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The crossing was slow and harrowing but we both survived and any sense of machismo we might have had left was cast to the depths below. We made it to the monastery by nightfall and were welcomed by Lama Chomling and the other monks in residence with hot food and tea. Besides my friend who had drawn the map, the monastery residents had seen no western visitors for many years and were anxious to hear of my journey. Our communication was difficult since I did not speak the local dialect of this remote region of the Himalayas. Prem translated the Lamas words into Nepali for me, and my poor Nepali back into the lamas native tongue. Much was lost in the translation and our conversations were often reduced to much smiling, laughing, exaggerated charades and many offerings of tea. |
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