I’ve discovered paradise in an unlikely place: highway rest stops in the Balkans.
They have great food at reasonable prices, comfortable dining rooms, immaculate bathrooms and other amenities. They’re places you want to stop.
By contrast, most highway rest stops in the United States are, at best, functional. Their food options typically range from vending machine candy bars to overpriced Auntie Anne’s Pretzels and Cinnabons. You often have to wait in a long line to buy coffee or a burger from an overworked employee, then eat with plastic utensils at a nondescript table. Toilet stalls in the rest rooms may be broken and noise from the hand dryers can be deafening.
Not all U.S. rest stops are so grim, of course, but plenty are. They have to serve a much larger number of people and vehicles, with facilities that may be aging, but few even aspire to genuinely good food and ambiance. (They are vastly better, however, than some disgusting places I’ve seen in South Asia and elsewhere.)
I was surprised when I encountered the first highway rest stop of our Balkans trip, in Croatia. Their cafeteria served a variety of attractive entrees along with freshly baked breads and pastries. I enjoyed a pistachio croissant with a cappuccino.
As we continued to travel during the next two weeks, I kept finding good food, good prices and pleasant surroundings — all in a part of the world that’s still “developing.”
By way of example, here are some photos from our stop on Wednesday at the NBT Oil gas station in the Mirdita region of northern Albania, heading on the highway towards Kosovo.
Their cafeteria offered steak, chicken, fish, lasagna and other entrees, along with local specialties, homemade soups, fresh vegetables and desserts. The prices were the same as you’d find in a local restaurant, without the big markup we expect at rest stops back home.
They also had a well-stocked convenience store, a fresh fruit stand, a car wash, an outdoor cafe, a bar (presumably for non-drivers) and a Buddha statue outside the bathrooms, which were large and clean. The gas pump areas were sparkling.
Take a look:
Unexpected discoveries like this often linger the longest with me after a trip. The next time I find myself at the Vince Lombardi Service Area on the New Jersey Turnpike, I expect I’ll recall the Balkans fondly.
Decades before Russia invaded Ukraine, and before the latest conflicts in Gaza and Sudan, Bosnia commanded the world’s attention for the suffering it was enduring.
In the early 1990s, Serbian forces shot civilians, including women and children, in the streets of Sarajevo. They massacred thousands of Bosnian men and boys in Srebrenica. They killed and terrorized Bosnia until NATO finally bombed Serbia and brought the fighting to an end. Serbian leader Slobodan Milošević was later indicted for war crimes.
Bosnia, which is now part of the nation Bosnia Herzegovina, has largely recovered in the years since then. Its economy is growing. Foreign tourists are visiting, as we just did in Sarajevo and Mostar, home to the famous novi Stari Most bridge, above.
But Bosnia Herzegovina has not forgotten.
Many buildings in both Mostar and Sarajevo remain pockmarked with bullet holes.
Both cities have museums displaying the atrocities that occurred. Their street memorials honor the victims. Special exhibits document what happened. When you talk with people, almost everyone has a story to share.
Yet they have tried to move on, like people we met in Cambodia or those I remember from my youth who escaped the Holocaust. Just like a child growing up amid war crimes today, they will never forget what they saw and endured yet they still have the rest of their lives ahead of them.
I was moved by these powerful reminders of Bosnia’s ordeal but was also struck by something else we saw in the city.
Sarajevo is also where a Bosnian Serb shot Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife in 1914, beside the Latin Bridge shown below. That’s the car the royal couple was riding. The assassination led to World War One and millions of senseless deaths, which in turn led to World War Two — all sparked on this street corner in Sarajevo.
Today the site is a tourist attraction, a curiosity rather than a raw wound. Visitors take selfies there. Nobody weeps. A century from now, maybe the same will be true at the memorials commemorating Bosnia’s conflict with Serbia, and perhaps for future generations in today’s war zones.
Or maybe not. Visiting Bosnia reminded me how war and genocide take a toll long after bodies are buried. Their pain endures for generations. Their grip is relentless.
Other nations and other conflicts have replaced Bosnia in our headlines today. But having just visited Bosnia, I know these new memories will persist long after the headlines fade.
It’s obvious why Croatia has grown into one of the world’s most popular tourist destinations. It’s beautiful, full of history, easy to reach and more affordable than many European destinations.
