We check out of the Ajanta hotel like bandits that morning. The DTTDC has instructed us that the Ajanta hotel is an assembalnce of small time crooks and are putting us in a good place today. We walk down 1/2 a block to where we will be meeting our driver. Our Driver's name we are told is Mr. Singh. Singh in English translates to Lion. So in other words, we are going into the Lion's Den.
A white, compact car with Dolphin borders pulls up five minutes later and we flock to it like it's our ticket to freedom. Mr. Singh steps out of the car. He is wearing a black turbon and carries a grizzly black beard. He reminds me of an Indian Santa Claus. Immediately he charms us as he whisks us away from the swarms of touts, rickshaws and beggars in the immediate area. As the door shuts, we are away. We leave the headaches behind us for the next few weeks.
Today's itinerary is a city tour of Delhi. Mr. Singh assures us that as his driver, we have nothing to worry about. He is going to take care of admission into any buildings and museums. He tells us in his heavy Punjab accent, "no problem".
Punjab is a state in India where many of the Sikhs of India live. Sikhism began in the 18th century as a means of protecting India from being overrun by the Islamic empire. Sikhism borrows from both Islam and Hinduism. The Sikhs believes in only one God, and they preach to this god using personal mediation. Sikhism was started by a Guru (expert) named Nanak. There were ten Gurus that followed. The last Guru basically stated that it is up to the people to continue this religion and pass it on to their respected families. One of the precepts of Sikhism is honesty to others. At this time, I'm really glad Mr. Singh is a Sikh. He can pray as much as he wants just as long as the trip gets better.
And the trip gets better - Immediately. It is amazing how easy it is to get from one monument to another monument to another museum in minutes in what usually would take an hour of combined haggling and worry. We visit New Delhi today. We see a Lakshmi temple. We see the Indira Ghandi Museum - a fascinating tribute to Ghandi's life. Ghandi was one of the most important Prime Ministers of India, as she started the India-UN food grain program and nationalized the banking system. She was a champion of Civil Rights, and like all leaders way ahead of their time die much too young. She was assasinated in 1984 at the tender age of 67.
We see the Qutab Minar - the Islamic victory tower. Bascially the Muslims destroyed a series of Hindu temples in the last great battle in the 12th century. Believing in recycling, they use the rubble of the old Hindu temples to create an immense 200 ft. tower. Those guys were ahead of their time.
We see the Lotus Temple - a strikingly beautiful temple that reminds me of the Sydney Opera house. It's a Bahaii temple based on the new Bahaii religion. This religion mixes the best in all of the major religions and creates its own. It has a whole bunch of precepts that state tolerance to all, world courts, just societies, and all of the other nonsensical unrealistic ideas. Still, it's a beautiful temple. I know that someone high up is laughing about the Bahaii temples all the way to the bank.
--------
After 4 days of intense frustration, today is finally a success. Having a driver allows you to see the charms of India. Lisa and I are leaving with Mr. Singh to Agra tomorrow - home of the Taj Mahal, the Agra fort, and troublesome scams. I'm sure I'll be telling you every painstaking detail here quite soon. Enjoy yourselves, as we will do the same.
Talk to you soon,
Travelling Sherman
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Delhi, India - Part 1
November 22,
I wake up from the sleeper train as people all around me have woken up. There is some commotion on the train, as tourists are throwing their rucksacks upon their backs. After a surprisingly good night's sleep on the train, we have arrived in Delhi. We exit the train station and walk down the steps to find ourselves planted in this Nation's Capital.
You begin to feel the throng of over 10 million people when entering in Delhi. Samosa stands, rickshaws and 'tourist' agencies fill the streets. As many of you may know, Delhi is broken off into two main sections: Old Delhi and New Delhi. The old city is the original Delhi township, that may have been settled over 2500 years ago. After originally being one of the primary towns of worship for the Hindu religion, it was overtaken by the Muslims in the 12th century.
The Muslims ruled Delhi for almost 6 centuries until the Brittish empire rolled into town around the early 19th century. The Brittish moved the capital of India to Delhi in the early 20th century and decked out what is now New Delhi. New roads, stores and restaurants were installed. Today, you can still see evidence of these two distinct parts of town - Old Delhi and New Delhi.
-----------
While the food and mystique of India cannot be beat, India is not by any means a place to receive consistent information. Nothing is what it seems. For example, you can forget about asking for directions in India. A friend that we met told us that she asked six different people where a certain establishment was located and received six different answers. In India, the response of "I don't know" is never uttered. In fact, asking for directions can easily get you into a wild goose chase, where you are leashed around the city for 20 minutes and are emphatically shown your location when you get there. In other words, if you don't have your act together, don't even bother setting foot outside your hotel or guesthouse. Just go back to bed and try again the following day.
We are staying at the Ajanta hotel nearby the train station. And at first glance, it's a fine hotel. Lisa and I were thuroughly drained from Varanassi that we needed a nice place to stay. At $30 per night, the Ajanta hotel seems like a 4-star hotel compared to our previous amenities.
We then begin to read between the lines. If you want to get a taxi, they may say to you: "Why do you need a taxi? Just step into our travel office." You may even get impressed the first time you see "Gov't approved" outside the window. You then realize that half of the travel agents have the same sign posted out in front of their offices. My head begins to spin again. Nothing is what it seems.
------
We finally look back into our India Rough Guide and find the DTTDC - the Delhi Tourism and Transport Development coorporation. This is considered the official government agency. I ask the rickshaw to take me here and he obediently follows. He insists on staying parked right outside so that he can take me back. After a weak showing of resistance, I give in. I let the rickshaw driver stay as I walk inside the office.
I meet a gentleman named Naz. Right away, he seems much more subdued than the scores of other agents and touts I have met in my travels. I tell him that my girlfriend and I wish to take a Delhi tour tomorrow. Naz gives me the information and tells me to come back with Lisa. For the first time, here is someone that was not desperately trying to squeeze out every rupee from my wallet.
I take the rickshaw back and it's a harrowing experience. The driver takes me to an emporium (an Indian craft store) despite my sharp disagreements. I refuse to get out of the rickshaw. The driver caves in and takes me back to the hotel. He makes my skin crawl. As I get out of the rickshaw I try to go into the internet cafe next door. The driver follows me in trying to 'help' me. If he was back in the USA, he would be a Friday evening miniseries. In India, he is business as usual.
---------
I meet Lisa and go over what Naz from the DTTDC told me. She agrees that it sounds good, as we agree to go back right away. We decide to walk this time. The same rickshaw driver follows us for a block and then gives up. We get to the area of town where I think the DTTDC is located, and then we get lost. Located in Connaught Place, you have to navigate through a series of concentric semicircles. We try asking for directions, and it's a disaster for the reasons explained above. After an hour, we retrace our steps and we miraculously find the place. We are exhausted yet relieved, as Naz sees us and greets us at the door.
----------
Naz has us take a seat, as a few groups of westerners are working out their travel plans as well. By the looks of their faces, it seems that they had some of the similar experiences as us. I gulp down two cups of chai (Indian tea with milk). We finally get a chance to speak with Naz.
Paranoia has taken over both Lisa and me. How do we know these guys are not imposters. Nothing is what it seems. India now seems to me as one big Twilight Zone episode that never ends. Naz assures us that all is okay. Between his experience with westerners and his experience in the industry, both Lisa and I begin to relax. Lisa is on her 3rd cigarette this afternoon, and I don't mind one bit.
After realizing that the bus tour is full tomorrow, Naz convinces us to take a driver and make it a bigger tour. We decide to do it. It may seem posh to have a driver every day, but in India it makes all the sense of the world. No rickshaws, no haggling, no headache. Let me know where I sign the check.
So Lisa and I sign up for a 15 day tour that starts with a 1 day city tour of Delhi, a few day stint in Agra, followed by almost a 2 week stint in Rajasthan. We are so relieved. After taking dinner closeby, the DTTDC even has a driver drop us off at our hotel. We are instructed to be packed and ready at 8:30 in the morning to meet Mr. Singh - our driver for the next 15 days.
I wake up from the sleeper train as people all around me have woken up. There is some commotion on the train, as tourists are throwing their rucksacks upon their backs. After a surprisingly good night's sleep on the train, we have arrived in Delhi. We exit the train station and walk down the steps to find ourselves planted in this Nation's Capital.
You begin to feel the throng of over 10 million people when entering in Delhi. Samosa stands, rickshaws and 'tourist' agencies fill the streets. As many of you may know, Delhi is broken off into two main sections: Old Delhi and New Delhi. The old city is the original Delhi township, that may have been settled over 2500 years ago. After originally being one of the primary towns of worship for the Hindu religion, it was overtaken by the Muslims in the 12th century.
The Muslims ruled Delhi for almost 6 centuries until the Brittish empire rolled into town around the early 19th century. The Brittish moved the capital of India to Delhi in the early 20th century and decked out what is now New Delhi. New roads, stores and restaurants were installed. Today, you can still see evidence of these two distinct parts of town - Old Delhi and New Delhi.
-----------
While the food and mystique of India cannot be beat, India is not by any means a place to receive consistent information. Nothing is what it seems. For example, you can forget about asking for directions in India. A friend that we met told us that she asked six different people where a certain establishment was located and received six different answers. In India, the response of "I don't know" is never uttered. In fact, asking for directions can easily get you into a wild goose chase, where you are leashed around the city for 20 minutes and are emphatically shown your location when you get there. In other words, if you don't have your act together, don't even bother setting foot outside your hotel or guesthouse. Just go back to bed and try again the following day.
We are staying at the Ajanta hotel nearby the train station. And at first glance, it's a fine hotel. Lisa and I were thuroughly drained from Varanassi that we needed a nice place to stay. At $30 per night, the Ajanta hotel seems like a 4-star hotel compared to our previous amenities.
We then begin to read between the lines. If you want to get a taxi, they may say to you: "Why do you need a taxi? Just step into our travel office." You may even get impressed the first time you see "Gov't approved" outside the window. You then realize that half of the travel agents have the same sign posted out in front of their offices. My head begins to spin again. Nothing is what it seems.
------
We finally look back into our India Rough Guide and find the DTTDC - the Delhi Tourism and Transport Development coorporation. This is considered the official government agency. I ask the rickshaw to take me here and he obediently follows. He insists on staying parked right outside so that he can take me back. After a weak showing of resistance, I give in. I let the rickshaw driver stay as I walk inside the office.
I meet a gentleman named Naz. Right away, he seems much more subdued than the scores of other agents and touts I have met in my travels. I tell him that my girlfriend and I wish to take a Delhi tour tomorrow. Naz gives me the information and tells me to come back with Lisa. For the first time, here is someone that was not desperately trying to squeeze out every rupee from my wallet.
I take the rickshaw back and it's a harrowing experience. The driver takes me to an emporium (an Indian craft store) despite my sharp disagreements. I refuse to get out of the rickshaw. The driver caves in and takes me back to the hotel. He makes my skin crawl. As I get out of the rickshaw I try to go into the internet cafe next door. The driver follows me in trying to 'help' me. If he was back in the USA, he would be a Friday evening miniseries. In India, he is business as usual.
---------
I meet Lisa and go over what Naz from the DTTDC told me. She agrees that it sounds good, as we agree to go back right away. We decide to walk this time. The same rickshaw driver follows us for a block and then gives up. We get to the area of town where I think the DTTDC is located, and then we get lost. Located in Connaught Place, you have to navigate through a series of concentric semicircles. We try asking for directions, and it's a disaster for the reasons explained above. After an hour, we retrace our steps and we miraculously find the place. We are exhausted yet relieved, as Naz sees us and greets us at the door.
----------
Naz has us take a seat, as a few groups of westerners are working out their travel plans as well. By the looks of their faces, it seems that they had some of the similar experiences as us. I gulp down two cups of chai (Indian tea with milk). We finally get a chance to speak with Naz.
Paranoia has taken over both Lisa and me. How do we know these guys are not imposters. Nothing is what it seems. India now seems to me as one big Twilight Zone episode that never ends. Naz assures us that all is okay. Between his experience with westerners and his experience in the industry, both Lisa and I begin to relax. Lisa is on her 3rd cigarette this afternoon, and I don't mind one bit.
After realizing that the bus tour is full tomorrow, Naz convinces us to take a driver and make it a bigger tour. We decide to do it. It may seem posh to have a driver every day, but in India it makes all the sense of the world. No rickshaws, no haggling, no headache. Let me know where I sign the check.
So Lisa and I sign up for a 15 day tour that starts with a 1 day city tour of Delhi, a few day stint in Agra, followed by almost a 2 week stint in Rajasthan. We are so relieved. After taking dinner closeby, the DTTDC even has a driver drop us off at our hotel. We are instructed to be packed and ready at 8:30 in the morning to meet Mr. Singh - our driver for the next 15 days.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Varanasi, India
November 19,
I am sitting at the Ganga Fuji guest house with the various tourists from the UK, Australia and New Zeland. The boss tells us to have a seat. And for the first time here in Varanasi, my headache is beginning to subside.
Some people say that India is a constant headache. For the moment, I could not agree more. There are vehicles swiping at you from every direction. There is dust coming out from every angle. There are people coming at you with every trinket known to humankind. It begins to make sense why yoga was started in this country. It prevents people from the straight jacket. It also makes sense why Buddha became enlightened not far from this very spot. It furthermore makes sense how Buddha came up with his 4 noble truths: sorrow, the cause of sorrow, the end of sorrow, and the path leading to the End of Sorrow. My current theory is that the citizens of India need an escape from the chaos of its 1.1 billion people. They need to escape from the constant heckling of the Cycle rickshaws, Auto rickshaws, and bovine creatures. If anyone has found the path leading to the End of Sorrow, please send me an email straight away.
The Brahman (high class priest) has just stepped on the couch behind me and is murmuring some prayers in Hindi to Shiva - the God responsible for destroying and recreating things. The Brhaman looks into a red lighted box and reads his prayers similar to how an elementary school kid emphatically recites the Pledge of Allegiance. Within minutes, he is gone. Express prayer. You can leave the two hour sermon behind you. Now that is a religion looking into when I get back home.
---------
Varanassi is a love/hate relationship. It is India's olderst city - from the 6th century B.C. -- and to be quite honest, you can tell immediately when you get there. The old city is limited only to small motorbikes, pedestrians and cows. After one night in the plush outskirts of town in the Cantonment district, we dive into the old city like a 5 year old dives off the high dive for the first time. We take the auto-rickshaw as far as it goes, which is on the fringe of the city centre. For those not familiar with an auto-rickshaw, imagine attaching a lawn mower engine into an golf cart. You then fill the vehicle to 175% capacity, and charge exhorbatant ammounts to take people very small distances.
The driver lets us off the rickshaw as we walk on to the main Bazaar - rucksacks strapped in. It is like a scene out of the "Indiana Jones - Temple of Doom" movie. Shops and Bazaars outline an otherwise dusty road. There are no addresses - simply alleyways. The traffic is chaos. The rickshaws run rampantly down the roads with no sign of traffic laws in sight. The only thing that trumps their manner is the holy cow. Black cows, white cows, bony cows, gangly cows - it does not matter. The cow runs the road. That is the end of the story.
----
Varanasi is considered the holiest city in all of India. Its temples mark the epicenter of Hinduism, attracting thousands of pilgrims each year. It would make sense that the Ganges river - India's largest and holiest river - would flow right through Varanasi. The people of Varanasi hold the Ganges with high regards. They believe that the river has a healing and theraputic power. Hence, many spiritual rituals are performed here on the river Ganges.
