Of Cold and Chaos, Heat and Hornbills

So. We’ve moved on from the COLD and CHAOS of Nepal to the HEAT and HORNBILLS of Thailand!

But first, let’s finish our Nepali trip:

Did I really whine that much in my last blog post about how hard it was?! I don’t know what that was about. Though in Kathmandu that last week, whenever we’d see a poster of the high Himalayas, we’d get this queasy feeling in our stomachs!

Our last few days of trekking (in the lowlands of 9,000 feet), we DID have to go UP quite a lot (and down and up and down), and by the end, when there were GIANT steps up to our guesthouse, I had to DRAG myself up the last bit. But the good news, YES, we CAN go uphill again (which I’m sure our boss at the Forest Service is happy to hear)!

We got filmed at least twice on our last couple of trekking days (maybe more, it’s such a blur). People going UP (many people from India, but also some Nepalis too) would ask our age, notice we’re carrying our own stuff, no guide or porters, and they’d shake our hands and give us thumbs up, and say, “You’re strong!” We felt like celebrities! I think they thought it amazing that people who looked as old and decrepit as us could do such a thing! In December! (Just FYI, I am 68, Marc is 59.) 

And they don’t ask to film you and do a little interview, they just do it, but they are so very nice and enthusiastic about it all. Several different guys (at different times) from Bangladesh gave us hugs! We're like, are we on a reality TV show or something? Kind of fun to feel like something special!

So we FINALLY made it to Lukla, the place with the tiny tilted airstrip, where we had tickets to fly back to Kathmandu (safer, we figured, than another 10-hour wild jeep ride).

And THEN we went out for coffee! 

Well, actually, it was the next day, but really, nothing important happened until we had our first coffee in six weeks! And not just any coffee, but COFFEE at "The Place Formerly Known As Starbucks Lukla," now known by some less than exciting name like, “Fresh Coffee.” It wasn’t a real Starbucks, back 14 years ago. They just "borrowed" the name. The logo, though, was absolutely incredible – looked like a real Starbucks logo, but instead of the mermaid in the middle, it had Ama Dablam (as drawn by the barista’s husband), one of the most beautiful mountains anywhere – and the mug I bought at that time is one of my most prized possessions. BUT, the coffee (as the barista assured us), was JUST AS GOOD as before, and so we each had TWO lattes, and spent hours in their sun room (since there’s no heat anywhere, places arrange their spaces to take advantage of the sun). 

So. Flying out of Lukla back to Kathmandu:

Our little 18 seater plane backs up to the wall at the top end of the (short, steep) runway. This is after the pilots have been delivered their tea/coffee through their cockpit window, and then the glasses retrieved after drinking. The motor revs. The brakes are released. The plane careens down the runway. You imagine the plane getting to the end of the runway and just tipping off over the cliff! But NO! It actually lifted off BEFORE getting to the edge!

THEN, we’re heading up through a layer of cloud. Wait a minute – can this plane fly in a cloud? Do they have instruments up there in the cockpit? Do they know where they’re going? Don’t they need to SEE to fly this thing? Don't they realize there are mountains EVERYWHERE? 

Suddenly we pop out above the cloud layer – WOW, sun on clouds and BIG mountains floating on the sea of clouds. The plane rattles and shakes and sounds like it’s going to shake apart! I can just about see screws and various pieces flying away. But then, BACK down through the cloud layer. 

REALLY, CAN THEY FLY IN THIS? 

I wait impatiently until we’re through and below the clouds again. Then of course, I notice the TURBULENCE as the rattling and shaking gets worse. I stare at the houses and rivers and fields below, imagining how hard the landing would be.

BUT, FINALLY we land SAFELY at Kathmandu! Whew!

When we got off, I heard another passenger saying to his friend, “At takeoff, I thought I was going to die. And then I didn’t!”

Yeah. Exactly.

