friday

So I decided. Or did I? I can't actually remember. But somehow along the way I enrolled in a Master's of Science in Criminology and Criminal Justice. I do remember the period of time when I was hoping they'd accept me but terrified that they would at the same time, because it would mean that I would have to do the work. And so once again I'm chasing articles on sentencing policy, cognitive behavioural rehabilitation programs, lalala. I woke up in the middle of the night last night thinking about how I forgot to include a report on sentencing reform in the paper I'm currently writing. Strangely, also, the program is at the University of Portsmouth, in England. I've seen Portsmouth on a map, haven't been there that I ever remember, but I have a library card, in case I ever wanted to go. Although my body is here, my brain is spending an awful lot of time studying contemporary criminal justice policy in England and Wales. Like a vacation without leaving home.

I was looking online the other day, to answer a question of Ian's. Someone told him that he could claim British citizenship based on my birthplace, and that turned out to be true. He would love to go and live in England. I think he'd enjoy it. The interesting thing that I didn't know, though, is that his children will also be able to claim a 5 year residency in England if they choose, because I'll be their grandmother and you can claim that if one of your grandparents was born in England...

life goes on

I had fully intended to post a complete account of my wanderings in Spain. It was a wonderful experience and although I didn't finish (I knew I didn't have enough time when I started, but decided to start in Pamplona cos I've always been a Hemingway fan, and in the end I got almost to Ponferrada) I did walk 500k and pushed long past the limits of what I thought I was capable of, both mentally and physically. But on getting back I plunged back into life (including beginning a Masters in criminology) and lost track of the posting here. So instead, here's a belated update.

I'm going back to finish next year. Gonna start again at Burgos and go all the way to the end.

In the meantime, I got a tattoo.

Castrojeriz

Every day when you get to the albergue, the ritual is the same. Pay your money, hand over your pilgrim passport (mine is lime green) for a stamp, pick your bed. Then you spread your sleeping bag out on the bed so that no-one takes it. I like top bunks, I find the bottom bunks claustrophobic. Then find toiletries, take a shower, put on semi-clean clothes, wash your socks and t-shirt for the day and maybe your underwear, hang them out to dry. Then, the rest of the day is just hanging out.

Castrojeriz has a castle. It doesn't however have a bus until Monday. So Tina took a taxi back to Burgos, after we negotiated that with the elderly driver, and now I'm sitting alone on the sundeck of the albergue, wondering what to do for dinner. Although it took us two days to walk here, I'm sure Tina got back to Burgos in about half an hour in the cab...

Hornillos del camino

My feet have almost stopped hurting. They are still tired at the end of the day, but not swollen and immovable in my boots anymore. At one point today, walking by myself, my spirits lifted and I'm walking with the unalloyed joy I remember from Nepal.

Hornillos del camino is tiny, one main street, and most of the houses are unoccupied. The population seems to consist of three elderly ladies who are roaming the streets in their bathrobes.

Tina and I sat most of the afternoon outside on the steps of the church. We talked to Ursula from Ireland, whom Tina met this afternoon on the trail.

I'm in a one-horse town in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers (I should explain that really Tina is Jessica's friend and I had only met her once briefly before this trip. Jessica is in Burgos, we think, waiting for Tina to come back, but there is no bus from Hornillos and no taxi... so it will have to be tomorrow.) and I'm perfectly happy.

Burgos

I'm sitting in the square outside the cathedral, with the backpacks. The bus to Burgos was too fast, but the alternative was nerves frayed past the breaking point and feet that shouldn't be in boots. For the grace of their company, it was necessary. God will understand.

In the last couple of days I've been feeling closer to Him, stranded as I have been in a strange land. I want Him to come and have coffee with me, so we can talk about what I should do next. I'm thinking he'd probably tell me to brush my hair.

A little while ago, we had lunch in a sidewalk cafe where the pretty waitress served us happily. A real contrast to the service we have had to wring out of other establishments... It was a shock at first, when she came to give us menus and started explaining things to us, we waved her away. Jessica said, "How do we explain that we're not used to this any more?" And lunch was filling, I had salad and calamari. They had garlic soup. But, we're staying in pretty close quarters.

