Wind Horse and Fish Sauce

traveling between the Himalayas and the Pacific

Tag: Staub

On the dirt road towards Shangri-La

Not quite relaxed we wake up at six clock in the morning in Xiangcheng. From the window we can look at the bus station, where just a bus to Shangri-La (Yunnan), our next destination, making ready to sail. Six clock departure was us (especially Sven) too early and loudly Lonely Planet to nine clock a second bus drive through here, we aim to take. One hundred per cent sure but we are not us, whether this information is actually true. We eat breakfast cereal with Nescafé and Kathi pressed air from the vacuum bags, to stow everything in their tight in size backpack.

Since we do not know exactly, when our bus arrives, we sit shortly after eight on the street outside the bus station and wait. The lady from the kiosk next door gives us small plastic stool, we return the favor by purchasing a cola and a 'Flavoured Drink', a delicious Chinese lemonade, as the not so sweet ginger ale tastes. Half past eight the ticket so far closed to open Office and we go to the counter, to us to ask for our bus. The lady translated using their smartphone app, that today would go no more bus to Shangri-La, until tomorrow at six clock. Such a crap, but we do not trust this woman and are still waiting.

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Litang (ལི་ཐང།) - Pilgrims, Dust and thin air

Wir befinden uns auf dem Höhepunkt unserer Reise. Über fast 5000 Meter hohe Pässe fahren wir im Bus in Richtung Litang. Der Sichuan-Tibet-Highway ist inzwischen größtenteils gut ausgebaut. Zwischen Xinduqiao und Litang jedoch sind zwei große Tunnelprojekte noch nicht vollendet und so genießen wir für wenige Stunden das Gefühl, that travelers had to endure many days earlier: On the old narrow pass road, mostly paved with potholes, partly sandy slopes, we screw us in curves up the hill. Alternating left and right lurks the hundreds meter deep abyss next to the road or oncoming traffic and only a few centimeters away from the tire. The suspension of the bus gets full roar. Light People take off from the seats, great people come up against the ceiling of the bus. Far down the road meanders, which we have already mastered. A thousand feet above the valley we reach the saddle of the pass. As everywhere in Tibet those distinctive points are adorned with plenty of colorful prayer flags and Kathi heart goes on.

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