September 18, 2010

Going home. Do pat downs count as a date?

We get up, pack, hit the gym, eat breakfast and then head to the airport. We take our leave of Tsering, and give him the book with his story in it and one of my whiskey flasks as well as a tip. He was a big fan of the whiskey. And then we’re off.

We go through security at the Kathmandu airport. This includes 2 bag searches and 2 pat downs, plus x-rays. Then they take us out to the tarmac, in the heat and make us wait in line while they do yet another pat down and bag search. Really. Another one. On the tarmac. Safety first is serious here. After an hour to board at that rate, we’re off to India.

In India, they put us back in the holding area for hours, where we end up entertaining the security guards with our headlamps and fuzzy socks.

Then finally into security, another pat down (if you’re counting, and I am, we’re at 4 now), and then into the airport and eventually off to Paris.

In Paris we get off the plane and then have to catch a shuttle bus. But there aren’t any busses coming so we get stuck in an angry mob of a couple hundred people about to miss their flights. Verbal fights break out. It’s not pretty.

Another hour before we’re to our next security line, another pat down (hello—5 now. Count ‘em, 5. Good times. But they never call). They then confiscate a beautiful bottle of vodka that Ni bought in India for RJ. They tell us it can’t go through security, despite the fact it was purchased in the airport and they had assured us in India it was fine. Blurgh.

Then back on a plane to JFK. And 30 plus hours later I’m home in New York. Lisa and Ni have a 6 hour lay over and another 6 hour flight home. Poor things.

Trip over. Trek good. Sleep now.

September 17, 2010

Patan, Bhaktapur and Dinner. Whiskey has its price.

Lisa is still under the weather, so she opts to sleep in. Ni and I are up and out early. Tsering has arranged a tour with a guide name Shiva.

Shiva turns out to be a charismatic, funny man who tells us to go ahead and ask any question, he’ll answer it. And he does. When asked, he gives us a basic run-down of Nepali history, current politics, religion, marriage, the generation gap, and everything in between.

He takes us first to see one of the old capitals of Nepal, Patan. It’s a huge city square filled with temples and palaces. It’s fairly empty this early and we enjoy the relative silence. We pile back in the car to head to another old capital, Bhaktapur.

Along the way, when asking about the Tibetan refugee situation in Nepal, Shiva changes our plans and takes us to the Tibetan Refugee Camp. It is not at all what I envisioned. It’s a large compound, built in the 60s, dominated by one big building. The building is home to the Tibetan Refugee carpet factory. We get out and go into the ‘factory’. One floor is full of elderly Tibetan women spinning and carding raw wool into yarn. Another room is full of looms of all sizes where Tibetan women sit and weave carpets by hand (God only knows where the Tibetan men are). Then we went to the showroom to see hundreds of beautiful handmade carpets for sale. Truly lovely work.

Shiva explains that the Tibetans that are there have been there for up to 50 years, and the only way to get citizenship and leave the camp is to marry a Nepali. So this is what most of the young Tibetans spend their time trying to do. Marry a Nepali.

Then off to Bhaktapur. Along the way Shiva explains that Nepal too is run by the caste system, like India. Though not quite as intense as in India. He says the younger generation is trying to abolish that. They say there are only two castes you can be born into ‘man’ or ‘woman’. They’re marrying out of caste and marrying for love. Shiva explains his marriage is a love match. We look at Tsering and he says his was arranged.

Bhaktapur. A much smaller city. Quieter, cleaner. The old capital is made of intricate red brick temples and a huge palace—the palace with one window for everyone of the king’s wives. There are a lot of windows. He must have been one busy man. We stop in the art museum and go to the pottery square, where members of the potters’ caste work everyday in clay.

Then we load up to head back to the Yak and Yeti. Along the way Shiva regales us with the tale of current politics. In 2001, as many will remember, a massacre occurred in the palace. The crown prince, then 29, shot and killed his parents, siblings and many aunts, uncles and cousins, before turning the gun on himself. This is widely reported as fact. But Tsering and Shiva are both adamant in the claim that it was a conspiracy put together by the king’s brother, the crown prince’s uncle. And their reasons are sound, after all the uncle and his immediate family are the only ones who survived the shooting and claim that they did so merely by begging to not be shot. And the crown prince died from a bullet to the left temple, even though he’s right handed. The uncle assumed the throne, was unpopular (and many Nepali believe him a murderer), and later rescinded.

