...And so, from The Last Resort, plagued by dreams of the ground rushing up towards me at terminal velocity, we departed for Tibetan border. Here we encountered Chinese bureaucracy for the first time. The crossing into China involved forming lots of orderly queues, waiting around and jumping through flaming hoops. But if we thought out own transit was protracted the progress of the truck could reasonably have been studied by geologists. It was lunch time of the following day before we finally got our transport (and clothes) back, which gave us ample time to appreciate the dubious delights of Zhangmu. This is a scabby blot-on-the-landscape of a border town that smears itself lazily along the friendship highway for some distance and comprises a ramshackle collection of scummy hotels, internet cafes, phone booths, brothels and flem-flinging locals. This was made all the more attractive by a night of torrential rain. Still the hotel served reasonable food, the rooms were acceptable (at least Aleppo standards) and, well, honestly it could have been a whole lot worse. At least they had wide-screen satellite and we got to see the final of the world cup. The first match we have successfully managed to watch.