Annapurna Circuit Day 17 -- Hot Shower

It's all over now. This morning we climbed down the last bit. It was quite scenic actually.

I kept thinking about all the people I've met on this trek, both Nepali and tourists. I guess there are two kinds of treks--real wilderness treks, and combined people, culture and wilderness treks. If you want a real wilderness trek, to really get away from it all, go to the Canadian Rockies or the South Island of New Zealand. But trekking in Nepal you will encounter donkeys, jeeps and plastic rubbish on the trail. The trek is really about people and culture. Of course, it doesn't hurt to have those beautiful mountains in the background.

For 17 days I never had a proper hot shower. We always finished early, so I had more "hot" water than most, but it was at best lukewarm, heated by one solar panel. Even when we did get hot water, I just rinsed, because I knew the water was limited and other trekkers would want some. Today the bus ride was only two hours. When I finally got back to my favorite hotel, the New Pokhara Lodge, I enjoyed to steaming hot water for a full 20 minutes, washing my hair and properly scrubbing my feet. It felt so good!

Aaahhhh! the simple things in life!

Annapurna Circuit Day 16 -- Poon Hill

After several days of downhill, yesterday we climbed again, from 1100 meters to 2800 meters in Ghorepani. It was a serious climb. After climbing for an hour, I figured we had 1500 meters uphill left to climb. I guessed I was gaining 15 cm per step uphill, so I had 10,000 uphill steps to go. I started counting. I miscalculated. I stopped counting when I got to 13,000 steps and we were just pulling into Ghorepani.

All this so we could wake up at 04:30 again, and climb to see the beautiful sunrise at Poon Hill. We climbed up in the dark, with 200 or 300 other trekkers. I felt ridiculous, I must admit, like one of a herd of cattle being led up Poon Hill by the cowboys of the Nepali Tourism Board. We arrived too early, and it was damned cold, so I bought the worst cup of coffee I've ever had: both the instant coffee crystals and milk powder were frozen and stale.

But it was all worth it. The view was absolutely amazing, and at sunrise we could look around and see all of them in stunning elegance--the peaks of the Annapurna and Dhaulagiri Ranges that had been teasing us for two weeks.

In the photo, the mountain in the background is Dhaulagiri, the 7th highest peak in the world. Jibi is obviously short of sleep.

Annapurna Circuit Day 15 -- Dalai Lama

If you want to enhance your credibility in these Buddhist villages, carry around a book by the Dalai Lama. His picture is everywhere and the people adore him. I have been reading My Land and My People. Memoirs of the Dalai Lama, which he wrote in 1962, when he was just 27 years old. It is very interesting, and I like it better than his later books.

I was holding the book on one side of the street when a beautiful Tibetan woman beckoned me to cross the street and join her. Quite chuffed, I crossed the street and she took the book from my hands. She flipped through the pages, examined the photos, and asked:

"Good book?"

"Yes, very good."

Then she touched the book to the top of her head, said a quick prayer, and added, "He is my God."

"Yes, a very good man."

Then she spit on the pavement and invited me into her shop to buy souvenirs, and that was the end of our romance.

Annapurna Circuit Day 14 -- Jibi's Story

21 years ago, Jibi decided he wanted to be a guide. The 9-month training course was expensive but the government offered to pay half. Still, Jibi needed to find $2,500 which is an awful lot of money in rural Nepal, even today. He brainstormed and came up with an idea: he would take a loan against his father’s house. Of course, his father couldn’t read or write, so Jibi brought him the bank papers and told him to stamp his thumbprint. His father agreed, but when Jibi’s older brother found out, he was furious: “You will lose our family’s ancestral home! Get out! And don’t come back until you have the money!”

Fortunately, Jibi had somewhere to go. He spent six months learning all the skills a guide might need: trekking, rafting, mountaineering, even sightseeing. But then came a 3-month course in Intensive English. At the end came an English Exam. One test, no second chance. If he fails, 9 months training and his father’s house goes down the drain. Fortunately, he passed.

In rural Nepal, being a guide is a very good job. Jibi paid back the loan and now he takes care of his father, his brother, his two sisters and his own wife and two children. When his older brother sees him, he bows his head very low and marvels that Jibi had the good sense to seize the opportunity to be a guide.

Jibi’s salary is eight dollars per day.

Annapurna Circuit Day 13 -- Obama

This morning was November 5th, so November 4th night time in the States.