One such ritual is what I will call "The Sendoff of the Dead". During the day, the townspeople decorate the recently deceased in a shiny foil. The deceased are then put on to stretchers and paraded through the old city. After a brief ceremony in one of the old Hindu Temples, they are taken down to a ghat - a tiered riverbank where the sendoff ceremony will take place later that evening.
There are many ghats in Varanasi. They are mainly separated by caste system. For example, someone in the priest caste would be sent off in a different ghat than someone in the warrior Caste. We go to the Manikarka Ghat that evening, where mainly members of the priest caste are sent off.
Huge fires have been created along the ghats. The dead will first be creamated in a ritualistic nightly ceremony before their remains are sent along the Ganges. We huddle as close as we can around the procedings, but we are warned that getting to close would provoke hostile behavior. To be quite honest, I can understand. I wouldn't want a bunch of strangers scribbling notes and taking pictures at my loved one's funeral. On the flip side, the local Varanasi onlookers have no problem bugging you constantly while you try and watch the "sacred" ceremony. They may try out their broken english and ask questions such as the following:
"Know Something?"
"Friend, where you from?"
You can even pay a few hundred rupees per person to take a boat ride along the Ganges and watch the whole event. I'm sorry, I think I will pass on this and save my money for Redskins tickets.
The only thing I have learned in India is that I make many friends without saying a word. "Hey friend, I can take you around the city". "Hey friend, Rickshaw". They are even so nice to you that even the most tactful of "no's" is responded by a greated persuasion tactic. For example, they are willing to follow you around for 30 minutes stalking after you and yell. "Friend! Friend! Guide!" What nice people. WIth friends like that, who needs enemies.
-------
After 2 days of getting harrased by our "friends" at the Ghats, we decide to take a trip outside the city. We visit Sarnath. Home of the Buddha enlightenment and the 4 noble truths. It is here that Buddha was born and preached his first ceremony. It is here that Buddha sat under the Bodi tree and became enlightened. On roughly 5 acres of land, the grassy complex provides a great refuge from outside the Old City of Varanassi. There is even a museum that is quiet. While my brain is full from the outside stresses of India, I quietly sit on the benches inside the museum for 20 minutes straight. It was the calmest 20 minutes I have had in days.
------
My goal is to not give this area such a hard time. Varanasi proves wonderful in many ways. Every meal we have had here is excellent. We eat South Indian flatbread (Dosas) with chickpeas. We have chana massala (chick peas and vegetables) and paneer palak (cheese and potatoes). Every meal is the equivalent of $3 US or less. We eat Dosas for snacks at 15 cents a piece. At lunch, they even realize to turn on the fan as the only white guy in the restaurant is sweating through his 2nd shirt of the day. Next time, I need not order the spiciest thing on the menu.
After a 3 days stay and a nice shave from the barber, Lisa and I realize it is time to leave. We have the Ganga Fuji guest house reserve a train. The Indian trains are quite good, being the 2nd largest train system in the entire world. Lisa and I get what is called AS-3 reservations. This means an air conditioned car with 6 twin folding beds (3 per side, vertically stacked). We meet some good people from France and Israel, and I eat the non-veg fried chicken and rice. Sleep awaits me. For tomorrow morning, we should arrive in Delhi, India - the Capital. If I've learned one thing in India thus far, it would be that nothing is what it seems, for better or worse.
Keep travelling, wherever you are.
Travelling Sherman
I am sitting at the Ganga Fuji guest house with the various tourists from the UK, Australia and New Zeland. The boss tells us to have a seat. And for the first time here in Varanasi, my headache is beginning to subside.
Some people say that India is a constant headache. For the moment, I could not agree more. There are vehicles swiping at you from every direction. There is dust coming out from every angle. There are people coming at you with every trinket known to humankind. It begins to make sense why yoga was started in this country. It prevents people from the straight jacket. It also makes sense why Buddha became enlightened not far from this very spot. It furthermore makes sense how Buddha came up with his 4 noble truths: sorrow, the cause of sorrow, the end of sorrow, and the path leading to the End of Sorrow. My current theory is that the citizens of India need an escape from the chaos of its 1.1 billion people. They need to escape from the constant heckling of the Cycle rickshaws, Auto rickshaws, and bovine creatures. If anyone has found the path leading to the End of Sorrow, please send me an email straight away.
The Brahman (high class priest) has just stepped on the couch behind me and is murmuring some prayers in Hindi to Shiva - the God responsible for destroying and recreating things. The Brhaman looks into a red lighted box and reads his prayers similar to how an elementary school kid emphatically recites the Pledge of Allegiance. Within minutes, he is gone. Express prayer. You can leave the two hour sermon behind you. Now that is a religion looking into when I get back home.
---------
Varanassi is a love/hate relationship. It is India's olderst city - from the 6th century B.C. -- and to be quite honest, you can tell immediately when you get there. The old city is limited only to small motorbikes, pedestrians and cows. After one night in the plush outskirts of town in the Cantonment district, we dive into the old city like a 5 year old dives off the high dive for the first time. We take the auto-rickshaw as far as it goes, which is on the fringe of the city centre. For those not familiar with an auto-rickshaw, imagine attaching a lawn mower engine into an golf cart. You then fill the vehicle to 175% capacity, and charge exhorbatant ammounts to take people very small distances.
The driver lets us off the rickshaw as we walk on to the main Bazaar - rucksacks strapped in. It is like a scene out of the "Indiana Jones - Temple of Doom" movie. Shops and Bazaars outline an otherwise dusty road. There are no addresses - simply alleyways. The traffic is chaos. The rickshaws run rampantly down the roads with no sign of traffic laws in sight. The only thing that trumps their manner is the holy cow. Black cows, white cows, bony cows, gangly cows - it does not matter. The cow runs the road. That is the end of the story.
----
Varanasi is considered the holiest city in all of India. Its temples mark the epicenter of Hinduism, attracting thousands of pilgrims each year. It would make sense that the Ganges river - India's largest and holiest river - would flow right through Varanasi. The people of Varanasi hold the Ganges with high regards. They believe that the river has a healing and theraputic power. Hence, many spiritual rituals are performed here on the river Ganges.
One such ritual is what I will call "The Sendoff of the Dead". During the day, the townspeople decorate the recently deceased in a shiny foil. The deceased are then put on to stretchers and paraded through the old city. After a brief ceremony in one of the old Hindu Temples, they are taken down to a ghat - a tiered riverbank where the sendoff ceremony will take place later that evening.
There are many ghats in Varanasi. They are mainly separated by caste system. For example, someone in the priest caste would be sent off in a different ghat than someone in the warrior Caste. We go to the Manikarka Ghat that evening, where mainly members of the priest caste are sent off.
Huge fires have been created along the ghats. The dead will first be creamated in a ritualistic nightly ceremony before their remains are sent along the Ganges. We huddle as close as we can around the procedings, but we are warned that getting to close would provoke hostile behavior. To be quite honest, I can understand. I wouldn't want a bunch of strangers scribbling notes and taking pictures at my loved one's funeral. On the flip side, the local Varanasi onlookers have no problem bugging you constantly while you try and watch the "sacred" ceremony. They may try out their broken english and ask questions such as the following:
"Know Something?"
"Friend, where you from?"
You can even pay a few hundred rupees per person to take a boat ride along the Ganges and watch the whole event. I'm sorry, I think I will pass on this and save my money for Redskins tickets.
The only thing I have learned in India is that I make many friends without saying a word. "Hey friend, I can take you around the city". "Hey friend, Rickshaw". They are even so nice to you that even the most tactful of "no's" is responded by a greated persuasion tactic. For example, they are willing to follow you around for 30 minutes stalking after you and yell. "Friend! Friend! Guide!" What nice people. WIth friends like that, who needs enemies.
-------
After 2 days of getting harrased by our "friends" at the Ghats, we decide to take a trip outside the city. We visit Sarnath. Home of the Buddha enlightenment and the 4 noble truths. It is here that Buddha was born and preached his first ceremony. It is here that Buddha sat under the Bodi tree and became enlightened. On roughly 5 acres of land, the grassy complex provides a great refuge from outside the Old City of Varanassi. There is even a museum that is quiet. While my brain is full from the outside stresses of India, I quietly sit on the benches inside the museum for 20 minutes straight. It was the calmest 20 minutes I have had in days.
------
My goal is to not give this area such a hard time. Varanasi proves wonderful in many ways. Every meal we have had here is excellent. We eat South Indian flatbread (Dosas) with chickpeas. We have chana massala (chick peas and vegetables) and paneer palak (cheese and potatoes). Every meal is the equivalent of $3 US or less. We eat Dosas for snacks at 15 cents a piece. At lunch, they even realize to turn on the fan as the only white guy in the restaurant is sweating through his 2nd shirt of the day. Next time, I need not order the spiciest thing on the menu.
After a 3 days stay and a nice shave from the barber, Lisa and I realize it is time to leave. We have the Ganga Fuji guest house reserve a train. The Indian trains are quite good, being the 2nd largest train system in the entire world. Lisa and I get what is called AS-3 reservations. This means an air conditioned car with 6 twin folding beds (3 per side, vertically stacked). We meet some good people from France and Israel, and I eat the non-veg fried chicken and rice. Sleep awaits me. For tomorrow morning, we should arrive in Delhi, India - the Capital. If I've learned one thing in India thus far, it would be that nothing is what it seems, for better or worse.
Keep travelling, wherever you are.
Travelling Sherman
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
The last 5 days of the Trek and the future...
Like any good story, you start with a setting, some character development, some rising action, followed by the climax - or turning point of the story. The Larke Pass was the climax. From here on out, we have what is called the falling action and conclusion of the Nepali trek story. Don't worry, there are more stories to come. In most books, the falling action and conclusion usually are quite brief. For this reason, I have condensed the last 5 days of the trek into one entry - and I promise it will be brief.
Bimtang - Day 16. The morning after the Larke Pass.
Lisa and I have slept for over 13 hours. I feel like a new man. Bimtang still proves to be a fairly cold night as Ice has molded over our tent. Our rain fly was not put on right as a humid chill and dampness fills the tent. We are dropping another 5000 feet today so I am told the weather will continue to be balmy.
We walk through some lush, tahoe-like scenery and reach camp in the mid-afternoon. We decide to explore the town, as there is an apple brandy distillery on site.
(Hours later)
There is no distillery, only roaring chickens. Tonight is the last night of camping. We wish the porters goodbye as we tip them accordingly. Kumar makes a good luck cake for us as rick tries the Nepali distilled alcohol called roxie. I get cajoled to take a sip. It reminds me of Sake, only worse.
O.K. Time to do the evennig rituals of blowing up the thermarest and clothespinnng the broken tent zipper shut. Talk to you tomorrow.
Day 17: Tilje to Tal.
So it was naiive to think that the hard hiking was indeed finished. I am confused as to why we keep going up steep, lush, trails with bamboo hugging either side. I am so over hiking right now you have no idea. A few times, the trail is completely unrecognizable. It turns out that the monsoons of last season caused a landslide which destroyed the first half of the trail. Nepli workers are despreately trying to repair it with the latest tools such as shovels, pick axes, and hand saws. A note to self to tell the Home Depot corporation to open up a new branch this side of the pacific.
As soon as I could not take it any longer, we enter a gate. Rick tells me we are now officially on the Anapurna trail. It is like I entered the land of Oz. These roads look like interstates compared to what we have hiked on for the past 3 weeks. We see a teahouse - which is basically the Nepali bed and breakfast. If you hike on the Anapurna trail, you actually get to stay in teahouses with beds every night of your trek. This sounds like such a foreign concept to me at this moment, but I'm not complaining.
We all sit down at a table. There are menus. They serve coffee. I am sitting on a chair. Such are the finer things in life. We are back in civilization. The only down side is that Nepalis are on Nepali time, so it's not rare to wait over 1 1/2 hours for your food to arrive. If you order chicken, for example, allow the appropriate time for the chicken to be caught, slaughtered, and sauteed.
------
We push on for 3 more hours today. We see "trekkers" that look more like they stepped out of their cubiicle for a brief stroll around the office. They have all of these fancy trekking poles. They look funny. Ok. It's possble that we look funny coming out of the bushes with our bamboo walking sticks, but that is for a jury to decide.
-----------
We sleep in Tal. We have a roof over our heads. I'll call the grounds "rustic". I am quite happy with rustic, no problem at all. No hot water yet. That luxury will have to wait for another day.
Day 18: Tal to Jagat to a little South of Syanje
Today , we arrive at a fairly clean and nice guest house. It is now Lisa and Jose's job to inspect the guest house before we go in to stay. We meet many foreigners. One foreigner of note is a German rastafarian who insists on blowing his digoredoo at dnner while he east Dahl Baht with his right hand. He claims it just tastes better this way. I should tell him that he probably went to one too many Grateful Dead concerts.
The only other notes of the day is that I accidentally order "pato pani" - trail water, instead of ordering "tato pani" - hot water. That gives a good laugh to the manager. Maybe I should just stick to english for a while.
Day 19: Syanje to Khudi
At this point, the temperature is balmy. We are in the jungle and we are back at 1,000 ft. elevations. It looks like we are going to shave off one day of the trip. Khudi is simply a bus station with 2 teahouses. We stay at a very average tea house. We don't care anymore. It's right next to the bus station. The owner persuades us to watch a slide show of his trip down some himalayan pass. We barter with him to show it to us for free, even though he initially offered out of his own goodwill. Some of these people are just plain funny with their logic. I fall asleep in the middle of the presentation and retire early to my room.
Day 20: The last day - the return to Kathmandu and Civilization
My sandy eyes glean out on the dim table as we wait for the 7 AM breakfast. Tika is reading the local newspaper out loud. The little boy is using the sink nearby. He is the owner's son, and is cute enough. He wears a Diadora shirt with English print on it. I'm sure he has no idea what it means. We have seen Michael Jackson, Usher, AC/DC and Eminem impregnated upon Nepali T-shirts. I don't think Nepalis choose the t-shirts based on their rock icon, I just think they are glad that they own a T-Shirt.
Bobby and Rick join us now. Rick has tweaked his knee and is popping every pill known to man. Bobby is miraculously clean as ever. Anup and Vinay have pressed on 2 days ago with Gopal in order to try to shave off an extra day on the trip. Tika thinks that they are most likely back in Kathmandu by now. Jose is always the slowest in the morning. He is most likely fumbling through his pack for the 5th time this hour.
------
We are fortunate enough to hire a minibus for the voyage home. While plush at first, Nepalis are 'efficient' enough to fill the vehicle to 135% maximum capacity. We make it back to Kathmandu within 6 hours even with the Maoist celebration parade that appears right outside of town.
We all arrive to the Kathmandu Peace Guest house. Civilization is upon us. After taking showers, we decide it's time to eat some American Food. We find a restaurant in Kahmandu called "K-Too". They serve steak and hamburgers. I am in heaven as I eat my half pound burger. It feels like the best burger I've ever tasted.
---
Alas, Part 1 - Nepal is now over, for the most part. Anup's birthday is tomorrow. He leaves the day after tomorrow. Vinay, the day after that. Rick, Jose and Bobby leave early next week. The fellowship is now broken. Not to worry, like any good miniseries or trilogy, there will be more stories to tell. Lisa and myself will continue on. Here is the rough guide.
Part 2: India - through mid-december
Part 3: Thailand through early January
Part 4: Cambodia and Viet Nam through early February.
Part 5: Taiwan.
Whatever happens, whenever it happens, i'll try to tell you about it.
Keep traveling, wherever you are.
--Travelling Sherman
Bimtang - Day 16. The morning after the Larke Pass.
