Not much description is needed for the most colorful shop on the walkway. Knitting is one of those skills my grandmother tried to teach me when I was young. I was ok on a straight-line scarf but making something that actually fit a foot or body was a class I never took.

	You've probably never seen a Sherpa before. So you're probably not aware they wear red hats, hand-woven skirts, warm woolen scarves and...mmm, just a minute.     It was the pack that threw me. On second glance, this appears to be Leela discussing the relative merits of boots versus flip-flops for high-altitude trekking with heavy loads. If I know the lady, she's telling him there's no reason he should be humping pate and pita bread up snowy mountain passes for dilettante climbers. And he's likely suggesting that it's easier than carrying the climbers themselves, although the Champage bottles do tend to dig into his ribs.     This is just a guess because I was busy making sure there was a shadow of overhead wires lining his face. I know the dog perked up rather suddenly, so perhaps we both just thought we heard pate mentioned.
Shoes repaired while you wait. If you click on the picture to see the larger image, you'll see a three-pronged foot-tall metal object directly in front of the man. He flips this around as need so that the right metal plate faces up, allowing him to drive nails into new soles and heels. My grandfather was a cobbler and I've always had a special affection for the men who fix our shoes and the tools they use. What do they say about cobblers children having the worst shoes? This cobbler has none at all.
	Every day the orange ladies sat in front of the stone wall, adding their color and warmth to the day. Every once in a while an orange would escape and one of the children would retrieve it.
Peace, brother. Or perhaps Leela is just ordering two. These vendors prepare Indian sweets that start with a round, crusty, hollow ball of pastry much like an empty eggshell. They punch a hole into it with their thumbs and fill it with whatever is on offer. Leela loves them. I pretend to be interested in photography. Of course I'm not too interested in the desserts of most countries, including my own. If it's not ice cream or sorbet or pumpkin pie like grandma made or chocolate anything then I'd rather have a bit more of the main meal, please, and skip dessert.
	Just down from the orange ladies, there was a bit of street theater getting started. Two boys set up a box and a third boy got inside. Will he disappear? Dozens of people were willing to wait to find out while they listen to the amusing banter of the oldest boy.
I'd love to tell you the outcome but the build-up took so long that my Western feet began itching to go someplace else. It wouldn't have mattered if it were David Copperfield come to the Himalayas, however. I don't like magic any more than dessert. I'm going to guess that he disappeared, but not for long.
	In front of the State Bank of India, there's a cement landing surrounded by a cement wall. I looked over it to find the Motorcycle Artist intent on his painting with his paint bottles and spare brushes sitting on his bike. More than most pictures, this one shows the incredible detail you get from a PhotoCD scan of a slide. Click on the red dot to get the largest image here and realize that a PhotoCD contains another twice as large. At 3000x2000 pixels you can see whether he cleans his fingernails.
There are nearly as many ways of making a living as there are people. Like the laborer with the wooden pack on his back, this man carries a moveable feast -- or at least a snack -- to where his customers are. And like the tractor roaring over the rise, this photo was a hipshot, taken just before the crowd closed around him again.
	When Leela and I arrived at Bagdogra, the military airport two and a half hours south of town, and went looking for transport to Darjeeling, we were approached by Mr. Blue and his sidekick. He was quite friendly and spoke English and we had as good a trip as you can have in the back of Land Rover over rough roads. When we arrived in Darjeeling and got out, I saw the back of his coat with "Betty & Don's Beehive Tavern." Betty and Don are my parents' names. It may not be a great story but it's a great coincidence.
Finally, sometimes the best thing you can do when the world's in a whirl is stand still and smile.

     
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