and Red Pandas.  We were even able to hold an adolescent Giant Panda.  Although young, it was about the size of a very large dog and was surprisingly docile.  We took turns holding him in our laps and feeding him bamboo. 

 

11/30/04  LK

I’m sitting in our hotel room in Kathmandu, Nepal.  It is only six o’clock p.m. but the sun sets early here and it is already dark outside. Like in many Asian cities, people don’t seem to mind incessant noise.  Blaring traffic and constant honking are the norm.  I think I became so accustomed to the steady din of street noise in Lhasa that I almost don’t notice it here.  I’ve been noodling on what and how to write about our time in Tibet for the last few days.  The experience was so rich and so deep that it is hard to know where to start. 

 

Michael has been sick with fever since we arrived in Kathmandu on Friday night, so I bought a few bootleg DVD’s off the street to entertain him while he is holed up in bed.  We just finished watching Seven Years in Tibet on our laptop.  The movie brought me right back to the magic I felt while in Lhasa.

 

From the moment we stepped off the bus from the airport and into a pedi-cab, we were overwhelmed with a sensory rush.  The pedi-cab was like the ones I’ve seen in parts of South East Asia, essentially a double seat atop a rickety bicycle with three wheels.  This one also had a little semi-circle umbrella.  The streets were pure chaos.  Pedi-cabs, bicycles, cars, trucks, pedestrians and dogs all jockey for position in the streets.  In this part of town, the Chinese influence was prevalent.  Rows of modern-looking stores flashed with neon lights and a few tall buildings were under construction.  Some people were dressed in typical western clothes. Others wore their traditional dress of a large sheepskin coat slung over one shoulder and tied with an elegant sash.  The outfit was often topped with an upturned fur-lined hat. 

 

As we neared the older part of town, the road narrowed.  We passed a toddler defecating on the corner of the street.  (OK, so, maybe this wasn’t exactly a magical moment).  The kid and his mother, who was aiding this public defecation by holding his coat out of the way, were not in a little alley or tucked into a corner.  No, not in the least.  They were in the middle of a crowded sidewalk on the edge of the street.  We would soon find out that this spectacle was not an anomaly.

 

We settled into the Yak Hotel, a popular back-packer’s spot conveniently located near Barkhor Square – the real heart of old Lhasa.  The square is centered on the Jokhang, the holiest of Tibetan temples.  Most temples and holy sites are completely encircled by large prayer wheels which people spin as they walk the circuit.  I don’t know if it was always this way, but the Jokhang is so wedged in between vendor’s tables, small shops and tiny restaurants, that you almost miss seeing the few prayer wheels that still surround its perimeter. 

 

Pilgrims prostrate literally day and night around the Jokhang circuit.  Prostrating is a way that Tibetans show their devotion to Buddha.  To tell you the truth, it looks a lot like the sun salutation in Ashtanga yoga.  Standing with hands together in prayer position, people drop to their knees and slide forward until they are lying flat on the ground.  Often they attach pieces of cardboard or cloth to their hands for protection.  They repeat this move over and over, slowly inching forward.  The more distance they travel around a pilgrimage circuit, they believe, the more merit they receive.  We saw people doing pilgrimages literally on the side of highways, on snowy mountain roads as we climbed into the Himalayas, and in the city streets.  Some of their journeys are as long as a few months, some only a few hours or days. 

 

Lining both sides of Barkhor Square are rows of street vendors hawking their goods.  They spot us immediately and begin an incessant chorus of, “hellooo, lookee lookee” and “just lookee please.”  Tibetans are gentle by nature and the majority of time, they really mean, “just looking please.”  That is, if you politely deny them a sale, they will normally continue to smile and release you without incident. 

 

I will admit that, especially after nine months on the road, it is sometimes a challenge to suppress frustration at being constantly accosted.  After a long day of touring and shopping, Michael and I found ourselves caught between two women who were hell-bent on making a sale.  It didn’t help our case that our hands were full of gifts we had bought only moments earlier.  They tried everything – “please just buy something small, no sale today” and “just looking, I make you good price.” We refused them as graciously as possible.  After about ten minutes of back and forth, we decided to make a move.  The women forcefully grabbed both of us by the sleeves.  Michael pulled away easily, but I was a little shaken at the sudden aggression.  This is one of the hardest parts of travel.  You feel loads of compassion and concern for the people you meet, but you can’t help everyone and at some point, you have to say no.  Sometimes, I even get PO’d.  Then, I feel like some sort of anti-traveler, missing the larger point of the experience.  It leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth.  

