I walked by a stone table. One guy among a bunch of guys enthusiastically playing ping-pong on it started chatting with me as I passed. I stopped to talk. He seemed easy-going enough, though stood kind of close. The conversation was friendly and he did not seem to want anything. I eventually asked if I could take a photo of the table tennis players and he agreed.

I was going to continue my walk when an older woman who had been standing nearby (I half wondered if it was the ping-pong dude's mother) started talking to me. Turned out, she just wanted to sell stuff to me. Mental and physical slump. It's so strange when people want to sell me jewelry. I don't wear a lot, the occasional earrings or necklace (and I was wearing the minimum now, while traveling) and that, combined with telling the person "I don't wear much jewelry" you think would lessen the enthusiasm. But that phrase has been universally ignored. She wanted me to come to her house and look at her wares. The idea of spending my extremely limited time being awkwardly obliged to buy some overpriced stuff I didn't want did not sound like fun. She was polite, but persistent and I was trying to remain nice, but I just eventually kept walking.

A restaurant mentioned in Lonely Planet appealed to me. Probably because the description mentioned quality beef and I hadn't eaten beef in almost 11 months. Of course, wouldn't you know it, New Everest Steakhouse must have been the one restaurant to move or go out of business since the guidebook edition was published. I could find all the places around it, but not that one. I did eventually settle on something that claimed to be "Pokhara's Best Steakhouse". All I can say is that it must have been the only steakhouse. First, they cooked it so shockingly rare that it made me question what "medium" actually meant. They cooked it more upon request, of course, but even when it was satisfactorily not raw, it tasted like cheap (and old) meat. I couldn't even eat three bites. That explains the price (hovering around $5), which should have made me worry, especially for such a thick cut, but I had been getting hungry at the time. I ate the potatoes around it for dinner with a $5 wine in a cute little glass.

I walked back down the other side of the street, looked up and saw the sign on the left. Yeah, I'm guessing not a convenience store, despite the similarity of the logo...

He was right. When the wind came and pushed the chute out behind us and we started moving forward, I tried to run and immediately found it useless, but then I remembered he said to try, so I kind of tip-toe-ran. But soon enough, we were over the side and I tucked in.

It was an extremely calm take off. We did not seem to change speed or direction, we were just suddenly floating in the air. I was not scared, though I was sufficiently quiet that Claudio asked if I was doing okay. He had me adjust my position until it was like I was sitting on the strap, then he had me cross my legs for stability.

The only times I felt a little nervous were when we made a turn that was a little sharper than others, or dropped a bit. I held on to the strap more often than not. Other than that, it was a smooth and gorgeous flight.

There were a couple dozen other paragliders out there with us, but we never came close to any. Claudio explained it is because everyone steers in a clockwise direction.

The views of the Annapurna range were unbeatable. What helped my enjoyment was that we were in some kind of updraft (or just really gradually descending) and so we got to slowly loop at nearly the same altitude several times. If I missed the photo of the snow-capped Himalayas the first time, I had a second and third (and fourth and so on) time to try again.

The good: this quiet museum has a nice view through its gigantic windows, some great photographs of well-known and lesser-known mountains, nicely laid-out information about the history of the famous peaks - mainly Everest, and several displays of real mountain gear throughout the history of climbing.

The-not-as-good: The building is pretty low-budget on the inside, I didn't want to use the toilets on quick inspection, and, despite the sign, I could locate not a single souvenir shop.

On the whole, it was worth the extra time to drive out here, but my favorite part was when I was walking on the sidewalk back to the entrance, a large elementary school group out on a field trip was walking toward the museum. Almost all of them said "Namaste" or "Hello" to me (and I returned the greeting.) Very cute. And they loved climbing on the mountain out front.

Not this cave. This cave was HOT. Hot and humid. I am not even sure how this is possible. (Unmentioned thermal underground feature?) I started sweating from more than freaked-out-ness.

There are only a couple points of interest in the cave. One was the terminus, the other side of the tunnel where the river came through. The other was some kind of shrine or temple.

When I looked at the shrine, I thought of death. The whole place had a smell of death, though I suspect it was psychological.

I would have taken a photo of the fenced-off (colorful) holy place, but the pictured sign stopped me. I would have visited it at least, but some dude sitting at a desk (in the middle of the cave) told me I'd have to remove my shoes. This is the only place so far in Nepal that has asked that. The floor of the cave was muddy, wet, and gross. No thanks.

One highlight (besides the amusing signage) was running into the very same group of kids inside as I saw at Devi's falls. The friendly youngster with great English smiled at me, pointed to my forehead and said "sweat?" Hahahahaha, yes indeed.