The political situation is now a disaster as many parties vie to run the country. And at this point, most Nepalis seem to want the uncle to resume the thrown to provide stability, and because they said life was better under a king.

We thank Shiva and head back to the Yak and Yeti. Tsering says he’ll pick us up for dinner later. So Ni and I are left to loose ends. We decide on a manicure/pedicure and head off to find the spa. Hysterical. We walk in and it’s like the Nepali version of ‘Steel Magnolias’. It feels like a small town salon in the 80s--both in décor and the hair of the women working there. When we ask for a mani/pedi, we’re greeted with confused looks. Then a conference ensues and eventually five women are consulted and recruited before they say yes.

We then are converged on and one of the more entertaining mani/pedi’s ever occurs. Ni and I can do nothing but laugh. At the end of the day, at least we look better than we did on the way in.

That night, Lisa and Ni and I meet Tsering downstairs. He’s said we’re going to dinner at a traditional Nepali place. We’re excited. What ensues is one of the stranger nights out I’ve ever had.

We go to this restaurant, on the top floor of a building. We’re sat cross-legged on the floor in a corner. Then two other men join us. Tsering had worked for years with a touring company out of San Francisco. This year that company folded and he’s started to work with a new local company, and these two men are the owners of that company and they clearly wanted to meet us so we could come back and promote them to our friends in the states.

Wow, were they something. It was such a strange night, like they’d watched Hollywood movies of how you do business and were trying to emulate that. They bought a bottle of whiskey for the table and a bunch of meat dishes. Then started telling loud, inappropriate jokes. And then, a bunch of beautiful women came out and started doing traditional Nepali dances, clothed true, but still. Strange. Needless to say, at the end of the night, we all assured Tsering that we loved him, and if any of our friends wanted to come, we’d be referring them to him directly.

Strange indeed.

Pictures:
Patan
Tibetan Woman making yarn
Tibetan Women Weaving
Bahktapur
Bahktapur
Pottery Square

September 16, 2010

Lukla to Kathmandu. Rickshaws.

Up at 5 am. Packing like mad. Rushing to airport. Only to wait. For the rain to stop. It’s cloudy and drizzly. Hoping to get out of Lukla today. Our 6 am flight is delayed. Delayed again. And then suddenly at 8.30, three planes make it in. We’re then shuttled out. We board, and in minutes are in the air and on the way back. They don’t mess around here. When it’s time to go, it’s time to go.

Back to Kathmandu and the Yak and Yeti. Ni and I’s first order of business is to find cold meds for Lisa. So we drop off our bags and head back out. The concierge has told us there is a drug store just down the road. We follow his directions and find nothing. We go further. Nothing. Come back. Nothing with drugs, anywhere. We find a cop and after some pantomiming and discussion he starts to give us directions. At that point a young Nepali mans says he’ll take us to the medicine shop. We thank him and he takes off walking. Quickly. Ni and I fall in behind, trying to keep up as he weaves through the busy sidewalks. He crosses the street by simply stepping in front of traffic. After a solid fifteen minutes, we stop in front of a tiny store. It’s the size of a hallway and it’s lined with cubbyholes filled with drugs. We thank our guide, but he takes off quickly. Not talkative.

We manage to convey our needs to the shopkeeper. He gets us a bunch of sudaphedrine and cough drops, for which we’re charged less than a dollar. And off we go. Back across the street and to the hotel—which we manage to do without being smashed by a bus or motorcycle.

Then we finally get to clean up at the Yak and Yeti. A shower and truly clean clothes. Lovely.

