Disordered recollections

Pfffft ... I still can't even think about Tibet and feel calm.

Let me see. What are the scraps?

Snowburnt cheeks. Looked so pretty on the local girls, with their high cheekbones. Peruvian, almost.



I got snowburns on my bum (my other cheeks) from 8 hour van rides across snow deserts. You drink 4 times as much water a day at altitude, and you can't hold your pee. There aren't any toilets. There aren't any buildings. There's only three sealed roads in the country, and they're all 2000 kilometres away.



So, like the locals, you shit at the side of the road.

One thing I hate about travel guides is their pompous, didactic tone.
'Sterilise your water instead of buying water in plastic bottles.'
'This region isn't safe to travel at the moment, so we haven't included it in the guide.'
'This city isn't interesting - use it as an overnight stopping point to get money and email before moving on.'
'If you must use toilet paper instead of water, at least bury it.'

Fuck off. You're a list, not a bible. Don't tell me how to live.

I once was appalled by the sight of a posh Malaysian babe climbing up on a western toilet seat to squat-shit. That was before I realised cisterns, toilets, paper, soap, water, partitions, planks of wood with a hole in them - they're all for pussies (so to speak) - anything but the side of the road and a handy sleeve or cuff is extra to requirements.



Pffft. Still can't think about Tibet calmly.