"That's more food than they eat in a month. You're insulting them, and you're embarrassing me... eat it" - Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom


Here's a funny thing.

The bus from Chengdu to Kangding, which we got promptly despite hangovers and silent protestations, ran out of petrol after an hour and a half.

We had said our tearful goodbyes to Stephanie the Australian (who, true to form, stayed in bed for our actual departure) and Scott and Iti the barmen who had looked after us so well. And the one remaining pig, and the kitten that would almost certainly not live through the week. We were now three - Adam the American having made good his drunken offer and decided to join us. Our chances of being mugged have decreased yet again, as I, at six foot nothing, am still the shortarse of the group.

And then we got on the bus and it ran out of petrol. Petrol. Who runs out of petrol? I mean, I used to, but that's because I only ever put two quids worth in my car at a time. If I was the driver of a long distance bus, petrol would probably be pretty high on my list of things to sort out beforehand.

What was even more bizarre, was that the driver insisted on trying the engine again and again. It would splutter into life briefly, only to conk out again as soon as he touched the gas pedal.

When even I know what's wrong with a vehicle, it's time to question the driver's credentials.

Easily solved though - the driver merely flagged down another bus, siphoned some petrol into a bucket using a hose, poured the bucket into the tank, cigarette pursed in lips throughout, and we were on our way again. Two long distance buses so far, and currently a 100% breakdown rate.

Anyway, we wound our way up the mountain passes to about 3500 metres, and when I woke up I from a still-hungover nap I wished I hadn't - the roads were slicked wet, some of them had collapsed into rivers, and one window invariably showed a very nice view until you looked down and saw clouds below you and certain death.

It's beautiful up here though. It's cold, it's brisk, it's trouser weather for the first time in three months.

We're near the Tibetan border and, as people are not nearly as precise as Governments when it comes to respecting lines drawn on maps, there are a lot of Tibetans about. We wanted to try some local fare so we went to a little food place on the high street.

After much pointing and gesticulating, we agreed upon three dishes and some rice.

The first was animal fat in a spicy sauce with carrots. The second was animal bones in a spicy sauce with potatoes.

The third, I tucked into first. It had leeks in a spicy sauce and odd, nondescript foodstuffs floating around in it. I wondered aloud what they were as I put some in my mouth. It was a little rubbery, kind of like bad squid - but where anyone would find squid 3500 metres up a mountain was anybody's guess. Besides, it was more tubular and it had something in the middle that is best left undescribed.

"I know" said Vinny with a smile.

"Don't tell me until I've swallowed", said I.

"Are you sure?" He had that smile on his face. The one he wore when he really, really wanted to upset me.

I chewed on - the food becoming more rubbery as my growing concern about what it was seemed to deprive me of saliva.

"Can I tell you now?" He asked.

"Hang on", I said, and had a drink, ate some rice, had a piece of potato and then a bit more to drink. "OK, I'm ready".

"It's a Yak's large intestine".

Of course it was.

Still, as boiled intestine goes, I had to admit that it wasn't that bad.

I just wish I could get my stomach to agree with me.