We came to a Dutch Bakery which claimed to have internet. I popped my head in and sure enough there was one computer with nobody on it, so I colonized it. It took 6 minutes to download the live polling data. Several Europeans and Asians saw me looking at a map of the US, with some states blue, others red, and others gray. They knew what I was doing, but they couldn't understand the map. There was no information from the West Coast yet, but I could see that with California, Obama would win. Finally, some guy with a German accent asked me, "so, who vins, Obama or McCain?"

"Obama!" I reported and the cafe collectively let out a cheer.

Later, a Nepali boy asked me, "which country you come from?"

"USA" I answered.

"You like Obama?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Of course," he laughed. "Just like Nepali people. Just like everybody. Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," I said.

"Who likes McCain?"

Annapurna Circuit Day 12 -- A Little Bit of Bob

Muktinath was great fun. Last night a bunch of us ate dinner at a restaurant called The Bob Marley Restaurant and Rasta Hotel. It appears that Muktinath is holy not only to Buddhists and Hindus, but to Rastafarians as well.

Their featured menu item was "Bob Cake". We asked the lovely transsexual waiter/waitress, "is there a special ingredient in the Bob Cake?"

"Yes, a little bit of Bob."

We laughed--was it a piece of hair from his dreadlocks?

2300 years ago King Ashoka dispersed the relics of the Buddha to different parts of the world; now, for example, there is a Temple of the Tooth in Sri Lanka. In another 2,000 years there will be little bits of Bob enshrined at temples across the world.

At dinner, a Swiss guy across the table went through the most amazing ritual. First, he fingered and fluffed his Drum tobacco and placed it in a rolling paper. Then, he took his lighter and warmed his ball of hashish. He then used his fingers to crumble the hashish, again and again, into a finer and finer powder. Then he mixed the tobacco and hash with the utmost care. He then attached another rolling paper. Then he removed the scissors from his Swiss Army Knife and cut some cardboard into a filter. He then rolled all the pieces into a perfect cone, twisted it shut, smoothed out the wrinkles and licked it all over. The whole process took 20 or 30 minutes. I'm surprised he didn't take it to the temple to get it blessed by the sadhus.

I was impressed. "Wow!" I said, "I can't believe how much LOVE you put into that smoking thing!"

The whole table laughed. "What's so funny?" I asked.

"Is that what we call it now? a smoking thing?"

The Swiss guy excused himself to go smoke outside.

"No! no!" said Jibi, "you can smoke right here, at the table."

"But my friends are waiting for me," he explained, and he left. He invited us to join him, but I declined. At 3750 meters, I was high enough already.

Annapurna Circuit Day 11 -- Sadhus

We arose a 04:30 and Jibi and I were at the Thorun La Pass, 5416 meters, by 07:00. We extended his hand and said "Thank you!"

"NO, Thank YOU!" I responded.

It was easier than I expected, probably because Jibi was carrying my load.

We had some tea, took a few photos in the snow, and started down. Immediately the scenery changed, again. After crossing the pass, we moved into the "Monsoon Umbrella, the north-western side of the Great Himalayas that gets much less rain because it's shielded by the big mountains. So the landscape, off in the distance, was brown and moon-like.

It was very steep, but eventually we got to Muktinath, altitude 3750 meters. I popped my giant blood-blisters and went off to Muktinath Temple. I have been to quite a few gompas, temples, and monasteries already, and I am losing the sense of awe, but this one was different. It was both Buddhist and Hindu. In the same temple, you have a Tibetan Prayer Wheel and a Vishnu Murti; there are old Tibetan guys spinning their wheels and Sadhus watching their hair grow.

As I approached the inner temple, five sadhus greeted me warmly with salutations and exhortations to their various Gods. "We are holy men from Mother India! We have no mother, no father, no home!" They were smoking cigarettes and counting their coins but they did not ask me for money. For access to the Inner Temple, I was asked to register, including my name, nationality, and the amount of my donation. By now, I'm cynical about temples asking for money. Why do they need nationality--for marketing data? Will they analyze the data and then observe, "the Germans are giving the most--we need to add Willkommen to our temple gate!"

I turned around and gave my donation to the Sadhus instead. It just seemed so much more honest, the way these homeless guys were counting their coins and smoking their cigarettes.

Annapurna Circuit Day 10 -- Daily Business

We're at High Camp, 4800 meters, and preparing for the big day tomorrow.

