Lukla is an exciting place because all treks and climbs start and end here unless a group hikes in from Jeeri. As a result, tea houses, coffee shops and shop fronts are full of music, chatter and bartering. My first order of business was to find the Lukla post office. I was given multiple directions by various people who seemed to know; however it turned into quite an adventure. After radiant conversations with locals, I arrived in the vicinity and circled until I spotted a sign on a window of a charming house, in a pasture at the end of the runway. After walking around the house, I spied an open doorway, asked permission to enter and heard a voice say, "up." A women appeared and pointed at the stairway. Sure enough, a man at the top nodded that a room to the right was indeed the post office and soon I was in conversation and action, mailing my postcards and discussing the post office. The postmaster pulled out a sack, reached in and selected some stamps, licked them, stuck them on my post cards, and stamped them with a big club. On my way back up the mountain, I shared my experience with a couple of Britts who had been searching for the same place and were delighted to hear my story and directions.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Lukla is a bustling village
Lukla is an exciting place because all treks and climbs start and end here unless a group hikes in from Jeeri. As a result, tea houses, coffee shops and shop fronts are full of music, chatter and bartering. My first order of business was to find the Lukla post office. I was given multiple directions by various people who seemed to know; however it turned into quite an adventure. After radiant conversations with locals, I arrived in the vicinity and circled until I spotted a sign on a window of a charming house, in a pasture at the end of the runway. After walking around the house, I spied an open doorway, asked permission to enter and heard a voice say, "up." A women appeared and pointed at the stairway. Sure enough, a man at the top nodded that a room to the right was indeed the post office and soon I was in conversation and action, mailing my postcards and discussing the post office. The postmaster pulled out a sack, reached in and selected some stamps, licked them, stuck them on my post cards, and stamped them with a big club. On my way back up the mountain, I shared my experience with a couple of Britts who had been searching for the same place and were delighted to hear my story and directions.
Trail life in the Himalayas
Three weeks ago, when I landed back in Nepal, life without electricity became the reality I remembered. Though there are three villages that boast wifi, a connection is a rarity. Each time I tried, the electricity went off due to blowing wind, a bad connection or a snow storm. Thus–now that I'm back in Kathmandu, I'll try to slip in a few highlights before the electricity goes off the grid in my little hotel room.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
The trials and trivia that come with being a mother.
Myoldest son Kerry has been with me every step of the way. First, because of my "fish eye toy" that he introduced me to which has allowed me to make a series of entertaining pictures. Note the rounded look of the Royal Family's Mercedes parked in front of the 1462 temple my friends and I were trying to get into. We couldn't enter because the royal family was inside, but I did get a picture of the car with my "fisheye." Second, because he's a post master, I look for related info. Today, in the airport, I met the Buddhist postmaster of Paro, and he ask me how USPS was doing. He had been reading about the financial woes, so when I told him my son was a post master, he said he would be praying for him and for our post offices. I guess every little bit helps. On top of that, when I was at the top of Tiger's Nest, I put two of the "Where is George" dollar bills that Kerry gave me into an offering basket. After the Buddhist priest blessed the money,he had me roll the dice three times and said good things would come my way in the future. I was happy about my prospects, but then the wheels fell off the truck so I decided the Bhuddist priest misread the dice. The ball started rolling when I made a purchase for Kerry: large darts (20 inches) for the Bhutanese dart game. The man wrapped them for me, I put them in the bottom of my carry on and then totally forgot about them. Today when I went through customs, they kept asking me what was in the bag and I told them clothes and books. They started dragging everything out–including dirty underwear–and finally unearthed the long forgotten darts. Things were a little tense at first, but once they realized that I really was just a dumb little old lady, they rewrapped them and said they would give them to the cabin crew and I could pick them up when I de-boarded. It was a close call.
Monday, March 12, 2012
TIGER'S NEST: SPECTACULAR VIEW–MAGICAL DAY



Sunday, March 11, 2012
Archery: Bhutan's Number One National Sport
Fortresses, monasteries, bridges, and phalluses
Over a hundred monasteries were built in the sixteen hundreds, and most are still standing. During that time period, many bridges were built to connect the valleys and shorten the time required to get to the monasteries for religious celebrations. We are waving from the top–thrilled that we made it over this ancient pathway. See the huge iron links that hold the bridge together? They were little comfort while crossing as the bridge swung in the wind and seemed weighted down by prayer flags.


This fortress was built in 1144 to hold back the Tibetans who came over the high pass six times in an attempt to invade Bhutan. The fort is slowly crumbling but was clearly made to withstand not only the Tibetans but the passage of time.
The phallus is a highly treasured symbol of potency and fertility in Bhutan. There are artistic depictions everywhere. I hiked up to this Craft/Textile center and shop, located on a steep hillside. My friends watched from below mumbling something about bad marketing, location, location, location and no beer–no cheer.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
LIFE ON THE VALLEY FLOOR OF THIMPHU, BHUTAN

