“The Glass Castle” is a family memoir by Jeanette Walls, detailing her trauma-racked childhood, growing up with an abusive father and a neglectful mother.
That’s how other people might summarize the story. But it’s not how Walls tells it.
[This is a chapter from my travel book. There are lots more chapters posted on the blog, but if you’d prefer to read them all at once, sign up for my e-mail newsletter and I’ll be sure to let you know when they’re available in a condensed form!]
I put the not-down jacket back on the rack, and turned my attention to some other items I needed.
I got a 3/4 zip polyester shirt for $2, despite the fact the sleeves only went about 3/4 of the way up my arms.
The lady also sold me on some glove covers for $1, which I never even ended up using.
I bought a few pairs of trekking socks, and was negotiating for a pair of thermal long underwear, when something began to cry. I looked around the dim shop, alarmed. There was a child laying in the middle of the floor, on top of some cardboard. I was shocked, both by the condition this baby was in, and by the fact that I’d been in this store for about thirty minutes without once noticing there was a tiny human in there with us.
The trek from Jiri to Everest Base Camp seemed too long to contemplate in my shell-shocked state. When I considered the prospect of trekking through rural Nepal for three weeks, alone, it sounded insane, bleak, and lonely. Not to mention, the trek would take at least 21 days, and I only had a 30-day visa. I’d eaten up a few of those days already, and I still needed to outfit myself almost from scratch. I’d been in the tropics for the past five months: I had only a single piece of the I equipment needed to venture into the high mountains — my hat.
I carried Yanti with me as I walked the streets of Thamel.
I was still a little wary bringing a $1,000 computer onto the streets of Kathmandu, but I was slowly starting to feel comfortable in the chaos. As long as I carried the bag slung crosswise across my body so it couldn’t be snatched, I really faced no risk. Nothing could cut through the thick leather straps, if that was even a thing that happened here. Hell, I’d carried it on the much more dangerous streets of Kuala Lumpur, I could carry it on the streets of Kathmandu.
It’s been a month of Nepal posts! I just want to take this opportunity to say thank you to everyone who’s taken the time to read my story (Read Chapter 1 here). It’s a really good feeling to have your work seen and appreciated. Extra thanks to those who have been sharing on social media and leaving comments. I read every single one, and honestly, they mean a lot.
I’ve been letting my words take center stage, but I thought you all might like to see a few more pictures from my time in Nepal. So enjoy this photo supplement, mostly taken in the Thamel neighborhood of Kathmandu. I will continue to post photo supplements as the story progresses. All pictures and videos were taken by me, shot on an iPhone 6S.
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