Matador Network's Blog, page 2293

What if cooperation ruled society?

MODERN CAPITALISTIC SOCIETY is based on competition, and for many people, this is an unquestionably good thing: competition leads to efficiency and faster progress, right? Radio host and activist Thom Hartmann, however, disagrees. He says that humans evolved to function better in “We Societies,” where we are more concerned with taking care of each other, than we are with beating each other. He argues that progress is the result of technology, and that our competitiveness has gotten in the way of technology, more than it has fostered it.

The idea is an important one, especially in an increasingly globalized world, as we start to see more and more of the negative effects of our competitive society: widespread poverty, huge economic inequality, and massive environmental damage. Would a society focusing on “We” as a whole, rather than pitting us against each other, be better for our species and our planet?

Jump to the 1:00 minute mark to get to the meat of the video.

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13 stark images of polar bears

EDITOR’S NOTE: As part of our Explore Canada Like a Local campaign, we cosponsored a contest whereby one photojournalist was awarded a free trip to go on assignment up to the Arctic. Travel photographer Bill Drumm caught our attention for his progression in wildlife photography, and this tweet:

The largest #polarbears are 12 feet tall and weigh 2,200 lbs. Or 2,365 lbs after eating a photographer. bit.ly/Q2A19z #ExploreCanada.

Together with Frontiers North Adventures, Travel Manitoba, and ExploreCanada, we sent Bill to Churchill, Manitoba, on a journey to find and photograph the world’s largest terrestrial predators. Bill noted afterwards, “The opportunity to photograph and film them was indescribable, giving me a connection to the arctic I never before felt, but now carry with me always.” The following photo essay is taken from that trip.

1


A bear trap near Churchill, Manitoba, Canada. These traps are baited with seal carcasses and placed strategically around the small town to trap any inquisitive bears. Churchill is a town of less than a thousand people, and is positioned near the largest concentration of polar bears on the planet. Any bear that is trapped is taken to Polar Bear Jail, a holding facility where the bears are kept temporarily, before being airlifted out of town and deep into the tundra.





2


The cutest and smallest sled dog puppy in Churchill, on her chain outside of a store in town. For hundreds of years dogsleds were the main mode of transportation in the Arctic during the long winters. Today, dogsleds are used primarily as a tourist attraction in Churchill. The local economy was once fueled by grain export and trading, but today tourism brings in more dollars than trade.





3


Tundra Buggy #13, operated by Frontiers North Adventures, at the station in Churchill. Tundra buggies are large bus-like vehicles with monster truck tires that cruise over the tundra like nothing. There's a fireplace in the back of the bus, and a large viewing platform out the back. It's the safest way to see hungry wild polar bears up close. Our buggy driver was JP McCarthy, a laid back dude who wears straight-billed baseball hats and operates heli-skiing tours when he isn't looking for polar bears. He was hilarious, and we found bears immediately on our first day of the polar bear safari.





Intermission





Field notes from a conservation biologist in Antarctica





Photos and notes from an Antarctic voyage



[image error]

31 polar bear facts everyone should know












4


Just as the sun began to crack over the horizon, we found our first polar bear. Ten minutes into the tour we came upon this fella, just waking up after a cold night hunkered down on the tundra. Polar bears gather in large numbers along the Hudson Bay as they await the sea ice to return so they can hunt.





5


A group of tourists photograph an aggressive male polar bear who we called Scar, as he lunges up the tundra buggy. Scar repeatedly tried to climb into the vehicle, even getting on his tippy toes to get a piece of us. These large vehicles allow an unbelievable view of the largest land predators on Earth.





6


Scar leapt up on the buggy and got very close to my camera and precious fingers. Take a look at this video to see how close he was, at one point only a few inches from my GoPro.





7


Scar feeds on a mummified bird carcass that he scavenged on the tundra. Polar bears fast for months at a time while they wait for the ice to return to Hudson Bay. The large animals need blubber-rich seals for sustenance, and on land there's simply nothing for them to eat, save the occasional carrion. This is what can make polar bears dangerous; they are literally starving to death while they congregate near the town of Churchill. Just after our trip, a man and a woman were mauled by a bear right in the center of town. People here learn to be ever vigilant against bears, but occasional encounters are inevitable.