A few days later, the newspaper reported that the VERY NEXT DAY after we flew, a plane flying IN to Lukla (mainly cargo) lost a window mid-flight! (See article below.)

Our last week in Kathmandu was spent wandering the narrow streets and alleys of the Thamel district, breathing a lifetime’s worth of vehicle exhaust, as well as cigarette smoke (even though smoking and selling cigarettes are supposedly banned in Kathmandu).

Visited the famous “Monkey Temple” (Swayambhunat Stupa), and made sure to AVOID any kind of eye contact with the monkeys – and certainly brought out NO FOOD – the monkeys will jump on you for it and amazingly some tourists are oblivious to this fact. We just did not want to spend our last week in Nepal getting rabies shots.

One benefit of spending a week wandering Kathmandu – there got to be a sort of familiarity with some of vendors and people that we saw daily (they with us, and us with them) which made for lots of smiles and laughing (at us and our weird ways) and joy:

The “donut” guy – he made deep fried goodness. Not really donuts, as they weren’t very sweet, and they weren’t shaped like donuts, but they WERE very greasy and delicious – good for us since we’d lost weight trekking. He always had a lovely smile when he saw us coming (even when we woke him up at his stand one day).

The woman at the “half-price-after-8pm” bakery. She greeted us each evening with a brilliant smile as we bought our half price goodies for the next day (but usually ate them that night). These are not bakery treats like you imagine – much less sweet, and much more dry and poofy, but fabulous for snacking.

The shirt embroidery guy in the alley near our hotel – even though we were never in his shop, he always had a smile for us as we went to and fro, to and fro, to and fro.

The owner of “Chef’s Burger,” where we ate dinner several times and had COFFEE several times. It’s way back in an alley, so we were usually the only customers – but it had excellent coffee, and excellent Asian food. Terrible name and logo (straight out of a strip mall in the States), but lovely, lovely people. (And I think you COULD get some kind of burger there if you really wanted to.)

The samosa guy – his stall was about three feet wide and maybe four times that deep – we bought his amazing samosas regularly.

The yak-wool woman, in her stall near our hotel. 

And of course, our lovely hosts at the Hotel Acme Inn in Thamel.

And several somebodies somewhere said they recognized us by my hair – gray, not exactly common in Nepalis.

Of course, there were always lots and lots of hucksters and hawkers (and we got asked if we wanted a “smoke” – drugs – many, many times). But the smiles and friendliness of all these people we saw regularly (and more) made all the chaos in Kathmandu manageable, and even enjoyable.

AND NOW, THAILAND. 

Just when we get used to one country and a little of how things work, and who a few people are – whoosh – off to somewhere else! 

Different money (what? This is a BANK. You can’t change dollars into baht, even though you advertise it in your window?), different ATMs (it worked, and didn’t eat our card!), different customs, different norms, different language (still incomprehensible writing - but beautiful).

Different weather! Now we are sweltering! You in the midwest will think nothing of it, but to us it feels like we’ve just bathed in Coca Cola! One upside – my hair is FLUFFY, and I don’t really have to comb OR wash it!

We’re on a small, quiet island south of Bangkok on the Andaman sea just across from Myanmar. Ten-hour bus ride, two hour boat ride (which left an hour late because the boat was stuck in the low tide mudflats), 20 minute WILD motorbike ride across the island, each of us on the back of a different motorbike hanging on for dear life…I didn’t really want to offend the guy driving by clinging to him like a freaked out cat, so I held on tight to the seat and managed not to bounce off!

The island is pretty low-key. We’re staying in a little bungalow in the jungle above the beach. You basically just leave your door and windows open all the time. (The walls are just bamboo mats.) Mosquito net over the bed (I love mosquito nets, so exotic, AND useful.) Breeze blowing off the ocean. Hornbills and banshee bugs.

