October 6th, Beijing, Lily and I boarded a train bound for Lhasa, Tibet. Six bunk beds, one small room, 46 hours. Actually, as it turned out, the second day four of our roommates got off the train and a young couple from Holland (who could speak English) joined us. As we approached Tibet we began to encounter patches of snowy weather, some hail and huge fields of yak. Nearing Lhasa they began pumping oxygen into the cabin to help ward off altitude sickness. Most of us could feel slight headaches - but nothing too distracting. I read another third of War and Peace.

Our first night in Lhasa we were woken by a strong shaking of the hotel. A moment later we received a phone call and confirmation from our guide that an earthquake had hit... we later learned that a number of people were killed just down the road (and closed one of the hot springs destinations we had planned). This was a big reminder that just a couple months ago the Chengde region of China experienced its hugely destructive earthquake... not far away. The region is still experiencing aftershocks regularly.

We toured the Potala palace and Lhasa temples on our first day in Lhasa. Pictures do not do the Potala building justice. It rises up above the city around it and is brightly lit at night. (see the night picture I took). In the markets there are an amazing number of colorfully dressed figures - so much for the eye to see, it is near impossible to know where to point a camera -- especially since in addition to being eye-catching, it is also a fast moving crowd. I spent some time trailing Lily as she shopped - and doing my best to capture scenes with the 70-200m lens without being noticed. Needed protection from the sun -- didn't expect it to be so hot in Lhasa late in October. I found a good cowboy hat in the local market and wore it for the duration of the trip. Lily found a yak bone necklace... and we ate yak steak for dinner.

We chose to travel with a private driver and tour guide - it is required to have a tour guide in Tibet if you are a foreigner, and on short notice we were not able to find a discounted group to go with. Apparently the driver must also get special permission from the police to drive at certain speeds. They register their destination and receive a paper indicating what time they should arrive -- any earlier and they will receive a fine. Naturally this results in high speeds with long breaks just before checkpoints. An interesting system for sure. Our driver is a monk - on loan from a local Tibetan monastery. He was unable to sign his own name to accept payment. Our tour guide had hopes to be a monk but for reasons he didn't explain did not follow through with his studies. A flunked monk perhaps? The driver lapses into a low chant frequently throughout the day -- often popping in a cassette tape of Tibetan prayers to accompany him.

In Tibet, the mantra is "walk slow"... a phrase repeatedly frequently to tourists for fear they will drop dead from brain swelling.

October 11th, we drive to the tallest lake in the world - expecting little more than a body of water and a sign marking the significance. What we found was a true oasis of blue salt-water and seagulls surrounded by glistening white Himalayan mountains. The small camp that was formed by the lake was already packing to leave for the winter season, but Lily had no trouble finding a horse to ride while I struggled to take pictures in an environment that is nothing but burning rays of sun on white surfaces. (Anyone with suggestions for shooting a scene with a exposure range of 48 please write me!) Also worth noting is my disapproval of Tibetan prayer flags trashing up all the notable scenery. The more I learn about religious institutions, the more I find them harder to respect.

I ended the day with a screaming headache -- altitude sickness finally catching up with me. The next morning I was back to normal. The driver was kind of enough to bring me local medicine -- some kind of petrified deer piss. Just add water! I took measured doses for three days just in case it might help.

When driving through the smallest rural villages in Tibet, our driver would beep when passing almost every house - there are so few cars passing through that man and animal both are likely to forget the road. In fact, much of of the road is completely unmarked and can only be seen due to the slight increase of dust and broken rock. It is harvest time and everyone is consumed with the task of threshing and "winding" their crops. Even children as young as 4 years of age are wielding their own adult-sized tools and working beside their dad... learning the ropes. The dirt here is so poor in nutrients, it is remarkable that any crop can grow. Apparently the Chinese government has offered 50,000 RMB to anyone who is successful in growing a tree here.

I should note that our car is equipped with Hello Kitty pillows. There are no limits to Hello Kitty (tm).

