Xiahe Xian, China
The owner of our guesthouse, who also suffered from a touch of the crazy, had arranged our horse-riding expedition with a local Tibetan family he knew. He sent us off with gleeful stories of how a girl had broken her front teeth horse-riding the day before. We were dropped off at a small, one-storey brick house the size of a portakabin in the grasslands, set in its own large yard amidst a small collection of similar buildings. Inside, we were gestured through to ...