So Hornbills. They are the coolest birds! They have huge, weird beaks (see photo), and make a racket, but they actually seem quite gentle – we watched one eat some watermelon that had been placed on a shrine by our bungalow. It took pieces very gently, and continuously eyed us for signs of danger. Not at all like the chaos of crows, seagulls, and pigeons! Their eyes are like “googly eyes,” the kind you buy at the craft shop to put on your homemade projects. And the noise they make is somewhere between LOUD squeaking wheels, LOUD squeaky toys, and LOUD monkeys. 

There are also some bugs here WE call Banshee Bugs. They seem like some kind of beetle, and sound like banshee grasshoppers. They all go off at sunset, like, millions of them, raising such a din you can barely hear anything else. In Cambodia we heard “chainsaw” bugs (again, OUR name) – a tiny bug that sounded just like (and as loud as) a chainsaw. These must be the Thai equivalent. For those of you who are shop nerds, Marc says they sound like the "screeching, buzzing noise of cutting a thin piece of wood on a table saw, but much, much louder.” These are beetles on steroids, but we’ve only seen ONE, when it flew off its branch and stopped making the noise. But really, they are deafening, but amazing!

So, here for a couple of weeks (to recuperate from Nepal), swimming, walking all over the island – there aren’t “roads,” just paths (and yes, we are going UP and down and up and down!), eating Thai food (which by the way has a lot of meat – different types of Buddhists have different rules for meat eating I’m learning), getting used to the heat. 

Humans, we have such a narrow comfort zone. 

So glad to be one. 

Of course, being a hornbill doesn’t seem too bad either.

               Swayambhunat Stupa

                       Lukla airstrip 

                    Making samosas

                      Boat to island 

                         Hornbill

                 View from our porch.

Return From the Land of Yak Dung Fires

Today we saw our first tree in weeks! And now the yaks are mostly dzopkyos. And we can breathe again! 

Actually, we zipped down to lower elevations two days ago to a lovely teahouse in Pheriche that we’d taken a break at 14 years ago – sunny tea room, clean, friendly, they light the yak dung fire when the sun goes behind the mountain, they have a small shelf of books you can read while there - most are in other languages, and Marc rated his pick as a 1.5 out of 10, but hey, it’s not zero out of ten! (We do have some books on our phone, but that takes power.) – AND the guy running the place is incredibly hospitable and nice, AND has cool hair reminding us of our kid and their spouse, who both have cool hair!

So we pampered ourselves and bought TEA for the first time in a while (it gets more expensive the higher you go – a small pot can cost as much as your dinner).

We’ve been up in the Chhukhung Valley (15,500 ft.) and Gorak Shep (just over 17,000 ft.), the village just before Everest Base Camp. Climbed up from these to over 18,400 ft. And how did that make us feel? TIRED! A bit miserable, actually. Okay, a LOT miserable. Like I never want to go uphill again in my life. No altitude sickness, just no air, so we are the slowest turtles in the world, plodding endlessly. Walking that slowly, some say, can be very meditative. I bet those people were walking at sea level. On a warm tropical beach. With papayas and coconuts in abundance. And a quick dip in a warm ocean to switch things up. 

For me, it was endurance. Frankly, really, three hours of miserable, cold, slow, tedious plodding to get to a viewpoint? Or an iconic spot? But then you stop, cinch your hood against the wind, breathe frantically for several minutes, and look around.

It's absolutely stunning. But more of that shortly.

We saved the Everest area for the end of our trek, in case we didn’t have time, you know, been there, done that, but shucky-darn, we DID have time, which meant MORE up up up, LESS of that essential ingredient, oxygen, MORE turtle’s pace. 

But I’d forgotten how incredibly, fabulously, stupendously, knock your socks off STUNNING that area is. (But it’s also an ice world, so keep your socks on!) The Khumbu glacier is unbelievably HUGE. And it’s not nice and smooth. It’s broken into enormous chunks and seracs and there are ice cliffs and ice lakes, and ice, ice, ice. And of course there’s Everest, big chunk of rock that it is.