St. Augustine says, "My life is full of such faults, and my only hope is in your boundless mercy."

Jessica doesn't want to walk any more. Tina's knee still hurts from her injury in Nahera. Tina has decided she will walk with me tomorrow, to make sure I'm ok, and then take the bus back to Burgos and they will go to Portugal on the train. I told them, gently, "I came here to walk. I don't want to stop yet." And so I will be alone.

I got a ribbon bracelet with the Lord's Prayer on it in Spanish - cute pictures, too. The first thing I've bought other than food. And Tina and Jessica bought me a bracelet with an arrow on it, like the ones that mark the Camino, friendly yellow arrows on the road and on buildings.

carrying things

Every morning I get up and pack everything I'm not currently wearing, put it on my back, and set off... it's a wonderful feeling. I have an orange and grey backpack that I bought to take to Nepal, it's 35 litres, and in it I have:

sleeping bag

inflatable mat

three tank tops, three t-shirts, a pair of capris, a pair of leggings, a pair of shorts

three pairs of socks, four pairs of underwear, two bras, one bathing suit

backpacking towel, headlight, solar panel- which charges - my ipod, guidebook, journal, very small book to read (The Confessions of St. Augustine).

the white ugly sandals talked about earlier and a green cotton sundress, both for evenings

raincoat, rain pants, hat, backpack rain cover

two sweaters, one is neon green and has a hood and cool thumbholes in the sleeves, and the other is fuzzy

water bottle, pocket knife

two little pouches that contain: a small bottle of shampoo, bar of soap, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, tiny hairbrush, and the tape and gauze for my feet, sunscreen, Fisherman's Friends, Tylenol, bandaids

a jar of apricot jam...

The last item is because sometimes breakfast is provided in the albergues, but it doesn't always feature jam. So I'm carrying my own. I'm a little tired of the clothes I brought and they don't get terribly clean with the hand washing. I'm worried that I smell.

We are in Belorado tonight. Jessica and Tina want to take the bus to Burgos tomorrow, because they've been told it's a steep hill out of Belorado. I've said I'll come with them.

Santo Domingo Part 2

Went to see the cathedral, after the laundromat. And so I sat in the cathedral, with my sore feet on the prayer bench and looked at the stark black cross suspended from the ceiling in the intensely ornate nave and somehow we both seemed out of place. And I thought, "What am I doing HERE?"

Tina and Martha made a very tasty supper, pasta with what they thought was ground beef but turned out to be ground turkey. We gave the leftovers to various folk. Which was kind of satisfying in itself. The visiting foot guy has bound my big gross blister that developed on the pad of my left foot - after popping it and filling the holes with iodine. Yick. But it feels much better tonight (I stopped and took my boots off after lunch today because I was convinced that one of the bones in my foot was poking through my sole) and I think I'll be able to walk on it tomorrow. I know, eh? Again with the feet.

But really. Does God want all of this? The pilgrimages, the cathedrals, the gold and jewels? How does he let us know what he wants? Telegrams?

I feel as if I have been walking my whole life. As if someone said, "Walk!" and I set off, but not knowing why. The days, although I feel them so strongly as they happen, are beginning to run into each other, bleed into one big puddle of Camino-ish-ness. Walk, rest, walk, rest, walk, eat, walk, walk, shower, eat, look around, eat, sleep, get up, walk again. What day did the apple come through town? What day did I buy the ugliest plastic shoes in the world? What day did I eat the immense croissant?

I forgot to tell the apple story. We were in Cirauqui, which is a town on the side of a very steep hill. We stopped at a little grocery store because Tina wanted fruit. I had a sore tummy and didn't want food, so I was sitting on the wall outside the shop. Tina and Jessica went in and looked around, and came out with something, I forget what, but Tina was saying, "I can't believe they didn't have any apples." Just after she said it, and I'm not even kidding, something came bouncing towards us, it had come down the steep street behind us and was going quite fast and bouncing pretty high, it went past us and I said to Tina, "There's your apple" and we all started to laugh.