Along the countryside roads there are kids of every age wearing their school uniforms and trying to hitch a ride. I could never figure out whether they were going or coming because it seems they were walking at every hour of the day. Children in the some of the more rural villages of Tibet were asking for soap and pencils. When offering any aid, their parents would show up and beg in the same desperate manner... certainly an uncomfortable position to be in - especially because there are too many to help, and because their request (while in bad form) is so completely necessary unlike in Lhasa where kids have been trained to beg by there parents as a career. At one stop where just Lily and I were walking, a young boy in the far distance herded his entire flock of sheep across fields and a creek in order to ask for money.

Some of the roads we traveled through the Himalayas were so twisted and encumbered by switchbacks that one could not go straight more than 3 seconds before coming to another 180 degree (or larger) turn. This would last for hours in some cases. I later learned that geographical obstacles were not the sole blame. Road construction crews were paid by the kilometer! For much of the trip we drove on roads that were little more than yak trails as far as the eye could see. Even the more developed sections were hit with landslides -- apparently every monsoon season results in washed out roads at thousands of points and there isn't enough money to fix them.

When slowing down to pass one obstacle, our vehicle was surrounded by kids running alongside. Just when the driver thought he was clear, one of the kids darted dangerously close to the front bumper. Our driver came to a quick stop, put the car in park and chased after the kid... who now was crying from fear and panic of the approaching adult. One quick swat to the butt and we were back on the road. Pay no attention to the heads of mothers popping up from behind bails of hay.

On the evening of October 13th we settled in for the night at a one room "hotel" in a town called "Dingri". There was nothing in this town except for the one room restaurant/lounge which had a central fireplace and comfortable plank seating. I ordered a bowl of chicken chili and found it to be the best tasting meal of the entire trip. We spent some time playing with the family's pet kitten who was doing its best to escape the clutches of the young boy who was its rightful owner. I should note that everywhere we went there were dogs living the best life they could despite mankind's obvious and outright detest for them. They were so distrustful of a friendly hand that most would be extremely uncomfortable if we offered kindness in any form.

In passing conversation with our guide we learned that the road ahead was going to be closed tomorrow until evening and that we may be stuck until we could pass. It was decided that we would pack it up and drive to the next town that night instead. A decision that we later regretted. No one mentioned that the road was death defying and that we would be holding the edges of our seat for five hours while our driver (now an angry monk) did the most difficult driving of the entire trip using only his dim headlights lighting the way. (You can forget about street lights.) We also missed seeing the changing landscape from high cold desert terrain to the lush green valley of Nepal... though at times we caught glimpses of the outer terrain. We passed under many natural bridges that were spitting out spring water from the sides, and came to frequent collapsed roads where the detour would take us down steep sandy embankments. Near 2AM we reached the little town of Zhangmu (just across the border from Nepal).

In the morning, we headed towards the border and met up with our Nepali guide. Porters were hired to carry our bags. Despite the wheels on each bag, the porters found it preferable to follow tradition and carry everything on their heads. When we reached the customs desk (with porters in tow), we found that we were still within reach of Microsoft and had to wait an hour while they found someone to fix the computer. (BTW, I should mention that next to the American embassy in Beijing there is a much bigger, shinier building with the words "Microsoft" written down the front. Location, location, location!)

Our tour of Nepal included the following sites:

• Pashupatinath Temple (Hindu cremation services on the bank of the Bagmati river
• Boudhanath Stupa (largest Stupa in the world)
• Sunrise view from the mountain near Nagarkot
• Patan and Durbar square (Krishna Temple, Golden Temple), home of the living goddess
• Pokhara (canoeing on Fewa lake)
• Sunrise view from Sarangkot (best view of the Western range of the Himalayas - although there were too many people for proper tripod setup)
• Davis Fall (an otherwise insignificant waterfall named after a western hippie girl who died there)
• Lubmini (birthplace of Buddha in 563 BC) - Spent the night in Buddha Maya Garden with plenty of geckos and frogs in our room.
• Chitwan National Park (elephant rides, wild rhinos, tigers and sloth bears, and an elephant breeding center)
• Kathmandu - shopping and people watching

Our first stop in Nepal was for lunch. The driver and guide were merely temporary picks since we had shown up a day earlier than expected... so they paid little attention to us. A plate of rice, potatoes and spicy chicken (Bone-in of course! If you ever want to know how many bones a chicken has, just come eat in Asia). No silverware, no napkins, no problem. I quickly mashed my hand into the rice and scooped some into my mouth so our guides would relax. I think it was another first for Lily.

