After negotiating the irrigation ditch pathway we came to this plain of stones across which we made our way aided by star light. Nadir Khan (and his watermellon) left us along here in the darkness to go to his own house. Finally we gained our goal. We entered a wooden gate in a stone wall and into a yard, then up onto a porch and into the guest room. The night was cold and my blanket was wrapped around my chilled damp body.
The guest room was rustic wood, stone and mud, but plush and comfortably covered in carpets, quilts, and pillows. At the moment the one thing I could truly appreciate, a soft flat place to lie down on. Fully spent. Aziz disappeared and I laid back on the cushions and quilts and dozed into easier times.
Aziz reappeared with a pitcher of ice cold clear mountain water. He left again and returned with dinner. Two large plates, each with a double layer of husky chapatties with a thick slightly fermented milk like cheese in the middle, and swimming in melted ghee. Better than wearing the ghee, I think. To drink there are glasses of sour butter milk. Out the open window, in the darkness of the black night, I could hear women's voices whispering and laughing. Almost too tired to eat after ten grueling hours in the jeep and our little nocturnal stroll.
After dinner Aziz piled the brightly flower patterned quilts over the felt rugs to serve as a bed. I slept under more warm soft quilts. I was so tired I would have been satisfied to sleep under the stars on the rocks. The cushions were as clouds to me.