Mart-deBlog

The people I met were unreal and almost became symbols in my head. Our guide that for the first time in his life experienced and mp3 player and enjoyed to most abstract jazz music many people here would frown upon. No communication whatsoever was possible, I never found out his name (none of tibetans in my memory carry a name), he sporadically turned around from upon his horse and blinked his gold tooth. The nomadic hard working woman, with a bittered face and a painful smile; she was suffering from- as much as the guide was enjoying from the land. And the wild child, I do not know whether guy or girl, with bright red cheeks only tamed by its shyness but driven by its curiosity, running outside, jumping up into the sky then running towards me and putting its hand on my cheek and running away again. And the swarm of tibetan monks, who were astounded by my digital camera, I taught them counting in dutch and showed their isolation in the form of excitement, laughter but all without losing dignity nor grace.
I want to go back to tibet, although, I know for sure those types will visit me often in unconscious neurotics and wild or peaceful dreams. It really struck me, and it really would struck anyone who lives the real and desires the unreal.