Neal Stephenson knew what he was talking about. The trek to the caves was anything but a walk in the park. The three of us were getting pretty bitchy after about twenty minutes in fairly broiling sun sliding around in sandals. We'd already seen the views, after all, and this was just supposed to be a little hop over to some WWII relics to inform my imagination of scenes described in that fantastic novel...

So we took a seat at a thoughtfully-provided rest bench, and, if only she'd taken off her sunglasses, we had ourselves our first near-perfect pic.