Sloths apparently hang from trees for up to a week at a time before descending to empty their bowels. And whilst Haider's Inn in Karimabad could be described as our tree, the similarity ends there. We have returned to our favourite place where there is not much to do but read and enjoy the views. There are others here who find other recreational delights such as doing their laundry and smoking hashish (never the other way round). Here I celebrate my birthday with a walk up to a high view point, above a neighbouring village, where we dine on chicken jalfrezi. As always, as we wander around, there are groups of men sat around scratching their balls, whilst the women are kept busy in the fields or carrying stuff to and fro. We pass a school where the young teacher is describing something in English to a group sat out on the veranda. There are other children around, running errands, fetching water, helping with the harvest or just milling around. Nearly everyone says hello. On the way back down through the village we leave the jeep track and take an ancient and very steep staircase that winds down through a maze of terraced fields, water courses, fruit trees and kitchen gardens. The stairs must be as old as the village, worn smooth and shiny. The villagers are rewarded with fantastic views.
After a few days of this we return to Gilgit one more time.