 

My brother David and his wife Della joined us about a week after we arrived in Lhasa.  Michael and I were very much looking forward to their visit and to sharing part of our journey with them.  Tibet is the perfect place for David and Della.  Besides being my brother and the man who married Michael and I, David is one of my closest friends.  Both he and Della are spiritual people who are intellectually curious and open to the world.  Della is a true traveler who has spent some time exploring Buddhism and eastern philosophies.  I knew that their company would enrich our experience in Tibet. 

 

David and Della had had a hectic year.  They were married the month after Michael and I and moved into a new home shortly thereafter.  David had recently started his own law firm, welcomed a new partner and moved into a new suite of offices.  Della had recently left a high-pressured job only to begin juggling a series of consultancy projects that left her feeling overwhelmed and yearning for more balance.  They were both looking forward to some time for reflection and relaxation.  We were in complete agreement with their plan and Tibet was the perfect venue.

 

Most mornings we lingered over our breakfast, talking and ordering pot after pot of jasmine tea.  Sometimes David read aloud from the Dali Lama’s autobiography, Freedom in Exile, providing the perfect backdrop for our education in Tibet.  Our two favorite eateries were Snowlands and The Naga Restaurant.  Snowlands serves cow milk (as opposed to yak milk), a small but treasured commodity at breakfast. They also soak their vegetables and lettuce in iodine so we could finally have some fresh food.  The Naga is a cozy spot where we removed our shoes and curled up on cushions in front of low tables, talking for hours.

 

Given D & D’s hope to spend most of their vacation relaxing, we planned a short three-day hike in the mountains.  We proceeded to spend a disproportionate amount of time gearing-up for our hike.  Let me explain.  On the one hand, it seems like we are all about the spiritual aspects of Tibet and learning about Buddhism and blah blah blah.  That’s true.  However, on the other hand, all four of us also like our gear.  Lhasa is heaven for gear-heads like us.  The streets are lined with store after store of mostly-fake and cheap cheap cheap Mt. Hardware, North Face and Columbia brand coats, gloves, pants, boots, and other trekking equipment. Our theory was, who cares if they are fake, they look good and furthermore, they are cheap cheap cheap.  A few days earlier, Michael and I bought two fake Mountain Hardware sheepskin coats for 9 US dollars each.  As my sister Kim says, you’re losin’ money if you don’t buy it at those prices! 

 

We did actually have to prepare for the cold. Tibet is bloody freezing.  After we bought the appropriate lined pants and down gloves, we were ready.  We met our guide and driver the night before our trek was to begin.  We also went to their storeroom and inspected our sleeping bags and tents.  We left early the following morning feeling prepared and excited about the trek.  The plan was to get a ride about two hours outside Lhasa to a town at 14,300 feet where we would hire the appropriate number of yaks and begin our trek. 

 

Just a few minutes outside Lhasa the scenery completely changed.  The roads were no longer paved; people were working on their farms, selling vegetables on the side of the road, tending to their sheep and gathering water from nearby streams.  The road up to the yak-hiring town was a bit dodgy, but the scenery got even more attractive as our 1980-something Toyota LandCruiser chugged uphill and we left the small towns behind. 

 

As with most of our travels, the best experiences are often those which are unplanned.  Once we arrived to the town we discovered all the yaks were in the mountains somewhere, nowhere to be seen.  And they were not coming back until past nightfall. Without the yaks, we couldn’t do the trek and we also couldn’t wait until nightfall for them to return.  We had to come up with a Plan B.  The missing yaks may have turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  Just as we were assessing our situation, some dark clouds rolled in and it began to snow. If we had set out as scheduled we would have had a miserable hike to the mountain pass and a frigid and sleepless night in our tents.

 

Instead, we drove another couple of hours to a remote and little-visited monastery in the Pembil Valley called Nalenda.  The monastery was built in the 7th century and had a direct relationship with a monastery in India.  Monks from all over came to Nalenda to learn Sanskrit and translate scriptures into Tibetan.           Visiting any monastery around Tibet, it is easy to become overwhelmed with the evidence of Chinese destruction and violence.  Since the Chinese invasion in the early 1950’s over 1 million Tibetans have been killed and more than 6,000 monasteries destroyed.  Nalenda monastery was no exception.  Most of the buildings lay in ruins and the remaining are barely inhabitable.  Thanks to a beneficent Chinese doctor, the inside of a few of the temples are actually in excellent condition. 