There’s one peak up the Chhukhung valley, Island Peak, that is about the height of Denali in Alaska, but it sits in a cirque surrounded by some of the highest mountains in the world, and anywhere else it would be HUGE, but here, the Denali wanna-be looks puny, just a tiny chunk of rock and ice.

It was cloudy much of the time we were up in the Everest region. And it did snow on us a few times. Woke up one morning to socked-in white stuff. Our immediate thought (since we did not want to hike higher into who knows what and who knows where in this inclement weather): “ACKKKKK” (yes that was the exact phrasing), “we are now going to have to spend ANOTHER freezing day and night at the WORST teahouse ever!” (Don’t ask.) But mid-morning things started to clear off, so we high-tailed it out of there and made RECORD time from that village to the next (these turtles were really moving!) – we did NOT want to have to turn around and return!

So there’s been some misery – mainly fighting the ubiquitous COLD, lying under sleeping bags and quilts waiting for the yak dung fire to be lit, feeling like we are enduring more than anything, barely able to breathe.

So why do it? When sometimes I can hardly wait for it to be over, when the memories are often sweeter than the actual doing?

There is something about being out here (whether here, or the North Cascades, or the canyons of the SW, or any remote area really) that infuses your being with something unique, something magical, that puts you in touch with the universe, the uncaring immensity of the universe; and that makes me profoundly connected, and profoundly privileged to witness some small part of its beauty, its harshness, its endlessly varied and amazing manifestations.

And you learn things.

Like how to make one roll of toilet paper last a month and a half.

Like not caring how your hair looks when you haven’t washed it in five and a half weeks.

Like how hard some people’s lives really are.

Like how friendliness and hospitality can transform an experience.

Like how to find water when they don’t give out tap water - one lodge at 17,000 feet where we stayed three nights, and it’s four degrees out and everything is frozen. (It’s understandable. But they want you to buy bottled water, which everything you ever read says NOT to, due to the huge problem of plastic garbage.) So water, HEY, there’s huge barrels of water in the toilet for flushing (Mom, you didn’t read that). We did sterilize it three times!

Like which dogs are okay to pet, and which to stay away from (and yes, we did get our rabies vaccines, but even so you still have to get more shots if bitten).

Like the incredible beauty people can create, and the messes they can cause.

Like how amazing are VEGETABLES.

Like how amazing yak dung is, and without those yak dung fires the world is cold, icy, and unrelentingly trying to kill you.

Like how Western graffiti has come to Everest Base Camp.

Like how napkins don’t need to be the size of a tablecloth. Many tea houses now provide “napkins” – basically two squares of T.P. And it’s enough.

Like how people have all kinds of beliefs – but if they are based in kindness and goodness and respect, that’s what matters.

Like the amazing, indifferent beauty of the universe, from mountains and glaciers, to stars and galaxies, to fluffy dogs sneaking in to curl by the yak dung fire, to the glittering rocks and sands that look as if someone has dropped a whole load of craft glitter (think costume glitter, or hair glitter, or face glitter – yes, I am a glitter expert) over the landscape, to the IMMENSENESS of it all, a sparkling, brilliant, incredible universe.

And we are specs, so happy and amazed to be here, now.

To be alive.

To be.

Oh, just a couple of other things: We saw some Himalayan tahr, a type of mountain goat I think. But to us they were straight out of a fantasy novel: part lion, part goat, part hyena, and part wart hog. They have these big fluffy ruffs that billow in the wind, and weird bodies, and one followed us for a ways – probably waiting for us to pee so it could have a delicious, salty snack!

We also saw a Himalayan wolf (pointed out to us by a yak train driver). And some snowcocks (a type of pheasant), Himalayan chuffs (a bit like crows), and a Himalayan pika! AND some beautifully ornamented yaks – little red wigs, colorful ear tassels, beautiful Tibetan rug packs.

So we continue to learn, and grow, and hopefully become better people for it.

And yeah, we have a new appreciation for the sun!

