Just so you all know, I've seen Mt. Everest and it's tiny. Size of my thumb. I'm not sure what the big deal is, so I've squashed it between my fingers. Squish squish.

Esther bought a tea set and wanted to send it home, so we spent about an hour in the Darjeeling post office today, and I think it should be a tourist attraction - only I'm glad it's not, because after spending the sunrise with about 300 other tourists with cameras yesterday, I'm a bit done with tourist attractions. Anyways, all packages foreign or domestic need to be "sewn." The tea guy kept saying this to Esther and she kept agreeing, and I thought it was just an English translation error. But it turns out there's this man who sits in the corner of the post office (chewing betel the whole time - is my guess to explain the wad in his cheek) working at an old wooden desk. People bring him packages and he wraps them and smooths them down, then takes out a piece of white cloth, a large hooked needle, and sews them up into a neat little bundle. Then he takes out a candle and some red wax and makes a series of wax imprints on the seal to close it in. Next he takes an old plastic bag (perhaps from bread) and cuts it into a little package that the shipping directions are put inside. I'm pretty sure at this point none of you are interested anymore in my post office narrative, but maybe it's the "home economic student of the year" (don't laugh) in me that really likes watching a person at a craft. Like Bob Ross, on OPB.

We've met the most fantastic British woman. We actually met her in Pelling and she's shown up in Darjeeling at our guest house and she's great. Really. Everything you would imagine an obstinate independent British woman to be. She's older, maybe 60-65? and she's fantastic. A shop keeper asked her to come into his shop yesterday with the assurance, "don't worry, I won't force you to buy anything." And she promptly replied, "Sir, there isn't a person alive who can force me to do anything I don't want to do, you included, thank you very much, and I shant be visiting your shop today, I'm tired and am going home." He tried to bribe her in with some tea. "Sir, unless you give me a glass of wine, I will just continue on my way, thank you very much." And so she did.

Today we ran into her buying carrots to feed to the horribly hungry looking ponies around that tourists ride and sharply rebuking the men for underfeeding them.

Last night she told us a story about her train rides. "I've never been married, never had any kids and I'm sick, completely sick of the snickerty old Indian women who interogate me every trip as to where my husband is. So on my last ride I met this gorgeous Swedish man - he was a real dish- and I asked him if he would pretend to be my lover the next time a woman asked me. And he said, no problem, he'd go along with anything. So soon this woman sits down across from me and asks, 'where's your husband?' and I replied, 'oh, he's home with our six children and I'm traveling here with my lover.' and the Swedish man, he was great, he said, 'and yes, we like to have regular sex on the hour so we better be going,' and up he jumped and put his arm around my waist and we walked off to the bathroom, and when we came back he laid down and stretched out saying, 'I need to rest now.' It was such great fun and that poor woman was too scandalised to talk to me the rest of the trip!"

And then yesterday she was to be found laying flat out on her stomach on the sidewalk to have a better look at a buddha statue she was interested in, not to be bothered at all.

Really like her.

Esther and I walked up a hill today to a small goompa (monastery) shared by Buddhists and Hindus and covered everywhere with Buddhist prayer flags. It was quiet and smelled of incense and there were (at least) 30 monkeys and monkey babies running all around eating and swinging off the prayer flags. Then we came back at ate a huge bowl of potatoes and played cards. I taught Esther gin, and have been beating her really badly. So then I taught her spades and beat her really badly at that as well (it was just like playing poki). Which made me feel really good. Like beating the Weisenburgs at spoons (that's right, I said it).

And anyways, all is well and good and cold and full of books and interesting people and traveling stories and on and on.