Train to Tibet

The landscape has been changing considerably since morning: we're at a noticeably higher altitude (Lydia notes that she is breathing faster) and some cabins are already pumping O2 from their valves. The scenery is desolate - gone are the city lights and stucco high rises that define China for me. Instead, through our train windows are vast expanses of brown sloping mountains, dotted with an olive colored scrub vaguely reminiscent of moss, with the shadows of mountains staining the landscape below. Rare farmers can be seen tending their herds of oxen. No sightings yet of the famed Tibetan yak. We see frozen ponds and meandering streams in amazing formations, and when the water is thawed, the color is teal blue without any contaminating imperfections. The sky is very blue, as they say, but more than that, it is still and clear of pollution. The sun is bright and feels good on my neck as I sit by the window. Oddly enough, looking at all this, I feel confined instead of free, but it could be that my body is subconsciously aware that it is trapped in a cabin. I want to breathe that air. I can't wait until we're outside.