On foot between Buddhists and communists

When I was three, I cracked my head open on a bidet. When I was nine, I cracked my head open on a bike I was pushing uphill. I probably shouldn’t travel at all, because I’m incredibly clumsy. But I do it anyway. I prefer to walk, though, as it’s the safest way. I simply set off and wait to see what comes my way. This time, I journeyed to China and Nepal. In a pair of supermarket shorts and glasses from a chemist, I walked through the Himalayas and completely unknown villages in river valleys. Many times, I slept in the homes of complete strangers, learning how they truly live and what brings them happiness. It was on the road that I started writing this book about them. I had plenty of time for writing, because walking 1500 kilometres takes quite a long time. Now, as I read the book back to myself, I think I’ve managed to create a beautiful testament to the simplicity of life and the allure of freedom. But if you want to learn about monuments and history, it’s probably best not to buy it. The book is just about the Chinese, the Nepalese, and their lives. And a little bit about me, too. You can’t avoid that when you’re walking alone.