Khumbu glacier, Everest (center, in clouds), Nuptse (right), Tibet (left, over the pass)

                      Pumori on left.

                       Ama Dablam

That small mountain on the right is Island Peak (same height as Denali). That's Lhotse on the left (fourth highest mountain in the world).

Into the Land of the Yak Dung Fires

Great title, huh? I WAS going to title this post "Into Thin Air," but then, someone already used that name and made millions of dollars. That could have been me! But in a flash of brilliance, I came up with something even better: "Into the Land of the Yak Dung Fires"! Ol' J.K. could have used that tack as well and titled his book, even more descriptively, "ABOVE the Land of the Yak Dung Fires" - after all, their mission was to Boldly Go Where No Yak Has Gone Before. Yak lovers around the world would have snatched up the book!

And while we're on the subject of yaks, we are truly in the country of the yaks (and yak dung fires). The creatures we've called yaks down lower are mostly dzopkyos, a mix between yaks and Tibetan cows. (These names - yaks, dzopkyos - are the males, females have other names - so you never eat yak cheese, you eat NAK cheese!) Yaks are huge, shaggy, insulated, move-aside-for-nothing creatures that are extremely CUTE! One morning behind our teahouse was a herd of yaks, all with frosted backs. Brrrrr! And they leave behind a lot of good fuel for burning. The yak dung fires pervade the teahouse, and the whole area, with their particular acrid (but not unpleasant) smell. Does make the eyes burn a bit.

Yes, it's COLD here in Yak Dung Fire Land. (Nothing is heated except the tea room for a few hours at night - yay yak dung fires!) And there's basically no air. And you have to choose whether to walk or talk, definitely no walk AND talk! As Walter Mitty said (in that fabulous movie) while climbing in the Himalayas: "I have to make oxygen choices."

Over the past weeks we've plodded our way up and down and up and up, higher than Mt. Rainier, higher than Yertle's pile of turtles, higher than low earth orbit - oh, sorry, getting a little carried away here, and yet, there are still these peaks WAY above us. We just spent five days in Gokyo, a little village at 15,600 feet, on the edge of a sacred lake whose color is a brilliant, sparkling turquoise, a stunning spot. (The Gokyo Valley is one of the side valleys off the Everest Base Camp route.) We climbed to 17,700 ft. Renjo La (la means pass) where we could see Everest, Lhotse, Makalu, Nuptse, and more. And Cho Oyu (6th highest mountain in the world) was right up the valley, in fact right out our room window!

A sign in one of our teahouse rooms, on our way upwards, said (among other points): "Please kindly show your positive attitude in altitude." I guess altitude, besides making it hard to breathe, or giving you AMS or HAPE or HACE, or killing you, can also make you cranky. Which I NEVER am. Just ask Marc. Actually, we've been feeling fairly chipper up here, in our hypoxic state. Every now and then you just have to breathe fast to catch up. Like after strenuous activities such as brushing your teeth, or rolling over in bed.

Important questions often on our minds these days:

When will the yak dung fire be lit? How much will they stoke it? Will they give us seconds on dal bhat? How much dal bhat can I eat? How long can I lie beneath my quilt before I have to get up and pee in the icy darkness? Is that trekker's hack contagious? What's our elevation? Dal bhat is HOW MUCH now? Asian toilet or western toilet? Will the western toilet have a seat? A tank? Did I bring enough warm clothes? (The answer, definitely yes. I look like the Pilsbury Doughboy.)

And observations:

Look, a yak! Look, a musk deer. Look, a Himalayan pika. Look, HOOKS in our room! Look, humongous, gigantic, immense, massive, spectacular, ice covered, sheer mountains. They ARE BIG. Really big. And they continue to be mind bogglingly mind boggling!

