When most people think about Tibet, they imagine feuding monks and stray chopsticks. However, as I discovered during an overland passage from Lhasa to Kathmandu, the region was far from the barren landscape of old. Continue reading ‘Reprint: Tumble Weed’
Archive for the 'Tibet' Category
I stare at the newspaper. It wasn’t me. I gawp at the television. It wasn’t me. I trawl through the internet. It wasn’t me! I listen to the radio, podcasts, and conversations on the bus. It WASN’T me! At least — I hope it wasn’t me? Continue reading ‘Trails of the Unexpected’
I don’t think this weeks Reprint needs any words at all. Just look at him. He’s the cheerleader of the tour bus troop. I’m outspoken in my denial of there being a fundamental difference between a traveller and a tourist so I’ll choose my words carefully. Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘Monk Hunter’’
Yeah so I went from here to here, popped into here and swung by there before I took a train over there to catch a plane here. Sounds easy. Simple. A cinch? It’s not. Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘Boulevards of Blur’’
I’d seen him from a short distance, twelve months previously, he travelled alone aboard a plane to Moscow. He wore a dark tracksuit top zipped over a light t-shirt, and loose pale green shorts covered the knees he cradled by his chest. His hair sprayed out in loose brown curls beneath a khaki cap, highlighted by scribbles of grey. His pale thin lips lined a shallow smile, and his early morning eyes seemed glazed with relief. As his homeland slipped beneath a thin veil of cloud, he lifted his cap and ran his fingers through his hair, his lips parted just once to release his farewell thoughts: Let the journey begin, my friend. Today, he lay upright on the rippled white sheets of a double bed, in a simple, homely room on the island of Bali. Continue reading ‘A Thousand Glorious Times’
For these four, mind-blowing days it felt as if I were living within a high school English project. My former English teacher, Mr Zaidi would slowly sweep back his black, spiraling locks, knowingly adding to the tense finale of his class. He’d draw breath to fuel a husky, magnetic voice before swiftly declaring through a clearing in his goatee, ‘homework. I dunno, just invent a story about an overland journey between Tibet and Nepal’. I’d look at the lads, smirking painfully. ‘Oh’ he continued demon-like, ‘pop into Mount Everest on the way’. My head would slump to the table and my gaze would dribble over Palmer’s artistic acres of ‘I heart C.o’R‘, my consciousness cruelly restored by the rusty point of a compass, jabbed deep into my leg. The drill of the school bell would carry me to the bus, making sure to avoid the dreaded Gauntlet Runs on the fringes of the yard. So here’s my homework, Billy (that’s what we called him, ‘coz we woz kool’). Sorry it’s so late, my goldfish ate the first one. Continue reading ‘Himalayan Homework’
I couldn’t do anything but stand there. Kids of every age took turns to scramble up and over me as if I were a long lost climbing frame, those that couldn’t quite conquer the summit of my shoulders grabbed my hands and insisted I span, and span, and span. Surrounding walls were decorated by endless reams of colourful streamers, a cool expanse of water nearly tempted me in to paddle and a pet zoo turned up to keep everyone entertained. It was the spirit of a kids birthday party, and I was so excited to be invited. The only problem, I’d failed to bring any presents, though (most of) the kids knew exactly what they wanted; ‘munee, munee!’ they yelped in their sweetest voices, hands upturned and eyes switched to a well-rehearsed cute mode. Continue reading ‘Tibetan Toy Soldiers’
