My head hurts this evening, a bit. Lying down helps, though, and apparently altitude sickness gets worse when you lie down. So I guess just a headache.
We are traveling through hill farm country. There are yaks and the occasional farmer, planting potatoes, I think.
I'm reading a beautiful book, that I bought in Kathmandu - The Mountain is Young, by Han Suyin. It's set in Kathmandu in the fifties, and I'm enjoying it. When I bought it, in a tiny bookstore in Kathmandu, the owner said to me, "Very good book." It's sort of strange, the characters are flamboyantly dramatic and absurd, but the story is very simple.
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