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As soon as we emerged from the car, a swarm of kids, fronted by two girls who looked to be four and eight, surrounded us. Lakba, our trendy Indian-raised Tibetan guide, spoke briefly to the two girls. They immediately grabbed my hands and started heading through the paths of the tiny village.

Harten and Lakspa were to be our guides to the Milarepa Cave. Milarepa was an 11th Century Tibetan magician and poet who attained enlightenment in one lifetime. After his father died at an early age, his uncle stole all his family's wealth. In revenge, Milarepa poisoned and killed his uncle. To atone for his sins, he lived in a cave for six years, wore only a cotton robe, and ate nothing but nettles. There he achieved enlightenment. Afterwards he became a famous poet.

The girls were taking us to the cave were Milarepa became enlightened. They were full of energy as they hopped streams and rocks with me in tow. Imed, Michael, Sachiko and Will followed camera's clicking and video camera's rolling. Because we did not have a permit to enter, Lakba could not join us.

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At the edge of the hill beyond the village, we spied a small monastery and began to descend. As we approached we a noticed a thirty-strong procession building in the courtyard. They climbed towards us on the same path. Young monks were banging large drums and clanging symbols. Men in traditional robes held a palanquin with a gold deity over their heads. Young women carried bright yellow and red bound religious manuscripts.

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The colors and the sounds against the stark landscape took hold of all of us. It seemed as we had stepped back in time as we stepped off the path to let the procession pass. The head monk stopped to greet us and check out our video cameras. He was very excited to see the event on film. Another monk dressed in a maroon and yellow, the monastic colors of Tibetan Buddhism, Nike jacket followed and waved. This was the one day during the year that Milarepa, the golden statue on the palanquin, was carried around to each of the villages. The purpose of the parade was to bring a good harvest to the surrounding countryside.

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After they passed, we headed down to the Monastery. It was built around Milarepa's cave. Inside a monk was delicately painting a giant prayer wheel. Another monk led us into a dark cave and showed us Milarepa's ancient footprint and handprints in the stone.

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Sufficiently awed we headed back up the path towards the car. On the way, Harten and Lakspa taught me the Tibetan names of the flowers and objects we passed. I responded by telling them the English names. We then parted ways. I waved as I jumped back into my cubbyhole with the luggage.

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Rolling brown hills and the ultra-blue sky surrounded us. Eighteenth century Gurkha ruins, from when India controlled the area, seemed to be on every other mountain ridge. Then we hit Lalung La, our first high mountain pass. Yellow, blue, red and white prayer flags flapped in the wind. Prayer flags are strips of cloth strung up to purify the air and pacify the gods. When the flags flutter prayers are released to the heavens. At 5150 meters (17000 feet), our lightheadedness made the crossing even more spiritual.

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Small stone chortens, rock piles made by the thousands who had reached the holy place, reached towards the heavens. Will and I made our own stone chorten and wrapped it in a kata. Snow capped Himalayas surrounded us in the distance. In front of them, rested red, purple, brown and yellow mountains. The colors were enhanced by the mottled clouds directly overhead. The sky seemed so close.

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In Tingri, another dusty town and Chinese checkpoint on the Friendship Highway, Lakba checked us into equally basic accommodations. Convinced that there must be something a bit more civilized, even with a shower, Will and I set out to walk around the town. At a decidedly nicer guesthouse we met up with Micheal and Imed. They too were not pleased, as we were after all paying a small fortune for this trip, to be staying in the worst accommodations in town. And furthermore, they wanted to go to Mount Everest, which was not on our tour itinerary.

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Mount Everest interested me and truly excited Will. So, we went back to our guesthouse to discuss both Everest and our accommodations with Lakba. A two-hour negotiation ensued. Sachiko, usually quiet and always polite and friendly, lit a cigarette and explained that we should not do anything that would compromise Lakba. She has many Tibetan friends and understands the problems they face with the government. Michael, a psychologist, organizational behavior professor and renowned conflict resolution negotiator, led the discussion. He was a master. At one point Lakba said we needed a different kind of car to get to Everest. Michael responded, while smiling and patting Lakba's back, that there were real problems and not-so-real problems. And that the car issue was a not-so-real problem. In the end, all the real problems were addressed: the need to pay Mao more, new permits, a special permit for Lakba and a lot more driving. Needless to say, with Michael negotiating, we were on our way that evening.