8


After eating the bird carcass, Scar felt quite satisfied with himself, and gave a big smile before dozing off to sleep. This was likely the only food the bear would have had for a very long time, and he enjoyed it.





9


But still, a bear’s hunger is never satiated, especially from a puny, stale old game hen. So Scar decided to try his best to access the kitchen inside this tundra buggy lodge where we were staying. He succeeded in getting his head inside the kitchen, startling the chef at 5am one morning. For a 1,000-pound animal, polar bears can be stealthy.





Intermission



[image error]

44 surreal scenes from Australia’s Great Barrier Reef





Across the ravaged land





It’s an entirely different world on this Great Barrier Reef island [pics]












10


Scar shakes the recent snowfall off his coat, early in the morning on our final day of the tour with Frontiers North. During our tour we saw all the seasons in three days. The first day was warm and sunny, the second progressively darker and colder, and the third a full-on blizzard. If you’re a polar bear, all there is to do during a storm is hunker down and wait. The snowier and colder it gets, the sooner the ice--and dinners--return.





11


But for now Scar must wait, searching the eternal tundra for food until the ice returns again.





12


He’ll be ready.





13

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21 moments every writer experiences

You decide it’s time to realize your dreams.

You have all these great ideas for a new story, but don’t know where to begin.

So you start practicing your red carpet walk for the Writers Guild Awards instead.

Then inspiration strikes and you write your best piece ever.

But the rejection emails started pouring in.

You wonder if you’re just not cut out for writing.

But you put on a brave face, and pretend that the rejections don’t faze you.

Then a friend with zero writing experience wins the pitch.

Nothing gets picked up for weeks, and you decide you’ll just write WHATEVER.

Your remaining friends try to be supportive.

But then those same friends tell you they don’t believe writing is an art.

Your parents are sick of your sulking, and ask if you’ve written anything in the last few weeks.

You think you’ve written something great (finally!!!).

And then that ‘something great’ comes back from the editor with a sticky note: “Maybe you should write about something else.”

Next, your pitch has been accepted but a publication only looking for FREE content.

You go ahead and submit the piece just to see your byline.

Before long, you realize your bills are piling up because you’ve been giving out FREE content.

So you choose to give up and find a ‘real’ job.

Or maybe you choose NOT to give up and work even harder.

Then, one day, you finally get your first big gig and go celebrate.

And you realize the next morning that in the thank-you email, you signed off with “Kind Retards.”

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Obama interviewed by Zach Galifianak

I UNFORTUNATELY KNOW too many people in the United States who vote based on non-political issues (and more because one candidate is cuter, or one candidate’s wife shook his hand, etc.) It’d be nice if we didn’t completely abuse our civic duty, but to be honest, if someone told me they voted for President Obama based on this episode of Between Two Ferns, I’d cut them some slack (because it’s f*$%ing hilarious).

Whether or not you agree with his presidential policies, you have to admit: Barack Obama is a badass who isn’t afraid to make fun of himself. Even if the United States goes to shit, at least we can say that the best thing he ever did for our country, was making us laugh (not even George W. Bush gave us that).

Between Two Ferns with Zach Galifianakis: President Barack Obama from President Barack Obama

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How to piss off someone from DC

Photo: Kat

Ask, “Are you from DC, or like, the suburbs?”

Grab a chair, child, and sit yr ass down. Washington, DC is a tiny diamond of a city. It’s population hasn’t been much higher than 600,000 for about 100 years. But the culture of the city permeates its surrounding suburbs, which are still some of my favorite places in the world (and I’ve lived on three continents).

Silver Spring has absorbed the culture of its immigrants — groups of older Ethiopian men sip espresso outside the otherwise bland downtown Starbucks, entrepreneurial Salvadoran ladies sell pupusas with squash flowers, families check out classic films at the American Film Institute.

Say, “There’s no culture here.”

No, hunni. Back up. DC is oozing culture. It’s the kind of place where you can get the best empanadas in a church basement and the regional fast food favorite is Peruvian rotisserie chicken.

As a teenager, I got to go to all-ages shows and bump into punk icons like Ian Mackaye. My friend’s dad was in Bad Brains. The sheer fact that DC is the capital of government draws a huge number of folks from all over the world — when I was a little kid I thought all moms had accents, except for mine.