Lisa and I have slept for over 13 hours. I feel like a new man. Bimtang still proves to be a fairly cold night as Ice has molded over our tent. Our rain fly was not put on right as a humid chill and dampness fills the tent. We are dropping another 5000 feet today so I am told the weather will continue to be balmy.
We walk through some lush, tahoe-like scenery and reach camp in the mid-afternoon. We decide to explore the town, as there is an apple brandy distillery on site.
(Hours later)
There is no distillery, only roaring chickens. Tonight is the last night of camping. We wish the porters goodbye as we tip them accordingly. Kumar makes a good luck cake for us as rick tries the Nepali distilled alcohol called roxie. I get cajoled to take a sip. It reminds me of Sake, only worse.
O.K. Time to do the evennig rituals of blowing up the thermarest and clothespinnng the broken tent zipper shut. Talk to you tomorrow.
Day 17: Tilje to Tal.
So it was naiive to think that the hard hiking was indeed finished. I am confused as to why we keep going up steep, lush, trails with bamboo hugging either side. I am so over hiking right now you have no idea. A few times, the trail is completely unrecognizable. It turns out that the monsoons of last season caused a landslide which destroyed the first half of the trail. Nepli workers are despreately trying to repair it with the latest tools such as shovels, pick axes, and hand saws. A note to self to tell the Home Depot corporation to open up a new branch this side of the pacific.
As soon as I could not take it any longer, we enter a gate. Rick tells me we are now officially on the Anapurna trail. It is like I entered the land of Oz. These roads look like interstates compared to what we have hiked on for the past 3 weeks. We see a teahouse - which is basically the Nepali bed and breakfast. If you hike on the Anapurna trail, you actually get to stay in teahouses with beds every night of your trek. This sounds like such a foreign concept to me at this moment, but I'm not complaining.
We all sit down at a table. There are menus. They serve coffee. I am sitting on a chair. Such are the finer things in life. We are back in civilization. The only down side is that Nepalis are on Nepali time, so it's not rare to wait over 1 1/2 hours for your food to arrive. If you order chicken, for example, allow the appropriate time for the chicken to be caught, slaughtered, and sauteed.
------
We push on for 3 more hours today. We see "trekkers" that look more like they stepped out of their cubiicle for a brief stroll around the office. They have all of these fancy trekking poles. They look funny. Ok. It's possble that we look funny coming out of the bushes with our bamboo walking sticks, but that is for a jury to decide.
-----------
We sleep in Tal. We have a roof over our heads. I'll call the grounds "rustic". I am quite happy with rustic, no problem at all. No hot water yet. That luxury will have to wait for another day.
Day 18: Tal to Jagat to a little South of Syanje
Today , we arrive at a fairly clean and nice guest house. It is now Lisa and Jose's job to inspect the guest house before we go in to stay. We meet many foreigners. One foreigner of note is a German rastafarian who insists on blowing his digoredoo at dnner while he east Dahl Baht with his right hand. He claims it just tastes better this way. I should tell him that he probably went to one too many Grateful Dead concerts.
The only other notes of the day is that I accidentally order "pato pani" - trail water, instead of ordering "tato pani" - hot water. That gives a good laugh to the manager. Maybe I should just stick to english for a while.
Day 19: Syanje to Khudi
At this point, the temperature is balmy. We are in the jungle and we are back at 1,000 ft. elevations. It looks like we are going to shave off one day of the trip. Khudi is simply a bus station with 2 teahouses. We stay at a very average tea house. We don't care anymore. It's right next to the bus station. The owner persuades us to watch a slide show of his trip down some himalayan pass. We barter with him to show it to us for free, even though he initially offered out of his own goodwill. Some of these people are just plain funny with their logic. I fall asleep in the middle of the presentation and retire early to my room.
Day 20: The last day - the return to Kathmandu and Civilization
My sandy eyes glean out on the dim table as we wait for the 7 AM breakfast. Tika is reading the local newspaper out loud. The little boy is using the sink nearby. He is the owner's son, and is cute enough. He wears a Diadora shirt with English print on it. I'm sure he has no idea what it means. We have seen Michael Jackson, Usher, AC/DC and Eminem impregnated upon Nepali T-shirts. I don't think Nepalis choose the t-shirts based on their rock icon, I just think they are glad that they own a T-Shirt.
Bobby and Rick join us now. Rick has tweaked his knee and is popping every pill known to man. Bobby is miraculously clean as ever. Anup and Vinay have pressed on 2 days ago with Gopal in order to try to shave off an extra day on the trip. Tika thinks that they are most likely back in Kathmandu by now. Jose is always the slowest in the morning. He is most likely fumbling through his pack for the 5th time this hour.
------
We are fortunate enough to hire a minibus for the voyage home. While plush at first, Nepalis are 'efficient' enough to fill the vehicle to 135% maximum capacity. We make it back to Kathmandu within 6 hours even with the Maoist celebration parade that appears right outside of town.
We all arrive to the Kathmandu Peace Guest house. Civilization is upon us. After taking showers, we decide it's time to eat some American Food. We find a restaurant in Kahmandu called "K-Too". They serve steak and hamburgers. I am in heaven as I eat my half pound burger. It feels like the best burger I've ever tasted.
---
Alas, Part 1 - Nepal is now over, for the most part. Anup's birthday is tomorrow. He leaves the day after tomorrow. Vinay, the day after that. Rick, Jose and Bobby leave early next week. The fellowship is now broken. Not to worry, like any good miniseries or trilogy, there will be more stories to tell. Lisa and myself will continue on. Here is the rough guide.
Part 2: India - through mid-december
Part 3: Thailand through early January
Part 4: Cambodia and Viet Nam through early February.
Part 5: Taiwan.
Whatever happens, whenever it happens, i'll try to tell you about it.
Keep traveling, wherever you are.
--Travelling Sherman
Day 15: The Larke Pass (Part 2)
After finishing our photo opportunities at the top of the Larke Pass, we make our way down. Rick has accessed the Manaslu map and points to the spot that says Warning: Loose rock and scree. At first, I'm not sure what scree means. Eventually, I find out. Rick has warned that the first 45 minutes of the downhill may be a bit tricky. When we ask the Nepalis this, they say that it is difficult as well. This does not sound good.
The downhill section of the Larke pass at first seems gentle. It opens up into a wide canyon. From the distance, you can even see where the snow stops and the rock begins. Unfortunately, this proves to be quite the misleading picture. Soon thereafter, the trail narrows. We begin to deal with rock and scree, or sheer ice.
I make my way down slowly. I have let the others pass. The only people behind me are Tika and Jose. Jose still is not doing well. Every 10 minutes he slips and falls. Tikka is just about walking for him. The ice is bad. I try sidestepping, which turns into slidestepping. The others are going quite slowly and have begun to use the help of Gopal - the other guide of our trip.
Like a newly trained jedi or a Dungeons and Dragons player that has recently received new weapons, I now realize the power of my walking stick. Every 10 feet, I reach out with my stick and break down some ice. Once the ice is broken down smoothly, I move one foot to the appropriate spot. I repeat this action over and over again. This action helps me get down the hill for some time.
I pass by some of the others and am now right behind Bobby. Bobby slips, stumbles and breaks his stick in two in the process. He becomes so disgruntled, he tosses his stick into the snow and purges on. He has developed a snowboarding like stance and tries to carve the hills.
After the 5th fall in 30 minutes for me, I decide to take a similar course of action. I decide that it's time to go sledding. I get on my behind, push, and go. I feel like I am 6 again. I am dodging rocks and making turns. I feel like I am on the Jamacian bobsled team. I roar past Anup and Vinay. I am actually beginning to enjoy myself. I wonder in amazement why the Tibetans and Nepalis have not gotten together and open up a slip and slide. Later on, Tika tells me that he wasn't too happy with us sledding as he feared we could have fallen off the edge.
I am dog tired. It is roughly noon. The sun is shining down heavily and I did not bring sunglasses nor my brimmed hat. I have had nothing to eat since 4 AM. My gas tank has hit empty long ago. I have gone maybe 1000 feet in the past hour. I see a group of rocks in the distance that signify the end of the snow. The Canadians have pressed on and have taken a break. Krisna - one of our sherpas (or leaders) - has already walked down a mile passed this point and is now walking back up to meet us. Anup and I are picking off rocks with our walking sticks and are hopping from place to place like the frogger video game. With a little help from Krisna, I get down 30 minutes late to the rocks. Lisa, Rick, Vinay and Bobby are now down there as well. I lay down from utter fatigue.
The Canadians were nice enough to give us some chipote (pancake) with salami. I devour my share like it was Thanksgiving. Supposedly our guides and cooks forgot to give us the snack pack that was promised. I am cursing them with all of my might - inside of my head of course.
Jose comes down about 20 minutes later and we all regroup. We take some water. The toughest part is almost over. We have come down over 2000 feet already to now be at a little bit under 15000. Soon we will be below where we camped last night. And tonight we are supposed to be down at under 12,000 ft - balmy conditions compared to our current situation.
---------------
We walk for another 45 minutes and find all of the porters sprawled out in a grassy knowl. They have given us some Nepali Capri Sun and day old wafers. I'm not sure whether to thank them or punch them in the nose. I choose the first option as to not cause a scene. I slowly come to my wits and realize I am just happy to have finished the hard part.
We all take some time out and take pictures. The mountains are indeed beautiful. I feel like we have just taken a helicopter high up into the Alps. White mountains and glaciers as far as the eye can see. We did it! We are over the Larke Pass!!
The only problem is that we still have another 3 hours of walking to do. The good news is that it's all downhill from here. Or should I say, all fairly easy downhill with some uphill, but no falling rock and scree...from here. It sounds like a mouthful. I'll just keep quiet and continue walking.
-----
2 PM. The same day.
When will this hike ever end? I can not concentrate anymore. I simply look down at my feet so that I do not trip. I look up to see Tika sitting on a low rock wall. He is grinning brightly. Welcome to the Manaslu cafe, he says. Shalesh - The youngest of the porters at 19 years old - has come back from our base camp to bring us tea. What a guy. Vinay, Lisa and myself sit down and take in the views. Out in the distance over a grassy field we see our tents. High above the tents Manaslu mountain makes its appearance. We finally see the mountain we have been circumscribing. At roughly 24,000+ feet it is the 8th largest mountain in the world. You feel like you could just run up the side and climb to the top. Not me. Not this trip. Not this lifetime. I walk down for the remaining 45 minutes into camp and collapse in the tent. Lisa is beside herself. Having a migraine come in during the last part of the hike, she is having a tough time. I blow up her thermarest as she walks into Bimtang. Free at last, free at last. We have done it!
We are both teared up from the day's events. We are both puzzled and insulted when the lunch call comes. It is 4 PM. The latest of lunch hours usually end at 2:30. I should take it easy on these guys, I know. I'm in bad spirits but I'm feeling great. I feel like a contradiction in terms. Tika assures me in his broken english, "The Larke Pass trek is really One day". "It is happy day, sad day, proud day, Manaslu day, our day." I couldn't have said it any better. Bring on the rice and potatoes. You may just have to pick my face up from the soup bowl.
Travelling Sherman
The downhill section of the Larke pass at first seems gentle. It opens up into a wide canyon. From the distance, you can even see where the snow stops and the rock begins. Unfortunately, this proves to be quite the misleading picture. Soon thereafter, the trail narrows. We begin to deal with rock and scree, or sheer ice.
I make my way down slowly. I have let the others pass. The only people behind me are Tika and Jose. Jose still is not doing well. Every 10 minutes he slips and falls. Tikka is just about walking for him. The ice is bad. I try sidestepping, which turns into slidestepping. The others are going quite slowly and have begun to use the help of Gopal - the other guide of our trip.
Like a newly trained jedi or a Dungeons and Dragons player that has recently received new weapons, I now realize the power of my walking stick. Every 10 feet, I reach out with my stick and break down some ice. Once the ice is broken down smoothly, I move one foot to the appropriate spot. I repeat this action over and over again. This action helps me get down the hill for some time.
I pass by some of the others and am now right behind Bobby. Bobby slips, stumbles and breaks his stick in two in the process. He becomes so disgruntled, he tosses his stick into the snow and purges on. He has developed a snowboarding like stance and tries to carve the hills.
After the 5th fall in 30 minutes for me, I decide to take a similar course of action. I decide that it's time to go sledding. I get on my behind, push, and go. I feel like I am 6 again. I am dodging rocks and making turns. I feel like I am on the Jamacian bobsled team. I roar past Anup and Vinay. I am actually beginning to enjoy myself. I wonder in amazement why the Tibetans and Nepalis have not gotten together and open up a slip and slide. Later on, Tika tells me that he wasn't too happy with us sledding as he feared we could have fallen off the edge.
I am dog tired. It is roughly noon. The sun is shining down heavily and I did not bring sunglasses nor my brimmed hat. I have had nothing to eat since 4 AM. My gas tank has hit empty long ago. I have gone maybe 1000 feet in the past hour. I see a group of rocks in the distance that signify the end of the snow. The Canadians have pressed on and have taken a break. Krisna - one of our sherpas (or leaders) - has already walked down a mile passed this point and is now walking back up to meet us. Anup and I are picking off rocks with our walking sticks and are hopping from place to place like the frogger video game. With a little help from Krisna, I get down 30 minutes late to the rocks. Lisa, Rick, Vinay and Bobby are now down there as well. I lay down from utter fatigue.
The Canadians were nice enough to give us some chipote (pancake) with salami. I devour my share like it was Thanksgiving. Supposedly our guides and cooks forgot to give us the snack pack that was promised. I am cursing them with all of my might - inside of my head of course.
Jose comes down about 20 minutes later and we all regroup. We take some water. The toughest part is almost over. We have come down over 2000 feet already to now be at a little bit under 15000. Soon we will be below where we camped last night. And tonight we are supposed to be down at under 12,000 ft - balmy conditions compared to our current situation.
---------------
We walk for another 45 minutes and find all of the porters sprawled out in a grassy knowl. They have given us some Nepali Capri Sun and day old wafers. I'm not sure whether to thank them or punch them in the nose. I choose the first option as to not cause a scene. I slowly come to my wits and realize I am just happy to have finished the hard part.
We all take some time out and take pictures. The mountains are indeed beautiful. I feel like we have just taken a helicopter high up into the Alps. White mountains and glaciers as far as the eye can see. We did it! We are over the Larke Pass!!
The only problem is that we still have another 3 hours of walking to do. The good news is that it's all downhill from here. Or should I say, all fairly easy downhill with some uphill, but no falling rock and scree...from here. It sounds like a mouthful. I'll just keep quiet and continue walking.
-----
2 PM. The same day.
When will this hike ever end? I can not concentrate anymore. I simply look down at my feet so that I do not trip. I look up to see Tika sitting on a low rock wall. He is grinning brightly. Welcome to the Manaslu cafe, he says. Shalesh - The youngest of the porters at 19 years old - has come back from our base camp to bring us tea. What a guy. Vinay, Lisa and myself sit down and take in the views. Out in the distance over a grassy field we see our tents. High above the tents Manaslu mountain makes its appearance. We finally see the mountain we have been circumscribing. At roughly 24,000+ feet it is the 8th largest mountain in the world. You feel like you could just run up the side and climb to the top. Not me. Not this trip. Not this lifetime. I walk down for the remaining 45 minutes into camp and collapse in the tent. Lisa is beside herself. Having a migraine come in during the last part of the hike, she is having a tough time. I blow up her thermarest as she walks into Bimtang. Free at last, free at last. We have done it!