Santo Domingo de Calzada

Last night we decided that Leon is our destination, another week or so, and that after that we will go sit on a beach somewhere. Jessica is happier, now that we have a plan that involves ending the Camino. Getting to Santo Domingo was a shorter day, we were here by 12:30, not the 4PM of yesterday, and that makes a difference. In my mind's eye I can see vineyards stretching endlessly out of sight. I'm tired but not exhausted, tonight.

It rained on us a little today, just a light mist, like from a plant sprayer. But it's still not cold... just pleasant for walking. A little chilly for protracted sitting without a sweater.

I'm sitting in the laundromat, which we were happy to find after days of washing our sweaty socks and t-shirts by hand in stone basins with cold water. Our clothes are going round, we also have Martha from Ireland's clothes. Clare from England, who Tina has been walking with, went on further today. But we decided that 30k is too long for us, and we're sticking to 20s at the moment. Also, it takes us into the afternoon when it gets very hot, and Spanish people who are sitting in the shade drinking beer give us trouble for walking in the heat.

Dinner last night was in a lovely cafe, run by friendly Carlos, his brother found Tina in pain from her hamstring in the street in Najera in the afternoon, and gave her ice, then saw us hobbling around in our sandals later in the evening and took us to Carlos' cafe, where we had a carb feast, pizza and spaghetti. As we were leaving, Carlos said, "Estoy abierto a las seis, manana," so we went back this morning for bread and jam and excellent coffee, and Carlos gave me his card so I can send him a postcard.

Children keep coming past the door of the laundromat and yelling in - not sure what that's about. I found yesterday that a lot of people spoke to me, when I was alone, in Logrono. Telling me my pack was too heavy, my shoelace was untied, wishing me buen camino.

Clothes are in the dryer now, the girls have reappeared with food to be eaten soon. Earlier on in the trip I suggested that we buy food and have a picnic, given that we always seem to eat lumps of baguette with ham and/or cheese anyway, but the idea was dismissed. Now, it is good. Some measure of how far they have come, in their European experience.

I need to keep reminding myself that everyone is on his or her own camino. That although sometimes it seems like a giant walking slumber party, the way that they are experiencing it is different. Some are more inward, some more outward. And I am not in their bodies. I don't feel what hurts them, just as they don't feel what is excruciating for me. In the evenings we all limp around in our sandals, even those who have been striding much more quickly than me through the countryside. I'm sure that in the future I will drink a glass of wine made from grapes from a field I have walked through in the last week. I just won't know it.

I'm already talking about when I'm going to come back and finish...

Najera

Jessica and I were joking around about being penguins, rather than pilgrims, given that our feet are no longer under our conscious control, but rather very flipper-like. Jessica said, "Yeah, I used to be able to move my feet inside my shoes, but not any more." Today she took the bus.. We set out this morning from Logrono but her heel is very painful, and she turned back after fifteen minutes or so. I took her back through the streets of Logrono to the hostel again. One of the Korean girls was coming out, she has blisters too and took the bus from Los Arcos to Logrono, and she had a map to the bus station. And so I left Jessica there and walked off alone. Tina had gone on ahead to catch some other people, Clare from England and Martha from Ireland, when it was apparent that Jess and I were turning back.

I walked 30k by myself. Every now and then someone would catch me up, and we would exchange pleasantries and discuss our feet - I've met a lot of the people who are doing this stretch - I think there's about thirty-five of us or so. The discussion would pull me along, like a small car in a large truck's slipstream, for a while, and then I fall back to my own rhythm. I really hope for my feet to quit hurting so much. Poor old feet. They really do become the focal point of everything. How much do they hurt? What's that stupid blister doing? Do I have any hotspots? So much for spiritual enlightenment, I am firmly enmeshed in the state of my feet.

