the further out of the Kunming valley we get, the more extreme the terrain is. Half the time it looks like desert, half the time the Himalayas. Finally, we arrived at the temple where we spent our first night. We ate dinner with the monks, in bowls we washed ourselves. There was a rule that no food should be wasted, so it was really unfortunate that I had served myself some fermented tofu.

We prayed with the monks before dinner. Prayer isn’t exactly my strong suit, but there’s something fascinating about Buddhist monks, and how they chant expressionless for hours at a time. The monks suddenly lined up and circled the inside of the temple in a procession, the back of which we joined. It was funny, a bunch of confused white people following chanting monks walking circle after circle around the temple, having no idea when it would end.

We took mules up to the top of a mountain to reach the monastery where we spent the next night. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until I mounted my mule that memories of my childhood horseback riding accident came back. Every time he slipped on the steep path through the woods, all I could remember was my horse getting spooked and charging off through the trees with me clinging on for dear life until I got thrown off by a fence. I thought I had finally regained my composure by the end of the hour and a half ride, until I got off the mule and promptly burst into tears.

I can't describe enough how beautiful that monastery was. It was on top of a towering mountain, and beyond the mountain were other mountains, and on the other side were other mountains, and they were all rugged and misty and blue. It was freezing cold, and Tibetan prayer flags whipped around in the wind. The temple was built right onto the cliff, and a few of us woke up early to catch the sunrise. The local villagers were already out, reciting their morning prayers. I love it I love it I love it.