75. The Art of Conversation

I'm eating in the restaurant at my hotel - mainly because its peeing down again outside - and listening in to the conversation on a neighboring table.  One of my favourite occupations! There are 2 Americans, 2 Tibetans - all middle aged, all well to do - none of your backpackers here. They are talking about, among other things, Tibetan issues, with that easy, confident manner that educated Americans (and Brits) have.  All very polite.  And nice.  Its the sort of dinner that I was brought up to regard as how it should be done.  Why does it bug me?  These are educated people who care about the things that matter.  They almost certainly do know their stuff, why shouldn't they talk lightly about the big things in life? What is wrong with easy, nice conversation?  Why does it make me feel and act like a rebellious teenager?  Why would I rather walk uphill all day to be given a cup of tea by a stranger with whom I share only a handful of words, and exhilarate in the connection with somebody so different?

But privately, I revel in still feeling like a rebellious teenager.  I can enjoy it now.  And the lovely thing is that however much I love sitting round a table with people I care about, I revel in having escaped from a world where success is measured in dinner parties, and don't care if that distances me from the sort of people I was brought up to think I belonged to. How did I ever achieve this contentment?

My Tibetan teacher today expressed amazement that I was born in a hospital (he really did ask me if I was born in a tent) - mainly because he seemed to find it incredible that there were hospitals all those years ago: "at that time they have hospitals in England?" - he completely dismissed the whole idea, saying that he was born in a tent and the next day his mother just got on with tending the yaks as usual......!!!  He says its going to snow, his eyes lighting up, and that if it does he'll be straight up to Triund (the walk I did a few weeks ago - 17 miles round trip, 3,600' of climbing).  We westerners stay safely at home when it snows, the Tibetans love it, off they go, straight up!