Yes, there are many, many blondes wearing pearls and sipping a drink at a downtown happy hour. There are also 30-year-old punks who work in anarchist dog-walking collectives and hang out a bit father north. Did you know that DC spawned its own musical genre? Check out Chuck Brown, and get down with some go-go. And can we not forget the entirely Guatemalan style La Union mall in PG County?

Move to DC for two years to work up in your career, and then leave.

So, I’m not exactly a DC lifer. The city and I broke up about a year ago, but I still have a lot of love and loyalty for the place. When people with disposable incomes come to a city for only a short amount of time, it’s my personal belief that it really hurts the place overall.

They don’t get a chance to become a fixture in their neighborhood, consistently show up at community meetings (which are a big deal in the District), or to become part of the permanent customer base for local businesses. Transience throws a real wrench in building communities.

Compare DC to New York.

Once I was taking a train home from Boston, and when I didn’t get off at one of the NYC stops, an older woman asked me why. “Because I live in DC,” I answered. “You don’t look like you live in DC,” she said. “You look like you live in Brooklyn.”

Ugh. Boring. Not all badass babes live in Williamsburg or Bushwick.

Here’s the thing, I was able to live fairly cheaply in DC, despite rising costs. I could never have done this in New York. I have friends who live there. Some of them don’t have windows in their rooms. Others have a rotating cast of 10 roommates at a time. And DC has a slow, Southern vibe I happen to really dig. It’s common practice to smile and say hello to folks on the street. People aren’t pitching fits over stupid shit all the time, and if they do, they’ll be sure to attract many sideways glares.

Obviously New York has way better food, culture, art, etc., but it’s 10x the size. Keep it moving.

Stand on the left side of the metro escalators.

People in DC are obsessed with work. It’s pretty dumb, but it’s the hard reality. And they’d like to gtfo of our underground, 1970s-era transportation system as quickly as possible. They probably woke up super early to face a miserable commute. Can you blame them? If you’re standing, like a blissful moron, on the left side of the escalator, you’re not only prolonging their insane commute, you’re also creating a veritable escalator traffic jam. Bad form.

Complain about the weather.

Actually, that’s fine. It was a really bad idea to build a city on a swamp.

After all this, still say, “I don’t really like DC, sorry.”

You’re sorry? So are we. It’s sad for you that you’re not looking at the city with some softer eyes. You’re missing out. [image error]

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1 word every traveler should know

I LISTENED to Isa Lei again. The Fijian farewell song is still stuck in my head, and my heart, since my first time visiting in 2007.

When three Fijians sing together, it sounds like a whole choir. With only a guitar and a ukulele, they produce sounds that immediately bring me back to Galoa, the tiny island where I spent a few weeks with a wonderful family. It’s my second home, a place I’ll always remember, and long for. This longing, yearning, craving — in German, you can easily call it Fernweh. In English, there’s no appropriate word.

I could call it “wanderlust,” or “itchy feet,” which are the official translations, but that’s not what it really feels like. Wanderlust means something like the desire or tendency to go somewhere. It’s connected to a joyful feeling or delight, it’s energetic, passionate. Itchy feet gives the impression of a slightly irritated, fidgety feeling. The “travel bug,” or “gypsy bug,” are also related ideas, describing an intense feeling or need to see and explore. But none of this can really describe the concept of Fernweh.

Yes, Fernweh can be passionate and joyful. It can be annoying, like itchy feet. It can be a general need or desire, like the travel bug. Fernweh can be a delight, the excitement at wondering what might happen in your future, the joyous anticipation of what there is to come. But in its most intense manifestation, it’s a strong, gloomy, silent feeling. Often it’s a certain kind of sadness, or melancholy, a craving that won’t stop, and it often is accompanied by heartbreak — the heartbreak you get when you long for a place you’re not sure you’ll ever see again.

Have you ever been homesick? That awful feeling to be somewhere you’re not, the longing for home and your loved ones, the nausea that goes along with it? Take all the emotions from homesickness (Heimweh) and flip them. That’s what Germans call Fernweh: the straining, craving, painful desire to go to distant places, to travel, to see the world.

Literally, it could be translated as “farsickness,” but that still wouldn’t be right. Sickness is still something vaguely different from the German -weh. Sickness usually refers to a feeling in your body, while -weh is more a pain in your soul.

