"A Return to Civilization"
September 27, 1999

After losing close to twenty pounds from a steady diet of rice and potatoes and walking 20 miles a day, I now sit content in a small cafe on Rue St. Louis after consuming one large salad Nicoise, a filet mignon, and nearly a liter of red table wine. In front of me, perhaps 100 meters, is Notre Dame, constructed about the same time Kagbeni was. Their differences are at once profound and unintelligible. The cultures each represent can have no meaningful comparison; one was constructed in the name of religion, the other in the name of necessity.

This has been one long day in a string of long days. Airline delays, overly long stop-overs, airline food, airline food, food from a vendor in the Karachi airport...

This steak is the best thing since... forever. I understand what Francis Kingdon-Ward meant now. The ceremony (in Kathmandu) was everything it was billed to be: bloody. And though I did not partake in the actual slaughter, I did not let all that meat go to waste. Let's just say I have never eaten so many dozens of kabobs.

While I was reminiscing down memory lane, heavy clouds have blanketed Paris; rain is expected. My reservations are confirmed: tomorrow I leave on the Orient Express for Venice; a short 15 hour overnight excursion. I chuckle with anticipation at the stories Matthew will have. Upon his departure from Kathmandu his only options for a connection between Baku and Venice were either an Aeroflot DC-8 cargo conversion, or a bi-plane.

the mad innkeeper
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