We spent the final night of this odyssey in an overpriced hotel in Zhangmu, a reckless town on the border of Tibet and Nepal. We said farewell to China, took a taxi down a muddy slope past lines of blue trucks transporting goods from Nepal to China, and were dropped off at the Friendship Bridge. We walked across the bridge to Nepal, got our passports stamped, and were incredibly lucky to hitch a ride with a Norwegian professor and his seven architecture students, who had chartered a bus for the 80km ride to Kathmandu. We settled into the clean (safe!) bus, watching as the public buses filled to the brim, and then loaded at least thirty more passengers on each roof. The students will spend the next few months back in Norway, designing buildings for Lhasa.

We were enjoying junk food with the students, fun conversations, and happily anticipating our stay in Kathmandu, when the bus stopped at yet another checkpoint on the highway, but this seemingly permanent checkpoint was manned by a group of armed Maoist rebels, instead of the usual Nepalese military. They demanded 5000 Nepali rupes, about 70 US dollars. We had heard many stories from fellow travelers who had been forced to provide a "donation" to the Maoist cause, and suggested to the Professor that he insist on a receipt, which might come in handy at the next checkpoint, if there was one (there wasn't). He looked shocked, but went back out on the street and, after a short negotiation, came back on the bus waving the formal receipt. Two days later, when the Maoists closed down the streets in the Thamal District of Kathmandu for a major street cleaning operation, we felt relieved that at least some of our money might have been used for improving conditions in Kathmandu, rather than buying arms. (The Maoists and the Nepalese government have agreed to another 3-month cease fire, while they continue negotiations for a new government that incorporates the Maoist agenda, and moves the country away from its historic rule by monarchy.)

After arriving in Kathmandu, we were stunned to read in The Himalayan, the local paper, that the rumors we had heard were true: the Chinese shot and killed a 17-year-old Tibetan nun just three weeks before we crossed the Himalayas. She was one of 73 Tibetans fleeing China to Nepal, crossing the Nangpa La, a 5,800m pass about 15 miles west of Everest. She had planned to study at a nunnery in India. Her death was recorded on video by a western mountaineer at the base camp of Cho Oyu, and widely distributed on the internet. In China, her death was reported but with the claim that the "People's Armed Police" opened fire in "self defense." The Chinese have planned to start the 2008 Olympics by carrying the Olympic flame to the summit of Everest; worldwide attention on this shooting may put a damper on those plans. The next evening, we learned a young Chinese man has been sentenced to ten years in prison for posting notes about a government meeting on his personal blog. After spending almost a month in China, we feel privileged to have experienced the culture and seen remote corners of the rugged Tibetan plateau, but relieved to be away from this aggressive and oppressive government.