All the way up we have used squat toilets. I have traveled around India, and my friend Ming once gave me very useful advice: "when traveling around India, if given a choice between a squat toilet and a Western toilet, always choose the squat toilet." So I know how to use squat toilets, even if my flexibility is a bit challenged. And I always wash; I never wipe. It's not so easy for some of the other Westerners. I wish on flights into South Asia, instead of those pointless instructions about oxygen masks, the air hostesses gave useful instructions about how to use squat toilets.

#1 is no problem. Except, most of us are taking Diamox, the altitude medication, and as a side effect, it makes you pee about every half hour. So, late at night, like 3 AM, it's freezing outside and there's a queue for the toilet - the Diamox Queue!

#2 is more of a challenge. I have a routine. At the first crack of dawn, after the Diamox Queue has subsided but before the trekkers arise, I wake up and go to the toilet, while it is still reasonably clean. And then I do my Daily Business. When I finish I feel great, "Aaaaah, no more Daily Business for 23 hours and 50 minutes!" Once, on my rest day, I violated my routine and slept in. There were two large groups, one French and the other Italian, in the hotel. By the time I got to the toilet at 9:00, it was cluttered with toilet paper and even sanitary napkins. My Daily Business was so unpleasant! I used a whole bucket of water trying to make it all go down, but the papers had definitely clogged the toilet. Finally, I gave up thinking, "it's not my problem!"

Now, at 4800 meters, the pail of washing water is frozen with a thin layer of ice on top. Somebody used a stick to break through the ice to access the washing water. I took one look and thought about tomorrow's Daily Business.

I popped an Immodium and artificially constipated myself until we get back down to lower altitudes.

Annapurna Circuit Day 9 -- Yak Dung

It was a short day today--we climbed to Yak Kharka at 4200 meters. I spent the evening playing a Chinese card game, Big 2, with some new friends. It's so damned cold that we just huddle around the table and keep each other company until bed time, about 8:30.

Now the facilities are bare and the food is expensive. We are above the tree line, so there is no wood for the fire. Instead they use yak dung to fuel the fire. Needless to say, the smoke has an unusual aroma that seeps into our clothes. Lisa, an English teacher in Seoul who introduced us to Big 2, says, "I can't wait to get home and burn all these clothes!"

My clothes are too expensive for that.

Annapurna Circuit Day 8 -- Playing Doctor

We're in Manang, now, at 3800 meters, and I'm being a good boy and taking a rest day to acclimatize.

There's a "clinic" here, that apparently only serves Westerners. I call it a panic station. They give "free" talks about altitude sickness, but I didn't go. Some of my friends went, so I asked, "how was it?"

"Scary! They tell you all sorts of stories, even one about a doctor who was traveling with other doctors,and suddenly he d."

It seems to me like they're drumming up business for the helicopter rescues, which cost some insurance company about $5,000. That's big money in Nepal. We passed two French guys coming up, perhaps an uncle and nephew. The younger guy was carrying a huge backpack and he seemed to be fine. The older guy was carrying nothing but he was really struggling. An hour ago the helicopter landed. All the village children went to watch. They were carrying off the older guy, who was struggling to breathe. Ch-ching!

Jibi went to the clinic because he has a cough and cold. "All they gave me was a sweet!" he complained." So I took out my huge medicine bag which my friend Teddy Bear gave me before leaving. I spread out all the pills and potions on the restaurant table and gave him a Tiffy, an over-the counter Thai medicine.

Jibi boasted that my tablet worked like magic and soon the waitstaff was coming to me with their complaints. One of them asked, "do you have a tablet for motions?"

I have Dramamine for motion sickness, but fortunately I know enough Subcontinental English to guess his meaning.

"You have diarrhea?" I asked. I accompanied the question by hand gestures and sound effects to make clear my meaning.

"Yes, three days already."

I gave him an Immodium and later he came to thank me: "Much better now!"

It's a good thing I didn't give him the pill for motion sickness; now he would be shitting himself in his sleep!

Annapurna Circuit Day 7 -- Yak Fight

On the way up to Manang, Jibi and I stopped in one of those German Bakeries that pop up now and then for a delicious Cinnamon Bun and some filtered coffee. What a treat!

We has a beautiful view looking out on some snow-capped peaks, as usual, and there was a giant pasture full of grazing yaks just in front of us.

"Look!" said Jibi, who is always more observant than I am, it's a yak fight!"

