I am already covered in dust. I haven’t even left the hotel, and my white shirt is now sort of a tan/grey. I feel so rugged, I might grow a beard.
I heard a man at the airport talking about spending a few days in Pokhara, and then heading up “the hill.” I thought, ” Well doesn’t that sound nice? I would love to take a little hike, I wonder what hill he is talking about, I hope I can get there in a taxi…”
Right, Nepal, Mt Everest, right. The dude’s face was already “underpass weathered” as Tina Fey would put it, and based on his backpack and that one dead-looking pinky, I would guess it’s not his first time up.
I will not be climbing any “hills” this trip, just the regular ones. Spending most of this week fabric shopping and figuring out how to get as many momos in my mouth as possible. Incessant updates on momo progress and pretty things here and here.
Photo of “The Hill”
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