Honey in Nepal
I awoke to the smell of smoke.
My tiny flashlight illuminated the pile of clothing next to my backpack. I pulled on my wool beanie and jacket and went through the attic’s trapdoor. I emerged to a view of a Himalayan blue sky, framed by banana and guava trees.
Aama, my homestay mother, and her youngest son, Rabindra, crouched over a wooden box beside the mud house. There was buzzing.
Wearing a green, floral sarong; brown, long-sleeved T-shirt; pink, quilted vest; and white,...