Chocolate helps. I've taken to carrying a large bar in my shoulder bag with the map, and when I start to falter I chomp down big hunks of it. So far I've had Fruit and Nut, white chocolate, and a lovely bar with bits of toffee in it. That one went fast. This morning, when I was walking out of Logrono, I stopped at a bar for breakfast and had the largest croissant I've ever seen in my life. Accompanied by cafe con leche (like a non-foamy latte) it cost me 2 euros.

At lunch time I followed two German guys into a food store, along the road, and purchased a large orange, a loaf of bread, a jar of jam, a bag of chips and a bottle of Fanta limon. (My favourite from when I used to come to Spain as a kid). In the semi-drizzle of noon-time, I sat by the side of the road by a vineyard and ate it. About half an hour later, I came down into a valley and found a little rest stop, with a picnic shelter with benches on it. One of the Dutch guys I've talked to before was sitting out by the road, so I felt safe, and I went into the picnic shelter, took my boots off, settled down with my head on my backpack, and went fast asleep. I don't know how long I slept, but I do know I wouldn't have been able to do the last ten kilometers without a nap...

Puente La Reina - don't follow people

Can we be other than what we are? Can we three assorted pilgrims come to terms with our different desires?

Maybe this is part of what I need to be learning. That I can continue to grow. We are in Puente La Reina. I have showered and washed my socks. My body is clean and my mind floating. This afternoon after we arrived at the albergue I went back to the town (we walked up a hill on the far side of town to get here, which was a bit of a fractious walk) to fetch blister cream for Jessica. One of the other walkers recommended something, and I went to find a pharmacy to purchase some for her. She has blisters. And they're hurting her.

I also went up to see the ruined castle, up top of the town. When I climbed all the way up there, it was kinda just a pile of rocks. NOT the noble edifice I had in mind... So much of life is like that, it seems.

When we were in the Toronto airport, we were traversing the international terminal to approach our gate for Munich. A little Asian lady was the gatekeeper of the far recesses of the wing we needed. As we walked up, she was scolding some passengers who were late for their flight to Lima. She bundled them into one of those beeping golf cart vehicles and they were whisked away. We were wondering if we were going to get yelled at. I'd already had a full body scan in the nice new machine and an intimate cuddle with a lady wearing blue latex gloves. We got to the gatekeeper, and she looked at our boarding passes. She said, "Go that way. Don't follow people." We were giggling, and commented that it might be good advice in general, for life, and there have been a few times since, when we've been trying to find something, and been tempted to just go along with the herd of other back-pack toting pilgrims, and one or other of us has said, "Don't follow people."

I have the guidebook. I keep it in my little bag, so it's always at hand. Tina says the guidebook lies. It tells us kilometres, and we don't believe it. We walk and walk, and then we come to a landmark, I look in the book, and the map says we've walked half a kilometre. Today there was a long stretch without shade, through farmland and vineyards, and I have a couple of little blisters. My feet are swollen.

I am a pelegrino - a pilgrim. We are walking. For the last year or so, people have been asking me what I was going to do this spring, since I went to Everest last spring. And I've been saying, "I'm going to walk across Spain." And now I'm doing it. We are obviously pilgrims. We've got the backpacks, and I've got a crest that says "Canadian Company of Pilgrims". As people pass us, locals and non-Camino tourists, they say, "Buen Camino."

My head is pretty quiet, today. It sang me some songs, but other than that no worries. We walked 30k today, starting out of Pamplona, which is a pretty university city, and up the Alto de Perdon, a big hill with wind turbines up top. Stopped at a little village for lunch. My feet are tired, tonight, and we're staying in an albergue (a hostel) in the basement of quite a nice hotel. Apparently they serve breakfast. Everyone in the albergues gets up pretty early, and they have a time you have to be gone by, which so far has been 8am. A little early for us jet-lagged folk, but it's nice to get going before it gets hot.

