Tigers and Sheep and Bears and Exploding

Short Version:
We walk from Chyamche to Bhagarchap, and play games

Stats:
Total Walk time Day 4 = 6:00
Cumulative Total Walk Time = 16:45
Beer Time = 8:45

Long Version:
Chyamche morning:
Streetsweeper is out and sweeping; his short-handled straw brush and shovel increased the time it took to get the job done, but also meant that when there was a chunk to pick up, he was already in position to do so.
Englishman in hotel opposite ours attacks his wife with his Hello Kitty hat's ears. She's not impressed.
Stray dog hangs around for scraps. Nene obliges it. We're saved from acquiring the beast longer-term by the hotel proprietor lady, who scares it away with yelling and suspected deliberate-no-contact kick action.
Tea/coffee mugs: Could you bear a hug? [picture of cute teddy bear]

Speaking of bears, the entire time we were in Nepal, we were plagued by Winnie the Pooh carry-bags. They were everywhere! Assumption is that some minion added a zero to the number required on the manufacturing order sheet, and the extras were dumped on the South Asian market for disposal so as not to impact the asking price on developed markets.

Today saw the first physical action in the Puppet v donkey conflict: on a (relatively) wide section of path, we'd moved well out of the way of the approaching mule train. For some reason, though, one of the beasts in mid-pack lined us up from distance, and came straight for us. No worries, it'll go around us. Or not. Bastard thing.

Also today, an explosion! An actual, exploding explosion, with noise, and smoke, and debris, and crowd management by uniformed men with guns! No moustaches though.
We'd been walking for an hour or so when we saw the first soldier, just after we saw the medevac in progress. The unconscious patient was in a basket, strapped to the back of a grimly-determined-looking middle-aged man. An assortment of people fluttered about the pair, mopping brows and generally not being much use. One of the reasons the locals are keen on the road, presumably.
The soldier was running downtrail, gun banging against his hip with each step. He didn't stop to chat, but the pair that followed did, telling Ganga that there was road construction ahead, and that they were closing the trail behind us to ensure no injuries from the blasting action. We hustled onwards, seeking a good viewing spot for the action, which we found, atop a hill, across the valley from the blast site. We had a prime view, comfy rocks to perch on, sunshine to bask in. Perfect! Then the army guys told us to move. Bastards. We joined the crowd by the symbolic "You're now entering Manang District" archway, next to the razorwire-topped army compound wall, and stared fixedly at the cliff on the far side of the valley. It exploded. Noise. Smoke. Dust. Rockfall.

A little later, eating lunch while watching a pig consuming the wall and roof of its house, we realised that we could tell which sections of road had been blasted through obstructive rock, and which had been carved into a less-steep hillside; the rocks lining the riverbanks were of uniform size where blasting had taken place, ranging from fist- to head-sized. The natural rockpile banks had far greater variety, with rocks ranging from tiny to the size of a house.

It was late afternoon by the time we stopped, at Chame, at the pasang Guesthouse. We sat outside in the sun until the sun went away, at which point the temperature dropped noticeably, and everyone with an ounce of sense went inside. Being nonsensical paid off, though, as the Puppet was the only one to see the middle-aged lady slip and fall on her backside. This, with the backdrop of high, snowy peaks stil bathed in sunshine, was pretty special viewing.

Indoors, we created a paper-and-beans version of the wood-and-steel game we'd seen in overpriced Thamel trinket stores. Unfortunately, we knew nothing whatsoever about how to play; all we knew was that one person had 4 tigers (the white beans) and the other had 20 sheep (the dark red beans). Lucky for us, Uzir figured out a) what we were trying to play and b) that we had no idea how to play it, and he fixed the board and taught us the rules by beating Nene. Twice. Then a Random Old Man stepped forward, and handed Uzir a defeat, then handed over to Nene to indulge in standard boardgame practse... ie thrashing the Puppet. Pretty much everyone in the place was involved by now, either offering advice, moving their chosen supported-player's pieces for them, or just standing behind one of the players and making disapproving noises whenever someone did something stupid (the Random Old Man was particularly good at this).

Pretty soon we were warm and fed and sleepy, and it was off to bed in our wood-walled room, to sleep beneath the watchful gaze of the Chinese baby, lying on its stomach, with the caption "Give me health and a day I will make the Pomp of emperors ridiculous."