Right now my soul is in pain, because I feel I really should be somewhere else. I miss the distance, the places I don’t even know yet, the uncertainty and adventure that go along with travel. But I also miss my second home in Fiji, as well as many other places I’ve been that are important to me.

Do I have Fernweh or Heimweh? Or a mixture of both?

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The 7 types of modern American bigot

THOUGH IT MAY SEEM like the true heydey of American bigotry has come and gone, 2014 America has its own special blend of casual hatred and gross intolerance. Let’s explore, by laying out seven common types of bigots you’ll find in America today.

Of course all races, religions, and ethnicities are bigoted in their own ways, but we’ll keep our discussion simple and focus on the old classic — white bigotry. Starting with the obvious:

1. The extremist bigot

Their ranks include: Neo-Nazis; white supremacists; absurd cartoon character groups like the Westboro Baptist Church

Defining attributes: The exact tattoos you’d think they’d have

Typical behavior: Plotting assassinations; yelling mean things loudly; angrily spelling things wrong in capital letters in YouTube comments

These people are blazingly angry about all sorts of things, and they’re having temper tantrums at rallies and all over the internet, but they’re so far out on the fringe that almost no one can hear them. It’s this shitty fact in their life that they live in 2014, not 1954 or 1936 or 1857.

In lieu of relevance, they settle for clawing for attention by being scary and upsetting, committing heinous hate crimes, picketing soldiers’ funerals, and other things they’ve decided to spend their one life on this Earth doing.

I’ll finish by mentioning that it’s a weird life experience to draw Neo-Nazi stick figures.

2. Your grandfather

Their ranks include: Your grandfather

Defining attributes: Feels a lot of anger about a lot of things; intensely close-minded; doesn’t give a shit in general

Typical behavior: Casually dropping racial slurs in front of children and in public

Your grandfather means well — he just happens to be a white supremacist wrapped in a lovable wrinkly case. But the main difference between grandpa and your local skinhead is that your grandfather isn’t really driven by hatred, has little idea what the world is actually like, and doesn’t want to actually hurt anybody. It’s really just that he strongly dislikes black people, gay people, Jews, and Asians. They make him uncomfortable, and he doesn’t think of them as full, legitimate people. It’s sweet, really.

And your grandfather isn’t causing any real trouble. Just keep in mind when you take him in public that racial slurs that were a 3/10 offensive in 1945 are a 10/10 in 2014, and no one has updated his software as of yet.

3. The teenager who forgot to get raised in modern times bigot

Their ranks include:

These girls; this girl; these girls; all these people.

Defining attributes: Bad life choices

Typical behavior: Ranting about their dislike of black people on the internet; saying “ching chong, wing wong” in an Asian accent on the internet; getting expelled from things

It turns out that your grandfather’s opinions and vocabulary regarding minorities are a whole lot less cute when emerging from the mouth of a shitty young person. Most of us are relatively unexposed to this undoubtedly large group of miniature bigots. But we do get the periodic pleasure of watching one of them blow up their life prospects with a YouTube rant before settling back down into oblivion.

4. The far right bigot

Their ranks include: Extreme right politicians and commentators; not you, normal reasonable Republican reader, so just settle down

Defining attributes: Well-groomed; passionate about white America; scared of all other colors and places

Typical behavior: Saying the things they think out loud

There’s a sizable chunk of far right America that thinks white supremacists are over-the-top, but not…necessarily…all that wrong…ya know? Cause like, all white supremacists are really saying is that a true American is white, Christian, and straight, which like, yeah, duh.

And this would be fine, if far right politicians and talking heads were irrelevant like the first three groups on this list.

But since they’re not, we should probably get guys like Pat Buchanan to stop complaining on national TV about gays and lesbians “having the same rights under law” as other Americans, and Ann Coulter to stop saying that in her ideal world, “everyone would be Christian.” It just seems like we’re a little too far in the future here for a relevant person to be saying those things in earshot of humans.

And if they’re gonna let a guy like Rick Perry say words out of his mouth that are recorded by a camera, the words probably shouldn’t be, “I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a Christian, but you don’t need to be in the pew every Sunday to know there’s something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military but our kids can’t openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school.”