Ni and I then head to the Thamel district to shop. The Thamel district is the tourist district and it’s a riot of stores selling souvenirs and trekking equipment. It’s dotted with restaurants and hotels. And it is busy. Ni and I are hoping for lunch and then are going mask shopping. We stop at a couple of restaurants, but they’re all big touristy spots, and they’re empty. Not a good sign. Then we find a great mask shop, and ask the proprietor about a lunch spot before we shop. He sends us upstairs where we find a tiny place called the Nepali Pizza Kitchen. There are maybe 5 tables, and one other customer. But the menu is all in Nepali and there is no pizza actually on the menu. A good sign.

We order some water, soup, curried veggies and dumplings (handmade in front of us) and the entire meal costs us less than three dollars. Amazing. And the food was unbelievable. The other customer is an American expat on a world tour, he’s clearly drunk and stoned, but friendly and talkative.

Then we head back down and find a lovely mask.

We decide to head back to the Yak and Yeti, but realize we are hopelessly lost in the maze of Thamel alleys and it’s starting to rain. There are no street names or signs and everything looks the same. So we stop one of the bicycle rickshaws and negotiate a trip to the Yak and Yeti for 3 dollars, flat rate. We get in and as we start we realize that our driver has no idea where the Yak and Yeti is. He keeps stopping and asking people on the street ‘Yak and Yeti?’ He seems to figure it out at some point and pedals with more confidence. We reach a hill. He stops, asks us to get out, has us walk up the hill, and then loads us back in. A few minutes later we’re back in the hotel.

We have dinner that night in the lounge on our floor and drink excessive amounts of red wine while making friends with the staff. We then collapse into bed; drunk, clean and happy.

Pictures:

Runway in Lukla

Kathmandu from Plane

September 15, 2010

Chursema to Lukla. I win at cards.

We wake up to a beautiful sunny morning. Lisa sleeps in and Anita and I head out to tour the home and grounds with Dawa as our guide. First stop. His great-uncle’s home/monastery. We head out of the house and then straight up the hillside. And I mean straight up. There is no trail, Dawa just heads straight into the thick vegetation toward a cliff face. We push through weeds, flower and brambles, and our allergies kick in big time. 25 minutes up and we are sweaty, bur-covered messes. And then we step into a small clearing.

We are at the base of the cliff. Built into the rock is a small home with a memorial out front. Dawa explains that this was his uncle’s home. His uncle was a lama of some renown, so the house is also considered a monastery and holy place. He came here to meditate and study and students would seek him here for training.

We head inside. It’s in a state of disrepair, dark and cobweb covered. There is a small kitchen and then the common room. The common room has books, thankas (religious paintings), and Buddhist statues.

Then we head onto the roof. This is where he did most of his meditating, which he did for up to seven years at a stretch. The view is spectacular. It’s easy to see why he chose this place. Prayers are painted and carved into the cliff. The house has been untouched since his death.

We head down a after a while and as we head back down the mountain, Dawa manages to find us a faint trail so the going is easier. We cross a stream at the base of a fabulous waterfall. Anita and I manage to cross the slippery rocks without falling in, but Dawa takes a plunge while helping Ni across. As we go down the trail, he heads off to the house to change, and sends Ni and I on down the trail. It is almost miraculous what happens next. We are left alone, on a clear trail, and with in 10 minutes manage to make a wrong turn and get ourselves lost. This folks, is talent. Real skill. We figure it out relatively quickly and head back down the right trail.

Dawa meets up with us and we head down the mountain. He shows us the 3 greenhouses, full of the peppers and tomatoes and food we’ve been eating on the trip. We see fields of potatoes and corn and the apple orchard. He essentially owns a whole hillside that is a huge working farm. Dawa then takes us back up the mountain. Again, straight up. Hot, sweaty, pulling through brambles up. Until we reach his grandmother’s house.

We stop to meet his grandmother and see her home. She offers us, of course, tea! And as we’ve learned, you never say no to tea in Nepal. So we have tea and crackers and Dawa shows us some of the family pictures. Then we’re fetched for lunch and treated to Ami’s cooking. A fabulous veggie soup and potato pancakes. These potato pancakes are thin, like crepes, and they top it with fresh cream and spinach. Delicious.

We take our leave of the family and leave Ami with some thank you presents and then head on our way to Lukla. Last day of hiking. Fairly easy and relaxed, although poor Lisa is now in the throws of a full bronchial infection.

