In Kangding, the Dalai Lama's step-nephew told us that when we saw the view from the top of the Tro-La, we'd want to get out a cloth.
It seemed he meant get out a cloth to lay down on and bask in the view...But in my experience there'd be many other uses for such a cloth.
1) To dry the tears cause by complete and utter fear.
2) To cover my eyes.
3) To wipe, after wetting myself.
On retreat, Karma Kuchen asked more than once if I was really going to Tibet--with a sort of chuckle. He warned we might get sick, and that the mountians are very high.
But no one mentioned that the Tro-La Pass is a dirt road which does not realize guard rails exist (oh, except for at the bottom). Add snow, a busful of smokers, a more than 16,000ft vertical drop, the driver trying to squeak by trucks on a very narrow road, and you have a recipe for Jenn's greatest nightmare come true.
Not to mention K and I were in the last row of seats over the rear axle where it was so bumpy we were repeatedly flung off our seats into the air. Oh, and don't forget the slightly creepy Tibetan boy whose knees were pressed into mine, head on my shoulder when asleep. Singing songs, smoking, and mumbling words in English such as, "Best friends. Forever friends. Faraway friends" when awake.
Keith said there was at least one good thing about the Tro-La. I told him I couldn't possibly imagine what it could be....He said that for the first time he really practiced as though about to die.
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