Farewell to old friends . . .

. . . and old shoes. The guy downtown on Sunday insisted he could fix these for me. I know better than to argue with the touts but I was perhaps in a good mood. “I don't need them fixed because day after tomorrow I'm going to throw them away.” But I can fix them for you. “No you can't. Besides a torn heel there are wholes in the sole” I can fix that.

I realized then he wasn't interested in conversation.

So, here they are today, my last look after 11 years of service. I bought them when I first came to Nepal in 1998. They walked thousands of kilometers across this country and several others. Their last great journey was my walk around Shikoku last summer. Since then they've just been hanging on.



Back in December when the Iraqi reporter threw his shoes at George Bush, I thought about sending one each to George and Dick to congratulate them on their retirement, but that gesture has in only a few months become passe.

I feel like I should offer them to a ceremonial fire, but I suppose instead I'll just drop them in a garbage bag.

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