Hiking through the Himalayas is hard.
The air is thin, to the point where climbing a staircase would leave you huffing and puffing at the top. Headaches were common.
The wind chaps your face and lips. The air can swing from warm to downright frigid. The sun is bright and deceivingly powerful.
And you can see it on the faces of the people. Marks of healed frostbite, premature wrinkles on the faces of children.
The elderly exponentially so. They were a photographers dream, but everytime I asked permission in my broken Nepalese, I was greeted with a smile, a laugh, and all but certain rejection.
I fell in love with the houses, the incredible spirituality, and the unbelievable perspective on life everyone had.
It was contagious, and I felt at peace.
Everything seemed like such a fairy-tale.
And around each corner, a new surprise.
A parade of horses.
A house on stilts.
A small dog sleeping on a windowsill.
We stayed in "Tea Houses". Small homes that would offer a bite to eat, a cup of hot tea, and a place to sleep for the night.
And believe me when I say, there's no sweeter sight than a cozy tea house at the end of a long day. Breathless and exhausted, a warm smile and hot cup of milk tea thrust into you hands.
I felt like I was just getting started. Just barely scratching the surface of this truly magical place.
Ya, hiking in the Himalayas is hard.
But what a price for such bountiful reward.
I had to keep my eyes open. Take in as much as I could in this oasis of simplicity.
Alas... the Journey continued.
Up and up we went, a painfully slow, steady pace to the top of the world.
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