5. The “unbigoted as long as it’s not in my family” liberal mother bigot

Their ranks include: Your mother; probably, right?; okay, or not! calm down; I’m never writing about such a sensitive topic again, this is terrifying

Defining attributes: Philanthropic; open-minded when it comes to everyone else’s family; vocal Obama supporter

Typical behavior: Saying all the right, unbigoted things; pretending, in general, to not be a massive bigot

The Baby Boomer generation includes a large number of these women (and men), and they’re a bizarre breed. They were genuinely thrilled when Obama became the first black president, and they’d also be secretly devastated if their daughter married a black guy. They detest conservatives who say that marriage should be between a man and a woman, and they might also cry in bed for 100 nights if their son turned out to be gay.

These women are super unbigoted in theory, it’s just that they’re basically Pat Buchanan when the people they actually care about are involved. Great work.

6. The overcompensating bigot

Their ranks include: A vast number of Americans under 35 who grew up in liberal environments

Defining attributes: White guilt

Typical behavior: Being condescending to black people by showering them with effusive praise or deference out of nowhere

This is one of the defining idiocies of young liberal America. This group is so incredibly concerned with not being racist that they treat black people totally differently than they treat everyone else — which is, well, racist. They believe in strictly different rules for different races — show them the blog Stuff White People Like and they’ll cackle reading it; show them a blog called Stuff Black People Like and they’ll throw a tantrum in the comments.

In their overcompensating craze, they end up both insulting black people with transparent excessive praise and creeping them out with their for-no-reason smiles. And dealing with these people can be maddening — I once was ganged up on by people berating me for claiming that Anna Kournikova was obviously hotter than Venus Williams.

These are the people who claim most fiercely that race doesn’t matter, and yet no one is more hyper-aware of the color of a person’s skin than they are. In all fairness, they were probably raised by insane secretly-very-bigoted Baby Boomer anti-bigots, so they were likely to turn out a little weird.

If you want to really excite the overcompensating bigot, just shoot some vicious racism in their direction — their general response to having their race verbally abused by a black comedian is, “Yes!Harder!” because they’re incredibly grateful to anyone who can relieve them of a few pounds of the mountain of white guilt they’re suffocating under.

7. The “I’m not bigoted at all in 2014!” bigot

Their ranks include: You, ideally

Typical behavior: Judging people by the content of their character

Back in 1983, Eddie Murphy came out with his hugely popular comedy special, “Delirious.” I finally got around to seeing it recently, and was shocked at the ease and frequency with which he threw out the word “faggot.”

The thing is, it’s not that Eddie Murphy in 1983 was more bigoted than comedians in 2014 — it’s that in the last 30 years, society has moved ‘open homophobia’ from the “Not Good But Kind of Fine” pile to the

“Absolutely Not Okay” pile. So I, living in 2014, winced every time the word came out of his mouth — but the audience back then just laughed.

So for those who have gotten this far and are still feeling pretty good about themselves as a non-bigot — you’re still not fully off the hook. What are you doing or saying today that would make people in 2044 wince with disgust? What’s in the “Not Good But Kind of Fine” pile today that will be in the “Absolutely Not Okay” pile in 30 years?

Do you make any sweeping generalizations or do any mocking imitations that just might be totally appalling in 2044? Do you treat any group a certain backward way without realizing, like perhaps discussing obesity in a tone similar to how people in the 1950s talked about kids with learning disabilities? Are there things you say to your close circle today that would make anyone in 2044 lose respect for you, no matter how close they were to you?

This post was originally published at Wait but Why and is reprinted here with permission.

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Amtrak writers' residency

Photo Credit: Loco Steve via Compfight cc

STOKED to announce this program from Matador’s new partner, Amtrak.

Directly from the #AMTRAKRESIDENCY page:

#AMTRAKRESIDENCY

#AmtrakResidency was designed to allow creative professionals who are passionate about train travel and writing to work on their craft in an inspiring environment. Round-trip train travel will be provided on an Amtrak long-distance route. Each resident will be given a private sleeper car, equipped with a desk, a bed and a window to watch the American countryside roll by for inspiration. Routes will be determined based on availability.

Applications will be accepted on a rolling basis and reviewed by a panel. Up to 24 writers will be selected for the program starting March 17, 2014 through March 31, 2015. A passion for writing and an aspiration to travel with Amtrak for inspiration are the sole criteria for selection. Both emerging and established writers will be considered.

Residencies will be anywhere from 2-5 days, with exceptions for special projects.

