Himalaya

Leaving Lukla on foot, it feels good to be back in the mountains eating garlic soup and drinking ginger lemon tea. Financial troubles, listen to this, one of porters, we call him Andre, as in Andre the giant is having financial troubles, according to Nima, so he is taking a double load, this means my large duffle bag, at least 50lbs, my large pack, inside the large wheeled duffel, around 45lbs, and Tom's large duffel, another 40 or 50lbs, and his shoes are old Chinese army training shoes, renowned to be practically worthless, if Meryl were here she would buy him new shoes. The gardens are flourishing, potatoes, garlic, grains. Lots of chickens and I saw my first cat ever, a little Himalayan mojo. The huge stones on the trail are carved with Buddhist mantras, om manny pani, the first breath of creation, deep spirit of the mountain. I wander slowly through the village where we are staying, talking to the children, walking in the gardens, painting in my mind the bright colors of the clothes hanging out to dry, the tiny socks, the orange scarf, the crimson shirt.