Jim and Jitka were curious to see where their wedding would be held. So we were all going to meet at Sign of the Dove at 1:00 p.m. Sign of the Dove is an elegant restaurant on the elegant Upper East Side. I thought I'd try to dress a little better than usual. This is a bit of an effort for me, so I arrived a little late. I entered the restaurant and immediately noticed two elegantly dressed blonde ladies of a certain age sitting elegantly in the elegant hallway. I knew that I could never look like that. You can take me out of the Upper West Side but you can't take the Upper West Side out of the way I dress. I shrugged.

I glanced around to see whether Jim and Jitka were waiting. They weren't. I wondered where they could be. I looked out the window. I noticed two familiar figures trudging across the street. Jim and Jitka.

Actually, you couldn't help noticing them. They just stood out. They would be trekking in Nepal soon. So they were dressing for it. They both had on faded jeans and tee shirts. And the new hiking boots they had just bought for the trek. In order to break in the hiking boots, they were wearing them wherever they went. I hadn't noticed another pair of hiking boots quite like theirs on the elegant Upper East side. Or in the elegant Sign of the Dove, either. Where not a single pair of hiking boots had probably ever entered before. And they were both hauling along huge gray plastic bags with blue stripes. The bags were almost the same size that they were. So you really couldn't help noticing them.

"Hi," I greeted them with a kiss. I made a point of disregarding whatever reaction to their outfits either of the elegant ladies might have. "Did you find what you were looking for?" I asked. Which was a stupid question. Since the huge plastic bags made it obvious that they had.

"These are our backpacks," Jim informed me, pointing to the five foot high bags.

They stowed their packages and clomped upstairs to inspect the rooms, which they liked because they were so elegant. Then they clomped downstairs again. We decided to have lunch.

They retrieved their bags, and we and the bags trekked a few blocks to the Midtown Diner. The three of us plus the bags got into a booth for four. It was a little crowded. But we fit.

They told me about their trip to Asia. They would be visiting Malaysia and Bali and India and Egypt. But most of all, they would be visiting Nepal. They would be trekking in the jungles and mountains of Nepal for a month. Jim was really looking forward to trekking for a month. So much so that he cut short the time they had planned to stay in California. To get more trekking time in Nepal.

The reason he wanted so much time to trek in Nepal, Jim said, was to ride elephants. Ride elephants? Why, I wondered, would anyone want to travel by elephant? When for decades now everyone's been traveling by car? Which only goes to show the sort of unadventurous person I am.

Jim wanted to see the wildlife, too. Wildlife? I thought. Why go to Nepal to see wildlife? Don't we have zoos?

"What kind of wildlife is in Nepal?" I asked politely. Still thinking of all the zoos. In Nepal, Jim said, there are tigers and rhinos. And also bears. I thought of all the tigers and rhinos and bears I have seen in zoos. But Jim would rather see them in Nepal. In Nepal he will trek all over, looking for them. He will trek with a sherpa, he said. And he will also trek with a guide. The sherpa will carry things. And the guide will tell them what to do in case they are attacked.

Attacked? Rather than see wild animals in zoos, they're flying to Nepal? To be attacked?

Not, Jim was saying, that he really needs to be told what to do in case of an attack. He already knows. He researched it. "You climb a tree." he said matter-of-factly. "You climb a little tree if a rhino attacks. And you climb a tall tree for a tiger."

Climb a tree? What if there aren't any trees? And how will someone who's been raised in cities all his life know how to climb a tree, anyway? Even if there are any?

"What about a bear?" I asked, more hopefully.

"You climb a little tree," Jim said. " And if you trek in the Hamalyan Mountains," he added, "you might even get to see a Yeti."

A Yeti? Wasn't that an imaginary creature? It's very hard, I sighed, to know anything at all in life. Even about your own children. Here was Jim, planning to chase all over Nepal after imaginary creatures. Like Yetis. And dragging Jitka, too. To think that I had always hoped he was the level-headed one in the family.

Jim explained that it was especially easy to escape from a rhino. All you have to do is run in a zig-zag. And throw them a piece of clothing as well. I thought of Jim running from a rhino to the nearest tree. I hoped he would remember to run in a zig-zag. I hoped he would remember to throw some clothing, too.

When lunch was over, Jim and Jitka put on the three dollar sunglasses they had bought to keep out the Nepal sun. They decided it made more sense to wear the back packs than to haul them around in five foot plastic bags. So they removed the back packs from the huge plastic bags. The back packs looked huge, too. I rather doubted that they would be able to run very fast from the tigers and rhinos chasing them. With such large backpacks on and all. Jim was explaining all the things they could put in them.

"There's even a place for my guitar," he said happily.

His guitar? In Nepal? I looked at him in astonishment. What will he be doing with his guitar in Nepal? Won't it get in the way when he's attacked by tigers and rhinos and bears and has to dash to the nearest tree for safety? Which he probably can't climb, anyway. Having lived in cities all his life.

As I waved good-by, they took out their metro cards. They complained that they have trouble swiping their metro cards through the turnstiles. I realized how much simpler life in Nepal would be. Trekking through mountains and jungles. No need to swipe metro cards through turnstiles. Nothing fancy like that. The only thing to worry about in Nepal are tigers and rhinos. And bears. Not metro cards. They clomped down the subway stairs in the hiking boots they were breaking in. Wearing what looked like the largest backpacks ever seen in New York City. Certainly on the elegant Upper East Side.

And as I watched them go, I realized that I had never even asked if either one of them could climb a tree.

September,1997
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"You mean you were taking notes!" Jim exclaimed indignantly. "All the time you were asking questions, and I thought you were worried. You were taking notes!"

Jim had just seen the notes I had written about trekking in Nepal. He was excited to find out that I might be writing about him. Since I have already written lots of pages about everyone else. But he's never been around New York long enough until now.

"Yay!" he shouted, waving his arms overhead. "Finally! I made it! I'm going to be a page!"

He and Jitka were about to leave to meet friends for a drink. They had their hiking boots on. And their plaid shirts. And new Gore-tex jackets, too. And they weren't using the elevator, either. They were trekking down nine flights of stairs. They're training for Nepal.

September,1997
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