 

We were planning to camp on the grounds of the monastery, but the monks invited us to stay inside.  We shared one room – the cook made a bed on the cold cement floor while the guide and the rest of us set up our sleeping bags on the wooden framed bunks around the edge of the room.  Amazingly, our bedroom also served as our kitchen.  Somehow, from the middle of the floor, our cook whipped up a pretty nice meal of soup, cooked veges and noodles.  Our “bathroom” was just a few steps away from our room.  Open to the stars and surrounded by a shoulder-high wall, our toilet was much like all Tibetan toilets – fairly repulsive.  By this point in our trip we were unfazed by the toilets, plus it was really cold outside so the smells didn’t waft too much.

 

Tibetan toilets are typically “squat” toilets consisting of a deep hole in the ground surrounded by flat strips of porcelain, in the nicer bathrooms or precariously positioned planks of wood, in the more rustic areas.  Next to the toilet is a bucket of water and/or a tap.  The water supply has a two-fold function: flushing the toilet or washing the nether regions (with the left hand only) while still squatting over the toilet.  Sometimes, instead of a deep hole, a narrow trough connects a few toilet areas.  I use the word “areas” because they are not always separated and you may choose to squat over any point of the trough.  Group squatting is also possible.  Michael said that in one of the toilets he visited, water periodically rushed down the trough to rid it of waste.  However, in the toilets of the trough variety that I visited there was no water.  Feces and other unmentionables were sometimes pushed along the long narrow trough by urine or nothing at all.  As the Lonely Planet says, the worst of these toilets will leave you gagging for days. ‘Nuf said.  *(At the end of this section, you must read an absolutely incredible toilet story that I lifted from the Lonely Planet for your entertainment).

 

We had fun exploring the grounds of the monastery especially since we had it all to ourselves, as Westerners do not commonly visit.  At one point, we heard loud voices and clapping sounds coming from one of the small courtyards.  We had heard about the monks’ spirited debating techniques but had been stymied a few days earlier when we missed it at two monasteries. This time luck was on our side and we caught the monks in mid-debate.  Debating is one component of study for all student monks, a sort of intellectual challenge.  The monks pose questions to one another often lunging their bodies forward while clapping and shouting to distract their colleague from their answers.  The debates always incorporate wit and humor and are quite a colorful sight to witness.

 

Della was holding her copy of the Dalai Lama’s autobiography as the dinner gong was sounded.  As the monks began to file out of the courtyard past us they stopped in their tracks at the sight of the book.  They quickly gathered around Della, grabbing her book and passing it around.  They took turns gently placing the cover of the book (also the portrait of the Dalai Lama) on their foreheads in a show of respect.  They were positively beaming as they carefully reviewed each page and picture of their beloved Dalai Lama.  Since the Chinese ban all images of the Dalai Lama, this was a treasured moment for them.

 

After a cold and restless night, we rose early.  Well, it felt like it was early because it was so dark outside.  Being so high in the mountains, the sun doesn’t rise around Nalenda until past 9:00 a.m.  The monks had invited us to join them for their early morning prayers and we had already heard the first low reverberating hum of the gong calling them to temple.  As we walked quietly through the darkness, a few straggler monks ran past us into the temple.  We hesitantly pushed open the large wooden doors and were besieged by echoes of chanting, smells of incense, and the brightness of the monks’ robes and colorful textiles hung from the ceiling.  The monks were sitting meditation style in two long columns down the center of the temple.  The highest-level monk, or Lama, was atop a perch in the middle of one of the columns.  The four of us knelt down on some cushions behind the monks.  We bowed our heads and enjoyed the comforting sounds of their prayers.  A few times the monks stopped praying to eat tsampa and drink yak butter tea.  It was quite cold inside the temple and the hot liquid actually looked appealing (more on this later). Tsampa is a traditional Tibetan dish made of ground barley mixed with tea, milk or water.  People grab a handful of the mixture, roll it up into a small ball and eat it dry. 

