We Are Not Eaten by Yaks by C. Alexander London Page B

world.
    â€œThis seems like a good place to camp,” Celia said.
    â€œThis might not be the worst trip of our lives after all.” Oliver smiled. “I wonder if they get the Reality Network?”
    â€œAnd the Soap Channel,” Celia added. Dr. Navel just shook his head at his children and sighed, and they all made their way carefully down the slope toward the strange camp.

14
    WE HAVE A TV DINNER

    THEY WERE MET by a group of smiling Tibetan women wearing colorful clothes and handmade jewelry. The women were not young, but they didn’t look old either. They looked, strangely, ageless . All of them, however, had dirty teeth, and all of their teeth had been filed down to sharp points.
    Lama Norbu called out to them in his language, and the women answered with smiles and bows.
    â€œThey welcome us to their camp,” he explained. “They are just preparing dinner and would be honored if we would stay the night. We will be safe here.”
    â€œPlease, come in,” one of the women said in English. She had a turquoise headband encrusted with shining stones and heavy rings on her fingers. “You are very welcome here. We receive many travelers and it would be our pleasure to be your hosts.”
    The other women nodded and gestured toward some logs that were spread around the fire. They rushed to cover each log with a thick animal fur so it would be a more comfortable seat. Two of them ran off to continue cooking, while the others ushered the family to the logs to rest their tired feet. They took hospitality very seriously.
    â€œYou are American?” asked the one with the headband, who appeared to be their leader.
    â€œWe are citizens of the world,” Dr. Navel answered, as he always answered that question when someone asked. He didn’t like to be defined by borders.
    â€œYes,” Celia said, because she wanted to hurry the conversation along and get to watching the satellite TV. Her father shot her an annoyed look.
    â€œYankee Doodle dandy!” one of the other women sang, laughing. “Old McDonald had a farm!”
    â€œShe speaks no English,” the woman with the headband explained. “But she knows many songs.”
    â€œCan’t buy me lo-ove,” she sang, smiling and nodding. “The Beatles!”
    â€œI do hope you will join us for a meal,” the other one said, ignoring the woman who kept singing pieces of Beatles songs.
    â€œI am fasting while we look for Shangri-La,” Lama Norbu said to the Navels. “But please, enjoy this food. These women are from the Bön sect, the oldest religion in Tibet, and you could learn much from them. I will seek out a quiet area to meditate, now that we have found a safe resting place for the night.”
    With that he bowed politely and wandered off past the camp and into the thick brush of the forest.
    â€œHe is a strange man, this monk,” the woman with the headband said.
    â€œHe’s a lama,” Oliver said. “Not a llama.”
    â€œI see,” the woman answered quizzically.
    â€œThank you for having us,” Dr. Navel said as he settled onto a log. “I am very eager to learn about your culture.”
    â€œOh,” said the woman. “We are just simple women who have spent our lives in this canyon. Our only knowledge of the world comes from that television and from the pilgrims who pass this way. We are not great explorers like you.”
    Celia and Oliver shifted anxiously on their feet. They wanted to get to the television already. They kept glancing at the hut with the satellite dish.
    â€œI am sure you know a great deal more than you think,” Dr. Navel said.
    â€œDad,” Celia whispered. “Can we please go watch the television? Pretty please?” She made her sweetest puppy-dog face.
    â€œThis is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You can hear about the ancient ways of the Bön—did you know that they place their dead on tall towers