This ‘moment’ was more accurately a series of moments and most of an afternoon, with an old muleteer and his wife. We interviewed the gentleman who lived near my home in Shangrila and he began (and ended) our chat with some locally brewed barley whisky and a bit of tea. His wife sat quietly listening to him recount his tales which went on for hours and as time progressed and successive whiskies were downed, she would intervene more and more often to gently correct certain parts of his tales, which included dates of journeys, relationships, and even cargo of some of the caravans. She knew because she had kept records of his absences and had cared far more about his work than perhaps he realized. He became gently irate and insistent with her and she calmly annihilated his logic and facts until we were no longer part of an interview but rather amidst a torrent of arguing. It was magic and she was quite epic. In the end, we believed (almost entirely) the woman.
