Lhasa, the city that walks in circles

At 3,650 metres, Lhasa asks you to slow down, and rewards you for it. Mornings begin on the Barkhor, the kora circuit that rings the Jokhang Temple: pilgrims from Amdo and Kham shuffle clockwise with prayer wheels, juniper smoke rises from the burners, and full-body prostrators measure the flagstones with their hands. Inside the Jokhang, the seventh-century heart of Tibetan Buddhism, rows of butter lamps light the Jowo Shakyamuni statue that Princess Wencheng is said to have carried here from Chang'an.

Above everything, the Potala Palace climbs the Red Hill in thirteen storeys of whitewash and ochre, winter residence of the Dalai Lamas until 1959, its Red Palace holding the jewelled funerary stupas of eight of them. Entry is by timed ticket and the stairs are steep, so give yourself a couple of days in the city first. The summer palace, Norbulingka, is gentler: walled gardens where Lhasa families picnic during the Shoton yoghurt festival, when a giant thangka is unfurled at Drepung. At Sera Monastery the afternoon debates fill a gravel courtyard with clapping, stamping monks; at Drepung, once the largest monastery on earth, whitewashed cells spill down the hillside.

Between the temples, Lhasa is teahouses: bottomless glasses of sweet milk tea, plates of steaming momos, salty yak-butter tea and roasted barley tsampa kneaded by hand. Walk the outer Lingkhor, browse Tromsikhang market for dried yak cheese and turquoise, or drive up to Namtso, a saline lake at 4,718 metres beneath the Nyenchen Tanglha range.