We began our trip there by traveling from Slovenia to Zagreb, Croatia’s capital and largest city. Then we took a bus to Split, the largest city on Croatia’s long Adriatic coast. There we visited Diocletian’s Palace, toured the city, took a ferry to Brac Island (Supetar, top photo) and visited the gorgeous Plitvice Lakes National Park. The photo gallery below provides a few glimpses of what we saw.
Then it was on to Dubrovnik, the beautifully preserved walled town that served as King’s Landing in HBO’s Game of Thrones. Its stunning medieval architecture draws huge crowds that propel the local economy. We were lucky to stay within the walled area and live briefly amid the spectacular setting.
You can see for yourself why Dubrovnik has become so popular — too popular, as it now wrestles with overtourism, like Venice, Barcelona and other hot spots.
We loved our time in Croatia but have now turned our sights to its less-visited Balkan neighbors, beginning with Bosnia and Herzegovina. We expect to find more mosques and fewer Game of Thrones souvenir shops in the days ahead. We’ll keep you posted.
I was deeply saddened by the funicular tram accident in Lisbon on Wednesday, which claimed 15 lives, including foreign tourists.
I could have been one of them, since we rode this tram when we visited Portugal last year. I remember spotting it from the Bairro Alto neighborhood where we were staying, right after we passed the street demonstration shown below. We rode the tram later and I snapped the photo atop this post.
The crash illustrates why some people fear traveling, especially to foreign countries: Something terrible might happen to them. They feel safer staying close to home.
I know from personal experience that bad things do indeed happen around the world.
In Sri Lanka, where we traveled earlier this year, the 2004 tsunami rose to the height of this Buddha’s head, killing tens of thousands of people. As in Portugal, we were lucky to not be there when this happened.
In 2015, we visited Nepal shortly after an earthquake killed nearly 9,000 people and caused extensive damage, as with this rubble pile near where we stayed. The earthquake could have struck while we were there.
We’ve also visited countries where we saw frequent reminders of recent wars and bloody violence. This exhibit is at the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City in Vietnam, which we visited two years ago.
In neighboring Cambodia, we visited the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum in Phnom Penh, with its chilling displays of the Khmer Rouge’s brutal reign.
Last year we saw this small memorial in the Plaza de Mayo of Buenos Aires. It honors the mothers who bravely protested the “disappearance” of their children during Argentina’s military dictatorship.
So I’ve seen plenty of examples of things going badly around the world, and I haven’t always been able to avoid them. Back in 1976, I made the mistake of visiting Uganda when it was ruled by the dictator Idi Amin. This photo shows me with a guy we met on the train while traveling there from Kenya. My friend, Mitch, and I were detained at this police station in Gulu and suspected of being spies. We were lucky to leave Uganda unharmed.
But bad things happen in our country, too. This photo shows Champa checking out the menu at a restaurant in Maui where we celebrated a special wedding anniversary in 2019. A few years later, much of Lahaina was destroyed by a wildfire, including this restaurant and the Airbnb where we stayed. They’re all gone, and it could have happened while we were there.
Some people we meet during our travels are scared to come to the United States because of all of our shootings and other violence, not to mention feeling unwelcome as foreigners. When I look at some recent notable shootings — Minneapolis, Las Vegas, Orlando and many more — I say to myself: Been there. Been there. Been there. In other words, just as with the tram in Lisbon, I was in the wrong place but at the right time. So here I still am.
Now here’s another shot from our Portugal trip, taken in the Douro Valley, the renowned wine region. As you can see, we thoroughly enjoyed our visit there. It was a wonderful day, one we would never have experienced if we’d stayed home, where we could have died in some random accident anyway. And it was just one day in one trip in one country of the many we’ve been fortunate to visit.
I’m writing this in Dubrovnik, Croatia, a place I’d long hoped to see for myself. It’s even more stunning than I expected. Tomorrow we’re heading to Bosnia and Herzegovina, where we’ll confront the horrors of the 1990s conflict, including in Sarajevo, but also meet interesting people, try new foods and learn about a country that cannot be defined only by its worst moments.
My heart goes out to all of the victims of the Lisbon tragedy, and their families, both Portuguese and foreign. Having traveled where their loved ones died, I feel a connection to their loss. But I will not let breathless news reports, recency bias or anecdotal evidence distort my assessment of actual danger, which I still consider very low if I’m careful.