The program actually has a cool backstory, with a test-run done by Manhattan-based writer Jessica Gross, whose travel piece, Writing The Lakeshore Limited came out in the The Paris Review last month. In the time since, a huge support for the program has built across social media with #AmtrakResidency being featured in The Wire, The New Yorker, and Huffington Post. Hoping to follow some innovative travel and place-based writing from this, and would love to see other transport-based “residencies” emerge. It’s a killer idea.

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5 BIG reasons to visit Utah

ARCHES. ZION. Canyonlands. Bryce. Capitol Reef.

When my partner and I started mapping our 3-week roadtrip from Nelson, BC into the Southwest US, we had all these ideas of making it into Utah, Nevada, and California — maybe even Oregon. Then we looked more closely at Utah and realized how much there is to see and do there. We know how fast three weeks can go, and we don’t want to just blaze through places touching only on the surface of all these amazing lands, so we’re not making any plans beyond it. This short 1-minute video is getting me all kinds of excited for April.

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On the commoditization of Tibet

Photo: Christian Ortiz

THE PHOTOGRAPHERS LINE UP on the horizon, about 15 of them: head to toe Gore-Tex, cigarettes dangling, black cameras at the ready.

It’s late afternoon and the sun is about to set.

They’ve traveled here from as far as Beijing, perhaps — a fleet of expensive jeeps that are now parked at violent angles on the grassland below, windows sheened with dust.

Nearby, and several worlds away, a large circle of Tibetan pilgrims sit round a fire, drinking tea. The last of the sunlight catches on the red braids in their hair, as a woman’s high-pitched song spirals up towards us with a plume of smoke — both soon lost in the vast expanse of the plateau.

Chen flicks his finished cigarette in the direction of the cameras, jumps up, and bursts into a rough copy of a Tibetan folk dance: one leg bent, the other outstretched, a violent clap and whoop that echo down the valley. And then, just as quickly, sits back down beside me and offers another cigarette.

We’ve only known each other for an afternoon, and I can’t yet tell which gestures are real, which are for show.

The hand that holds the lighter is badly scarred. With only a few words between us, we make do with mime. He’s probably the same age as me, made older by high altitude and experience, an off-duty soldier walking back from Lhasa to Chengdu. This makes me look at him differently for a moment, taking in his worn boots and lean strength, flicking through my fixed set of beliefs about Tibet and China, about all I think I know.

But right now, on this cold rock in the fading light, he’s just another traveler with a simple kindness in his creased smiles. As we wait, a shaggy nomad dog sleeping by our feet, Chen acts out his story scene by scene, moving rocks, pulling up bodies from invisible debris, so that I finally figure it out. He must have been part of a rescue team after the Yushu Earthquake of 2010 — nearly 3,000 casualties and tens of thousands displaced. This explains his hand, scarred pink into a strange newness, and I suddenly feel humble and ashamed in a way I can’t explain.

The 5-minute timeframe of a setting sun, a monastery outline and the snow-capped mountains beyond: the image of ‘Tibet’ we’ve learnt to desire.

Around us, lines of colourful Buddhist prayer flags are strung out in all directions, while beyond the peaks of five holy mountains gleam white with the first snowfall. Down a steep slope are the dusty streets and marketplace of Lhagang, a wild-west town in western Sichuan, that only became part of China in 1950 and which still feels very much like Tibet. The golden roof of its temple and low-slung houses are already losing themselves in the long blue shadows of dusk. Higher up on the grassy mountainside, thousands more flags are planted in multicoloured triangles, alongside white stone mantras in curled Tibetan script.

Chen nudges me and gestures towards the horizon to signal that there isn’t long to wait. I’m grateful for his company, however surreal it feels. There’s no point trying to fit a narrative to it — neither of us have language enough for the task — so it stays as simple as it is. Compared with all the cluttered encounters I’ve clocked up over the past few years, backstories hustled into every conversation, this silence feels like ease.

The view in front of us is already beautiful, but no more so than a dozen others on this plateau, where the high altitude sharpens the edges of things, angles of rock exaggerated by clear-cut shadow and light. What will make it into an ‘attraction’ is the 5-minute timeframe of a setting sun, a monastery outline and the snow-capped mountains beyond: the image of ‘Tibet’ we’ve learnt to desire.