 

Just as we were about to exit the temple courtyard, the men who worked in the rudimentary kitchen waved us inside.  They had placed four tin mugs on the table in anticipation of our arrival.  We knew what they were offering – the dreaded Yak Butter Tea.  The men were exceedingly sweet and we knew that refusing the tea was impolite.  We would try our darndest to drink it.  Yak milk has a serious funk to it and the oily butter floating at the top of the tea doesn’t do anything to improve it.  You really can’t catch a break because the moment you take even one sip, the men are refilling your mug.  Michael and I could barely stomach the tea.  Thankfully, David and Della saved the day by drinking all of theirs.

 

Back in our room, breakfast was greatly enhanced by the vacuum-packed wild salmon that David had brought along.  We added the salmon to our eggs and had ourselves a sumptuous little feast.  Our bellies full, we said our goodbyes to the monks and started out for Ganden Monastery. Ganden is a much-visited monastery about two hours outside of Lhasa.  We had a picnic lunch about halfway up the barren windy road leading to the monastery.  We had clear views of the large valley below us and the mountain range above.  A few female yaks grazed nearby and two donkeys casually strolled by, their bells tinkling gently until they were out of earshot.  After we explored the monastery, we decided to hike to the top of a nearby peak for a little exercise and a better view.  At 14,840 feet, the top of the peak was the highest any of us had ever been.  We hung prayer flags and burned some juniper in a small offering to the Buddha.  

 

I will remember our time with David and Della as one of the most special moments of Our Wild Ride

            

11/30/04  MK

Shangri La, The Land of Snow, The Roof of the World.  Few places on earth conjure images as strong as Lhasa, Tibet.  A holy land the likes of Jerusalem or Mecca, it is the spiritual center for millions of Buddhists all over the world, and for centuries was home to the Dalai Lama, the spiritual and political leader of Tibetan Buddhism. 

 

In the 1950’s China marched into Tibet driving the Dalai Lama and some 100,000 Tibetans into exile, and causing the deaths of an additional 1.2 million.  They destroyed nearly every monastery and religious site in an attempt to destroy Tibetan culture.  The Chinese ironically called this gruesome period the Cultural Revolution.  It wasn’t until the mid 80’s that tourists were allowed to enter Tibet, but they arrived to find a broken land.  Today many of the monasteries have been rebuilt, the monks no longer live in fear, and all Buddhists are permitted a level of religious freedom.  However, the Dalai Lama is still in exile as he has been for some 50 years.  Additionally, images of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan flag are considered contraband neither being permitted in Tibet; a law that is strictly enforced.

 

If all you know about Lhasa is from books and television, seeing it for the first time can be pretty underwhelming.  The image you expect is one of enormous monasteries, prayer flags, and a sea of Buddhist monks.  What you don’t expect are dirty rivers and car dealers.  You don’t expect to see a real city, but that is what modern Lhasa has become. 

 

After checking into the Yak Hotel, we went for lunch, which was better than expected, although only slightly.  We then took a walk to Barkhor Square and found the Lhasa we came to see.  The Barkhor is perhaps a few football fields in size.  On its perimeter are many makeshift booths selling local wares.  Everything from prayer wheels and prayer flags, to traditional Tibetan clothing, to fruits and other snacks.  We even noticed several that were selling false teeth.  Behind the booths on two sides are buildings holding various businesses.  On a third side the square turns into a wide street and continues for several blocks.  At the fourth side of the Barkhor stands the Jokhang Monastery.  The Jokhang is the most important monastery in Tibet and to us was clearly the center of all that is Buddhism.  Looking towards the main entrance, to either side, you see two large poles perhaps 40 feet high, every inch of which is covered with prayer flags.  Between the poles is a small box shaped building with one room.  In the room are thousands of yak butter candles.  Between this building and the Jokhang is a small courtyard filled with prostrating Buddhists.  And walking in clockwise circles around this great temple are thousands of Buddhists on the Jokhang circuit.

