16 April 1889
Nepal
I continue to be plagued with fevers and chills in this insufferable valley. Nyima’s fathers insist I am experiencing a common childhood ailment, but I believe it is altitude sickness. The only treatments they offer are bitter herbs and horrendous butter tea. No doubt it is brimming with medicinal properties, but it has the same texture and appearance as yak snot, and is equally palatable.
Trying to interpret Nyima’s incessant questions—half gestures, half words I can only guess at—makes the headaches worse. And why her ugly goat must sleep inside with us, I cannot guess. Keeping animals inside is commonplace here. But the smell of sharing your home with them is horrendous. I miss the clean sheets and gentle scents of home.
1 March 2053
Viet Nam
Together, Tuan an