We are both teared up from the day's events. We are both puzzled and insulted when the lunch call comes. It is 4 PM. The latest of lunch hours usually end at 2:30. I should take it easy on these guys, I know. I'm in bad spirits but I'm feeling great. I feel like a contradiction in terms. Tika assures me in his broken english, "The Larke Pass trek is really One day". "It is happy day, sad day, proud day, Manaslu day, our day." I couldn't have said it any better. Bring on the rice and potatoes. You may just have to pick my face up from the soup bowl.
Travelling Sherman
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Day 15: The Larke Pass (part 1)
I scramble out of bed at 3 in the morning to Nepali murmoring. "Shuba Biyhani" - good morning, Gopal announces triumphantly to each tent. I rub my eyes. Today is the day we go over. As Gopal later tells me, there is only one day of trekking, "the pass day". Today is our day. Lisa has already reported to me numerous times this morning how miserably cold the weather is outside. As I appreciate the weather report, it quite frankly does not motivate to make the move outside the tent. I prepare for the day's events by putting on just about every article of clothing I own: Hat, gloves, sweater, jacket, thermals, you name it I have it on.
After a few minutes, I venture outside. It's a day off from being a full moon, but the moon shines bright nevertheless. The coldness sets in. Oh my god, I need to start moving soon.
After using the lovely facilities, we go into the dining tent for a modest meal of hot water and ramen. While it's not much, it sure topples the disaster of last night's meal of the return of the spaghetti and cheese. Barf on a plate did not cut it for me last night. I felt compelled to eat as much as possible as I dig around the cheese for every last morsel of carbohydrate. Again, I am eating for energy, not for pleasure.
----
Karna, the porter has made walking sticks for all of the westerners in the group days ago. While I think a tool like a walking stick may be unnecessary, the porters and guides tell me that it will be crucial today. I should take heed of this advice, for if the Nepalis tell me it will be tough, it will most likely be more excruciating than I could possibly imagine.
Jose is a wreck this morning as he is running late from the tent. Rick checks in on Jose inside the tent and observes that Jose's items are everywhere. The altitude is starting to hit him as he claims to be feeling light headed. It's going to be a long day for Jose.
We officially begin the trek at 4 AM. In addition to our group, we are joined by the Canadians (Don and Linda) as well as a set of Czechs, an Austrian named Ziggy, and some Chinese. We are roughly 40 people in total - taking turns along the trail for rest stops and bathroom stops. I can now tell you that using the outdoor restroom at 15000 feet at 5 in the morning is not what I call luxury.
Within the first hour, Jose is overheating. He bought an "old navy security" jacket along that has kept him almost too warm. We stop for him to take off a layer, and then continue. Roughly 5 minutes after beginning to walk again, Jose can not find his hat. Jose at this point is freaking out. Rick joins jose in marcingh halfway down the hill to look for the hat. No such luck. Rick is slightly irritated. We are all cold. We continue the trip. The current time now is 4:40 AM.
After the first two hours of walking, we begin to see bits of sunshine. Looking around, the landscape seems lunar. The snow in every direction reminds me of moon rock. There are huge mountains in every direction. We are at roughly 16,000 feet. We have developed a steady pace and stop roughly once every 20 minutes. I use my walking stick to finally crack open my water frozen nalgene bottle. Since everyone else's water supply has been frozen, I share out my newly found treasure with everyone - Bobby, Lisa, Gopal and Jose.
Soon enough we see a rounded hill full of snow. I ask Gopal how much time we have until we reach the Larke Pass. Gopal responds in his relaxed fashion, "Maybe 1 hour, maybe after this hill, or the next one". We reach the summit of the first hill only to find that there are more hills up on the next horoizon. Large black poles have appeared to guide us through the Larke Pass. It is quite usual for the path to be covered with snow, so on heavy storm days - the poles are your only guides.
The rest stops have become more frequent now. It's tough to walk for more than 10 minutes without a quick break. Jose is struggling with the altitude as his head continues to hurt. Bobby and I are tired, but are doing well under the circumstances. Lisa is starting to grow headaches but is not sure whether or not it is due to more from the altitude or just her usual migraines. Under the circumstances, Lisa is doing amazing - helping out Jose as much as possible.
I reach a point where I need to continue to walk if ever so slowly. I feel as if I were to stop, that I would not start again. Lisa gives me the okay to walk ahead. She is in good hands with Bobby and Gopal. I trudge further along and pass the Canadians, Don and Linda. Ziggy the Austrian is still ahead of me. He hurdles through the poles one at a time in disciplined fashion.
I see Anup about 200 ft. ahead. His pace seems to be going slower now. I eventually catch up to him and we rest for a bit. I break my rule and take a bit of water and eat my last cliff bar. Anup is struggling as well. I offer him some water and the last half of my cliff bar. Anup tells me he is okay, and that he just needs to rest. I tell him that we are all here if you slip further behind.
My frustration has turned to anger as it is now almost 4 hours passed and no Larke Pass as of yet. Each hill seems more cumbersome than the last. Don and Linda catch up to me. I express my mild frustration of not reaching the pass as of yet. They inform me that I will know when the pass is coming by the prayer flags. These are the multi-colored banner flags that symbolize a Buddhist town or outpost: Blue for sky, White for clouds, Red fire, Yellow Jungle, and the Green Earth. I would take some green earth right about now.
--------
Alas, the prayer flags. Like a man dying of thirst finding a canteen in the middle of the desert, the peak is in within Reach. I take my stride up one notch and see Rick beaming down the hill back towards me. He asks me how I am doing, and I manage to tell him I am well. I tell him about Jose and the others. Him and Tika are going back to help out.
I climb a bit further and meet Vinay. We high-five each other as I reach the Larke Pass. I did it. We did it. I also inform Vinay about the others and he goes back down for a bit to find them. I hunch over a bit and look out. I'm on top of the trail. The Canadians have just made it up the pass as well. I become the guest photo taker for a while. I have no energy left, but I'm still able to focus into a viewfinder and snap a photo.
About 20 minutes later, everyone else has made it up the pass. We all celebrate. We are so estatic. Everyone takes pictures of everyone else. Jose is exhuasted but fine. Anup and Lisa have some headaches, but they are holding it together. One pass. One trek. One day only. It's all downhill from here. Unfortunately the first part of the downhill is at at 20+ degree incline with ice and rock. It deserves its own blog entry. For now, we celebrate our accomplishments. I'll get back to you once I am on safe ground below.
-Travelling Sherman
After a few minutes, I venture outside. It's a day off from being a full moon, but the moon shines bright nevertheless. The coldness sets in. Oh my god, I need to start moving soon.
After using the lovely facilities, we go into the dining tent for a modest meal of hot water and ramen. While it's not much, it sure topples the disaster of last night's meal of the return of the spaghetti and cheese. Barf on a plate did not cut it for me last night. I felt compelled to eat as much as possible as I dig around the cheese for every last morsel of carbohydrate. Again, I am eating for energy, not for pleasure.
----
Karna, the porter has made walking sticks for all of the westerners in the group days ago. While I think a tool like a walking stick may be unnecessary, the porters and guides tell me that it will be crucial today. I should take heed of this advice, for if the Nepalis tell me it will be tough, it will most likely be more excruciating than I could possibly imagine.
Jose is a wreck this morning as he is running late from the tent. Rick checks in on Jose inside the tent and observes that Jose's items are everywhere. The altitude is starting to hit him as he claims to be feeling light headed. It's going to be a long day for Jose.
We officially begin the trek at 4 AM. In addition to our group, we are joined by the Canadians (Don and Linda) as well as a set of Czechs, an Austrian named Ziggy, and some Chinese. We are roughly 40 people in total - taking turns along the trail for rest stops and bathroom stops. I can now tell you that using the outdoor restroom at 15000 feet at 5 in the morning is not what I call luxury.
Within the first hour, Jose is overheating. He bought an "old navy security" jacket along that has kept him almost too warm. We stop for him to take off a layer, and then continue. Roughly 5 minutes after beginning to walk again, Jose can not find his hat. Jose at this point is freaking out. Rick joins jose in marcingh halfway down the hill to look for the hat. No such luck. Rick is slightly irritated. We are all cold. We continue the trip. The current time now is 4:40 AM.
After the first two hours of walking, we begin to see bits of sunshine. Looking around, the landscape seems lunar. The snow in every direction reminds me of moon rock. There are huge mountains in every direction. We are at roughly 16,000 feet. We have developed a steady pace and stop roughly once every 20 minutes. I use my walking stick to finally crack open my water frozen nalgene bottle. Since everyone else's water supply has been frozen, I share out my newly found treasure with everyone - Bobby, Lisa, Gopal and Jose.
Soon enough we see a rounded hill full of snow. I ask Gopal how much time we have until we reach the Larke Pass. Gopal responds in his relaxed fashion, "Maybe 1 hour, maybe after this hill, or the next one". We reach the summit of the first hill only to find that there are more hills up on the next horoizon. Large black poles have appeared to guide us through the Larke Pass. It is quite usual for the path to be covered with snow, so on heavy storm days - the poles are your only guides.
The rest stops have become more frequent now. It's tough to walk for more than 10 minutes without a quick break. Jose is struggling with the altitude as his head continues to hurt. Bobby and I are tired, but are doing well under the circumstances. Lisa is starting to grow headaches but is not sure whether or not it is due to more from the altitude or just her usual migraines. Under the circumstances, Lisa is doing amazing - helping out Jose as much as possible.
I reach a point where I need to continue to walk if ever so slowly. I feel as if I were to stop, that I would not start again. Lisa gives me the okay to walk ahead. She is in good hands with Bobby and Gopal. I trudge further along and pass the Canadians, Don and Linda. Ziggy the Austrian is still ahead of me. He hurdles through the poles one at a time in disciplined fashion.
I see Anup about 200 ft. ahead. His pace seems to be going slower now. I eventually catch up to him and we rest for a bit. I break my rule and take a bit of water and eat my last cliff bar. Anup is struggling as well. I offer him some water and the last half of my cliff bar. Anup tells me he is okay, and that he just needs to rest. I tell him that we are all here if you slip further behind.
My frustration has turned to anger as it is now almost 4 hours passed and no Larke Pass as of yet. Each hill seems more cumbersome than the last. Don and Linda catch up to me. I express my mild frustration of not reaching the pass as of yet. They inform me that I will know when the pass is coming by the prayer flags. These are the multi-colored banner flags that symbolize a Buddhist town or outpost: Blue for sky, White for clouds, Red fire, Yellow Jungle, and the Green Earth. I would take some green earth right about now.
--------
Alas, the prayer flags. Like a man dying of thirst finding a canteen in the middle of the desert, the peak is in within Reach. I take my stride up one notch and see Rick beaming down the hill back towards me. He asks me how I am doing, and I manage to tell him I am well. I tell him about Jose and the others. Him and Tika are going back to help out.
I climb a bit further and meet Vinay. We high-five each other as I reach the Larke Pass. I did it. We did it. I also inform Vinay about the others and he goes back down for a bit to find them. I hunch over a bit and look out. I'm on top of the trail. The Canadians have just made it up the pass as well. I become the guest photo taker for a while. I have no energy left, but I'm still able to focus into a viewfinder and snap a photo.
About 20 minutes later, everyone else has made it up the pass. We all celebrate. We are so estatic. Everyone takes pictures of everyone else. Jose is exhuasted but fine. Anup and Lisa have some headaches, but they are holding it together. One pass. One trek. One day only. It's all downhill from here. Unfortunately the first part of the downhill is at at 20+ degree incline with ice and rock. It deserves its own blog entry. For now, we celebrate our accomplishments. I'll get back to you once I am on safe ground below.
-Travelling Sherman
Day 14: Samdo to Dharmasala
I wake up at roughly 6:30 in the morning. I have slept more than 6 hours, which qualifies for fairly well. The yak trains have stopped clammering their bells. I look outside the room and see the bright sunshine. The snow has stopped. A fresh foot of snow has fallen overnight. It looks like we are on for today. We are happy. Lisa and I do the usual morning preparations of stuffing the sleeping bags, airing out the therma-rests, chlorinating the water, packing the day packs with necessary materials such as baby wipes, toilet paper, cliff bars and water.
We finish in record time as breakfast is called at roughly 7:30. Today I try on an extra helping of Rice porridge. Tasty and warm, I have now grown accustomed to it. I eat now not on the whims of my taste buds, but on a need for energy. Vinay has told me that 1/2 the oxygen will exist at 17000 feet and that water and food are more vital than ever. I've supplemented my regimen with some Diamox - altitude sickness pills. Only myself and Bobby are trying the medicine. Gopal claims that I now need to drink 5 litres of water a day. Let me tell you something. If I start trying to drink 5 liters of water a day, I will be urinating more than I walk.
We start the trail at 8 AM. Another 3-4 hour push is scheduled for today. Today's hike calls for a 2,500 ft. climb to reach roughly 14,500 ft. For those of you back in the USA, this is higher than Mt. Whitney - the highest peak in the continental US.
The first stretch is actually quite gradual. After leaving Samdo, I follow the footprints made in the snow. It's a winter wonderland out here, but ironically warm. The sun is shining bright. I have 4 layers of clothes on. We are all cracking jokes and laughing. I continue to drink lots of water. At some point, we need to do a #1 break. Jose, Bobby and I take turns trying to spell our name in the snow.
The next stretch becomes treacherous. Some of the snow has melted and frozen over to ice. There is a 10 degree narrow downhill. To the left is about a 60 ft. drop. Not realizing the severity of the situation, I slip and fall from time to time. I am left frustrated. I curse at the mountain somewhat. Tika comes in and helps me find my footing. Thank the Gods for Tika, he stands at the edge of this path with no problem - pushing and prodding me to a safe haven.
I feel silly for making such a big scene and cursing the mountain. Lisa assures me that all is okay, and that it's better for me to focus on the last 45 minutes of uphill. We still have another 1,000 feet to climb. The 45 minutes feel like hours. Gopal has joined back up with us to help. Eventually, they point to the prayer flags, which symbol the edge of Dharmasala - our campsite. A last 10 minute push and we reach the hilltop.
The porters seem to have an extra set of lungs, as they have already passed us hours ago and set up our tents. Lisa and I put our belongings inside the tent, and take some pictures. I feel like I am at the top of the Swiss Alps. The wind is not strong at the moment, so walking around feels just fine. We take a break for some lunch. It's simple rice and potatoes. The Dahl of the Dahl Bat is no longer so we stick to lots of carbohydrates.
After Lunch, Lisa retires to the tent to read. We are told not to sleep at this altitude. Some of the gang tries to scare us into saying that sleeping by day equals the sleep of death. If I were to die at this altitude, it would not be in vain. I join the guys in doing a short aclamazation hike upwards. Rick and Vinay cruise past us with Gopal at their sides. Anup, Bobby, Jose and myself go for about a half hour and say screw it, there are better things to do.
The sun begins to set and cold start to seep in. We are told to basically where all of your clothing tonight. The temperature should get as low as the low 20's or even teens. We all go into Jose's tent and play more bridge. Five smelly people is the easiest way to keep warm.
Tomorrow lies the big day of crossing the Larke Pass. We are instructed to get up at 3 in the morning as we begin the hike at 4. The idea is that the uphill part should be nothing harder than we have seen before. There is talk of the downhill becomming quite tricky. I try not to let worry ruin my thinking. Get some sleep tonight, even if it's only for 4 hours. In 24 hours from now, we will be in Bimtang and over the pass. And more importantly, we will be over the hump. Hopefully, I'll be over my worries.
