| Leaving the tourist trail yesterday brought an immediate change in the environment from commercial to AUTHENTIC (and much cheaper). We hiked through many Sherpa villages. At Pupla (with an airstrip) there was a large Buddhist nunnery – many women going down hill to the bazaar to sell something with red skirts and bald heads. After a super-tasty lunch of Thuk-Pa (a Sherpa dish of spaghetti noodles with spicy vegetable broth and eggs if you want ‘em) ra anda at Salleri (I saw Ambir Rai there again) we continued down past increasingly traditional villages. On the way what started out as a joke turned into a mutual confession session between Vincent and myself. I confessed the following sins: -Being rude to my mother sometimes
-Being impatient with others and snapping at them when I have to repeat myself
-Judging others
-Showing off in front of a crowd (I did this at lunch)
-Not noticing what it is other people need (and obviously not responding to their needs)
-Not conveying to others that I am listening when distractions around me drag my attention away from the conversation
-Not controlling my pride which is like a hot air balloon – up one minute and down the next
-Up and down: I just lectured the French nun on charity (when will I learn? – she did some kind of healing move of putting her hands on the drunk man’s forehead) From my perch next to the huge rock I can see several horses with ghastly sores on their back. The Frenchman of the mountain Christophe says these sores are not from the saddle but from a huge worm. We then as a group deducted that the sores come from the heavy loads they carry up and down these endless, roadless mountains. Animals we have ENSLAVED. Must add that to the bad Karma that hangs around domesticated man. | 