That’s true back home and it’s true on the road. My conclusion is to keep traveling, enthusiastically, mindful of potential dangers but realistic about how dangerous they really are.
Plitvice Lakes National Park is a national gem in Croatia filled with waterfalls and scenic views. This one-minute video, also available on YouTube, shows highlights:
We just visited Ljubljana and Zagreb for the first time, so first things first:
Ljubljana is pronounced Loo-blee-aa-nuh. It’s the capital of Slovenia (not Slovakia; that’s Bratislava) and has fewer than 300,000 people.
Zagreb is the capital and biggest city in Croatia, with about 700,000 people. Yet many American travelers to Croatia never go there. They typically visit Dubrovnik or someplace else along Croatia’s coast.
Both Slovenia and Croatia were part of Yugoslavia, along with Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro and Macedonia, which is now called North Macedonia.
If you already knew all of this, I apologize for the review. I didn’t. I knew Slovenia was the home of First Lady Melania Trump and basketball star Luka Dončić. I recognized Dubrovnik as the location for Kings Landing in Game of Thrones. I knew the name of Yugoslavia’s former leader, which was the same as one of the Jackson 5: Tito.
Pathetic, I know, but I’ve embarked on a trip to remedy my ignorance. During the next several weeks, Champa and I will be exploring the Balkans and then traveling to Italy.
We started in Slovenia, a small gem nestled between Italy, Austria, Hungary and Croatia. Ljubljana is green and charming, with cobbled streets, historic buildings and a castle. The city center is car-free. Boats glide along the Ljubljanica River. Bicycles ply the streets.
We watched a free outdoor showing of Jaws and then walked back late to our hotel, feeling completely safe.
We also traveled to Lake Bled, a gorgeous spot framed by mountain peaks and a hilltop castle. We walked around the lake (about 6 km) and took a boat to a small island with a historic church. We were joined there by 200 guests about to witness the marriage of two Americans, one of whose family is Slovenian. I doubt I’ll ever see a more fantastic destination wedding.
We loved Ljubljana and Slovenia, although we weren’t there for long. We traveled next to Zagreb, a two-hour ride on FlixBus.
Zagreb is bigger, reminding us of Moldova in places with its brutalist apartments. Much more striking are its Gothic-Baroque Old Town and the grand buildings of its Lower Town, which are more Austrian and Hungarian.
We saw the large statue of national hero Ban Josip Jelačić in the central square, with dancers beside it (top photo). We watched a canon explode at noon at Lotrščak tower and then walked inside a giant tunnel built for protection against wartime bombs.
We visited the Museum of Broken Relationships and pondered the many forms of heartbreak.
Some sights were unexpected, such as a statue honoring the prostitutes of the city’s former red light district, which Champa is admiring in the photo, or a shop featuring Croatia as the birthplace of the men’s necktie (a dubious honor, in my opinion).
We also came across a shop selling spices and other products to the city’s growing Nepalese community, some of whom we chatted with.
As we embark on our Balkan adventure, our initial stops in Ljubljana and Zagreb confirm something I’ve discussed previously, which is that Americans who stick to familiar destinations are missing out on some amazing places. Both cities were beautiful, fascinating and relatively inexpensive.
As Tito himself might have said, visiting them is as easy as one, two, three, and as simple as Do, Re, Mi.
One decade ago this month I walked away from a job I loved to shake up my comfortable life and try something new.
I stepped down as the head of news and communications at Duke University, surprising my outstanding team. We’d been working together for years to respond to research discoveries, sports championships, weather emergencies, campus protests and more, as well as to the rise of social media and other dramatic changes to the media landscape.
With Keith Lawrence at the Durham Bulls Athletic Park. The photo I’m holding, signed by my colleagues, shows a sign tracking the number of days since Duke’s last scandal.
Duke sent me off with a big reception at a local theater and, as shown in the photo, an informal farewell at the Durham Bulls baseball stadium.
Less than a week later, Champa and I embarked on an 11,000-mile drive around the United States, followed by an extended trip to Nepal. That’s where the two of us met in 1977 when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, posted to the same school where she was teaching.
Visiting the Soroca Fortress in Moldova.
Finally, after a short break, we got rid of much of our stuff, rented our house and moved to Moldova, in Eastern Europe, to begin serving together as Peace Corps Volunteers.