We make it into Lukla and get settled into the teahouse. We get Lisa into bed. Then Ni and I head up for dinner. We bring back some soup and a hot toddie for Lisa, so she can stay and sleep.

Our boys have gone all out. Tsering has gotten a bottle of wine (how well he knows us now) and Gara has been cooking up a storm. We have 3 kinds of curried veggies, an awesome sweet saffron rice, and the best fried chicken I’ve ever eaten. Ni and I cleaned our plates (RJ you would have been proud). And after all of that, Gara brings in a beautiful decorated cake for dessert.

After dinner, Ni and I thank everyone and we pass out decks of cards with tips inside for all our guys. And the night ends with a Call Break tournament for prizes that Lisa has brought (hats and t-shirts). I, for the first time, beat Pala. Miracle of Miracles. Big deal. The competition has been tough. But it is Jitman who cleans up and is the big winner of both a hat and shirt.

We say our goodnights and head to bed. We’re hoping for clear skies for our flight in the morning.

Pictures:

Uncles house/monestary

View from rooftop

Inside the Uncle's house

Pretty flower

Greenhouses

Tsering and his Family

Tsering's Home

Ricki Kur (Potato Pancake)

Pika picture

Jitman with the cake

Jitman wearing his prizes

Anita and Dawa crossing a stream

September 14, 2010

Namche Bazaar to Chursema. An American Afternoon.

Lisa is feeling worse. In addition to nausea and stomach problems, she is now battling a cold. She is keeping her spirits up, but it certainly isn’t a fun way to hike. She’s managing to at least eat Ramen, so she’s getting a few calories again.

This morning we’re headed to Chursema, Tsering’s home. The day is sunny and warm and trail is packed with groups of trekkers heading up to Base Camp. Trekking season is clearly starting and we’ve timed it just right.

The trail down is green and jungly. We’re back to waterfalls, bridges and flowers. After four hours of steady hiking, we break off the main trail and head into non-trekking territory. A bit later we come to the local school, where Tsering was taught, and then Dawa. It’s a small, seven room L-shaped building. The schoolmaster comes out to say hello to Tsering. He’s a sweet man, but he barely speaks English. Dawa’s proficiency clearly comes from his father and the private secondary school he attended in Kathmandu.

We cross the river again and head up hill. At the top of the hill we stop at Gara’s house (our chef) for lunch. Gara’s full time trekking job is the chef for a Japanese company. And he proves it with the Japanese style lunch he makes—miso soup, pickled eggplant and cabbage, and the most amazing sticky rice I’ve ever had. After lunch, they turn on the T.V. and bring out popcorn. They settle on ‘India’s Got Talent’—hosted by the Indian version of Simon Cowell and Marie Osmond. How American.

The acts are glitzy dance groups, bagpipers, and a girl pulling a bus with her hair.

The house is a traditional Nepali home. Two rooms. A kitchen and communal room. The communal room is where everyone eats and sleeps. The women help cook, but do not join us for the meal or for TV and popcorn, but rather they seclude themselves in the kitchen.

After teatime, we head up the hill to Tsering’s home. He has a large home, two stories, and luxury of luxuries, private bedrooms and indoor bathroom with plumbing. Ni and I are put in Ngawa and Dawa’s bedroom, a typical boys bedroom, with posters and guitars hung on the wall.

That night we have corn on the cob, though they roast it until its fairly dry and then pop the kernels off by hand and ricki (potatoes), boiled and dipped in hot sauce.

Then they follow that up with soup, baby bok choy, and an exquisite apple pie.

After dinner and a rousing chorus of what has become my Nepal theme song (hey ricki your so fine your so fine you blow my mind hey ricki, hey ricki--the boys think my singing about potatoes is hysterical and occasionally join in), I make hot toddies. I’m hoping they’ll help Lisa’s cold, and Tsering and his wife Ami are both willing participants. At the end of the night as I’m topping off the drinks I make sure to pour Ami first. By the time I get to Tsering, I’m pretty much out, but he drains the last drop and adds only a dab of water to cut it.