The area we're hiking through is mainly Tibetan Buddhist. One of our teahouse hosts, Daschi, spent time with us one morning telling about the beliefs and traditions. He was so sweet and earnest and knowledgeable (he looked to be about 20, but really I have no idea). He had been playing music we recognized - a beautiful chant that every shop in Namche played constantly 14 years ago (so much so that we bought the CD, and just last year when I heard it in a little Tibetan shop at the Pike Place Market in Seattle, I just felt good).

Anyway, the chant. Om mani padme hum. Daschi told us a LOT about it, but what I remember is that it's a chant for peace and goodness for all beings, so it brings kindness and goodness. He talked about one of the deities with "kindness eyes" (nice image, huh?). The incence burner he swings around the lodge every morning and evening (again, his explanation was very detailed) basically cleanses wherever the smoke goes - chases away bad things and makes it clear/clean.

He said beauty is important. And kindness. In a world that is often hard.

He said that "you should always try to bring happiness to others, and if you can't bring happiness, do not bring sadness."

He also gave us a gift of an orange. We were very touched.

We've met so many interesting people, both foreign trekkers, and Nepali teahouse hosts. And a few amazing guides from some small trekking groups (the large groups tend to mostly interact with themselves). So many different and unique accents. So many different cultures and experiences and ideas.

So we've mananged to survive yaks, mules, ponies, stairs, suspension bridges, cold, wind, sun, rain, other trekkers, rocks, rocks, rocks, language barriers, in good health and happy. We are truly grateful.

The village of Gokyo on the lakeshore, with (left to right) Everest, Nuptse, and Lhotse above.

Our "guide" Lhotse, with the mountain named after him behind. Oh yeah, Everest too.

Three Million Mud Mules, Two Gompas, and One Earthquake

Okay, so it’s not REALLY 3 million mud mules. And they’re not REALLY mud. They just MAKE the mud. A lot. Plus poop. A lot. Just had to get the alliteration going for the title!

But first, a few random observations. We are Stairmasters! Yes, we are getting back into shape after a month of sloth. After our summer of Wilderness rangering in the North Cascades we were ready for anything! Actually, we were tired. But we’re back. Climbing the stairs of the Himalayas! And descending. And climbling. And descending. You get the picture. The trails are mostly rocks, stairs – some a foot tall, some neat and tidy, some all a jumble, some covered in mud. The rest of the trail is angular embedded rocks. Or just erosion gullies. Or jeep roads. Or frontyards of people’s homes. 

Here in the foothills (where the passes are at 10-11,000 feet), it’s STEEP. And it’s FARMLAND. Some of the terraces are a mere four feet wide! They mostly grow barley (I think), and we’ve seen kiwi trees (yes, kiwi, we ARE at the latitude of Miami), bananas, beans, amazing vegetable gardens, bamboo, giant poinsettia bushes, tall rhododendron TREES (50 feet tall? At least!) though not in bloom, marigolds and more marigolds. It’s chilly though, and we’ve had a lot of clouds, and one thunderstorm (during which we were happily ensconced at a tea house).

It's been quite peaceful. 

Except for all the new roadbuilding.

And thus the big lineup of jeeps and loud music as we came around a peaceful corner.

And there was the teahouse that had a TV on in the dining area (a TV!). They channel surfed, so we saw bits of everything from Nepali music videos, soccer (Bangladesh vs. Sri Lanka), World of Wrestling Smackdown, to a Nepali horror movie. Part of our cultural education!

Porters on telephones. Mule drivers on telephones. Kids on telephones. Our own phone has been exceptionally handy for helping us navigate through all the mishmash of roads and trails!

Okay, enough bits. On to mud mules.

