The Road to Kathmandu

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For twenty eight years, I've been looking out the window, viewing the Himalyas from the distance by way of books, pictures and dreams; finally, I walked out the door via seven months training, twenty four hours traveling and numerous words of encouragement and support from all of you. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart: I have arrived! Flying into Kathmandu, the view of the Himal is breathtaking. From there, irony strings across the land waving in the wind like the prayer flags. How is it that these mountains rise so majestically from the entanglement of this city's poverty? And I, so mystically taken in, had no reaction when I was promptly fleeced for twenty dollars in my first five minutes outside the airport. Chandra, the driver, and a member of the trekking crew, wisk me safely to the Summit Hotel after masterfully missing the hundreds of cars, motorcycles and bicycles, coming and going in all directions. There are no lanes, no stoplights, no stop signs and no orderly system to follow. Clearly, the common bond here is the sound of "beep beep." After dining at Chez Carol's with other delightfully enthusiastic trekkers, I came back to my small, simple, heatless room in this beautifully restored hotel and climbed under the covers to discover the warmth of the hotwater pad tucked in between the sheets. Wow, the small things in life are the best. This morning, I stepped out onto the deck to take pictures of the city as it woke; the day of sightseeing is before me, and "ma koosi layguo." (I am happy)