I’m looking out over the valley below and the mountains rising up on the other side. The slopes are all covered with terraced fields making them look like the sides of giant stepped pyramids. It’s late in the year now, the rice has been harvested and the paddies lie barren and empty, just the prickly stalks sticking up from the mud. The mist lies like a thick blanket over everything and two days of drizzle has made things all damp and soggy. Standing here I imagine how it would look earlier in the year, just before harvest, the golden yellow rice waving in the breeze and a blue sky with a few fluffy clouds high above the mountain tops. I wish I could have timed my journey better…