ers that mark the track of the Pamir
Highway.
We reach Mestia by midday, a
medieval town nudging its way into
the 21st century. Bare-legged hikers
relax in the sun drinking Cokes while
old, bent women dressed all in black
hobble their way past, living their
austere lives seemingly oblivious of
the changes happening around them.
The town, too, exists in parallel uni-
verses: worn, lived-in, tumble-down
houses made of stone and mud and
hand-cut wooden beams rub shoul-
ders with newly-constructed guest
houses looking like Swiss chalets, and
cafes soliciting the tourist dollar. It
even boasts an air strip. And, dom-
inating the town, ancient defensive
towers stand like monoliths, hand-
built standing stones, fifty foot high.
TRAVERSE 40