I wonder if I’m also waiting, no different from the photographers, deferring arrival until the composition finally ‘makes sense,’ only ever using the narrowest of lenses. Why is it that we want to capture it and return home with proof? A reassurance that things can fit the frame of our expectations? Or the hope that the exoticism will rub off on us in the process?

All it takes is a brief look around for the illusion to collapse. This whole plateau exceeds our usual ways of seeing. Scarcely marked by habitation, with only a few nomad tents and matted yaks dotting the grassland, this is a place that could never be scaled down.

The government is clearly keen to rein this freedom in. On the trip up from Chengdu, I’d passed through armed checkpoints, foreigners made to exit the bus and queue in the winter sun, while soldiers far younger than Chen, with brand new uniforms and expensive boots, eyed our visas with suspicion. The only other non-Chinese were a trio of Japanese students, one of whom had something anomalous in her passport, and so the bus had simply driven on, leaving them to retrace the 200 miles by themselves.

This was shortly after anti-Japanese riots had broken out in Chinese cities over the Senkaku Island dispute, but the real tension here comes from local ethnic unrest. Only the week before, 23-year-old Tingzin Dolma had self-immolated in nearby Rebkong. To date, 126 Tibetans have set alight to themselves in protest of Chinese rule, many in these borderlands — a wild act of despair that barely makes the international news.

Still, even as they close the ‘Tibetan Autonomous Region’ to foreigners, officials are opening these areas to domestic tourism, building new airports and roads. On the bus I’d sat near a friendly middle-class family from Kunming decked out in new ski jackets and walking boots, each with a matching mala of green jade around their wrist. The mother cracked sunflower seeds compulsively as she explained her love of Tibetan music and Buddhist lamas, and across the aisle was ‘Sunny,’ a young teacher with blue contact lenses and a passion for backpacking. Anyone with a disposable income seems ready for adventure, and ‘Tibet’ is clearly being rebranded as the latest must-see attraction. All along the twisting roadside, only recently cleared of landslides after the summer rains, huge billboards proclaim ‘local Tibetan beauties’ and ‘traditional Tibetan concerts,’ while others advertise new hotels and housing developments, a slice of Westernized suburbia transplanted into the wild.

I can’t help feeling that the place is being undone even as we come to witness it, perhaps precisely because we come.

I had hitched onwards from Kangding (Lucheng) with a couple of Tibetan newlyweds, a love song belting out on the car stereo. As we reached the plateau the shift was tangible, even as the official signposts denied it, ownership spelled out in Mandarin while the Tibetan was either erased or relegated to a footnote. In fact, as the young Amdo guesthouse owner in town had pointed out, ethnic Han are systematically being moved here, in an attempt to make the population match the fiction of the maps.

The people of Lhagang, however, are predominantly still Kham — tall and proud, famed for their skill with horses and for their handsome men. On the grassland, we passed a young rider with his belted jacket hanging off one shoulder, cowboy hat set at an angle, long plaited hair, high cheekbones, bright teeth, and jade earrings flashing, while in town two teenage girls with red cheeks performed full-body prostrations around the temple, long leather aprons covering jeans, hands and knees wrapped in cloths. The woman who served us yak butter tea that afternoon out of a large plastic flask still wore traditional dress beneath an imitation North Face jacket, and the lama, to whom passers-by lowered their heads in reverence, had an air of the distant past about him, despite the Puma trainers beneath his long red robes. There is a history, then, that persists, and however much this may feel like romanticism, the lure of the people and their landscape is strong.

Back on the rock, I wonder what I’m doing here. Bearing witness to something under threat of erasure, perhaps, or just consuming my own fiction of it, which is no truer than any other.

The sunset comes and goes. I take a few photos, feeling vaguely like a traitor.

The photographers leave, in search of the next attraction, and tomorrow Chen will head south while I continue further north. A sudden sense of melancholy. The fresh paint of the tourist board, locals transformed into slick tour guides by each new busload — all this is true the world over. What deepens the sadness here is this deeper loss — a domesticated ‘Tibet’ beautified for tourists while its real identity is relentlessly censored and suppressed.

As I move on, passing through like those middle-aged men with their cameras or Chen in his dusty boots, I can’t help feeling that the place is being undone even as we come to witness it, perhaps precisely because we come.

Perhaps identity only survives out on the plateau, then, or in these unexpected small-scale encounters — shared mugs of tea and momos in a backstreet café, long after the sun has set.

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