Reflections from Meg - 2

I am especially struck by the contrast of the last few days.  From the honking horns, dirt and cheerful chaos of Kathmandu to Lukla with its green orderly fields of lush potatoes and tall onions, the quiet broken only by the chiming of yak and mule bells and the occasional helicopter.   

Yet each time I think I've returned to a previous century I am swiftly reminded that we are firmly in the present.  The young woman driving the yak towards me is texting with one hand while she harries the yak with the stick in the other hand.   The younger porters listen to their I pods as they haul their heavy hand woven baskets up hill.  And while some of the porters are carrying the eggs and vegetables that could be from any time past or present, others haul propane or big sheets of plywood. And in the tiny room of our very rustic hotel, the staff are watching music videos  on a flat screen TV while they wait for customers.

In a similar fashion, even in this new landscape I see so many reminders of home.  The mother shooing the chickens from her door, just as I do many mornings.  The toddlers escaping down the street, only to be caught by a caring neighbor.  People stopping in the street to answer cell phones.  And most of all, the young woman who paused in her gardening to serve us lunch at her families restaurant.  While she waited for us to finish, a neighbor walking by with a young child stopped to chat and in the end left the toddler with our waitress.  As we walked away the young woman and the toddler were crouched by the garden weeding.  As the toddler waved a vigorous goodbye I thought how much like our Claire that young woman seemed . Perhaps I'm not so far from home after all.