Pamplona

Long trip. We (Tina, Jessica, me) flew to Toronto and were there for a few hours, Munich for a very little while, Madrid for the night (I woke up in the middle of the night disoriented and wanting food). We lost a lot of hours that we won't get back until we return, in three weeks. Madrid was a bit of a shock, hot and grumpy and disorganized, somewhere I've never been except as a stopover. Although the hotel I had booked us into advertised a free shuttle from the airport, it never came and we ended up in a cab after waiting an hour. Tired and jetlagged, I just wanted my bed, but it made me anxious about the transfer to Pamplona - I hadn't looked up how one gets from the airport to the town and realized I should have done that.

This afternoon we flew to Pamplona, to start the walk across Spain that I mentioned earlier here. We're starting the Camino Santiago, the Way of St. James, although I'm pretty sure we won't manage the whole 600k in the time we have. Inquiries at the nice clean airport in Pamplona established that a taxi to the hostel would be eight Euros. A nice minivan was waiting for us outside, and the driver was jovial. My worries were for naught. We pulled up at the hostel and checked in, got our assigned bunk beds and went out to look for food.

This, however, proved to be a problem. I hadn't anticipated that my companions would not like the menu selections listed on the walls of the bars in the surrounding area, and the fact that dinner was not going to be served much before seven o'clock. Tina declared, "I'm going to starve, here." Eventually we found a bar that served sandwiches, and I got the largest sandwich I've ever seen, a baguette with ham and cheese. Ate half, tucked the other half away for later. Back at the hostel, the beds were soft but I had some trouble getting to sleep. After all the sitting on planes, one of my feet kept falling asleep. Jessica, in the bunk below, was kept awake by my thrashing. At 3AM I was starving again, and got up. I grabbed my leftover sandwich, climbed three flights of stairs in almost pitch darkness, and sat in the high-ceilinged kitchen and ate ravenously. Sitting there, I thought, this is it. We're walking from here. After that I slept.

One gentleman whom we met just before we went to bed turned out to be a champion snorer. The other strange thing was that the bathrooms were unisex, and the lights were on a motion-sensor timer - while I was in the shower the lights went out, plunging me into darkness, and I had to wrap a towel around me and go out to wave at the light switch. So at one point I was headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth, and walked in just in time to see a naked man step out of the shower, wave at the sensor, and go back in. So this is the Camino...

November

So I wrote a book, in November. Given that it was national novel-writing month. I took the plots (well, the ideas - plots are not my strong point) from the two books I've been playing with for the past ten years and amalgamated them into one book. I didn't look at anything I'd written, the hundred or so pages I had, between the two, I just started writing again from the beginning, wrote 1667 words a day, give or take, and now I have 50,000 words. A coherent whole. It needs a bunch of work, but I'm going to see if I can make it be a real book. If nothing else I can get the two ideas out of my head and start something new finally.

A strange thing happened, halfway through the writing process. I realized that I had set up something that totally made sense, without realizing it. And I managed to tie both plots together, and no-one will guess I'm thinking because I didn't even know until I got there. Now I just have to try and not screw that up by dropping too many hints.

the town formerly known as Frobisher Bay

Had a little bit of a cross-Arctic tour this past week, went to Iqaluit for meetings, with stops in Igloolik, Hall Beach, Kugaaruk and Cape Dorset.

Some things that happened in Iqaluit:

I lost my good hat. (it was blue and had braids. I think it fell out of my pocket when I wasn't wearing it.)
I ate a lot of ginger beef. (and chicken wings. it was a meat-fest. I also had steak and roast beef. that's what happens when you hang out with a whole bunch of guys.)
I was assessed a fine at the regimental dinner, for trying to pay for the ticket with less than the full amount. (apparently the fines are a tradition. my boss got fined for falling asleep in a meeting.)
Went to the movies, saw "Get Low" and although the plot was a bit corny, the dialogue was amazing and it was very visually stunning. (plus I like Bill Murray.)

a Nepal post

Because I'm still processing...

