Sunday, 23 July.  Visited a Yak farm.  Milked a yak badly.  Lots of hair.  I was more aggressive than others with the yaks, which I think the locals appreciated.  After others tried the milking bit (with more success than I), we proceeded to don gloves and pick up cow pies, which the locals use was fuel in the winter.  One of us decided that photographing the action was more important than participating; we quietly disagreed.  During the Q&A I asked if any farms were handled be a single person, vice a couple.  Our guide said, yes, but only by a man.  I asked him to confirm this with the family and the wife rapidly disagreed.  Single farms are almost always run by a woman.  Ha ha.

We then visited the local town with a hospital that looked unsafe in structure and cleanliness, so I stayed outside.  Finally we paid a visit to the town’s entrepreneur. He produced small ice cream cones which were wrapped in plastic and delivered to local stores.  We were assigned a certain number of cones and tasked to deliver them.  It was fun, but weird.  Our thirty cones cost about $2.  Total.  The economies of scale.  The man also made bread using an early-age (manually pushed) assembly line to bake.  His house was marvelous, with a host of plaques and medals documenting a past full of civil service.  He was perhaps the only person we met who had a concept of national politics.