It is built on either side of a river running down the slope of the surrounding mountains. The cluster of solid, square, double-storey buildings is ringed by mountains, their peaks still white with snow. The higher slopes are fringed with gigantic evergreens, the lower slopes are a rich, luminescent green, lush from the river. The river itself is ice-cold, melting snow running from the mountains to the undreamt-of, far-away sea. "It's beautiful," whispers my partner, Alison, standing on the roof of our hotel. A yak trundles down the road below, its owner leading it by a rope attached to a metal loop through its nose. Garage-size shops line the street, selling the hippy clothes of old, bright coloured bags, beads and baggy trousers. Legend has it that Manu, the Hindu equivalent of the Christian Noah, grounded his boat on the...
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