There is a coffee shop on the corner of the road that leads to the Radisson hotel in Kathmandu. I found it the first day I was there and needed somewhere to sit for a while. I sat in the window and had an americano and read all of the newspapers from cover to cover. Every now and then I'd think to myself, "I'm in Kathmandu." The coffee shop had patrons but not so many that I felt uncomfortable sitting there for an hour. The coffee was hot enough to have to drink slowly. They offered me a choice of Lavazza or Nepali coffee and I chose the Nepali, which made the boy behind the counter smile. By the third time I came in, I walked up to the counter and he saidt to me, proudly, "Two shot Americano, Nepali coffee, black." On the day I messed up the money and tried to give him a 1000 rupee note instead of a 100 rupee note, he insisted on giving me my change. One of the days I was there I was talking to a man from I think Ohio who now lives in Kathmandu, and he told me how to get to a street fair I wanted to visit. Chris that I was hiking with came and met me for coffee a couple of times.

But although that was comfortable and somewhat familiar to me, a block to the east there was a woman who was always sitting on the sidewalk. She was there every time I walked past, sitting on a blanket on the filthy sidewalk, with her two small children lying next to her. They were all wearing what amounted to rags. The babies had crusty eyes, and there were flies on their faces that they didn't bother to brush away. Their mother, emaciated and translucent, was talking to the children one morning, and mixing something that resembled grain in a plastic bowl with water that she poured from a cloudy plastic bottle. Breakfast. She didn't look at me. Traffic was passing by within two feet of them, and emission controls haven't caught on in Nepal yet. Also most drivers honk continuously and sometimes ride up on the sidewalk. After a couple of days, we went out at night and they were still there. I realized that they weren't just setting up to spend the day there, that was where they lived. There was a bank a few doors down, with armed guards at the door, perhaps that made her feel that she had a little bit of safety from their presence. It occurred to me that a lot of the annoyances that I complain about on a day-to-day basis are really very trivial. I imagined having to try and explain my complaints to this woman - "nobody helps me with the housework". What would she say? "You have a house..."

Children who looked as young as ten were working as porters, carrying enormous loads on their backs up the steep mountain trails, wearing crocs or flipflops on their feet, and we were told that the normal fee for porters is about 200 rupees a day. To put that into perspective, chocolate bars on the trail were 200 rupees, mostly. That's about two bucks a day. Granted, in the non-tourist stores in Kathmandu you can buy a litre bottle of water for about 15 rupees, but still. Not a generous wage.

I had a conversation with a cabdriver, who was lamenting the rising divorce rate in Nepal. He said that divorce was previously almost unknown, but that recently it has become more commonplace. He felt that although Nepal desperately needs the money the tourists bring, they don't need the Western/secular influences.

I loved how close religion is to ordinary life. There are little shrines everywhere, in the street, prayer rocks out on the trail, and people walking around fingering their prayer beads. I liked to see the little old ladies in their sandals, out walking around the stupas and pushing all the prayer wheels. Everywhere you go, there are recordings of Om Mani Padme Hum playing, and I found that it got stuck in my head. I ended up acquiring a cd of it, and have been playing it in the kitchen when I have the place to myself.

I stood behind an Australian man at a little store on the trek. He was wanting to buy a chocolate bar, and he was bothering the owner for something he didn't have, a twix or something. I backed off a bit, because although I was trekking with him, I didn't want to be associated with him. After a lot of complaining, he picked out one of those kitkat chunky bars, and the proprietor said, "300 rupees." My trek mate started getting aggressive, "No, I'm not paying that much, everywhere else it's 200 rupees." The proprietor replied, "300." No sale, and he's off, muttering. I stepped up, smiled, we exchanged Namaste, and then I asked for a Mars bar. "200 rupees". I just pulled out my money and paid him. I would have paid 300. I can't see arguing over what is basically a miniscule sum of money.

summer

It's been really quite warm here the last week or so, I even wore my sandals and capris to work.

