The plane’s wings dipped.  The expectant and anxious tourists filling it’s cavernous interior sat nervously or watched out the small windows at the soft mountainous contours as the pilot worked the plane between the billowy cliffs of the towering clouds.  His trapped cargo wondered collectively whether he would clear the protective foot hills of Kathmandu.

       Kathmandu does not have, at this time, a sophisticated radar system for air traffic and it depends on the survival instincts of the pilots to bring in the walking currency that Nepal so depends on.....safely.  Two planes had recently been lost. One had over shot the airport, the other undershot. As we cleared the last few hills there was a collective sigh of relief as the DC-10 lowered it’s nose.  Looking out the window I saw the approaching city of low buildings cloaked in their shades of browns and umbers.  Puzzled cloud shadows raced over streets which were cracks in dried earth zigzagging through Kathmandu.                                        

       The airport seemed woefully small.  The wheels squealed as the giant craft settled to earth. Applause erupted.