I just had a little Yak cheese. They cure it by smoking it in
the rafters. The cheese is quite dry and somewhat mild.
I think before I come again I need to learn more Nepali. Perhaps
I’ll take a language class.....and maybe it should include French. My nice quiet Tea House has just been invaded by six Frenchmen of
which the oldest must be at least 70. They sound as if they could be
as many as forty. Geez, are they ever noisy! My room is being shared with the two oldest; a married couple and
their French speaking Sherpa guide, as well as, Dawa. So much for
the Nepali experience. At least for this night, I have the French
experience.
I debated carrying the small Gaz backpacking lantern. I am writing
now by it’s light. I must use it carefully otherwise my fuel
canisters won’t last the trip. There is little electricity and most
light at night comes from either the open pit fire and/or small oil
lamps. The French folks, as much as they are intrusive, are equally
as impressive. They are without porters. Staying in Tea Houses and
keeping their packs light by carrying only the bare necessities of clothes and toiletries, it is
still quite an accomplishment. When they are out of the room I
picked up one of their packs to see how heavy it was and it weighed
in at about twenty five to thirty pounds . Considering their age and
the difficulty of the terrain they earned my respect. I hope I can
do equally as well when I am their age. To bad they speak virtually
no English; but, then again, I speak virtually no French. Just as
well. Even though I am sure that they are wonderful people, I
did not come half way around the world to converse with Europeans or
other Americans, for that matter.
Tomorrow we have a seven hour trek. I hope they either leave me in
the dust, or I them. It’s like a crowded trail back home on a warm
Saturday summer day. Today I wish we would have made a full day out
of it and gone further up the trail, I wouldn’t be with them now. But that’s the way it goes.