Good night from the frostbitten Tent,
Travelling Sherman
We finish in record time as breakfast is called at roughly 7:30. Today I try on an extra helping of Rice porridge. Tasty and warm, I have now grown accustomed to it. I eat now not on the whims of my taste buds, but on a need for energy. Vinay has told me that 1/2 the oxygen will exist at 17000 feet and that water and food are more vital than ever. I've supplemented my regimen with some Diamox - altitude sickness pills. Only myself and Bobby are trying the medicine. Gopal claims that I now need to drink 5 litres of water a day. Let me tell you something. If I start trying to drink 5 liters of water a day, I will be urinating more than I walk.
We start the trail at 8 AM. Another 3-4 hour push is scheduled for today. Today's hike calls for a 2,500 ft. climb to reach roughly 14,500 ft. For those of you back in the USA, this is higher than Mt. Whitney - the highest peak in the continental US.
The first stretch is actually quite gradual. After leaving Samdo, I follow the footprints made in the snow. It's a winter wonderland out here, but ironically warm. The sun is shining bright. I have 4 layers of clothes on. We are all cracking jokes and laughing. I continue to drink lots of water. At some point, we need to do a #1 break. Jose, Bobby and I take turns trying to spell our name in the snow.
The next stretch becomes treacherous. Some of the snow has melted and frozen over to ice. There is a 10 degree narrow downhill. To the left is about a 60 ft. drop. Not realizing the severity of the situation, I slip and fall from time to time. I am left frustrated. I curse at the mountain somewhat. Tika comes in and helps me find my footing. Thank the Gods for Tika, he stands at the edge of this path with no problem - pushing and prodding me to a safe haven.
I feel silly for making such a big scene and cursing the mountain. Lisa assures me that all is okay, and that it's better for me to focus on the last 45 minutes of uphill. We still have another 1,000 feet to climb. The 45 minutes feel like hours. Gopal has joined back up with us to help. Eventually, they point to the prayer flags, which symbol the edge of Dharmasala - our campsite. A last 10 minute push and we reach the hilltop.
The porters seem to have an extra set of lungs, as they have already passed us hours ago and set up our tents. Lisa and I put our belongings inside the tent, and take some pictures. I feel like I am at the top of the Swiss Alps. The wind is not strong at the moment, so walking around feels just fine. We take a break for some lunch. It's simple rice and potatoes. The Dahl of the Dahl Bat is no longer so we stick to lots of carbohydrates.
After Lunch, Lisa retires to the tent to read. We are told not to sleep at this altitude. Some of the gang tries to scare us into saying that sleeping by day equals the sleep of death. If I were to die at this altitude, it would not be in vain. I join the guys in doing a short aclamazation hike upwards. Rick and Vinay cruise past us with Gopal at their sides. Anup, Bobby, Jose and myself go for about a half hour and say screw it, there are better things to do.
The sun begins to set and cold start to seep in. We are told to basically where all of your clothing tonight. The temperature should get as low as the low 20's or even teens. We all go into Jose's tent and play more bridge. Five smelly people is the easiest way to keep warm.
Tomorrow lies the big day of crossing the Larke Pass. We are instructed to get up at 3 in the morning as we begin the hike at 4. The idea is that the uphill part should be nothing harder than we have seen before. There is talk of the downhill becomming quite tricky. I try not to let worry ruin my thinking. Get some sleep tonight, even if it's only for 4 hours. In 24 hours from now, we will be in Bimtang and over the pass. And more importantly, we will be over the hump. Hopefully, I'll be over my worries.
Good night from the frostbitten Tent,
Travelling Sherman
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Day 13: Onward to Samdo
As we wake up from our bed shack slumber, I find myself actually warm. Having a roof overhead does wonders after being in a tent for almost two weeks.
Today's trip is to Samdo. According to the maps, Samdo should be only a three hour hike today. Therefore, people have been calling to try and hike through to Dharmasala and cut one day off from the trip - and more importantly, cut one more day off from the cold.
The rain did not let up for most of the night. Jose is gladdened that we chose to stay in the bed shacks. Unfortunately he explains with excrutiatingly painful detail that he had to get up six times last night to pee. If that were to happen to me, I would have camped out in the bathroom. Even Tika and Gopal the guides start laughing. They must be wondering how can one human being talk about excretions for so long.
I'll be honest and defend Jose in saying that the bathroom turned disgusting overnight. Someone has forgotten to 'flush'. Excuse me, someone has forgotten to throw the bucket of water in the hole within the wooden planks. It really does make for a bad experience.
We get cracking early today after breakfast as more precipitation has started rolling in. Today, Jose has volunteered to walk with Lisa, myself and Bobby. Rick will flag behind with Gopal and take more pictures, while Vinay and Anup will push forward with Tika.
As the 4 of us start walking, we have an easy enough time talking and getting about our hike. Lisa takes pictures of streams and mountains as I aimlessly look around at the sky. An open canyon suddenly starts to climb gently in the distance. As I look around, I feel some raindrops on me. Not a problem. We keep walking and the rain starts to get a little bit harder. Since we are taking it slow today due to the altitude, most of the people pass us by. At some point, the 4 of us seem like we are lost. I imagine myself huddling under a boulder for the next 3 weeks until the local government finds my decrepid bones. I come to my senses when we see Rick and Gopal right behind us. Of course we knew where we were going the whole time.
Rain turns into snow and the snow starts to fall harder. This is not a good sign. We continue onward after 2 hours and realize the last hour will be a fair bit of climbing. We pass by what is called a yak train. A yak is basically a shaggy cow with huge horns that lives in the mountains. Yaks are beautiful creatures. Although each one weighs rougly a 1/2 a ton, scores of yaks will still be petrified of one human. The local herders bully them into shape by throwing rocks at them to keep their line. It is a sad sight to see, although I know it sadly has to be done. The yaks carry supplies from village to village. I just don't want to be the herder who falls victim to the first mutiny.
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We reach Samdo in roughly 3 1/2 hours today. We all are dragging somewhat. Anup, Vinay and Tika greet us and ask how we are feeling. I'm coping well enough, although a bit sluggish. Lisa, Bobby and Jose seem fine. The snow is falling harder now. There seems to be a bit of confusion at the moment. Tika, Gopal and the porters are shimmying about trying to accomplish some sort of task.
There is another shelter at Samdo. This one is more sophisticated. 2 levels. Approximately 10 rooms or so. There are some more groups that have caught up to us now. Three canadians, another group of Czechs - these guys being much more friendly. We huddle around as we are not sure if we are pressing on another three hours to Dharmasala - the 14,000 ft. campsite otherwise known as the landing point before the pass.
Vinay informs us that a porter from Dharmasala has just walked back to Samdo for more supplies today. Supposedly, blizzard-like conditions have hampered things for the trekkers in Dharmasala. An estimated 40 people are stuck up there for one more night, as no one attempted to make the pass today. It looks like we are not pressing on anymore today. To be quite honest, I'm fine with that. The only problem is that it's only 11 AM, and we still have the rest of the day to freeze and contemplate life.
--------------------------
I am playing bridge again and I almost understand what I'm doing. It's the middle of the day and we are playing in the big room. This is the dining room, the living room, and a bedroom for 15 porters. I hear jingling bells outside which remind me of christmas/chanukah time. The only problem is that neither holiday is celebrated here. The bells are placed upon the yaks to signify a yak train is passing by. Samdo is a big depot for the yak trains as herders get supplies for the road ahead. There is even yak parking in this joint. The ratio of farm animals to people up here is most likely 2:1.
It's nice travelling with a girl sometimes. Everyone feels bad for the girl and gives her the best room. Being the boyfriend, you know that you most likely are going to sleep at least in the same bedroom with her - so you are set for accomodation. It's a cruel world, I know. I actually feel bad for Rick and Jose as the reservations get botched up and we only get 2 rooms instead of 3 rooms. They drew the short straws and are sleeping in the storage closet. I offer space and even bed time, but Jose and Rick are too humble to take me up on the offer.
The smoke has overwhelmed the porter room. There is only 1 kitchen and maybe 2 stoves. The smoke from these stoves permeates directly through the cracks into the porter room. We are flushed out once again as the masses huddle in either Lisa/mine/boby's room or Vinay and Anup's room. We are like sardines that have been placed in the frozen food section. I wait for dinner to come because I know that it will be time for bed immediately afterwards. The snow is still falling. There is contemplation of turning back if the storm does not let up after tomorrow. For the first time in my life, I am praying for the snow to stop. This means a lot coming from living in Truckee, California from time to time. I pray to God, Moses, Jesus, Vishnu, Shiva, and Buddha. We are going to need one of you to come forward and help us out, if for only this once.
-Travelling Sherman
Today's trip is to Samdo. According to the maps, Samdo should be only a three hour hike today. Therefore, people have been calling to try and hike through to Dharmasala and cut one day off from the trip - and more importantly, cut one more day off from the cold.
The rain did not let up for most of the night. Jose is gladdened that we chose to stay in the bed shacks. Unfortunately he explains with excrutiatingly painful detail that he had to get up six times last night to pee. If that were to happen to me, I would have camped out in the bathroom. Even Tika and Gopal the guides start laughing. They must be wondering how can one human being talk about excretions for so long.
I'll be honest and defend Jose in saying that the bathroom turned disgusting overnight. Someone has forgotten to 'flush'. Excuse me, someone has forgotten to throw the bucket of water in the hole within the wooden planks. It really does make for a bad experience.
We get cracking early today after breakfast as more precipitation has started rolling in. Today, Jose has volunteered to walk with Lisa, myself and Bobby. Rick will flag behind with Gopal and take more pictures, while Vinay and Anup will push forward with Tika.
As the 4 of us start walking, we have an easy enough time talking and getting about our hike. Lisa takes pictures of streams and mountains as I aimlessly look around at the sky. An open canyon suddenly starts to climb gently in the distance. As I look around, I feel some raindrops on me. Not a problem. We keep walking and the rain starts to get a little bit harder. Since we are taking it slow today due to the altitude, most of the people pass us by. At some point, the 4 of us seem like we are lost. I imagine myself huddling under a boulder for the next 3 weeks until the local government finds my decrepid bones. I come to my senses when we see Rick and Gopal right behind us. Of course we knew where we were going the whole time.
Rain turns into snow and the snow starts to fall harder. This is not a good sign. We continue onward after 2 hours and realize the last hour will be a fair bit of climbing. We pass by what is called a yak train. A yak is basically a shaggy cow with huge horns that lives in the mountains. Yaks are beautiful creatures. Although each one weighs rougly a 1/2 a ton, scores of yaks will still be petrified of one human. The local herders bully them into shape by throwing rocks at them to keep their line. It is a sad sight to see, although I know it sadly has to be done. The yaks carry supplies from village to village. I just don't want to be the herder who falls victim to the first mutiny.
-----
We reach Samdo in roughly 3 1/2 hours today. We all are dragging somewhat. Anup, Vinay and Tika greet us and ask how we are feeling. I'm coping well enough, although a bit sluggish. Lisa, Bobby and Jose seem fine. The snow is falling harder now. There seems to be a bit of confusion at the moment. Tika, Gopal and the porters are shimmying about trying to accomplish some sort of task.
There is another shelter at Samdo. This one is more sophisticated. 2 levels. Approximately 10 rooms or so. There are some more groups that have caught up to us now. Three canadians, another group of Czechs - these guys being much more friendly. We huddle around as we are not sure if we are pressing on another three hours to Dharmasala - the 14,000 ft. campsite otherwise known as the landing point before the pass.
Vinay informs us that a porter from Dharmasala has just walked back to Samdo for more supplies today. Supposedly, blizzard-like conditions have hampered things for the trekkers in Dharmasala. An estimated 40 people are stuck up there for one more night, as no one attempted to make the pass today. It looks like we are not pressing on anymore today. To be quite honest, I'm fine with that. The only problem is that it's only 11 AM, and we still have the rest of the day to freeze and contemplate life.
--------------------------
I am playing bridge again and I almost understand what I'm doing. It's the middle of the day and we are playing in the big room. This is the dining room, the living room, and a bedroom for 15 porters. I hear jingling bells outside which remind me of christmas/chanukah time. The only problem is that neither holiday is celebrated here. The bells are placed upon the yaks to signify a yak train is passing by. Samdo is a big depot for the yak trains as herders get supplies for the road ahead. There is even yak parking in this joint. The ratio of farm animals to people up here is most likely 2:1.
It's nice travelling with a girl sometimes. Everyone feels bad for the girl and gives her the best room. Being the boyfriend, you know that you most likely are going to sleep at least in the same bedroom with her - so you are set for accomodation. It's a cruel world, I know. I actually feel bad for Rick and Jose as the reservations get botched up and we only get 2 rooms instead of 3 rooms. They drew the short straws and are sleeping in the storage closet. I offer space and even bed time, but Jose and Rick are too humble to take me up on the offer.
The smoke has overwhelmed the porter room. There is only 1 kitchen and maybe 2 stoves. The smoke from these stoves permeates directly through the cracks into the porter room. We are flushed out once again as the masses huddle in either Lisa/mine/boby's room or Vinay and Anup's room. We are like sardines that have been placed in the frozen food section. I wait for dinner to come because I know that it will be time for bed immediately afterwards. The snow is still falling. There is contemplation of turning back if the storm does not let up after tomorrow. For the first time in my life, I am praying for the snow to stop. This means a lot coming from living in Truckee, California from time to time. I pray to God, Moses, Jesus, Vishnu, Shiva, and Buddha. We are going to need one of you to come forward and help us out, if for only this once.
-Travelling Sherman
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Day 11 and 12: Sama (Ro)
As Jose, Vinay and I are walking into a box canyon, we see a town in the distance. While Vinay stops to take a picture, Jose and I walk nearby to the prayer wheels, where I have grown accustomed to the Om Mane Padme Om chant.
The hike has been miraculously fast. Shailesh, another porter, is trying to teach me the nepali numbers 1-25. Between memorizing strange Nepali syllables and coping with now 11,000 ft. altitude, I now feel that I am trekking in a foreign land.
We reach Sama (Ro) in roughly 3 hours. Not bad for a day's walk. It's not even high noon as the rest of the group reaches town. The town has an alternate name, Samaygao, which I believe the Nepalis use and it sounds better to me, so from now on Sama (Ro) is Samaygao.
This place is much better than yesterday, as my mood is much better. The back of my head is starting to throb ever so slightly as I cope with the elevation. While 11,000 feet does not sound like much, my headache is compounded by the constant cold temperatures and a steady Nepali Diet of chipoti and Dahl Bat.
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After Rick and Lisa finish smoking their cigarettes, we decide to do a short hike to acclamate a little further. As we walk, we begin to hear heavy pulsating base drums, much like a war drum chant. Anup and Vinay tells me that this is coming from the Gompa (a small, buddhist monastary). We walk towards this gompa, sidestepping up a hill for roughly 30 minutes. My head is getting slightly lighter with every breath.
We reach the Gompa and walk in. I feel like I am with Buddha Gotama, himself. While it is not terribly lavish, I walk into the Gompa feeling like I just went into a time warp. The pungent smells of incense and smoke fill the air. There is a thronelike shrine in the middle with an image of Buddha. One of the people in the group say that Buddha is represented much differently in Nepal. He is more modest, more business-casual as opposed to the ornate sharp dressed Buddah shrines in Thailand. I like kicked back Buddah.
