South From Tibet 1995

At the bottom of this road was the route to the holy mountain of Khailash I had stood at the t-bone intersection hitchhiking a ride to Nepal to the South over the Himalayas.

I couldn’t have been happier in such desolation whereas I freak out in airports. Safe and sound from the elements.

A Tibetan driver heading to the border picked me up.

The dirt road crested a 5000-meter with the horizon filled by the Himalayas

We stopped at a tea shop and ate a bowl of noodles.

Millions of flies covered the walls and windows.

I said, “This place dirty.”
The driver replied, “Before dirty. Now clean.”

I slurped down my noddles with my eyes on northern face of Chomolungma.

The next day in Kathmandu I damn near died.

Guardia.

After two weeks I drove a motorcycle across Nepal to Jomsom.

Under Annapurna.

Yaks, Sherpas, trekkers, snot-nosed children and lamas.

Never-changing life in the rain shadow of the monsoon.

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