I chronicled our three-year adventure on this blog and in my book. Since returning to Durham in 2018, we’ve continued pursuing our “not exactly retired” lifestyle, joining a growing number of older Americans who have been redefining retirement as more than leisure — and redefining themselves in the process.
Several news outlets profiled us as examples of this trend, which in our case has meant extensive travel, volunteering and spending time with family and a network of friends that reaches around the world.
I’ve never looked back.
I enjoyed my career and still miss my Duke colleagues, some of whom recently lost their jobs because of federal funding cuts, but I knew it was time for a change. Just like when I graduated college and chose to backpack across Europe, Asia and Africa with a friend instead of following my classmates to graduate school, I wanted to grab life and see what else it offered.
Visiting Tallinn Town Square in Estonia.
As I’ve approached this ten-year milestone, I know how lucky I’ve been. I left my job before the Covid pandemic and current funding crisis. Champa and I finished our service in Moldova before the pandemic and war in neighboring Ukraine forced the Peace Corps to halt its operations. We’ve been fortunate with our finances, health and family responsibilities. We could have encountered some disaster while traveling abroad, or at home, but we’ve been fine.
I launched this blog to share with friends our initial drive around the United States, never expecting it to continue so long or to reach people in more than 100 countries. I’ve loved hearing from readers with questions about the Peace Corps or early retirement, or just seeking encouragement to make a leap themselves.
Some of the other older volunteers who served with us in Peace Corps Moldova.
As I’ve told them repeatedly, my message is not “join the Peace Corps!” That’s a good choice for some people but not for others, assuming they get past the rigorous application process. Rather, I’ve urged readers to be intentional about their lives, to choose instead of drift, regardless of their interests. We all have dreams, whether it’s to launch a business, start a nonprofit or master a new skill. It’s often possible to pursue that dream, even on a limited scale, while respecting the real-world complexities that come with it.
Champa and I plan to keep going as long as we can. We’re traveling more than usual now so as to remain outside the United States during its current turmoil. You’ll see soon where we’re heading next. As we approach the next election, however, and as we get older, we will reevaluate. One of the main benefits of the past ten years is how comfortable we’ve become with uncertainty and change.
Delivering food for the Food Bank of Central & Eastern North Carolina during the pandemic.
Veering from our traditional American lives has enriched us immeasurably. These riches have come not in additional paychecks but in the people we’ve met, the places we’ve seen and the memories we’ve made, all while remaining centered with our family and friends. As we’ve learned on the road, we are far from unique in doing this. Many other older people with widely varying budgets and circumstances are also traveling off the beaten path and blazing their own trails.
I know how privileged we are to be among them. Not everyone can do this; family obligations, finances, medical limitations and other constraints are real. But it is possible to resist letting fear or habit prevent us from living with purpose. We can choose to make room for what truly matters to us.
Visiting the new school we recently helped build in Samalbung, Nepal.
An old Peace Corps slogan says: Life is calling. How far will you go? As we wrap up our first decade of being “not exactly retired,” Champa and I are grateful for how far we’ve gone and still looking forward to whatever comes next.
Dubai and Abu Dhabi were impressive when we visited last week. Our overlap with President Trump’s trip to the region was coincidental but instructive.
Millions of people have flocked to the United Arab Emirates from around the world. They seek higher-paying jobs and better lives amid growing skylines, bustling airports, a modern metro system and luxurious shopping centers.
What they don’t find are democratic institutions. UAE’s citizens, who comprise a small percentage of the population, cannot change their government and have limited human rights.
The same is true of Qatar and Saudi Arabia, which President Trump also visited last week. Thanks to their oil riches, all three nations have transformed over the past half-century from poor agrarian societies into modern global powers. Champa and I visited Qatar’s capital, Doha, two years ago, and were amazed, just as we were in the UAE.
Yet I wouldn’t want to live in any of these countries. As an American, I am unwilling to compromise my freedom to speak out, criticize the government and write an article like this one.
I recognize my good fortune in asserting this. If I were poorer and felt no stake in the political system, my overwhelming concern might be to improve my economic situation.
The UAE exemplifies the beguiling appeal of autocracy. Its royal families can act with few constraints from courts, legislatures, reporters or protestors. They have used their extraordinary power and wealth to build schools, hospitals, roads and shopping malls, creating jobs for millions of people while enhancing their own fortunes.