 

Throughout Lhasa are several pilgrim circuits commonly walked by the Buddhists.  The one around the Jokhang is packed most every day of the week with monks wearing maroon colored robes, and Tibetans wearing virtually everything you can think of.  Joining the pilgrims was like stepping into a river and being swept up by the current.  As the only white people amongst the pilgrims, it was one of the more unique and cultural experiences that we’ve had on our journey.  A highlight of our walk was when I began taking photos.  Normally I have to politely ask to take a person’s photo with the frequent response being a demand for money.  Tibetans, on the other hand, were asking me to take their photo, and were blown away by the image on the digital screen.  Young and old, Tibetans and Monks alike were circling around me, laughing and grabbing for the camera to see their image.  We drew quite a crowd.  It didn’t take long to recognize the reversal we were experiencing in Tibet.  Normally we find ourselves staring at people who sometimes don’t appreciate being the object of our curiosity.  In Tibet we were the objects of their curiosity.  Only they were far less subtle than we at least tried to be.  Shouts of hello would come from all directions.  Tibetans would walk right up as if to join our conversation, except not speaking English they would simply stand there smiling.  It was actually very sweet and we enjoyed their almost childlike curiosity very much.

 

About five days in, David and Della finally arrived.  We were both very excited to have them join us, but Lisa was positively ecstatic.  She missed her brother and absolutely could not wait for the family reunion. 

 

Over the course of the next week we packed in as much as we could.  One experience that is particularly memorable started as a three-day trek through the Himalayas to visit a couple of monasteries and a nunnery.  We met with the guides in the morning and were driven to our starting point, a small village in the mountains.  Here we were to hire a yak to serve as our porter.  As it turned out there were no yaks available, and the weather was beginning to turn.  What started as a typical sunny but cold day had turned to snow.  A storm was moving in and it was directly in our path.  It didn’t take long to realize the trek was off.  A quick change in plans and we were back in the LandCruiser heading to the monastery that we were originally to arrive at the following day.  Nalenda Monastery is not on the usual tourist circuit, which meant we were the only visitors.  The intent was to camp on the monastery grounds but the monks offered us a modest room.  After a tour and dinner, we settled in for a very cold night’s sleep.  We all had sleeping bags but in addition I slept in long underwear, ski pants, a hat, gloves, fleece sweater and a thick down jacket.  I was still cold. 

 

In the morning Lisa and I woke early and headed out for a walk.  After touring the grounds and having a bit of a run in with a yak that was none too happy to be disturbed, we wandered over to the main courtyard where the monks were being summoned to morning prayers.  We sat on the concrete wall watching the monks in their maroon robes, appear from all directions and head into the main temple.  Several said Namaste (hello) and one motioned for us to join them.  We knew David and Della would want to see this so we waited for them to leave the relative comfort of their sleeping bags and the four of us entered the monastery.  Inside, it was very beautiful.  There are several rows of low platforms to sit on while in prayer.  On the perimeter are a number of small rooms each filled with large sculptures depicting different Buddha’s and Bodhisattvas.  The walls are all painted with intricate scenes in many colors and there are numerous candles made from yak butter.  We quickly knelt on a platform in a row that was set back and previously empty.  We stayed for about 45 minutes watching the monks pray.  Incorporated in their prayer was music from a large drum and several long horns.  The monks seemed to enjoy our presence and were continually stealing glances and smiling at us.  We felt like truly special guests being granted the rare privilege of catching a glimpse into the obscure and ritualistic lives of Tibetan Buddhist monks. 

 

One additional experience that I will not soon forget happened when Della took out her copy of the Dalai Lama’s autobiography.  The cover has a picture of the Dalai Lama and inside are several additional photos.  Given that Dalai Lama photos are strictly outlawed in Tibet by the ruling Chinese government, these photos were extremely special to the monks and they all gathered round to carefully flip through every page of the book.  Della later left a Buddhist magazine with the monks that included additional photos.  This was a truly special gift and it was beautiful to see their immense happiness from something so simple.

 

Tibet was certainly a magical experience.  It is a land full of people who are poor and oppressed, yet they are easily the happiest bunch I have ever seen.  It was clear that they have a deep understanding of something that has been misplaced in western society. 

 

One of our final nights in Lhasa we went out to meet up with some travelers we had met in town.  We connected at a local pub that played live Tibetan music, don’t ask, and was otherwise a pretty typical bar.  The group we met up with numbered around 15 and included people from Australia, Spain, Holland, Germany, England and Israel.  Of course, we were the oldest by a fairly wide margin but we held our own pretty well.  It was an interesting evening talking politics, culture, and about all of our travels.  A number of the group were heading from Lhasa to Kathmandu, as were we, so we made plans to reconnect there. 

