JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi Daniel Linden (feel good novels txt) 📖

“I’m a martial art teacher. It’s called aikido.”

He just nodded. That’s rare. Most people want to hear about it. His hair was a bit long for someone so old and his beard was white. The clothing that he wore was old but serviceable, it had clearly seen many miles and I wondered at his age how many miles he had left in him. It struck me then that this man was real. He was genuine. This was the real article; a man of adventure, and a traveler. You see so many who pretend, but Buz had the scent of Kilimanjaro seen from across the Serengeti. He had the feel of smoky bars from Cairo to old Havana. He had the look of someone who can tell the difference between vintages from Santorini and not care. He had traveled the world.

“What brings you here?” I said. “Are you with a group?”

“No. I haven’t been back for a while but I’ve been thinking about bringing a group. I used to come all the time. I’ve probably been here a dozen times or more and sometimes I miss it. I wanted to come by myself and make certain that nothing had changed, at least nothing that would make too big a difference.”

“There’s a lot different since the last time I was here,” I said.

“Well that’s the way of the world. Very little stays the same for very long. I’ve been leading trips my whole life. I’ve gone everywhere, I’ve led trips to Africa, to Asia, I’ve been to South America so many times I can’t count them all. There are only a handful of places I’ve never been. I’m not sure I’ll get there now; I’ve never felt so old. Of course, I’ve never been this old.” He laughed hilariously.

We talked for the next hour and I found myself really enjoying the older man’s company. If even half the stories he told were true he’d had an amazing life full of travel and adventure. I heard voices and looked up to see my whole group come in being trailed by half a dozen tall young men so handsome I couldn’t believe it.

“Italians,” Buz muttered.

I waved them over and took a moment to glare at the strangers. It was enough to send them back out into the street, but they did not wander far. I heard the Latin twist to the vowels and consonants even through the stone walls.

“Everybody, this is Buz Donahoo. He is a foreigner – he lives way over in Winter Park.”

“No!” Chris shouted and stuck out his hand. “All this way to meet someone from Winter Park.”

Buz shook hands with everyone and then turned his attention to the young ladies. He was quite a charmer and spoke quietly to them. He had Esra giggling and blushing in short order and I turned to Curtis and asked about Bim.

“He’s on his way. There are a lot of porters and support people here, but they have their own places. Most of them are way up in the mountains and he is sending for them. He said he would be here shortly, though.”

I turned to Celine and Esra and waited for the old lothario to pause before asking, “I understand you have something you want to tell me?”

Celine looked embarrassed, but Esra just smiled and said they wanted to go with another group for a few days. She said that they had been told that there are better hikes than the one we were going on and that someone had reported Maoist rebels up in the Gokyo region. I turned to Buz and asked him if he had heard anything like that.

“I like the trek to Gokyo Ri. It has the very best view of all the 8,000 meter peaks that you can find and it’s high enough for me. As far as Maoist rebels go, I heard that some thieves calling themselves revolutionaries were in the Solo Khumbu, but I thought that the Nepal Army had sent some squads through and they had disappeared a few months ago. I wouldn’t worry about them. They just charge you a tax, extortion if you want, but you give them a few dollars and they go away.” He turned to Esra, “What hike do you think will be better?”

She beamed, “I have heard that Kala Patar is very beautiful.” She spoke each word slowly and very carefully and I was amazed that she could have made so much progress in so few days. I guess she had had many willing language instructors.

Buz nodded his head. “That’s a good one, all right. Do you have good ice climbing equipment? Good crampons and an ice ax and ropes?”

She looked concerned and a little confused. “Everyone said they would give us everything we would need.” Again she spoke slowly and enunciated each syllable carefully.

Buz nodded. “I’ll bet they did,” he muttered. “Well, you’re grown women and make up your own minds about these things.” He shrugged and turned to me and shrugged again. Celine looked as if she wanted to say something but only turned her chin and pointed toward the door. I nodded and she settled down to see what would happen next.

Pemba came over and took an order for drinks and we waited until Bim stuck his head into the dining room. I got up and walked out with Celine following me.

“Will you need porters or are your new friends going to provide them as well?” I asked.

“Oh, Sensei, they are not my friends. They are nice, but they want only one thing. Men are all the same.”

“I know,” I said. “We really are pigs. I wouldn’t have anything to do with a man if I wasn’t a man myself. We smell and chase women around for only one thing and we drink too much and make unpleasant noises; we swear all the time…”

She smacked me on the arm and started