I go to kick back even farther and I almost bump into the dummer. A man in Traditional Boti clothing is reading a rectangular based Nepali Prayer book made out of parchment that looks decades old. In his left hand, he is holding the handle to a drum with an "S-like" handle which has a mallet attached to it. He seems to rhythmically strike the drum in sync with each syllable he utters. The man is so in the moment, I don't think he has bothered to look up in the last 5 hours. Lisa, myself and the gang leave him in peace as we go back to camp. The sunset is coming which basically means cold. I just hope I don't have to go use the poo-poo tent in the middle of the night. That's all I ask.
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Day 12: Rest Day in Samaygao...
Today is the scheduled rest day on the tour. The socially inept Czechloslavakians have left this morning. I think we slightly invaded on their privacy. They had stayed in the rudimentary bed shacks last night while we camped out in their front yard. Lisa thinks the shacks are so nice that she insists on moving in. This happens to become a wiser decision later tonight as the freezing rain moves in.
Since this is a rest day, I feel that this may be a good time to take a break from the action and introduce further some of the other westerners on our trip:
Lisa: The girlfriend. The only girl on this trip. She gets the Purple Heart award based on that alone. Even as she may complain behind closed tent zippers from time to time, she has done quite amazing. No other woman I know would even dare do this, and for that I am grateful. She is the practical one who brings baby wipes, sterilizing alcohol and conditioner. While I may snicker at some of these 'feminine' products from time to time during this trek, I'm so glad she brought them.
Rick: The leader. Whenever I have had a question about anything on the trek, one of my first responses would be, "let me ask rick." Rick has the best knowledge of the trail within the group of 7 westerners. He is the doctor of the moment with the most biological knowledge and extensive supply of pharmacutical supplies. Above all else, he keeps the most even of keels even when we individually gripe about our menial concerns of being cold and eating day old baked pasta.
Anup: The jokeman. He combines his knowledge of Indian and Nepali culture with a laid-back attitude and hankering towards College basketball. He can talk about anything from the chances of Duke winning the NCAA tournament to the palaces of Jaipur to the process of making ethanol fuel more efficient. I thank him advance for all the contacts in India he has given me and Lisa for the remainder of this trip.
Vinay: The cheerleader. Vinay is the one that goes out of the way to try and lift people's spirits through stories and songs. He knows more stories than Mr. Rogers. He tells me stories from the Tragedy of Karna to his child's escapades at school. A master photographer, he would qualify as a Renniasance man only if we can fine tune his singing. I will need his energy to make it over this pass.
Bobby: Lisa's brother and a good confidant. Bobby is the one that makes sure Lisa is okay when I'm not around from time to time. Him and Vinay are in a dead heat for biggest appetitite. Currently I give the nod over to Bobby, since he has eaten 12 bowls of porridge to Vinay's 11 up to this point. He is also known as the steri-pen man, as he waves his UV ray wand into people's nalgene bottles to zap away nasty parasites. Bobby tells it like it is. I like that. If more people just told it like it was, we would have less problems.
Jose: The enigma. What can I say about Jose that Ihaven't said already? I am glad he is here. He needs to stop eating raw sugar cubes as he is making everyone bonkers. Other than that, I love him.
----------------------
Today the group have 7 has broken up into 2 factions. One group will handle the gompa route to the Southeast and peak at about 13,000 feet. The other group will go to the nearby lake at about 11,000 feet. Rick, Anup and Tika the Guide are thinking about making it to Manaslu base camp today. I wish them the best of luck.
Our trip to the lake is quite nice as we hop over boulders and puddles. We get to see Manaslu oozing out slides after slides of ice and snow. The lake is just about frozen over. Hari, one of the porters, is our guide for the day. This makes me laugh as he has no idea where he is going. We reach the lake as we say goodbye to Rick, Anup and Tika as we head down to the lake for a closer look.
Hari likes to say "danger" a lot, even when there is none. If we pass by a thorny tree, he says 'danger'. If we pass by a few rocks out of place, he says 'danger'. He is what I think of as the Nepali Green Bean. Straight out of high school, this is trek #1 for Hari. Something tells me that he's not going on trek #2 anytime soon.
Hours later, Bobby, myself and Lisa are back at Samagyao. All in all, a great hike. The rest day was desperately needed for me. The cold has settled in a bit more and we go inside for lunch. A simple set of boiled eggs and leftover peanut butter, I do not mind. One by one, the rest of the comrades make it back inside. First, Jose, Vinay and Gopal. Then, Anup. Then, Rick and Tika. Rick looks like the Aboninable snowman as he tells us he just about reaches 15,000 feet. Rick is crazy to try to keep up with Tika. Tika is not crazy, since he is Nepali. Nepalis were born being able to hike. I was born being able to hike as long as there were porters carrying my stuff around. I swallow my pride and my eggs and enjoy the warmth. I'm excited about sleeping in a bed shack. I hope the sugar plum fairly pays a visit.
The hike has been miraculously fast. Shailesh, another porter, is trying to teach me the nepali numbers 1-25. Between memorizing strange Nepali syllables and coping with now 11,000 ft. altitude, I now feel that I am trekking in a foreign land.
We reach Sama (Ro) in roughly 3 hours. Not bad for a day's walk. It's not even high noon as the rest of the group reaches town. The town has an alternate name, Samaygao, which I believe the Nepalis use and it sounds better to me, so from now on Sama (Ro) is Samaygao.
This place is much better than yesterday, as my mood is much better. The back of my head is starting to throb ever so slightly as I cope with the elevation. While 11,000 feet does not sound like much, my headache is compounded by the constant cold temperatures and a steady Nepali Diet of chipoti and Dahl Bat.
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After Rick and Lisa finish smoking their cigarettes, we decide to do a short hike to acclamate a little further. As we walk, we begin to hear heavy pulsating base drums, much like a war drum chant. Anup and Vinay tells me that this is coming from the Gompa (a small, buddhist monastary). We walk towards this gompa, sidestepping up a hill for roughly 30 minutes. My head is getting slightly lighter with every breath.
We reach the Gompa and walk in. I feel like I am with Buddha Gotama, himself. While it is not terribly lavish, I walk into the Gompa feeling like I just went into a time warp. The pungent smells of incense and smoke fill the air. There is a thronelike shrine in the middle with an image of Buddha. One of the people in the group say that Buddha is represented much differently in Nepal. He is more modest, more business-casual as opposed to the ornate sharp dressed Buddah shrines in Thailand. I like kicked back Buddah.
I go to kick back even farther and I almost bump into the dummer. A man in Traditional Boti clothing is reading a rectangular based Nepali Prayer book made out of parchment that looks decades old. In his left hand, he is holding the handle to a drum with an "S-like" handle which has a mallet attached to it. He seems to rhythmically strike the drum in sync with each syllable he utters. The man is so in the moment, I don't think he has bothered to look up in the last 5 hours. Lisa, myself and the gang leave him in peace as we go back to camp. The sunset is coming which basically means cold. I just hope I don't have to go use the poo-poo tent in the middle of the night. That's all I ask.
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Day 12: Rest Day in Samaygao...
Today is the scheduled rest day on the tour. The socially inept Czechloslavakians have left this morning. I think we slightly invaded on their privacy. They had stayed in the rudimentary bed shacks last night while we camped out in their front yard. Lisa thinks the shacks are so nice that she insists on moving in. This happens to become a wiser decision later tonight as the freezing rain moves in.
Since this is a rest day, I feel that this may be a good time to take a break from the action and introduce further some of the other westerners on our trip:
Lisa: The girlfriend. The only girl on this trip. She gets the Purple Heart award based on that alone. Even as she may complain behind closed tent zippers from time to time, she has done quite amazing. No other woman I know would even dare do this, and for that I am grateful. She is the practical one who brings baby wipes, sterilizing alcohol and conditioner. While I may snicker at some of these 'feminine' products from time to time during this trek, I'm so glad she brought them.
Rick: The leader. Whenever I have had a question about anything on the trek, one of my first responses would be, "let me ask rick." Rick has the best knowledge of the trail within the group of 7 westerners. He is the doctor of the moment with the most biological knowledge and extensive supply of pharmacutical supplies. Above all else, he keeps the most even of keels even when we individually gripe about our menial concerns of being cold and eating day old baked pasta.
Anup: The jokeman. He combines his knowledge of Indian and Nepali culture with a laid-back attitude and hankering towards College basketball. He can talk about anything from the chances of Duke winning the NCAA tournament to the palaces of Jaipur to the process of making ethanol fuel more efficient. I thank him advance for all the contacts in India he has given me and Lisa for the remainder of this trip.
Vinay: The cheerleader. Vinay is the one that goes out of the way to try and lift people's spirits through stories and songs. He knows more stories than Mr. Rogers. He tells me stories from the Tragedy of Karna to his child's escapades at school. A master photographer, he would qualify as a Renniasance man only if we can fine tune his singing. I will need his energy to make it over this pass.
Bobby: Lisa's brother and a good confidant. Bobby is the one that makes sure Lisa is okay when I'm not around from time to time. Him and Vinay are in a dead heat for biggest appetitite. Currently I give the nod over to Bobby, since he has eaten 12 bowls of porridge to Vinay's 11 up to this point. He is also known as the steri-pen man, as he waves his UV ray wand into people's nalgene bottles to zap away nasty parasites. Bobby tells it like it is. I like that. If more people just told it like it was, we would have less problems.
Jose: The enigma. What can I say about Jose that Ihaven't said already? I am glad he is here. He needs to stop eating raw sugar cubes as he is making everyone bonkers. Other than that, I love him.
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Today the group have 7 has broken up into 2 factions. One group will handle the gompa route to the Southeast and peak at about 13,000 feet. The other group will go to the nearby lake at about 11,000 feet. Rick, Anup and Tika the Guide are thinking about making it to Manaslu base camp today. I wish them the best of luck.
Our trip to the lake is quite nice as we hop over boulders and puddles. We get to see Manaslu oozing out slides after slides of ice and snow. The lake is just about frozen over. Hari, one of the porters, is our guide for the day. This makes me laugh as he has no idea where he is going. We reach the lake as we say goodbye to Rick, Anup and Tika as we head down to the lake for a closer look.
Hari likes to say "danger" a lot, even when there is none. If we pass by a thorny tree, he says 'danger'. If we pass by a few rocks out of place, he says 'danger'. He is what I think of as the Nepali Green Bean. Straight out of high school, this is trek #1 for Hari. Something tells me that he's not going on trek #2 anytime soon.
Hours later, Bobby, myself and Lisa are back at Samagyao. All in all, a great hike. The rest day was desperately needed for me. The cold has settled in a bit more and we go inside for lunch. A simple set of boiled eggs and leftover peanut butter, I do not mind. One by one, the rest of the comrades make it back inside. First, Jose, Vinay and Gopal. Then, Anup. Then, Rick and Tika. Rick looks like the Aboninable snowman as he tells us he just about reaches 15,000 feet. Rick is crazy to try to keep up with Tika. Tika is not crazy, since he is Nepali. Nepalis were born being able to hike. I was born being able to hike as long as there were porters carrying my stuff around. I swallow my pride and my eggs and enjoy the warmth. I'm excited about sleeping in a bed shack. I hope the sugar plum fairly pays a visit.
Day 10 : Lho
Today by far has been the toughest day of the trek to date. We have climbed over 3000 feet today and all of us are dog tired. The views continue to be beautiful. At 10,000 feet, one can see glaciers in all directions. Today is the first day of the quite cold days. Tonight's lows should drop into the high 30s. We have small hikes tomorrow and the next day, followed by a rest day, followed by a night in Dharmasala before the pass. Then, we go over. 5 days. It seems like an eternity.
My mood is somewhat melancholy at the moment. We are in a village called Lho. It is a simple village comparable to 4 city blocks long - quite big for a remote village.
While going to a local bar inside the village, we run into a mother with a child who is badly bleeding from the ears. Between Lisa, Anup, Rick, Bobby, and myself, we manage to clean out the bloddy and apply some neosporin-like ointment. Gopal comes by to help out by singing in the baby's ear.
As rick finishes applying gauze pads to both ears and taping it across the head, I look around at all the people who are huddle in the village. The looks on their faces are despondant. People begin to line up one by one, jostling for our attention. It is too overwhelming. By the looks of the villagers' faces, it seems like no one has bothered to take a shower since September. Simple hygiene simply does not happen. This leads to infections which leads to serious health consequences. These people need real doctors. There is nothing more we can do to help them.
As I write today, I overhear voices saying that Mt. Manaslu has appeared clear within the sky. At this point, I have no desire to leave my tent. It's cold. I'm tired of talking to people all day. I need to hibernate in my tent and escape. I am fine. I will be fine. I say so long for now. Hopefully, you will find me in better spirits.
Namaste (for the 700th time today),
Travelling Sherman
My mood is somewhat melancholy at the moment. We are in a village called Lho. It is a simple village comparable to 4 city blocks long - quite big for a remote village.
While going to a local bar inside the village, we run into a mother with a child who is badly bleeding from the ears. Between Lisa, Anup, Rick, Bobby, and myself, we manage to clean out the bloddy and apply some neosporin-like ointment. Gopal comes by to help out by singing in the baby's ear.
As rick finishes applying gauze pads to both ears and taping it across the head, I look around at all the people who are huddle in the village. The looks on their faces are despondant. People begin to line up one by one, jostling for our attention. It is too overwhelming. By the looks of the villagers' faces, it seems like no one has bothered to take a shower since September. Simple hygiene simply does not happen. This leads to infections which leads to serious health consequences. These people need real doctors. There is nothing more we can do to help them.
As I write today, I overhear voices saying that Mt. Manaslu has appeared clear within the sky. At this point, I have no desire to leave my tent. It's cold. I'm tired of talking to people all day. I need to hibernate in my tent and escape. I am fine. I will be fine. I say so long for now. Hopefully, you will find me in better spirits.
Namaste (for the 700th time today),
Travelling Sherman
Day 9: Nambache
I am sitting on a gray, plastic mat. The same one we havebeen on for the last 9 days. We are joined by Mahananda (Tika's real uncle, who is also a porter) and Hari (Tika's brother's wife's brother). I'll stop writing for a second to let that soak in.
Smoke has just permeated into the area. Jose just summoned Anup to translate in order to tell these guys to stop. A Village boy has appeared and is staring at us. We are on exhibition for the entire village. Now I know how Shamoo feels at sea world.
Nambache is a quaint Boti town. The Boti are a mountain people that can be best explained by a hybrid of Tibetan Nepali. When encountering a family on the trail today, they looked puzzled as they see me - A bigger, whiter man with an REI cowboy hat. I might as well been from Planet Neptune. Fancy hiking shoes and backpacks are as foreign to them as a Chinese restaurant in Mississippi. They are just happy to be alive on planet earth, something I should think about more often.
Ramji is helping out with dinner tonight. At 23 years old, he has already started his family. Even after 9 days of camping, he seems affable, polite and polished. He serves us some genuine Nepali food: pasta with cauliflower. The cauliflower is curried with potatoes and lentils and gives us what the locals say 'good energy'. We are huddled into the dinner tent as the temperature falls into the 40s. It is Kumar the cook's birthday today. Ramji finishes off the dinner by serving us a carrot cake in Kumar's honor. We sing Happy Birthday to Kumar. The translation is lost on him. Nevertheless, Kumar shows good spirit as he blows out the candles. Tika breaks into a song about how if a girl and a boy were to meet and have true love, that the water would be clean. I've always agreed that good sanitary conditions make the best aphrodesiac.
