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You may have heard that if you make friends with nomads and your invited to their house...your also invited to his wife. I will talk about my friend at his picture. This lovely young woman came in around 7pm, it was dark outside and cold. She was bundled up with a scarf covering her face but her eyes. She had a basket on her back which she took off and took out the 20 or so pieces of dung she had collected. She giggled, and then laughed then made tea for all of us. She was nervous, kept playing with her hands as her husband and I were trying to decifer the Tibetan-English Lonely Planet Language book. He had gone to school through the monastery until he was 15 so he knew the Chinese maybe better than he knew the written Tibetan. She couldn't keep to herself but there was nothing for her to do so after a few words between her husband and her, she left. Soon after her husband said he had to leave. As he was putting on his coat, she came back with her girlfriend, the neighbor I supposed. Her husband, my friend, gives me a big smile. A smile can mean many things, being that I was in the Army, later a bartender and now a pretty worldly traveler I had a damn good idea what this smile meant. The women came fully inside, closed the door, stood staring at me, giggling but not the nervous giggle I had first heard: lower more mischievous giggle. Got to admit the neighbors wife was not bad, thin but muscular- firm. Cheeks were rosey and she had all her teeth (they both did). Both the women stood still and a sparkle turned in their eyes. They took off their coats, I offered them some tea, I was thinking (bad bartender bad..) Something to tell the grandchildren, I had sex with Tibetan Nomad women! Now if this was my ex with my nomad friend I am sure she wouldn't hesitate(jab), my ex may have not hesitiated here either (knockout) but I hurried and grabbed her photo and with the guidebook, I say "chum sa" (I still remember the word! Funny.) I repeat again, and again. The women now giggle again and drinking from teacups sit down in front of me, they take my photo album from my hand, flip through the 30 odd pictures of things I collect, the picture of the lama I met in Aba and my ex's picture. They talk in Tibetan, giggle. As they flip through the album I notice it isn't soft like women tend to look at pictures but hard like they don't really care- like if I was to receive a hand out for a women's purse sale. They hand it back, look at me and his wife looks eye to eye with me and points to herself and to her girlfriend repeating in a sexy voice "chum sa chum sa". I say no thank you. So we sit and talk using all hand gesture until her husband returns 45 minutes later. The neighbor goes home and we have dinner.