Getting into a routine, we went to the same restaurant for breakfast.  It was my hope to try an authentic Himalayan breakfast.  I ordered a derivation of porridge that included bananas and apples and a honey banana curd bowl.  The former tasted like a blend of burlap and wheat and the latter tasted like candy.  However, neither had the strong tastes that I am accustomed to in America.

In fact this trend carries beyond the Himalayan/Tibetan food to all of the food that I have had on this trip (including Indian food).  The tastes are simply more muted than their American counterparts.  Indian food is creamier and made with stronger flavors in the states, as if when recipes are translated into English the proportions of sugar and butter were doubled.  While I appreciate that the American versions of these foods are not authentic, I have grown accustomed to all things exaggerated. 

The chanting started again while we finished our meal.  After settling with the waiter, we headed to the center of town to find a mob of Tibetans marching laps around the quarter mile rectangle that constituted the city center.  Chanting and cheering, they renounced the Chinese occupation of Tibet.  After a few laps they congregated to burn a Chinese flag and a symbol of the Chinese people, a scarecrow in standard Chinese garb. 

The emotions continue to escalate as the violence continues.  The Dalai Lama claimed that 100 Tibetans were killed in the uprising today.  I captured photos and video of this which I will post next time I have regular internet access.

After the mob left to stir emotions in neighboring towns, we hired a driver to take us to the local sites.  First stopping in nearby villages and the Tantric University (home to an affiliated Tibetan religious group), we headed out to the Kanga Fort.  The fort was one of the largest Medieval castles that I had ever seen resting atop a hill with steep cliffs on three of its four sides.  The thickness of the structure and the many winding roads that must be passed to enter, gave it the appearance that it could withstand any assault that its era could muster. 

However, what made this site an even more unique experience was that we were the only people there.  Never before in my life have I had the opportunity to explore ruins without having to dodge a crowd of other tourists.  The striking quietness in this setting was reminiscent of Hollywood movies, I kept waiting for giant anacondas, mythical creatures or lost indigenous tribes to emerge.

On our drive to the last stop of this tour, we passed through several valleys and towns where we were the only tourists within miles.  The serenity of the valleys was incomparable as splashes of bright colors reflected from the people's clothes and the local flora between the homes that were spaciously spread across the fields.  The car remained silent, as it was obvious to all that any sound would disturb the tranquility; we feared that the smallest noise would echo between the distant mountains sending all forms of life fleeing.

When we passed through the towns we saw the increasingly commonplace affair.  Streets populated by crowds of peoples and animals.  However, what struck me was the way in which the Indian people live with animals.  In the US animals have become invaders of the cities and towns that we have built; they are unwelcome guests that we expect to return to their designated living spaces.  It is different here.  The animals are part of the community.  Cars patiently honk as goats cross the road, acting as slow pedestrians.  One man feeds himself with his right hand and a cow with his left.  The animals are a welcome part of every day life, neighbors of a different species.

Our last stop was a summit town perched atop a mountain kneeling before the Himalayan peaks.  The grass was pure green, as I have been told that it is in Ireland.  Gold flowers and robes of every bright color peppered the spacious hill.  Children played cricket and parents sat on their roofs doing chores and consuming the views.  The backdrop could not have been painted better - a range of lush green mountains parted like curtains for the star of the show, the snow capped Himalayas.

Assuming my role as tourist, I took numerous pictures of the setting and locals.  I always try to share my pictures of locals with them, letting them see themselves on the screen on my camera.  Unlike the other places we had visited where the indigenous people were accustomed to westerners, the children here initially ran to their mothers, fearing that I or my camera might hurt them.

We returned home to the same procession of Tibetan candles followed by the chants of locals.

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