Someone selling pumpkins for a living in Nepal would have a modest life, and yet I noticed people always carry themselves with a sense of dignity. There seems to be a lesson for anyone distracted by materialism.

Labourers transporting vegetables seem to have it tough, but they’re probably glad to even have an income.

Bargaining is an expectation, not an option in countries like this. Deals go on around the clock.

Market sellers would not get away with smoking back home. I thought she was tough for putting out a cigarette with her tongue.

It seems impossible to not stand out as different in a place like this. I resolve to still value what I have in common, and buying from street sellers seems like one way.

I visited a textile factory in Kathmandu for 4 hours. I liked meeting the workers, and could see the attention to detail and skill they had in making quality garments. One person I spoke to had been working there 33 years. He was a garment cutter and also made the clothing templates. He was happy to try and communicate with me even with neither of us knowing the other’s language well, though he understood English better than I understood Nepalese. The atmosphere of camaraderie reminded me of any workplace at home in Australia.

I wondered about their lot in life. Their aspirations are the same as everyone else’s overseas. People at this factory would have better conditions and pay than many in Nepal.

The machinery was fascinating. The knitting machines had about 100 switches, and the operator would slide a roller over the bench part and the needles would add a row of thread. Then they can program the next row with a different sequence according to the desired pattern. There could be four or more different threads loaded in at once. This style is not traditional hand knitting but it’s still hand made, and no stage in making garments is automated.

I thought of going to Nepal at the same time as dad without telling him and surprising him. I got one of my brothers to subtly ask what hotel he’s staying at, and just say it’s so there’s a point of contact if needed.

I went straight there from the airport. The hotel staff said he’d just gone out for the afternoon, so I asked for their help to call me when he returned. They were in.

I had just unpacked when they rang, and they kept it a secret. I had booked a place nearby and walked over. He was in the room so was completely unsuspecting when I knocked. He was definitely surprised!

The only downside was waking him up from a nap, leaving him confused for the first couple of seconds after opening the door.

I am the only white person on the flight to Nepal. I am pleased to be outside of my familiar environment.

We admire breathtaking views of the mountains flying across Tibet from China.

I took a selfie at Chengdu Airport in China to capture the moment of embarking on something new.

The in-flight program includes a series of pressure point massages to boost mood after the long flight. Everyone on the plane does them at the same time. I find this use of Chinese acupressure impressive and noteworthy.

Striving for eternity

Spectral Classes of Fixed Stars was published by the German Central Pedagogical Institute (DPZI). It’s hung on the hallway at my apartment and I’ve passed it a thousand times. My friend suggested I meet the authors, which sounded like a worthwhile idea, but I’m not going to have any luck tracking them down.

Directly affiliated with the Ministry of National Education, the DPZI was the central non-university research institution in the field of education and schools in the East Germany from 1949 to 1970. The institute was meant to become less scientific, but politically effective, by turning the “democratic school” into a more useful strength for socialist society.

My Own Private Idaho speaks to ‘being normal’ by juxtaposition. I identify with Mike’s unrequited love, failures, disillusionment and misfortune. The one thing dear, friendship, eventually jettisoned by a twist of social circumstance. Mike’s is life a microcosm of what is inevitable one way or another for everyone, intensified at the boundaries of what one human could bear, sharpening the question if 'normal’ is ever a reality for anyone.

The visceral but stylised tone of this movie made it one of my favourites.

broaching time and distance

Maker bench and tool rack from recycled materials. Door and plastic packing crates from hard rubbish, joined with bolts. Lamp from green shed.

Tools: drill.

Price: $3. Effort: 3 hours.