(Photo Marc Levy)
A few clicks after the beautiful paddies (there is much hard work in that beauty) the sky turned dark with thunder and rain.
We ran to a wood shack and huddled beneath its porch roof. A young H'mong, slightly drunk, sat on his haunches and
plucked hypnotic sounds from a Jews harp. He varied the pitch by changing the shape of his mouth. For an hour we
sat or stood while he played. He had big teeth and straight black hair and a grizzly beard. How did he make that music?
After a time the sun came out. We hiked six hours that day. We ate good and slept well.
