It is usually a truck, that gives way gracefully after a few angry beeps from the landcruiser behind it. Or your landcruiser could be overtaken by a horse that has its tail plaited with a red cotton parandi, its rider busy on a cellphone. Approaching Lhasa, the land of the nomads gives way to agricultural country. Willow-lined roads pass through villages with homes of stone and mud. Sunshine dries mud bricks stacked in triangular heaps.
Roofs here have poles of multi-coloured prayer flags like roofs elsewhere have TV antenna.
Wide valleys accommodate meandering rivers. The Kyichu outside Lhasa eventually turns into the Brahmaputra. Barley, potatoes and mustard fill the fields. The perky yellow of the mustard flowers is brighter than you have seen anywhere else. Lhasa is a wild festival of color.