There are two ways of traveling; one is to cover a long distance in a short time, taking in the general outline of mountain and valley and the most obvious characteristics of the people. The other is to stop, go deeper, strike roots to some extent, and try to imbibe from the soil the invisible sap which nourishes the inhabitants of the place.
It is in the latter style that Fosco Maraini, the Italian explorer has succeeded in conveying every kind of information, sensation and evocation of his Tibetan journey. His book makes one forget that one was not actually with him in the tumultuous voyage. It drenches one to the skin, freezes stiff, disgusts with smells, refreshes by the Ozone laden mountain air and gladdens by the warmth of a summer day. His observation and account are so gripping that the reader finds himself with him while talking to lay and ecclesiastics, mystics, scholars, theologicians, minstrels, shopkeepers, beggars, artists, priests, monks, peasants and shepherds.
The writings here admit one to the realms of thought really worthy of the boundless plateaus of Tibet.
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