I wondered what it must be like to grow up in a remote Himalayan village. The people are not poor. Or maybe they are. Or maybe we are, but go at it differently. These things are hard to judge. The villagers are not hungry certainly, have adequate clothing, and sleeping on a good mat next to the kitchen stove is neither uncomfortable nor lacking in dignity. The contrivances and nuisances of what we regard as civilization are perhaps not as crucial as we tend to think.
But what must it be to live all of a life under the looming quiet mountains, horses wandering free and yak ambling through, with people known since birth? They live closer to the bone, I think. We live, we die. In the mountains the rest seems to matter less.
Fred is off on another adventure and is ruminating on life in remote regions as compared to civilization back home.
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