No Sleep 'Till Lhasa

Regardless of the Boys Entering Anarchistic States Towards Inner Excellence (you gotta fight for your right) T-shirt and concert campaign for a free Tibet, Don and I shamelessly boarded the brand-spankin' new Chinese cultural infiltration railway known as the Qinghai Express from warm and spicy Chengdu to the chilly Tibetan capital of Lhasa. This is railway like it used to be, except the buffalos were yaks and we wern't using them for target practice. Aside from the fact that 48 hours worth of instant noodles, spicy space tofu and wheat boba tea will send one running with a quickness to the intestinal confessional, we arrived safe and sound 4000 meters above sea level on the Roof of the World. The train climbs high enough that they issue oxygen tubes in case you start seeing stars. Even though we kept the astrology to a minimum, we did play with the oxygen tubes, which basically only serve to dry out your esophogus.
Welcome to the Wild West. Dudes walk around with ceremonial knives, and the monks are the biggest guys around. They could crush you. The bars can only be called "taverns" and the locals drink beer that looks like you poured it in the middle of the fermentation. But its so different from China proper, and feels it. Especially in the lungs when you walk up a flight of stairs. Tenzog Norgay i ain't. Yet. Cause we got our group together for the trip to the Nepali border yesterday, which includes a stop at Everest Base Camp. Its all downhill from there.