The hiking has been strenuous, but the views have been awe-inspiring. We have seen countless waterfalls, Buddhist monastaries and stupas (small buddhist shrines). We have seen Himalayan peaks merge with cloud cover. I can honestly say the trip has been worth the sacrifice of sleeping in a clammy, humidified, tent. While I contemplate the mysteries of how to create a camp pillow from extra clothing and how to sleep on a 5 degree sloped hill, I need not forget the wonders of this place. The people of Nepal and Tibet have a hard life, a huge heart and a mighty spirit. I will need all of their heart and spirit to forge through the pass roughly 5 days from now. It's 8 PM and time for bed. We are going on a hike to a town named Sho tomorrow. Six hours more. Just another day at the office. More to come.
Smoke has just permeated into the area. Jose just summoned Anup to translate in order to tell these guys to stop. A Village boy has appeared and is staring at us. We are on exhibition for the entire village. Now I know how Shamoo feels at sea world.
Nambache is a quaint Boti town. The Boti are a mountain people that can be best explained by a hybrid of Tibetan Nepali. When encountering a family on the trail today, they looked puzzled as they see me - A bigger, whiter man with an REI cowboy hat. I might as well been from Planet Neptune. Fancy hiking shoes and backpacks are as foreign to them as a Chinese restaurant in Mississippi. They are just happy to be alive on planet earth, something I should think about more often.
Ramji is helping out with dinner tonight. At 23 years old, he has already started his family. Even after 9 days of camping, he seems affable, polite and polished. He serves us some genuine Nepali food: pasta with cauliflower. The cauliflower is curried with potatoes and lentils and gives us what the locals say 'good energy'. We are huddled into the dinner tent as the temperature falls into the 40s. It is Kumar the cook's birthday today. Ramji finishes off the dinner by serving us a carrot cake in Kumar's honor. We sing Happy Birthday to Kumar. The translation is lost on him. Nevertheless, Kumar shows good spirit as he blows out the candles. Tika breaks into a song about how if a girl and a boy were to meet and have true love, that the water would be clean. I've always agreed that good sanitary conditions make the best aphrodesiac.
The hiking has been strenuous, but the views have been awe-inspiring. We have seen countless waterfalls, Buddhist monastaries and stupas (small buddhist shrines). We have seen Himalayan peaks merge with cloud cover. I can honestly say the trip has been worth the sacrifice of sleeping in a clammy, humidified, tent. While I contemplate the mysteries of how to create a camp pillow from extra clothing and how to sleep on a 5 degree sloped hill, I need not forget the wonders of this place. The people of Nepal and Tibet have a hard life, a huge heart and a mighty spirit. I will need all of their heart and spirit to forge through the pass roughly 5 days from now. It's 8 PM and time for bed. We are going on a hike to a town named Sho tomorrow. Six hours more. Just another day at the office. More to come.
Day 8: Deng and a Top 10
As I sit in the tent writing this entry, coldness is starting to set in. At about 7000 feet, the temperature gauge ever so slightly heads south. Lush, tropical banana trees are turning into more of a sierra nevada like pine needle setting. While it is reasonably pleasant at the moment, i realize that from here to the Larkey pass it simply will get dramatically colder, not warmer.
Everyone has been great. Gopal and Tika have guided us well thus far. They are patient enough when we stumble and even crack some jokes in english. Today, I fell into a thicket of the Nepali equivalent of California Pine Needles hands first. It is similar to hundres of needles pricking your hand at the same time. The stinging goes away after 10 minutes, but the area feels numb for about a Day.
Deng is another beautiful village. We are now surrounded by the Snow capped mountains of the Himalayas for the first time of our trip. Mt. Ganesh is to the east, and an unnamed mountain lies to the west. Nepalis don't even bother to name mountains less than 12000 feet high.
Rick, Anup and Vinay are all great photographers. I eavesdrop on their conversations as they compare notes about exposure speeds, f-stops, shutter speeds and polarizing lens filters. Rick has set up his tripod in the middle of camp to take the ideal Ansel Adams photograph. Days later, Rick is to realize that his manual camera did not automatically detect the ISO speed, but for now, I'll leave the moment in its current glory.
Today we visit the village for a bit. The people have turned to speak more Tibetan than Nepali, which makes it more confusing on anybody. We peer into a rudimentary shop where various stones are sold. After careful inspection and a thirty minute bargaining session, Lisa, Rick and some others buy the various "Om Mane Pedme Om" stone. At an alarming 80 rupees, we are left to think if we have been had by the local merchant. Another thirty minute discussion now occurs between Rick, Anup and Vinay about macroeconomics and price-fixing strategies of the third world. My head begins to hurt as I retire to the tent.
I have a side note to all of this nonsense from the above paragraph. We, as westerners, are rich. Nepalis are not. A fact of life is that no matter how much you bargain, you will always pay more than the Nepali price. They call it "Tourist price". This is still much better than outright begging, but still this alarms me. Rick tells me that we screw these guys everyday in the world, so a little bit of payback is o.k. Fair enough. I agree. Every day I wake up I am so fortunate that I have been given a great life with ample wealth and opportunity. Nepalis beg because western tourists have spoiled them by giving away free candy and pens instead of giving them infrastructure for schools and sewer systems. So I now beg for your forgiveness if the following offends you. After accumulating the data, I have found the top 10 ways that you can beg if you are Nepali.
10. Pretend you are pregnant and need milk for your baby. Bonus points for using a baby - it doesn't even have to be yours.
9. Pretend you are my friend and that you want to take me around Kathmandu to see the sites. Then charge me $25 for the 1/2 hour tour.
8. Run a trekking company. Tell your clients one price initially, then tell them another price when they get there. Say that it is for the Maoist fees but tottaly lie about it.
7. Join the Maoist party. That way, you don't even beg - you just extort the money directly from the tourists.
6. Carve some Tibetan characters in the first rock you see. Then say it is from the Tibetan priests and charge $10 per rock.
5. Become a 3 year old kid, yell Namaste, and belligerently ask for a pen.
4. Simply cut into the middle of a conversation between two tourists and cup your hands.
3. Pretend to show a slide show out of goodwill in your guesthouse, then charge them 200 rupees per person afterwards.
2. Become a Sada (holy man). Sit around with your stick and take a vow of silence. Most likely, tourists will donate to you just to get you to say something.
1. If all else fails, assault your victim. Slap a hand in the backpack and see what comes up.
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Tonights dinner is Biryani - a Nepali like chow mein, which is quite good. It beats out the Nepali pasta with melted cheese and ketchup. That dinner should never be cooked again as long as I live.
I am switching to Tato Pani (hot water) at the end of most evenings now. Less caffeine and still keeps you warm. Sitting cross-legged for multiple hours is taking its toll. I join in for a game of bridge with Rick, Jose and Bobby. The adventure awaits. I am ready. We are ready. Just wake me up when we start crossing the pass.
Everyone has been great. Gopal and Tika have guided us well thus far. They are patient enough when we stumble and even crack some jokes in english. Today, I fell into a thicket of the Nepali equivalent of California Pine Needles hands first. It is similar to hundres of needles pricking your hand at the same time. The stinging goes away after 10 minutes, but the area feels numb for about a Day.
Deng is another beautiful village. We are now surrounded by the Snow capped mountains of the Himalayas for the first time of our trip. Mt. Ganesh is to the east, and an unnamed mountain lies to the west. Nepalis don't even bother to name mountains less than 12000 feet high.
Rick, Anup and Vinay are all great photographers. I eavesdrop on their conversations as they compare notes about exposure speeds, f-stops, shutter speeds and polarizing lens filters. Rick has set up his tripod in the middle of camp to take the ideal Ansel Adams photograph. Days later, Rick is to realize that his manual camera did not automatically detect the ISO speed, but for now, I'll leave the moment in its current glory.
Today we visit the village for a bit. The people have turned to speak more Tibetan than Nepali, which makes it more confusing on anybody. We peer into a rudimentary shop where various stones are sold. After careful inspection and a thirty minute bargaining session, Lisa, Rick and some others buy the various "Om Mane Pedme Om" stone. At an alarming 80 rupees, we are left to think if we have been had by the local merchant. Another thirty minute discussion now occurs between Rick, Anup and Vinay about macroeconomics and price-fixing strategies of the third world. My head begins to hurt as I retire to the tent.
I have a side note to all of this nonsense from the above paragraph. We, as westerners, are rich. Nepalis are not. A fact of life is that no matter how much you bargain, you will always pay more than the Nepali price. They call it "Tourist price". This is still much better than outright begging, but still this alarms me. Rick tells me that we screw these guys everyday in the world, so a little bit of payback is o.k. Fair enough. I agree. Every day I wake up I am so fortunate that I have been given a great life with ample wealth and opportunity. Nepalis beg because western tourists have spoiled them by giving away free candy and pens instead of giving them infrastructure for schools and sewer systems. So I now beg for your forgiveness if the following offends you. After accumulating the data, I have found the top 10 ways that you can beg if you are Nepali.
10. Pretend you are pregnant and need milk for your baby. Bonus points for using a baby - it doesn't even have to be yours.
9. Pretend you are my friend and that you want to take me around Kathmandu to see the sites. Then charge me $25 for the 1/2 hour tour.
8. Run a trekking company. Tell your clients one price initially, then tell them another price when they get there. Say that it is for the Maoist fees but tottaly lie about it.
7. Join the Maoist party. That way, you don't even beg - you just extort the money directly from the tourists.
6. Carve some Tibetan characters in the first rock you see. Then say it is from the Tibetan priests and charge $10 per rock.
5. Become a 3 year old kid, yell Namaste, and belligerently ask for a pen.
4. Simply cut into the middle of a conversation between two tourists and cup your hands.
3. Pretend to show a slide show out of goodwill in your guesthouse, then charge them 200 rupees per person afterwards.
2. Become a Sada (holy man). Sit around with your stick and take a vow of silence. Most likely, tourists will donate to you just to get you to say something.
1. If all else fails, assault your victim. Slap a hand in the backpack and see what comes up.
-------
------
Tonights dinner is Biryani - a Nepali like chow mein, which is quite good. It beats out the Nepali pasta with melted cheese and ketchup. That dinner should never be cooked again as long as I live.
I am switching to Tato Pani (hot water) at the end of most evenings now. Less caffeine and still keeps you warm. Sitting cross-legged for multiple hours is taking its toll. I join in for a game of bridge with Rick, Jose and Bobby. The adventure awaits. I am ready. We are ready. Just wake me up when we start crossing the pass.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Day 7: Phillim and Jose
No rest for the weary, as after a bad night's sleep on day 6, we venture on. Jose continues to talk like a 3rd grader, but it doesn't matter. Since he is the oldest in the group, he has license to do whatever he wants. To understand Jose is similar to understanding Algebra or Greek Mythology - it may seem so apparently easy, but there is much more to explore underneath the surface. On most days thus far, he wears the topi, the Nepali hat given to us during the Tika ceremony on Day 3. On top of that, he wears multi-colored swim trunks and a jacket purchased at the dollar store. To look at him is a conflict of concepts: old yet hip, poorly dressed but in the best of shape, silly humor but a phd. in physics - Jose is yin and yang mixed together. You just never know which side you get.
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"Pig Herding and Prayer Wheels"
Phillim is another Maoist town, but much more mellow than Machakola. As you walk in through the Gates, you see half-clothed children and women carrying bundles of rice downhill. The soil is said to be fertile once every two years. In fact, you can see bunches of fires burning at the same time This allows the nutrients of the soil are supposed to be replenished.
Gopal reccomends we stroll for 15 minutes to the nearby Buddhist monastary. He forgets to tell us about the 500 steps we had to take in the process to get there. Once reaching the top, we are immediately rewarded. As we enter the monastary, we are surrounded by Buddahs of all different shapes, sizes and poses. Off to the left, there is a prayer wheel. At the prayer wheel, the following is written in Nepali and translated for me in English:
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"Pig Herding and Prayer Wheels"
Phillim is another Maoist town, but much more mellow than Machakola. As you walk in through the Gates, you see half-clothed children and women carrying bundles of rice downhill. The soil is said to be fertile once every two years. In fact, you can see bunches of fires burning at the same time This allows the nutrients of the soil are supposed to be replenished.
Gopal reccomends we stroll for 15 minutes to the nearby Buddhist monastary. He forgets to tell us about the 500 steps we had to take in the process to get there. Once reaching the top, we are immediately rewarded. As we enter the monastary, we are surrounded by Buddahs of all different shapes, sizes and poses. Off to the left, there is a prayer wheel. At the prayer wheel, the following is written in Nepali and translated for me in English:
Om Mane Pedme Om
Praise Buddah, it means. The Nepalis chant this repeatedly when entering the monastary. The prayer wheel personifies the chant. Jose tells me that you turn the prayer wheel clockwise for respecting Buddah. I also learn that anytime you are in a Buddhist monastary, you always move around any objects or fixtures from left to right. I am not sure why this is, but if anyone knows, do please let me know. I think of it as a Buddah Wheel of Fortune where you always hit jackpot.
As we walk back down to the village, I turn back and notice Gopal with a stick chasing a pig. It turns out that there was a big 'cow vs. pig' heavyweight contest transpiring in the middle of the rice fields along our path. Lisa and Bobby almost get caught in the middle. I can't help but laugh. I'm in the middle of a field, watching farm animals attack each other, miles from any computer, electrical outlet or machinery whatsoever. I can honestly say that I will miss farm animals in general when I return to the Bay Area.
As we walk back down to the village, I turn back and notice Gopal with a stick chasing a pig. It turns out that there was a big 'cow vs. pig' heavyweight contest transpiring in the middle of the rice fields along our path. Lisa and Bobby almost get caught in the middle. I can't help but laugh. I'm in the middle of a field, watching farm animals attack each other, miles from any computer, electrical outlet or machinery whatsoever. I can honestly say that I will miss farm animals in general when I return to the Bay Area.
Day 5: Machakola
Today, we reach the poopy town of Machakola. I apologize for the vulgar language, but there really is poop everywhere. There is rooster poop, donkey poop, yak poop and every other poop you can think of. After a few mild days of camping in agreeable climates and camp sites, I have a feeling this campsite may leave something to be desired.
Enter the Maoists. This is the political party that has grown immensely over the last decade. Less than 6 months ago, they forced a coup d'etat in which the King of Nepal had to reinstate Parliament. This would sound like an agreeable thing for the King to do. The only problem is that once Parliament got instated, the first thing they did was to create a law to strip the King of his power.
A representative communist democracy. While it may be quite the oxy-moron of a government, this is exactly what has happened. As I write this, the Maoists are predicted to win more that 1/3 of the government legislature. All of this sounds like the birth pangs of a democratic state.
There's one small problem. The Maoists practice extortion along the side.
I will try and explain further. When you enter Nepal, you pay a visa on the spot. The Maoists think the same way for their cause. When you enter Maoist territory, you pay a fee. Delinquent payments are punished lightly at first. Maybe they will simply follow you from town to town. If you refuse to pay further you may be strongly suggested to pay. If you try to really put the screws on them, you may become tomorrow night's evening news.
The village of Machakola represents the first entry point into Maoist territory. As we enter the town, we see English print stating, "Welcome to Machakola. Enjoy your stay". These guys really know how to turn on the hospitality.
We are all on edge tonight. All 7 of us know that at least one of the villagers is associated with the Maoist party. We are now being watched. Everything we do from eating dinner, playing cards or brushing our teeth is carefully studied.
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The cook has bought a goat from across the river. We are alerted that this will be tonight's dinner. A stewed goat. Quite a bit gamey. I guess some little girl just lost her pet.
We realize that little voyeuristic kids stop being cute on day number 3. They like staring at Lisa when she switches out her bra. Paranoid by this, I run around at the kids and flash my shirt to get their attention away.
