I emerge from Gongkar airport to a view of high mountains. It's sunny but the air is incredibly dry. I know this because my hair hasn't frizzed freakishly as it did in Kathmandu. Lhasa is a 55-kilometre drive through a barren landscape. There is hardly a soul to be seen. Just rivers, bare mountains and endless skies.
The bus stops off at a Buddha monument covered in white prayer scarves. The higher the scarf is placed, the better the next life will be.
As we drive into the capital Lhasa, the Potala Palace takes my breath away. I've read how utterly awe-inspiring it was, but I'm still not prepared for this. Sitting on top of the Red Hill its intimidating presence looms overs the city like a sentinel.
(Photo - prayer scarves and Buddha monument)
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