You can make a similar case for China and some other nations that have prospered over the past several decades. Their leaders have immense power and can be ruthless and corrupt, but they often get things done.
In our own country, by comparison, our political system struggles to solve anything, from the price of eggs to protecting our borders. Recent successes have been limited.
It’s not just that these Mideast monarchies have so much money. Consider Bhutan, where we spent several days before flying to Dubai. It’s vastly different from the UAE — poorer, Himalayan and Buddhist. It is remote and idyllic, with a “democratic constitutional monarchy.” Yet its unelected king retains enormous influence.
Here, too, the people we met — a tiny sample — enjoy living there. Bhutan has made great strides in reducing extreme poverty. It’s currently building a “mindfulness city” that was glowingly profiled on 60 Minutes. Many of its young people have left to pursue opportunities abroad, including in the Gulf, but Bhutan has been a success story compared to many of its neighbors. We traveled there from Sri Lanka and Nepal, two fragile democracies beset by poverty and political strife.
Of course, during the past year we’ve also traveled to Portugal, Canada, Australia and New Zealand — countries with both strong democracies and healthy economies. At the other end of the spectrum, I’ve visited autocracies that provide neither freedom nor prosperity. And to be clear, I am appalled by the corruption and cruelty taking hold in my own country, and by the recent attacks on science, education, diversity and other ideals central to my career.
Furthermore, I know the people I met in the UAE may have hidden what they really believe, and people everywhere are motivated by more than economics. Autocracy’s rise in our own country has many roots.
So all of this is complicated, to be sure. And, no, this trip didn’t change my mind about what I value. Yet traveling to the UAE, especially while Trump was there, made me think anew about why so many people, including fellow Americans, are willing to accept autocracy. I don’t agree with them. I think we must solve our problems ourselves, without autocrats who often make things worse. But after seeing these gleaming cities up close, I find it easier to understand why some people might make choices different from mine.
When autocracy dazzles, it’s hard to see anything else.
Bhutan has been widely hailed as the champion of “gross national happiness,” but I had my doubts.
I’ve never forgotten its mass deportation of ethnic Nepalis in the 1990s. More than 100,000 people languished for years in refugee camps. Ever since, I’ve avoided going there. Until now.
I kept hearing glowing reports from friends who visited Bhutan. There was also no denying Bhutan’s leadership in showing how a country can advance while protecting its own culture and environment.
So, this past week, I finally traveled there with Champa from Kathmandu. We arranged a quick tour with an excellent local company, visiting Thimphu, Punakha and Paro.
And now, I have to admit it: Bhutan is pretty wonderful.
It’s like Nepal in many ways, with terraced fields and snow-capped mountains, but it’s cleaner, calmer and easier. As we drove from the airport in Paro to the capital, Thimphu, there was no trash on the road. No blaring horns. The rivers were clear. The air was pure. Everything was well-maintained.
Many people wear Bhutan’s distinctive national dress — the kira for women and the gho for men. Every building has traditional architectural motifs. Prayer flags are everywhere. So are photos of the royal family. Bhutan’s beauty surrounds you.
We visited many of the main tourist spots, including several dzongs, or fortified monasteries, and the breathtaking Dochula Pass, whose 108 memorial stupas frame white peaks of the Himalayas. We climbed partway up a mountain to view the Tiger’s Nest monastery, which clings to the side of a cliff (top photo).
We visited a “fertility temple” along a path whose shops feature ornamental penises. We bathed in tubs heated by hot stones, tasted the local momos and drank homemade alcohol with a Bhutanese family.
Like I said: pretty wonderful.
So now I’ve joined the ranks of Bhutan’s many admirers. Bhutan requires visitors to travel with a guide and imposes a hefty daily fee, so it’s more expensive than a typical trip to Nepal, which is why our own trip was short. But Bhutan is also gentler for Western visitors, especially those who haven’t experienced South Asia previously.
Personally, I’m much more likely to return to Nepal instead of Bhutan in the future. That’s where our family is and where my heart lies. I speak Nepali and feel at home in the chaos of Kathmandu traffic and the paths of Champa’s hometown. Nepal is also a much bigger country, with a population of nearly 30 million people versus 800,000 for Bhutan.