I am learning to play bridge. Rick and Jose are the experts as I stumble and follow. It reminds me of watching an episode of jeopardy.
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The next morning ,Tufun (translation: Storm) approaches Anup - one of the westerners in our group. Tufun has his hands folded as Anup and Tufun talk in Hindi. At some point, a meeting takes place inside Rick's tent, as he has called all of us over. It's time to fork over the cash. I give roughly 8000 roupees (roughly $100). I've lost the beer money for the rest of the trip. We are upset, but we realize that we have no other option.
After accumulating the money, we are still milling about around the campsite. The hard boiled eggs and chipoti for breakfast has settled in. We see Anup still standing with Tufun. It turns out that Anup has become enthralled into a political discussion with the Maoist representative. Only in Nepal will hardened criminals rob you, then engage you in some healthy debate. Anup may be careful here as to not get an attractive job offer as Maoist village bully. I hear they give better health benefits than the states.
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Not all is bad on this day. I find out more about Nepali culture.
It occurs to me that Nepalis will fake an injury to get any Western medicine they possibly can. For example, a lady in the town has a swelling in her leg, I give her 2 advil. A little boy has a 'broken' arm, we give him 2 advil. We ask both of them the next day how they are feeling and they act as if they never asked us for the medicine. Advil: The placebo medicine 3rd world countries trust the most.
Little Nepali kids are increasingly starting to yell Namaste more frequently the higher we climb in elevation. They also enjoy pens. 'Pen chai no' is the key phrase Gopal teaches us. No. I'm sorry, I left my 'I'm with stupid' pens back home.
We are off again on another 3 hour trip as day 5 turns to day 6. We plan to stay in a town called Jagat. As we march out of Machakola, the group is ready to leave behind salty goat and bitter townspeople. Onward and upward, wherever that is.
-travelling sherman
Enter the Maoists. This is the political party that has grown immensely over the last decade. Less than 6 months ago, they forced a coup d'etat in which the King of Nepal had to reinstate Parliament. This would sound like an agreeable thing for the King to do. The only problem is that once Parliament got instated, the first thing they did was to create a law to strip the King of his power.
A representative communist democracy. While it may be quite the oxy-moron of a government, this is exactly what has happened. As I write this, the Maoists are predicted to win more that 1/3 of the government legislature. All of this sounds like the birth pangs of a democratic state.
There's one small problem. The Maoists practice extortion along the side.
I will try and explain further. When you enter Nepal, you pay a visa on the spot. The Maoists think the same way for their cause. When you enter Maoist territory, you pay a fee. Delinquent payments are punished lightly at first. Maybe they will simply follow you from town to town. If you refuse to pay further you may be strongly suggested to pay. If you try to really put the screws on them, you may become tomorrow night's evening news.
The village of Machakola represents the first entry point into Maoist territory. As we enter the town, we see English print stating, "Welcome to Machakola. Enjoy your stay". These guys really know how to turn on the hospitality.
We are all on edge tonight. All 7 of us know that at least one of the villagers is associated with the Maoist party. We are now being watched. Everything we do from eating dinner, playing cards or brushing our teeth is carefully studied.
-----
The cook has bought a goat from across the river. We are alerted that this will be tonight's dinner. A stewed goat. Quite a bit gamey. I guess some little girl just lost her pet.
We realize that little voyeuristic kids stop being cute on day number 3. They like staring at Lisa when she switches out her bra. Paranoid by this, I run around at the kids and flash my shirt to get their attention away.
I am learning to play bridge. Rick and Jose are the experts as I stumble and follow. It reminds me of watching an episode of jeopardy.
----
The next morning ,Tufun (translation: Storm) approaches Anup - one of the westerners in our group. Tufun has his hands folded as Anup and Tufun talk in Hindi. At some point, a meeting takes place inside Rick's tent, as he has called all of us over. It's time to fork over the cash. I give roughly 8000 roupees (roughly $100). I've lost the beer money for the rest of the trip. We are upset, but we realize that we have no other option.
After accumulating the money, we are still milling about around the campsite. The hard boiled eggs and chipoti for breakfast has settled in. We see Anup still standing with Tufun. It turns out that Anup has become enthralled into a political discussion with the Maoist representative. Only in Nepal will hardened criminals rob you, then engage you in some healthy debate. Anup may be careful here as to not get an attractive job offer as Maoist village bully. I hear they give better health benefits than the states.
----
Not all is bad on this day. I find out more about Nepali culture.
It occurs to me that Nepalis will fake an injury to get any Western medicine they possibly can. For example, a lady in the town has a swelling in her leg, I give her 2 advil. A little boy has a 'broken' arm, we give him 2 advil. We ask both of them the next day how they are feeling and they act as if they never asked us for the medicine. Advil: The placebo medicine 3rd world countries trust the most.
Little Nepali kids are increasingly starting to yell Namaste more frequently the higher we climb in elevation. They also enjoy pens. 'Pen chai no' is the key phrase Gopal teaches us. No. I'm sorry, I left my 'I'm with stupid' pens back home.
We are off again on another 3 hour trip as day 5 turns to day 6. We plan to stay in a town called Jagat. As we march out of Machakola, the group is ready to leave behind salty goat and bitter townspeople. Onward and upward, wherever that is.
-travelling sherman
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Day 3 - from the bottom drawer.
Along our Doh Shoo Day hike, we reach Gopal's house. Gopal, being the other guide on our trip, was an excellent host. Gopal also hosts his own Tikka ceremony, with his daughter, Ghioti, being center stage.
Rick with Gopal's Family. Gopal is the Third person from the Left. Rick is the only westerner in the picture.
These locals are so nice that when Lisa breaks her flip flops on the hike, Ghioti insists on taking her sandals. Ghioti can walk barefoot for miles in the jungle no problem. Ghioti is seven years old.
A picture of Ghioti is seen below
We walk to Krisna the porter and Karna the Sherpa's houses. There's no real set itinerary at each once, just a few dozen head bows, stating namaste repeatedly, playing with the local kids, and drinking what I call Nepali Buffalo yogurt.
Recipe for Nepalli Buff (abbreviation in nepali for buffalo) yogurt:
1 quart of buffalo milk, boiled.
Remove the fat.
Add a bit of water.
Put 1 lime inside.
Drink.
Pray
While disgusting at first, the taste grows on to you. I decide to drink the whole thing. Fortunately enough, none of us get sick from the yogurt. In fact, the only one who has gotten sick so far has been Rick. He believes the culprit was the roadside dahl bat bus lunch stop. Never trust that bus food. He realizes that Antibiotics make the best friends and gives you dilusions of invincibility. Only 17 days left to go. Soon the sizzling heat will give way to the stark coldness of the 17000 foot Larke Pass. I try and get some sleep. No more staying at houses after this point. Tomorrow the trek truly begins.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Day 3: Baseri
The last day of our stay in Tika's village and I am feeling quite honored. The hospitality has been nothing but spectacular. After 4 hours of hiking from our last camp - Arughat Bazar, we reach Tika and Gopal's village of Baseri.
Tika, one of our two guides on the trip
We walk into a picture that could have been taken 100 years ago. There is no electricity to speak of. There are stone floors, clay structures, and tin or straw roofs. We sleep in a very humble yet amazingly comfortable room. Hard, sturdy beds and a common area used for eating, storing clothes and anything else you can possibly imagine...
Yesterday was the third day of the Nepali festival - Dewali. On this day, we were told tat we were going to be apart of a ceremony. To be honest, I had no idea as to what to expect. I imagined something like a knighting ceremony, or a Luke Skywalker Star Wars ceremony. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
At 11 AM, we assemble outside on the mats placed in the middle of the grounds. Today is the "Tikka" ceremony. The tradition is that the sister marks upon the brothers' foreheads with various colors and symbols. The Tikka, itself, is the small red dot placed upon the bridge of your nose. It signifies good luck on future journeys. In exchange, the 'Tikkaed" men will apply small red stones on the sister's forehead and give to her 100 rupees ($1.50) each. Not bad for a day's ceremony, but a bit below minimum wage.
Tikka's sister getting the final honorary "Tikka" seen below.
"Tapai-lai costa cha?", how are you doing? How am I doing? Here are some highlights thus far on camping in the first 3 days.
1. Squatting and poo-poo (aka. #2). You walk into a small room with 2 footmats and a hole in the middle. The goal is when you go #2, you should try for the whole in one everytime. One should first get a degree in gymnastics before performing everyday bathroom procedures in Nepal.
One of the westerners on our trip, Jose, is infatuated with #2. We told him he is not to talk about it during the dinnertime hours.
2. Eating. The food has been great. The staple of Nepali cuisine is called Dahl Bat. This is basically rice (bat), bean and lentil gravy (Dahl), accompanied with curried Potatoes and a vegetable. Most Nepalis will eat this at least once a day with their right hand. (note to self: do not ask what they do with their left hand). In addition, we have our share of rice pudding with fresh bannanas from the forest. My thought of losing 10 pounds on this trip has gone through the window. During the "Tikka" ceremony as described above, we are given Roti (fried bread) among other dishes. The only problem is that we are expected to eat this in front of the cow dung placed in the middle of the square. It suggest rebirth. As I hold my stomach rocking it back and forth, the only thing it suggests to me is vomiting.
The food of the Tikka ceremony seen below:
3. Doh shoo day. The compulsory chat of the Diwali festival. Then asked for its translation, there is no straight answer. Last night was the parading of the Nepalis from town to town. Ahri the porter is playing the Mahdi - the nepali drum - constantly, while Karna the porter narrates in song throughout the village.
Karna
After the Tikka ceremony described earlier, we go from house to house singing the Doh shoo Day chant to each house...This is done to wish good luck to each household for the upcomming year. This goes well into the evening, and at some point when you think they are all finished, someone yells Doh Shoo Day once more and the whole crowd erupts in song. We all take turns dancing in the middle of the local village people like idiots. The Doh shoo day is to Nepalis as Jingle Bells are to Catholics or as Dayenu is to the Jews. Doh Shoo Day, Doh Shoo Day, Doh Shoo Day....just turn the light off when you are finished.
Tika, one of our two guides on the trip
We walk into a picture that could have been taken 100 years ago. There is no electricity to speak of. There are stone floors, clay structures, and tin or straw roofs. We sleep in a very humble yet amazingly comfortable room. Hard, sturdy beds and a common area used for eating, storing clothes and anything else you can possibly imagine...
Yesterday was the third day of the Nepali festival - Dewali. On this day, we were told tat we were going to be apart of a ceremony. To be honest, I had no idea as to what to expect. I imagined something like a knighting ceremony, or a Luke Skywalker Star Wars ceremony. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
At 11 AM, we assemble outside on the mats placed in the middle of the grounds. Today is the "Tikka" ceremony. The tradition is that the sister marks upon the brothers' foreheads with various colors and symbols. The Tikka, itself, is the small red dot placed upon the bridge of your nose. It signifies good luck on future journeys. In exchange, the 'Tikkaed" men will apply small red stones on the sister's forehead and give to her 100 rupees ($1.50) each. Not bad for a day's ceremony, but a bit below minimum wage.
Tikka's sister getting the final honorary "Tikka" seen below.
"Tapai-lai costa cha?", how are you doing? How am I doing? Here are some highlights thus far on camping in the first 3 days.
1. Squatting and poo-poo (aka. #2). You walk into a small room with 2 footmats and a hole in the middle. The goal is when you go #2, you should try for the whole in one everytime. One should first get a degree in gymnastics before performing everyday bathroom procedures in Nepal.
One of the westerners on our trip, Jose, is infatuated with #2. We told him he is not to talk about it during the dinnertime hours.
2. Eating. The food has been great. The staple of Nepali cuisine is called Dahl Bat. This is basically rice (bat), bean and lentil gravy (Dahl), accompanied with curried Potatoes and a vegetable. Most Nepalis will eat this at least once a day with their right hand. (note to self: do not ask what they do with their left hand). In addition, we have our share of rice pudding with fresh bannanas from the forest. My thought of losing 10 pounds on this trip has gone through the window. During the "Tikka" ceremony as described above, we are given Roti (fried bread) among other dishes. The only problem is that we are expected to eat this in front of the cow dung placed in the middle of the square. It suggest rebirth. As I hold my stomach rocking it back and forth, the only thing it suggests to me is vomiting.
The food of the Tikka ceremony seen below:
3. Doh shoo day. The compulsory chat of the Diwali festival. Then asked for its translation, there is no straight answer. Last night was the parading of the Nepalis from town to town. Ahri the porter is playing the Mahdi - the nepali drum - constantly, while Karna the porter narrates in song throughout the village.
Karna
After the Tikka ceremony described earlier, we go from house to house singing the Doh shoo Day chant to each house...This is done to wish good luck to each household for the upcomming year. This goes well into the evening, and at some point when you think they are all finished, someone yells Doh Shoo Day once more and the whole crowd erupts in song. We all take turns dancing in the middle of the local village people like idiots. The Doh shoo day is to Nepalis as Jingle Bells are to Catholics or as Dayenu is to the Jews. Doh Shoo Day, Doh Shoo Day, Doh Shoo Day....just turn the light off when you are finished.
Day 1: Arughat Bazar
The Nepali drums play in the background as camp breaks down. After the ten hour bus ride to Arughat Bazar and a night of camping by the river, we are ready to hike to Baseri - Tika and Gopal's village. A 4 mile hike with over a 1000 foot climb at the end is simply a prelude of things to come.
During our stay we have befriended the nicest of people. Lead by our guides Tika and Gopal, Devraj (Tika's brother) and about 2 dozen Nepali porters and chefs, I can not imagine any people being nicer. We meet a handful of the local kids - Ghita and Roo - who are more than jubliant. They are amazed by Rick, Vinay, and Lisa's digital camera. How can someone take a picture of one of them only to have it displayed in a six inch square screen.
Jose with some of the local children in Arughat Bazar
Last night, after the chicken soup and egg chop suey combination - the whole town decides to come and dance for the Dawali festival. Each song, only accompanied by the Mahdi- the Nepali drum - is sung by someone who truly cares. While I can not understand a single word they say, they explain their stories in song. Whether it is taking the rice from field to field, or playing the Nepali Nut dice game, there probably is a song written about it . And you know for sure that the song will be accompanied by a Mahdi, and will keep you up to well past 1 o'clock in the morning.
The Bus ride from Kathmandu...
As we enter the bus, we pass by the gangly goats wallowing in the nearby trash pile. A fire is buring the excess piles. Local Nepalis are huddling around picking out the latest produce at the nearby stands.
We get on the bus and pile in. I hop over the jugs of hot water and I join Lisa in the front seats. There are a slew of local families hugging the windshield as the bus pulls out on its way. For the next seven hours, my view is the multi-colored tassles and red carpeted upholstery of the magical Nepali bus. Our destination is Arughat Bazar, on way to a 20 day trek over the Larke Pass. On the way we will be stopping at Baseri - the home village of our guides - Tika and Gopal. We will be here for the Dewali Festival.
Dewali, quite put, is the most celebrated festival of the year. Each day is a celebration of a different fabled Nepali event. The most important day is called Lokshmi - the celebration of Vishnu's partner - the Goddess of wealth. Nepalis all around light up the house so that this Goddess might grace their presence. I think of it as the holy lottery. You just never know.
My hand is startin' to run jagged from the lack of shocks on the prime conditioned 20 year old bus. The bus in front of us has stopped in the mud as we fear that their axel has broke. We will try and help them, but I am not sure what we can do.
Alas, it seems like a bit of welding has done the trip. On the road again. The Nepali Highwaymen. No Maoist revolution can stop us now.
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