My tooth broke
After my two week hike in the Himalayas, I was almost back to the Gurungs home, where much of my stuff and my motorcycle was. The bus stopped long enough for me to race out and buy some nuts and various unidentifiable Nepalese nibbly bits.
I still vividly remember the moment my tooth broke on, I don't know, maybe a piece of sand or something in the nuts, and things. The tooth split in half.
The next day I went into the small town near Harka's place, and found a "dentist".
The only thing keeping the dust an noise out of his not so sanitary looking operation room was a piece of cloth hanging from where you'd think a door should've been. His dentist's chair and drill would have made any North American proud to own - in 1947.
I still feel bad, in that I accidentally asked him if there was anything he could do for me until I got home to a real dentist. This justifiably insulted him, and as soon as I said it I kicked myself.
Well, I didn't get the work done there, and decided to take off in search of a dentist, back to Kathmandu, this time by motorcycle.
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