The top of the world is the place there is nothing taller than you.
We're going from Lhasa to the fringe with Nepal. We are twenty visitors who
leased a transport, and among us there is additionally a polio with bolsters.
The last pass we crossed was 5220 meters, and there was the typical hill of
rocks with several Tibetan banners waving in the wind.
We're going to burn through five days on the transport - we were told
before leaving - with restaurants extremely distant from each other. The
gathering pioneer is an American and instructs us to sort out ourselves for
good in light of the fact that the following stop will be following seventeen
hours. By then we simply need to purchase a couple packs of rolls to the
Chinese armed force shelter in which a fighter is guarding the area and offers
scones.
The air, obviously, is meager, the environment is overwhelming despite
the daintiness we feel, and we're ungainly, clumsy in developments, wrapped in
our yak fleece coats and walk, when stop to extend our legs and piss, similar
to zombies, as though we were on the moon. Something is missing, and for this
situation it's not simply gravity. However, it's decent.
The inaccessible scene demonstrates little tops, which are the most
noteworthy on the planet, yet from that tallness, they're not in the slightest
degree incredible. Indeed, even Mount Everest saw from above 4000 is a lovely
mountain, however absolutely not an immense, or a mammoth one. From that point
it's lone 4,000 meters high, alongside all others pretty much the same height.
The sky is extensive and during the evening is as dark as the darkest
pitch and populated by billions of greatly splendid and throbbing stars. Never
seen a wonder such as this; they're similar to light openings on the dim
foundation of the enormous theater. The adventure is not all that simple and in
the meantime even not extremely charming, accurately in light of the fact that
it's tiring. It's tiring to inhale, to stroll, to relate with others in the
gathering. It's tiring realizing that we'll touch base following quite a while
of shaking on this transport running over streets of stones and shakes, bobbing
safe amidst an unfilled landscape; vacant above and inside.
I'm not cheerful. I'm not miserable. I'm not solid and not debilitated;
not quick, nor moderate. It's the environment of I'm not; an inclination that
overruns everything, outside, inside, myself, as well as other people. It's
hard. Everything is wonderful, totally excellent, however in the meantime
completely at the point of confinement of my continuance. Not for human. I see
it according to my kindred voyagers. That is a position of rock, slight air,
dark sky and sparkling stars. I'm happy I'm doing it; I wouldn't have ever
experienced such an inclination anyplace else, however I don't know whether I
need to attempt it again or notwithstanding coming back to Tibet.
Following five days we get to the outskirt with Nepal. The outskirt
check point is over two hours of confounding plummet amidst tea manors worked
by Indians. At last we can see ladies dressed as ladies, men dressed as men and
young men and young ladies who grin, play, work, and take a gander at us with
shock. They take a gander at this gathering of twenty, including a polio,
descending from the most astounding mountains to land at a fringe post in which
there is literally nothing.
Subsequent to passing the movement and traditions, which are only two
officers remaining outside an unfilled stall, we go down significantly advance
until the principal town, everything by walking, all at confounding plummet,
all amidst clean, delightful, verdant tea estates. At the town there is nobody
and nothing, only a truck conveying bond packs stationary amidst the earth
street, sitting tight for us to get on and bring down to Kathmandu. So it is.
That truck was sent from God. I ponder what web of occasions, fates, things,
and all inclusive flow ensured that we in the long run got down to Kathmandu.
