In the final chapter, The Train to Tibet, Paul Theroux writes:
An early European explorer to Tibet burst into tears when he saw one lovely mountain covered with snow. When I saw the landscape of Tibet that did not seem to be an odd reaction. The setting is more than touching—it is a bewitchment: the light, the air, the emptiness, the plains and peaks . . . It is a safe and reassuring remoteness, with the prettiest meadows and moors buttressed by mountains. It was, somehow, a mountain landscape with a few valleys—a blue and white plateau of tinkling yak bells, and bright glaciers and tiny wild flowers. Who wouldn't burst into tears?
This is one of the best books I've read, and I will likely get back to this piece of art and history soon enough.
It goes without saying that this chapter, too, resonates deeply with me. My hometown, a piece of paradise inhabited by proud, happy, and smiling people, may disappear soon. A huge mining project in a nearby town has been approved. That will bring money and prosperity to people, sure, but those will mostly go to politicians and people in power. But the land will be destroyed. And the rivers, too. Supporters of this project say this mining project will be sustainable—but who are they kidding?