Shigatse Tibet

We arrived here after a bumpy bus ride through steep upthrusts of rock, and narrow, deep gorges. The bus teetered on the edge of the road at times then hooned on to overtake horsecarts on blind corners. The scenery is so brown. I don't think I've ever seen so many shades of brown. All against a cloudless azure sky.
We cycle-taxied to our hotel (yes, hotel - 2 stars the sign said). The hotel was on "Butcher St.", where every 5 meters was a mini butchery. Each was different. There were:
about 20 headless, skinned goats, all sitting up to carcassy attention;
a pile of ox stomachs or lungs or something;
fresh yak pelts, in a big jumbled pile fresh off the cart;
yak halves, often for sale among tea and handicrafts;
piles of sheep heads - these were my favourite in a way... many of the expressions on the faces were of utter surprise, as if they had no idea they would be cut up to be eaten, as if it was their noble right to go munching and pooing all round the temples, safe from poachers, motorbikes and jackals. Others had a more resigned look of "right, so that's how it works" which seemed very true to the cyclic nature of the local belief.