How Elves Hide

They give themselves funny names.

Elves hide by shielding their blogs from search engine crawlers.

They don't speak by name of their location or associates.
They avoid catchy keywords.
They avoid drama.
They hope they can say more by saying less.

I arrived on September 11 in the capital, about 5 weeks ago now. I fell asleep in the plane after departing Kunming. I awoke over the second largest city of Fairyland, 35, 000 feet below, situated in a broad dry river valley running north and south, with rolling hills east and west. We followed the river to the south, with the sky growing progressively hazier and towering cumulous rising on the southern horizon, signaling a tropical coastline ahead. We descended over a flat green delta region. From the final approach, I could discern large areas of paddy dotted with small settlements, and then the capital city spreading low and far.

Immigration and customs were uneventful. I had imagined drama, as elves are wont to do, and prepared for it, but in fact, elves look--and are--pretty much like everyone else except in their own imaginations, so no one asked any questions or attempted to delay me. The girl in Customs poked at my 50-pound bag of climbing gear and raised her eyebrows in question. "Climbing gear" I replied. I opened the bag, pointed to my new Edelweiss 9.6, and mimed someone climbing. It probably looked to her like a salamander climbing up a wall. She smiled--"Sport apparatus"--and waved me through.

I was happy to see another elf waiting for me as I left customs. He didn't have a sign that said "Elf"--we recognized each other. In fact, I was the only elf on the plane.

Today, a Saturday, I went into school. I had a report to submit, a conference abstract to write, and some course prep to take care of. I thought I would have solitude here, but many elves have gathered to work today. I think we tend to rattle around in a big strange city, and the office feels familiar and productive. And, in fact, school is a wonderful place, a little walled outpost of industry, frank conversation, and ideas amidst a dying kingdom. Even the tea shop outside the walls where I had my lunch (curried goat and rice) feels special. A group of men from olden tymes gathered there on the shin-high elfen stools that one finds in tea shops here and talked over important issues with respect and good humor, in a language that I can't yet understand.