So, one day, we’re exhausted. Yep. It's the stairs! And then more stairs. And WHAT? MORE STAIRS? Finally on the last stretch. The Nepalis ahead of us suddenly turn and head straight up the hill. Huh? Turns out it’s a “detour.” There’s a washout ahead and we can hear machinery. There’s no sign for this “detour,” but we clamber up, and meet a porter coming down who motions that yes, this is the right way. It’s a STEEP “trail” of mud and rocks, DEEP mud. We can see a mule train above us, heading up. We go up and up and up, and suddenly another mule train is coming down. We climb through mud to get out of the way, hanging on trees, while the mud mules pass. This happens at least 15 times in the next few hours. We, the Stairmasters, are ready to keel over. We went very slowly, so as not to fall and injure ourselves, or WORSE, get our clothes and packs muddy! We did finally make it to a lovely, if not all that clean, teahouse, and really enjoyed our evening dal bhat! Whew! The mud mules deserve a lot for all their hard labor. I hope they got extra special treats at the end!

We’ve been invited into two gompas (Tibetan Buddhist monasteries). One was empty (no services at the time) and we could wander and take pictures, and sit and absorb the beauty. The nun who showed us in placed a knotted maroon string thing around our necks. It was an absolutely spectacular place, so detailed, ornate, beautiful, clean, lovely, peaceful. Butter lamps, intricate designs and paintings, brass horns and bells and pots, all with carved designs. Outside there were beautiful water powered prayer wheels, lots of prayer flags, a fabulous view (we were over 10,000 ft.), and barley drying on tarps and cheese drying on woven trays.

The other gompa was having a service. We were invited to sit up front. There were chants and horns and cymbals (just like in “Seven Years in Tibet”!), readings, and about 40 monks sitting in their maroon and yellow robes. It felt like we had stepped back a thousand years, except for the monk with a high tech camera, and the multicolored LED string lights that flashed in rhythm with the chanting. We were served milk tea, and when a monk came around with the big tea kettle, we got MORE!  And there we met the mother of a Nepali who had climbed Everest 10 times, and set a record in 1999 of 21 hours on the summit. Don’t know the story behind that, but will look it up when we have better connections. 

And finally, the earthquake. Last Friday night, November 3. We were the only guests at a little tea house in Ringmu, run by a woman with a 15 month old on her back. She didn’t speak much English, but she did teach us the Nepali word for snow leopard (since we had our little stuffed animal that goes everywhere with us). It’s “him-chit-u-wa.” To bed early, but we awoke just before midnight to creaking and shaking. I first thought it was a wind blast, but then we’re, like, YIKES, an EARTHQUAKE! It didn’t go on for long, but it was enough to make us a bit worried. The next morning the woman said her kid fell out of bed. You could tell she was somewhat shaken by the whole thing (and no, the pun is not intended, but I couldn’t think of a better way to put it). It was a bit scary for everyone, and I’m sure it reminded people of the devastating quakes in 2015. We had a bit of internet later, and learned the epicenter was maybe 300 miles west of Kathmandu. We are to the east, 10 hours by jeep to where we started hiking. Or course, the jeep was crawling along much of the time over the worst roads ever, except for the high speed exit from Kathmandu in the dark, wee hours, and the ensuing winding road corners taken at lightspeed, all the while blasting Nepali music at high decibels. No seatbelts.

So we are happy to have survived thus far! We have seen amazing sights, met amazing people, eaten amazing food, learned an amazing amount. We are the lucky ones. Truly grateful to the universe.

              A few monastery pics:

                       cheese drying 

Kathmandu: Coffee, Cats, and Chaos

Okay, let’s get this straight right off. We have NOT had coffee, though it is UBIQUITOUS here now. And it’s not just the slightly coffee flavored tea I had once, trekking 14 years ago. It’s espresso, lattes, cappuccinos, latte art (even found a latte art school). 

I’ll admit, 14 years ago I succumbed after 7 weeks of trekking and no coffee (except the one tea/coffee mentioned above) to a REAL latte at “Starbucks” Lukla. Most folks trekking in the Everest area fly in and out of the tiny Lukla airstrip with its tiny tilted runway in tiny little planes where you watch the pilot getting his tea through the cockpit window before takeoff. We had hiked into the area, flying out at the end (taking off being the safer option here, Mom), which is what we’re doing this time as well. So, “Starbucks” Lukla here we come (though only on the way out!) For an extensive and riveting discussion of this historic event, see my blog post from December 10, 2009, titled “3,286 Cups of Tea and 3 Cups of Coffee…”. Hmmm, I don’t really remember that 3rd cup. I’ll have to go back and read up!

