Day 49: Pokhara to Chomrung
We talk beside a small Hindu temple in his garden. It's an esoteric affair, containing a Buddha, a picture of the Blarney Stone, and a figure of St Jerome, the patron saint of languages.
'Cover all our options,' he grins.
John is a wiry, sharp-eyed 78-year-old. He still looks and sounds military, with a clipped delivery, straight back, green shorts and socks pulled up to the knee, but his replies are never predictable. He speaks ten Asian languages.
'I learnt one in seven days. Mind you, I wasn't eating.'
He sees an historical pattern in what's happening here.
'This is my third revolution,' he tells me. 'The first one was in Malaya, the second was in Laos. The first one the government won, one-zero, the second the communists won, one-all, and this is my third. Third time lucky for who?'
He sees it as something that's been bubbling for a long time.
Choose another day from Himalaya