Heading around the outskirts of the runway we entered the main street in Lukla. The street was a narrow crowded place with all manner of shops, stalls, teahouse and a couple of bars, not to mention some cows lounging around. I spy the highest Irish bar in the world, and my thoughts immediately turn to my beloved wife with whom we always seek out an Irish bar in whichever foreign city we travel to. On this journey it looks like I will have take one for the team on my return to Lukla in a 13 days time. I pass a hard rock café, which I suspect isn’t a real one, several more cows, lots of tourists and eventually we head to the outskirts of town. I am amazed to be greeted with a sign that
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