Foothill of the gods

Landed this morning in Kathmandu. The city is surrounded by mountains - the Himalayas. They look like gods looming over a pious population, gazing up adoringly. Kathmandu, which means the Wooden Temple, is at the foothill of the gods. As we approached the runway, I could imagine a James Bond stunt director plotting how to make the plane suddenly disappear amid all the nooks and crannies of the mountains. Then you'd hear a boom, some rising smoke and fire, culminating in a medium shot of Ernst Stavro Blofeld in his wheelchair, stroking an albino Mongolian tiger, or some other equally bizzare genetic anomaly. Mwahaha. But Bond always survives, like I did. I'm here now. Bond also always gets the girls - that, I'm still working on.