Back on the road, we wound our way off the lush mountain and headed for the big city of Kathmandu where over half of Nepal lives. Certainly the most noticeable change from Tibet were the trucks. Big colorfully decorated vehicles- everything from shiny decals to cloth tassels, and most notably the horns. Vehicles in Nepal seem to be in a competition for the loudest and most obnoxious horn. Westerner's rarely use their horn at all, but here the horn is more like breathing... you use it when you are making a turn, when you are passing a person, or another car, or when someone else is passing you, or even if you're just bored and sitting parked somewhere off the road (I've seen it). When westerners do use their horn, it is a beep or maybe a BEEEEP. Here, the beep turns into an entire symphony of annoyance - and every car offers a different flavor.

The roads are dusty. Really dusty. Let me put it like this. All plants you may see from the car are a solid chalky white color. The cities are saturated with a thick layer of dirt. Throughout the day, store keepers are seen bent over and sweeping dirt with small hand brushes. It occurred to me more than once that I could make a fortune selling proper brooms in this country.

Kathmandu, or should I say Thamel (the small tourist enriched section of the city where we stayed) is amazing. This is evidently where all the hippies of the 60's and 70's came - leaving a long trail of commercial love. It is nothing but beads, loose colorful clothing and Buddha materials as far as one can walk, with an occasional Gurkha knife dealer here and there. Tourists are constantly harassed by salesman. If you're not careful, you might find yourself buying a small three stringed violin, giving a donation to the holy men who are smattering red dye on your forehead, planning a guided tour and having your shoes shined at the same time. Most certainly you'll have at least one taxi and two tuk-tuk's standing buy at any given moment. Lily purchased an array of handbags and scarfs (probably the only item which is actually Nepali) for friends and family.

Our tour began with the Pashupatinath Temple where the public and even non-hindu are permitted to watch cremation services from across the Bagmati river. In this country the wealthiest citizens leave the world in exactly the same manner as the poorest. This seems like a philosophically sound idea until you surround the cremation site with a horde of camera-armed tourists such as myself. That being said, it was a truly unique sight to behold. Family members gather together and assist in the process, symbolically washing the body and then laying the family member on a waiting podium of timber. Additional logs are added on top, and then someone (usually the eldest son?) proceeds to ignite the kindling in a circle around the site while others watch nearby. There are many cremations performed in parallel - only a few meters apart. No one is crying... it appears to be no different than any other ritual one might perform many times in a lifetime. A few monkeys are busy climbing up the walls and inspecting all the operations, even sitting closer to the deceased than the relatives who watch without concern.

The second day we continued our tour with more temples, Stupas and Buddhas. I risk sounding disrespectful, unappreciative, obtuse, or maybe all three, but I must say I have seen enough Stupas and Buddhas for a lifetime. It was unsettling to learn that our Tibetan monk driver is giving all his profit to a temple for the purpose of building another gold Buddha. In general, I believe that religion can help motivate people to do great things and be better people - but these benefits seem somewhat unrealized when everyone's time is devoted to repetition of scripture instead of living the scripture. (Spinning a prayer wheel can be considered equal in value to repeating the prayers verbally?) And when a small community has a temple to worship, why must the temple's proceeds go to buying more gold plated statues? Perhaps I can find some comfort in the idea that this is merely a smart business move to increase tourism? I think not. Tourists come in the millions, lining up to see one identically carved statue after the next. All are expected to revere the awesomeness of the site - and they all do what is expected of them. Take off their shoes, enter the temple and stare up at the statue for a few seconds, then circle clockwise and exit. I don't get the feeling that they would notice if one or two Buddhas were missing. I've also noticed that at many sacred sites, the caretakers are nothing more than ticket salesman... it seems to me that the religious disciples who once built these ancient sites with their bare hands have been replaced by disciples who have no skill beyond exchanging paper tickets for money -- and the sites are in great disrepair. Even just cleaning up the surrounding yard would be a big improvement. How can tourists be expected to respect the site if the local disciples do not? And finally, a side question. Why can there not be a Hindu or Buddhist statue that shows a different artistic style? They've been around since 600 BC... but no renaissance period? I'm sure there are answers to these questions, so please fill me in if you can!