After zipping down the mountain, saying goodbye to monks and puppies, we hit "cattle rush-hour." This was the first of about 12 herds that were being shepparded back to their respective farms. We would stop in the middle of the road, and the cows/bulls/calves would part around us like the red sea. There would always be one giant bull in each herd that would walk straight at us and then turn at the last second. Jiji seemed comfortable with this. I was not.