Bhutan never lost to invading Tibetans, thanks to fortresses on hilltops and monks with attitude. We, however, are losing badly to our guide — a man who wants authority but not the work that comes with it.

Ben grew up herding kangaroos into cross-fire kill zones with AC/DC blaring. Now he’s in Bhutan, battling altitude pills that make beer taste like sweaty socks. Survival, Australian style.

At 4,000 meters Bagger is still talking, which is impressive given the lack of oxygen and his surplus of opinions. Our guide introduces Bhutan’s Warrior-Monks; we counter with beer, cynicism, and a wooden phallus.

In St Petersburg’s White Nights, Europe feels like a flawless stage set—Hermitage halls, postcard canals, bohemian hotels—magnificent and a little contrived. As our rail odyssey ends in the West, we look ahead and place our bets on Asia.