Anyway, what this is all getting at is that here in Nepal, for us it’s tea all the way! And not just any tea, but Nepali milk tea (black tea with spices, milk and sugar). ‘Cause where’s our cred in a foreign culture if we’re eating and drinking like Westerners? 

So it's also been dal bhat (which I love) for me every day. It’s the national dish, basically rice, lentils, and curried veggies when available. Here in the lowlands (Kathmandu is at 4,300 ft. elevation) it’s usually surrounded by an array of stuff to mix in – hot spicy things in various shapes and sizes, spicy pickled somethings, yogurt, maybe some pappadams (chiplike). AND they bring you SECONDS! Marc’s palate has been more varied: had something similar to dal bhat (though no free seconds) which included beaten rice – sort of a cross between regular rice and Rice Krispies… hmm…. interesting. We then generally head off to the half-price-after-7pm bakery to stock up for the next day. So yes, the food is pretty spectacular.

On to Cats (remember, the title of this post: Coffee, Cats, Chaos…just so you remember what you still have to look forward to).

I just read somewhere that Nepali families have more pets these days. We did see some happy, healthy cats in a number of shops – they have perches, litter boxes, and everything – they run between shops and seem at home and well loved. There are many felted-wool shops that sell cool felted-wool kitty houses (beds), a round, cozy, enclosed soft space that our two grandkitties would love. But carrying around two of these things is just not going to happen (sorry Persy and The Void). 

Oh, and when I say “shops” it’s probably not what you are picturing (unless you’ve been here or someplace similar). The shops endlessly line the narrow streets and alleyways (which are like canyons amongst the buildings), ranging in width from 4 feet (yes, four) to an expansive 8 feet. These tiny shops have so many colorful offerings: clothing made with sparkling cloth, meticulously fine mandala paintings, brass bells and Buddhas and singing bowls, prayer flags, felted yaks, embroidered shirts, beaded tapestries, sizzling food, and mountains of knock-off outdoor gear, tiger balm, flutes, and weird violin things (which we actually own from last time). Then you get past the tourist area to shops with pots and pans, meat out in the open, vegetable markets, and Western clothing. 

Which brings us to Chaos (remember the title).

All these streets are awash with swarms of motorbikes, cars, taxis, rickshaws, a weird tar “truck” belching smoke that looked like it was built out of a coal fired rototiller and spare bike parts, dogs, people, more people, more people. The vehicles do not have emissions control, and there seem to be no traffic rules, and there are hawkers of every type everywhere, dirt, noise, grime.

But still, it’s Kathmandu. Just the name is exotic.

A few days ago we were at Asan Tole – supposedly the busiest square in the city. Lonely Planet says that Cat Stevens wrote his famous “Kathmandu” song “in a smoky teahouse in Asan Tole.” So there you have it.

We do know how incredibly privileged we are, as Westerners. This area of Kathmandu (Thamel), so colorful and chaotic, is not the slums. We can walk into an expensive Western hotel and use the restroom, or just escape the clamor. We don’t get stopped because, well, we look like we belong in a Western hotel. The inequity is overwhelming. 

There is such a range of life here. 

We head off at 4am tomorrow for a 12 hour ride in a cramped jeep/SUV to Phaplu, where we’ll start our trek (we’ll be trekking for 40 days or so). We’re excited to get to the mountains. The Himalaya, the Land of the Snows. Phaplu is at 8,200 feet. So up, up, up we go!

So far we have internet. We even have a Nepali phone number (so we could get data). Such modern conveniences. It boggles the mind. 

Until next time, here’s a few pics.

                         Dal bhat

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