 

On November 24th we left Tibet for Nepal.  We had planned to fly, however, after recently learning the airlines do not fly this route in the off-season, we were left with the only other option of driving.  As has often been the case, it’s the times we didn’t plan that turn out to be the most memorable.  Our three-day journey on the Friendship Highway, linking Tibet with Nepal, will not soon be forgotten.  We set off in the morning with our driver and his early 90’s Toyota LandCruiser.  We were maybe two hours into the trip when we heard a loud hiss and the wheels began spinning in the snow.  We got out and found the left rear tire had a blow out.  It was still early in the morning and it was very cold.  While our driver was changing the tire, with a faulty jack that kept lowering the car while he was still under it, I noticed just how bald the remaining three tires were.  Thankfully, I learned the truck carries two spares, which left us with one more.  Our journey continued over what would be the first of several mountain passes.  It was only a few hours later, while traveling at surprisingly high speed on a bumpy dirt road, that the car began to rattle violently.  We pulled to the side and discovered this time it was our right rear tire that had gone flat.  Just to recap, it’s day one and we hadn’t yet stopped for lunch.  We had two flat tires and have zero spares left with 2 ½ days to drive hundreds of miles on dirt roads over high mountain passes.  No worries.

 

Over the next three days we enjoyed incredible views of the Himalayas, climbed over mountain passes, the highest of which reached an altitude of 17,200 feet, appreciated complete isolation in a vast and foreign wilderness, occasionally came to a sudden stop to allow flocks of dozens of sheep and goats clear the road, and drove through numerous small towns and villages.

 

One special highlight was our stop at Mt. Everest base camp.  Everest actually has two base camps.  One on the Nepal side, which is where most of the climbers start from, and another on the Tibet side, which is a far less climbed route but provides a much better view of the mountain.  It was a cold and very clear day with only a few clouds on the mountains peak.  We spent about an hour at base camp enjoying the view in complete solitude. 

 

That night we stayed at the Amdo Guest House in the small town of Tingri, which sits in the shadow of Everest.  It was much like the place we stayed the night before, and typical of the small motels in only slightly larger Tibetan towns.  The rooms were tiny and the walls were thin with no insulation or heating.  We slept in every item of clothing we could get on our bodies, gathered every blanket we could find, and still froze. 

 

Five sisters run both the hotel and small restaurant where we ate dinner and breakfast.  We learned the oldest was 18 and the youngest I’d guess to be around 13.  They appear to handle all responsibilities from carrying bags to cooking the meals, and at night sleep on the hard wood benches that line the restaurant walls.  There was not a parent or any adult supervision in site.  The girls were very curious about their foreign travelers and did their best to speak with us.  They were very friendly and did a great job keeping us as comfortable as possible.  We marveled at the responsibilities they shouldered with such ease, and couldn’t help but comment on the stark contrast from what you might expect from an American teenager, or adult for that matter. 

 

On our third day we entered a surprisingly large town that clung to the side of a mountain like a climber on a rope.  Our driver pulled over for what we thought was a break.  We shortly learned just down the road was the customs office and this was as far as he could/would take us.  A local woman who spoke English informed us that we would have to walk through customs.  Once through, we could then hire a car for the half hour drive to the Tibet/Nepal border.  Customs went smoothly and the woman helped us find a driver.  We loaded our bags into a LandCruiser at least a decade older than the circa ‘90’s vehicle we arrived in.  Three locals who appeared to simply be along for the ride joined us.  On the side of the windy dirt road, that we slowly made our way down, were parked truck after truck, each with its wheels inches from the cliff.  Near the bottom of the hill we entered the shadiest border town I’ve ever seen; sort of a Chinese Tijuana.  The traffic, consisting of both cars and pedestrians, became heavy and our driver suddenly stopped.  He informed us in his best sign language and broken English that the border was a few hundred yards down the hill and we would have to walk.  This was a bit concerning but we didn’t appear to have much choice.  We unloaded our gear and began dragging our bags through this crazed town.  Although we felt like quite a spectacle, and must have looked extremely out of place in our black all-weather REI jackets, pulling black Swiss Army roller luggage, the locals didn’t give us more than a glance.  Much to our relief, at the bottom of the hill we came to the border crossing.  Without a hitch, we walked through and over the Friendship Bridge, which connects the two countries.  Amazingly, the Nepal side was twice as crazy as the Chinese.  After making our way through town, we found a driver who helped us get our visas and loaded us into his heap of a vehicle.  After assuring us his car would in fact survive the 4-hour drive to Kathmandu, he jump-started the car and we were off.

 

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