I remember it quite clearly. It was high up in the mountains. In the clouds as they say. It had taken me the good half of a day by donkey and mule transport to get up there. The donkey had shitted all the way up and my bowels were not doing too well either. The path was too narrow for motorised transport. The place was so high and remote that it had its own micro-climate and alpine flora/fauna. The air was fresh and as you went higher you could feel it cleansing you of those toxic free radicals. 'Fairy Meadow' they called it - on account of the fairies that lived there. The modern world had barely touched it. It was unsoiled. A virginal valley amidst splendour I can barely do justice in description. So I won't bother. The day cycle was dictated by the movement of the sun. So you got up at first light when the sun winked at the window and you retired to sleep at the end of the day when it got too dark to see or do anything. There was no electricity. Some of the other folk had generators, but the guest house I was staying in, had to make do without. So no television (not a bad thing). Reading would have been impossible at night had it not been for my ingenious solution. At night it would get freezing cold and you had no option but to bury yourself under the blankets. So there I'd be under layers of blanket, with the sheets wrapped around me like a tent, making sure all holes where a cold draft might get in were plugged. I had one of those Magna-lites with the handle clenched in my teeth, with the beam end illuminating my book. This continued for a few nights until the battery ran out. So time to find some batteries.
Luckily there was a shop. Just one shop and what a well stocked shop too! (see above). It stocked everything from Paracetamol to balloons. From Nestle's baby milk to nasal balms and horrid pakistani branded chocolates - that claimed to be chocolaty but tasted like mud. Luckily they had batteries. A Chinese brand called 'Hero'. This is a very popular brand name for Chinese products. Most things made in China are called 'Hero'. I have no idea why. It puzzled me then and it puzzles me still. I did ask the shopkeeper why this was so but he was rather spare in his reply. Perhaps in his tiny shopworld with its extensive range of merchandise - my question was a little stupid!
The shopkeeper was a very friendly fellow though. He offered me a bottle of Coca-Cola (I did ask for Coke Zero but he didn't have any) and we chatted for what seemed like hours. We discussed his business plan. Yes he had one! He said he was thinking of branching out - literally. His shop you see was made of wood er branches and he was thinking of cutting some branches down and extending the length! He asked me (me being a savvy western educated finance professional) what the latest craze was that he could sell in his shop. I replied in the manner of someone who has been asked a question that they clearly know the answer to: "MP3 players". He looked at me rather doubtfully. He said the 'elders' would not approve as music is frowned upon in these wee parts. Eventually we settled on Colgate toothpaste - a less risque option I thought. The local children kept coming in and sitting in the corners watching us in conversation. Or watching me converse. I think they thought me a little odd. Like a new toy or a new cat that you play with like crazy for the first few days only to get bored of it and discard it later. I was, at that moment, their new toy and they had every intention of winding me up and watching me go.
I was doing pretty well in the communications department. I was speaking in a broken Urdu tongue - but I could make myself understood (I have this gift you see). Even when we got mired knee deep in metaphysical territory, I would use my hands and draw shapes in the air to express my point. To my surprise and shame the shopkeeper turned out to be more learned than I gave him credit for. Initially I'd taken him for a country bumpkin conservative philistine type but he turned out to be rather radical in his political and socialist hues. Basically he was a thinker (though he might not look it in the image above. Initially I thought he looked like a thief!). He had a lot of free time on his hand you see; as the shop was not very busy (not even during rush hour - which was at 3pm when school finished) and he spent it wisely - thinking. The children found the whole thing most amusing and after that I was a bit of a celebrity with a fan-club that would follow me all over Fairy Meadow.
I still have fond memories and I hope to go back one day. During my stay I also went into the local school (there was only one with two classes - a boys and girls only class) and sat at the back during English lessons. The teacher was great and had achieved much under difficult circumstances (like lack of teaching material). He was proud to have me there and it was great! I even went to the front and gave a five minute lesson on a subject I don't quite recall! Certainly a Kodak memory. One day I will go back again but this time with books and materials for the school. And also, I'll be sure to take some Duracell batteries...and some decent chocolates, for some serious night-time adventures, under the sheets, when the night is old, and the sheets are cold!
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