Two male yaks, one black and one white, were going at it. It was something like head-wrestling. They weren't butting each other, like rams, just pushing each other with their heads. It wasn't very exciting. First, the black one was winning, then the white one was winning. Nearby, a brown yak was watching. She was a female with shorter horns, and she was probably the object of their endeavors, but she didn't seem too interested in the outcome.

Stupid yaks--they're just like humans!

Annapurna Circuit Day 6 -- Meditation

Today was a bit steeper but so far I am having no problems. I'm glad I trained for this. I've met a lot of people who have turned around and are going the other way. It seems to be a combination of factors: fitness, preparedness, attitude, tolerance of cold weather, but most of all: luck.

After arriving in Pisang for the night, I still had most of the afternoon left, so I slowly hiked up the hill to a beautiful gompa (Buddhist monastery). I was by myself in there, and it was lovely and peaceful (if a bit cold), so I decided to try some mediation at altitude. I picked up a pillow and was about to put it on the floor in front of the big, central Buddha image when I heard a booming voice behind me:

"WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?"

I turned and saw a muscular young man who looked more like a bouncer than a member of a religious order. Apparently, he was the temple guard.

"Meditate," I responded.

"THAT IS NOT ALLOWED!" he responded, forcefully.

My jaw dropped. "Uhhh, sorry!" I said, and then I just stared at him, holding the pillow, still disbelieving.

Imagine! A Buddhist temple in which meditation is not allowed!! That's like a school where books are not allowed. Uh-oh, I think I know one of those; OK, it's like a library where books are not allowed.

Finally, after I returned the pillow to its place, he pointed to a dusty, forgotten corner of the room, decorated with cobwebs and obstructed from the Buddha.

"You can go there," he said.

So I spent 30 minutes trying to calm my mind, forget about the insult, and clear my heart of its rage. Eventually, I saw two images of the Dalai Lama, so I asked myself, "what would HE think of this?"

Of course, he would just laugh.

Annapurna Circuit Day 5 -- rakshi

Today we passed 3,000 meters, and it is a bit more difficult and a bit colder, but the scenery is no less spectacular. Those big 8,000 snow-capped peaks are always there in the background, laughing at us, teasing us, and making us feel meek and humble.

I understand Jibi's system better now. His rule for a good place is simple: good room, good food, good boss. The good boss is particularly important because a good boss is one who takes care of the guides. Some bosses (apparently) separate the guides and porters from the tourists, making them eat outside or in a place less desirable than the dining room. But the bosses Jibi selects, who are also his friends, who always come from one of the Buddhist castes, not only treat him nicely, but they also give him rakshi, the homemade Tibetan "wine" that is fermented from black millet. I haven't tasted it myself but it has led to some good story-telling.

Without exception, every Nepali I have met loves Prachanda, the Maoist Prime Minister. They claim he has not only brought peace, but he also has reduced taxes, he is helping the poor, and he is doing away with the caste system.

"He is a brahmin but he is getting rid of the caste system!"

They toast Prachanda and clink their glasses of rakshi. I clink my glass of beer with them; the rakshi is clear, and it looks like vodka to me, so I avoid it.

They also say the old king, Birendra, was good, but he was killed by his son and then the new king, Gyanendra, was very bad.

"So what has Prachanda done with Gyanendra?" I asked.

"Hah - hah!" they all laughed. "He had to leave his palace and go to his country house, out in the jungle, with the monkeys! And that's where he belongs--with the monkeys!" Clink! clink!

The evening story-telling has been good fun, but now I will stop drinking beer until I'm over the pass. I'm woried about altitude sickness, and I don't want a hangover to complicate the matter.

Annapurna Circuit Day 4 -- Change

Now we are getting to a higher altitude and today everything changed. Most importantly, the smell.

Now we are moving from cow country to yak country, more ponies and less donkeys, Hindu lands to Buddhist lands, no more banana trees and terraced rice fields; instead, steep cliffs and our first peak at the big snow-capped mountains.

As usual, I was walking with my head down to avoid stepping in the donkey poop. I noticed a nice smell; I looked up to see pine trees all around! It reminded me of Northern California. A little further up the trail, the scent was even nicer, but I couldn't quite recognize it.

"Marijuana!" yelled Jibi, "Smell it!" he instructed.

I looked up to see wild pot plants all along the trail, on both sides. I bent over and sniffed one.

Ahh, the sweet aroma of Cannabis Indica! So much better than donkey poop!