Yet I’m glad we finally gave Bhutan a chance and I’d recommend it to anyone wanting to explore the Himalayas. The scenery is stunning, the people are friendly and it’s fascinating to learn how this small country is charting its own development path based on gross national happiness — something we could use a lot more of ourselves back home these days.
First-time travelers to Nepal typically visit the magnificent temples and other treasures of the Kathmandu Valley. If they’re adventurous and have the time, they may also go trekking near Mount Everest or someplace else.
That’s what I did back in 1975 when I first discovered this magical country. I fell in love with Nepal, even before I met Champa, and I remain smitten with it a half-century later.
We’ve returned here many times but have usually been so busy visiting our family that we didn’t explore much beyond the tourist trail.
Until now.
We just returned from a memorable road trip to several places we’d long been hoping to see: a remote valley unlike the rest of Nepal, a picturesque town atop a mountain and the homeland of the king who unified Nepal.
We enjoyed all three places — Mustang, Bandipur and Gorkha — as well as our stop in Pokhara, a more familiar destination famous for its beautiful lake and snow-covered peaks.
If you’re considering a trip to Nepal and want something different from the usual itinerary, you might consider a similar trip. We did ours in five busy days with a private jeep, traveling with our nephew, Shankar, and his wife, Bindu. They hired our driver but you could arrange something similar with a local travel agency.
Mustang is a distinctive region of stark landscapes and traditional culture. Parts of it were closed to foreigners until recently and permits are still required to visit (although easy to obtain). We stayed in the main town of Jomsom, home of the Thakali people. Apples grow in many of its fields and its stone houses are adorned with prayer flags. We gazed out of our hotel window to see snowy peaks and small planes landing across the street at a tiny airport.
Mustang is best known for Muktinath, a temple and pilgrimage site for both Buddhists and Hindus. Champa and Bindu visited it while I remained in Jomsom with Shankar since I wasn’t feeling well that day. I was sorry to miss it but still happy to finally see Mustang, which was so mysterious when I first came to Nepal.
Bandipur, our next stop, was familiar to me since I did my practice teaching there during my Peace Corps training in 1977. I remembered it as being spectacularly beautiful — and it remains so, although much more developed.
Bandipur is a traditional Newari village built atop a small mountain. Back when I lived there, the usual way to reach it was by climbing a long series of stone steps. Now you can drive up or take a cable car, which we rode for fun. Cars are banned in the town center, which has a growing number of souvenir shops and small hotels catering to tourists who have begun discovering this charming escape from Kathmandu’s traffic and pollution.
We stayed in a lovely hotel — two private rooms with five dinners and breakfasts for $68 — and the owner was amazed that I’d taught there so many years earlier. He told some friends and the next morning we were joined at breakfast by one of my former fellow teachers and his wife, who’d worked with the Peace Corps. That’s Bidya Prasad Shrestha and Laxmi Shrestha in the photo with us. Amazing.
Gorkha is a regional center best known as the birthplace of Nepal’s unifier, King Prithvi Narayan Shah. He’s a bit like George Washington in our country and lived at roughly the same time. Gorkha also lends its name to the Gurkha soldiers, who serve in other countries and are known worldwide for their bravery.
We only spent a brief time there, mainly to climb up to the Gorkha Durbar, a 16th-century palace featuring both monkeys and traditional architecture. Nearby is the Manakamana Temple, which we’d visited previously and is a great place to stop and visit via cable car while driving between Kathmandu and Pokhara.
Pokhara’s tourist crowds are bigger than ever, with hotels, restaurants, shops and travel agencies filling the streets near the famous “fish tail” mountain and lake. Nonetheless, we were happy to return. We strolled beside the lake and enjoyed dinner at one of the many outdoor restaurants along the shore.
When the rhododendrons are blooming, the lake is shimmering and the famous mountains appear — Annapurna, Dhaulagiri and others — few places on Earth are more stunning than Pokhara.
We returned to Kathmandu just in time to celebrate Nepali New Year. We’ll be visiting with several friends and family this week and will then head east to Champa’s hometown, Ilam. From there we’ll drive through the tea gardens and mountains to Samalbung, the small village where we’ve been helping to build a new school with generous support from many Not Exactly Retired readers.
For now, we’re savoring our road trip to some of Nepal’s less-visited places. We’re very glad we finally made it to Mustang, Bandipur and Gorkha — three destinations that I hope others will discover, too.
"Not Exactly Retired" 