Tibet Stories

I was walking slowly back to my bus to ride back to Lhasa. The last ten miles of the trip to Milin Village were over really bad roads and I wasn’t in any hurry to experience that again. As I passed this old woman’s house she called to me and waved. At least I think she was calling to me. I started walking toward her, photographing as I went. The closer I got, the more agitated she became. When I was within ten feet or so, close enough that I was sure she could see I wasn’t another villager, I stopped and pointed to my camera and then to her to ask if it was OK to take her picture. She seemed to calm down, smoothed her apron, and stood quietly for a moment as I shot this image. After one or two frames she began talking loudly and quickly again. I thanked her and walked away. There were no interpreters around and I never did figure out what she was trying to tell me.


	I was walking slowly back to my bus to ride back to Lhasa. The last ten miles of the trip to Milin Village were over really bad roads and I wasn’t in any hurry to experience that again. As I passed this old woman’s house she called to me and waved. At least I think she was calling to me. I started walking toward her, photographing as I went. The closer I got, the more agitated she became. When I was within ten feet or so, close enough that I was sure she could see I wasn’t another villager, I stopped and pointed to my camera and then to her to ask if it was OK to take her picture. She seemed to calm down, smoothed her apron, and stood quietly for a moment as I shot this image. After one or two frames she began talking loudly and quickly again. I thanked her and walked away. There were no interpreters around and I never did figure out what she was trying to tell me.
	© 2005 Forest McMullin			McMullin-094.jpg