Then we head off to bed.

Pictures:

On the Trail
On the Trail
Our Guys
Loading up the Dzo

September 13, 2010

Debuche to Namche Bazaar. Mmmm....Beer.

Wake up at Rivendell. Lisa is still feeling ill. At this point we think it may be the Cipro she took for her digestive bug. Not fun.

After breakfast, we head back up to the Tengboche Monastery. It is now empty and silent. The crowds of people are gone, and we’ll see helicopters all morning shuttling the lama and his entourage back to Namche Bazaar.

They let us into the temple this morning, though they apologize that it hasn’t been cleaned up from the ceremony from the day before. And we’re allowed to take pictures inside of this temple. Although I’m still uncomfortable doing so.

It is silent inside. Rice is scattered along the floor and the robes that were so perfectly set in the Thame monastery are carelessly flung in their places. Monks wander in and out performing various tasks. They are a strange mix of the traditional and modern in their red and saffron robes with shaved head—crocs on their feet and chattering on cell phones.

After the temple we get to meet Ngawa, Tsering’s eldest son. He speaks little English, a sharp contrast to Dawa, but the two of them are peas in a pod, friendly and open. After a quick stop at the monastery shop, buying monk crafted goods and books on Buddhist tenets; we head on the 4-hour trek back to Namche. Along the way we pass large groups of Nepalese families heading home from the previous days ceremonies.

We have a fabulous lunch and then buy the crew (and us of course) a round of Everest beer. And then Anita, Lisa and I decimate the shopping center, picking up gifts for people back home. We also pick up a deck of cards for each of our guys to put their tips in at the end of the trek.

We end the night around a fire, playing President (a card game also known as asshole) and another Nepali game that involves absolutely no skill, only luck. But we have a good time and laugh a lot.

Tomorrow we’re headed to Tsering’s home and then only one more day until Kathmandu.

Pictures:

Buddha in Temple

Robes in Temple

Lama's Chair

Dawa and Ngawa

Namche Bazaar

Beer!

September 12, 2010

Tukla to Deboche. Living like Elves (Clean elves).

The next morning Jack joins us at breakfast. He then sets out for Gorak Shep and Base Camp and we head down to Debuche.

It is a short hike to Debuche. We stop at a teahouse named Rivendell Lodge, and for those geeks out there like me, it is instantly recognizable as the name of the Elvin home in Lord of the Rings. It’s a beautiful teahouse, the nicest one we’ve stayed at and the valley it lies in is magical.

We drop off our gear, eat a quick lunch, and then head up to Tengboche, a town about a half hour away. It is home to the biggest monastery in the region. This is the monastery where Tsering’s eldest son, Ngawa is a monk. He decided at age 9 he wanted to be a Buddhist monk, joined the monastery and never looked back.

Today is the last day of a major Buddhist ceremony. A high lama from India has been there holding services for over a week. It’s clear that our team is anxious to get up the monastery and join in. So off we go. We get to the temple and head in. It’s raining so the open central courtyard is covered with tarps. On the ground sit a couple hundred Nepali citizens, drinking tea and listening to the service being broadcast over the loud speakers and shown on two live feed TV screens. Every stairwell is packed and every inch of ground covered in people. Monks make the rounds passing out cup after cup of hot milk tea. The service is a continuous monotone chant of which I can make out no distinct words.

We stand and watch and listen for an hour or so, taking a few pictures, though we’re rather uncomfortable doing that as we are the only Westerners in the place and are already garnering enough looks based on that alone.

We three ladies then opt to head back to the teahouse, knowing a hot shower (the first in over a week) is available. We leave our team to enjoy the rest of the ceremony and head back. And then: shower time. Blessed, blessed hot water. And soap. I had forgotten what soap was like. And a razor. Oh, it’s the little things.

We each clean up and then head to the common room where a warm fire is going. To top it all off, we buy a bottle of wine and enjoy a leisurely dinner and cards by the fire. A lovely evening.

Pictures:

Climbing Memorial

Entrance to the temple

Monks at the temple

The Crowd

Tea house