Falling in Thai by Michael j Bradley - Gadabout Life

day of trekking on the dark side of the mountain.
Cold and wet but drying, sitting affront the loggia
watching as the sunset behind the mountains
resigned its pink glow. And with it, the evening air
cooled. In between sips he arranged on the table
those aged maps as you would a jigsaw puzzle, cut
with an irregularity typical of old Tibetan
handmanship. He needed to concentrate, to focus
on the task but his mind was elsewhere. A
clattering of dishes and pans traveled out the
kitchen, as did an aroma of exquisite herbs and
steamed veggies. Beneath that, a hum of voices
and ambient music all contributed to an amicable
ambience.
As soon as the meal was served he scoffed it
down, pausing between mouthfuls to write
scribbles down on snippets of paper - those used to
tab customer’s orders - notes of guidance he would
later refer to as he perpetuated this his fourth and
final expedition.
Everything he had planned on this trip was finally
coming to fruition, unraveling like the tale of a
book. A classic. In his ignorance he knew nothing
of the danger lain ahead nor, of my presence on his
back following the trail; patiently watching,
stalking, needing to confront the silly sod having
waited patiently for this appropriate moment to
arise. Subtly observing him as, after completing
his notes, his meal and drink paid for, bidding
farewell to the restaurants sparse clientele he stood
upon weary legs on the move once more; and as he
made his way carefully down towards the Valley
of Vultures, i followed.