Thanks to a garage sale, there has been a fair bit of complaining from the other members of the household about my plants. I adopted an elephant tree, a giant ivy, a big trailing plant with heart-shaped leaves and another spider plant. The elephant tree is so big it was hard to find a place to put it, but the funny thing is that Joeby really likes to lie underneath it. Pretending he's a puma, maybe. I also have a nice crop of lettuce this year. (I know, anyone can grow lettuce, but it's fun to have fresh salads from my 'garden').

I've had lots to do at work, Iqaluit sent me a couple of files to work on in my spare time, which is good as I'm saving my money to go walk across Spain next year with Jessica.

Ian's off at cadet camp, he's staffing this year. Rachel goes on the 26th. Kirsten and Jordan are home, and Eric's staying with us this week as his mom's out of town. So the teenager count remains the same.

When school starts again Ian will be in grade twelve, which is wild, Kirsten will be going back for her second year of university, and Rachel's starting senior high. Where does the time go? (Dumb question, really, I know).

I am enjoying this phase, they're happy to go for walks with me and discuss things, they help around the house - the other day I got off early from work because it was a holiday and when I got home and was going to start cleaning house, they said, "You go have a nap. We'll clean up tomorrow." And they herded me off to my room, and the next day they did clean, they vacuumed and tidied the living room, did the dishes, swept and mopped the kitchen and dining room...

home

It's been different, here, since I got home. I haven't been in the habit of recording my relationship woes here, and I'm not going to start now, but suffice to say some things got said that have needed to be said for a long time. Well, truthfully I have said them before, but they weren't taken seriously. Mayhem ensued. I don't know what will happen next, but it will at least be truthful.

I'm taking a gun safety course. I don't know that I'll ever be courageous enough to carry a gun - I tend to think that if bears eat me that's just karma - but I'm doing my practical test today. I have to load and unload guns safely and demonstrate awareness of safety procedures. On Thursday I didn't think I'd be able to pass it - it wasn't sticking in my head, but yesterday the guys at work explained bullets and shells to me, and then Kirsten and I looked at her dad's guns and I think maybe we're almost ready.

back in Kathmandu

It's almost time to go home. I've got a flight Sunday night. Shopping still needs to be done, gotta take souvenirs. We went to see the monkey temple this morning, the monkeys were fighting and the temple is under construction.

So what did I learn about myself? I'm tougher than I thought. The only thing I missed on the trek was coffee. I really count on my coffee in the morning to get going. They bring tea, which is lovely, but it's not enough caffeine. I'm still angry about a couple of things, but I think just being able to say what they are will help, in the long run. I'm pretty self-contained, I didn't mind being alone.

Namche again

The choice today was to walk directly to Namche or detour through Khunde and Khumjung, where there is a school founded by Sir Edmund Hillary, and a hospital. There wasn't much enthusiasm for another climb, and the end result was that Paul, Arthur, Dilli, Hosta and I went up the valley and the rest went straight for Namche.

I was happy with the choice - they were non-tourist villages, and very quiet. Little kids were playing ball in the street, and Dilli struck up a conversation with a couple of them, who then followed us for a while. He said "Namaste" to them, which is the usual greeting, and later told us that the little boy said, "You don't have to say that, you're not a tourist."

The walk was hard, the uphill part. Actually the down was hard too, because it was so steep, and it was stiflingly hot, so hot that tonight there is a huge thunderstorm circling Namche, it seems to be stuck in the bowl of the mountains. We're camping in the garden at the Sherpa Lodge, and all our sherpas are giggling in their tent, I think they're playing cards.

The hidden valley

We only walked half the day today. And not very fast, at that. Although some of the trail was a along the side of a steep muddy bank high above the river, and I fell over coming around a corner and had to be caught by Basu and Helena so I didn't fall in the water. We are camped in a beautiful valley, with a stream trickling past, and we've got the afternoon off. I'm planning a nap. I washed clothes in the stream - I picked the wrong rock to rub them on, it had green slime on it and I had to start again - but they're drying now on the fence. I washed my hair, too, first time since Namche. It's been in braids, though, most of the time, so it wasn't too dirty.

Tomorrow we'll be back in Tengboche and Namche, and staying in the Sherpa hotel again.