Presently stood outside the cemetery where my paternal grandmother is resting. We have brought all the things needed for the visit.
There are gates.
The gates are locked.
The local village is in charge of the gates.
You have to arrive, call the number at the gates, then the villager who is responsible for the keys will come here (they prefer the bus, which will take longer than 20 minutes).
The number reportedly changes regularly, so you have to actually come here to find out what the number is.
There is a very excited cockerel crowing despite is being ages past dawn.
It “feels like 31C”, with 98% humidity. We’re up in the mountains but the mobile signal is perfect.
We are waiting for the villager, whom we’ve told to take a taxi and we will pay for it.
I’ll check in with whether, and when we’ve gotten to say hello to grandma later.
The Real World for Young People 