The sun awoke me early the next morning.
I roused myself, and stumbled outside. The morning air was cool and brisk, and it helped chase the last ghosts of sleep from my brain. I sprinted up a few flights of stairs to the roof of Hotel Snow Leopard. Eagerly, I turned my eyes towards Sarangkot, the hill which I knew stood in front of the Annapurna Range. But while I could see Sarangkot, the Himalayas continued to remain hidden from me.
Frustrating, but, what was there to do, brother?
The view from the roof was still sprawling and exotic. Even without 8,000 meter peaks towering above the city, the sprawl of Pokhara was quite a sight all on its own. Squat, five and six-storey guesthouses and hotels stretched almost as far as I could see. Laundry fluttering in the wind and cylindrical solar water heaters dotted the roofs. Behind the city, towering greenery claimed the mountainside. A domed stupa was visible atop on of the guesthouses, and the sound of cats and cows floated up from the street.
Not a bad view, I thought, but not the one I came here for. I turned my eyes once more to the spot where the mountains should be
I felt an emptiness when I looked into the haze.
Where was what I was looking for??
I didn’t know if I would feel any better when the mountains appeared—but at this point, the dice were rolled; the die was cast; all I could do was wait.