Annapurna Circuit Day 3 -- Pascal

We stopped at an unusual Guest House. It was run by two Tibetan women, perhaps a mother/daughter team, maybe 50 and 30 years old.

When I arrived, I noticed an older white man, maybe 60 with a huge Santa Claus beard, changing the sheets and moving mattresses around. Then he ducked out of view. Later I greeted him, Hello, how are you? but he just ran away. I thought to myself, "you should have said, Bonjour, ca va? because I think that guy is French." The other tourists were also intrigued, and we guessed he was the partner of the older woman.

Anyway, it was an excellent Guest House, and just when I was getting used to cold showers, it had a piping hot shower!

Of course, Jibi had the scoop. "Oh, the French man?" said Jibi. "He is a retired engineer. He hates France and he will never go back again. He loves Nepal and the Nepali people, so he doesn't talk to the tourists, just to the porters and guides. Last night he made me drink rum and whiskey with him. You should see his room--he has EVERYTHING! A computer, a big TV, internet . . . "

"And is he with the older woman," I asked.

"The older woman?" asked Jibi, " No, he is with the younger woman. Last night I saw, they were in bed together, she was giving him a massage."

Annapurna Circuit Day 2 -- Jibi

"I'm a small man but I have big power," says Jibi, who is about half my size. He is leading me and carrying my backpack.

Jibi has been a guide for 20 years. At more than 10 treks per year, he has guided more than 200 expeditions, and he knows people from all over the world. He has strong opinions about the peoples of the world, and he's not afraid to tell them.

"Russians!" he snorted as we were eating lunch near a table of Russian-speakers. "I think Russians and Israelis are the same caste."

"The same CASTE??" I asked, incredulously.

"Yes, the low caste," he continued, "Germany people, Holland people, USA people, Swiss people, they are the high caste."

I was part shocked and part amused. I asked him to explain this system.

"Russian people or Israeli people, when I bring to a village, they must see every Guest House, every bed, every toilet, they want to decide, such a big headache! Koreans, too. But Germany people, USA people, I choose the Guest House, they are very nice people, high caste."

I am here for the first time but Jibi has done this trek 40 times; so, he should know where the best Guest Houses are.

Being a high-caste tourist has other obligations, too: I must let Jibi fuss over my comfort. He always asks, "Can I get you something?" and I must let him bring me coffee, tea, or a beer. He makes sure I have proper bedding and always finds the nicest room. He orders my breakfast and then supervises its cooking in the kitchen. It's like having a man-servant 24-hours a day. He even offered to wash my clothes, but I said no.

Even for a high-caste tourist, there's a limit on how high is high.

Annapurna Circuit Day 1 -- Sita

We took the 06:30 bus for 5 hours to Besisahar. Bus rides in the Himalayas are always fun—full of pushing, shouting, arguing over seats, farm animals, and near wrecks. Fortunately, my guide/porter, a 55 year old Sherpa name Jibi, took care of everything, so I just watched as Jibi defended my window seat by holding a snot-nosed baby in the next seat. The bus speedily swerved around hairpin mountain curves, six inches from a tumbling death, with the driver blaring the horn, full of confidence that anything around the curve will get out of the way.

One of the women who lost the shouting match stood in aisle spitting on the floor, spreading her illness. When we emerged from the bus in Besisahar, a young German couple asked their guide: "why was the woman spitting on the bus?" He gave a stock answer about poverty, disease, smoking and drinking, to which they responded, "Wow! It's so much different than Europe!"

That's one way to describe Nepal--so much different than Europe!

We then hiked 4 hours up the river to a teahouse, or "hotel". These villages have anywhere from 4 to 15 "hotels" in them. Jibi knew exactly where he wanted to go, so I just agreed with his plan. He picked a teahouse with no view, but the family who ran it was very nice, the room was fine and the food was good, so no complaint from me. But they kept playing the same Tibetan song over and over again (if you've been in the Himalayas, you know the song: Om Mani Padme Hum), so I went for a walk and sat down for a tea at a nice place with a river view.

I was the only customer, so the girl who served me sat down to join me. She is a tenth grade student named Sita. She comes from a very low caste in Nepal, a caste of dressmakers. "My caste is so low," she said' "low, low, low," and she lowered her flat hand until it touched the grass.

When she discovered that I am a mathematics teacher, she jumped up, ran to her schoolbag, and brought back her math notebook. "Please, teach me mathematics!" she asked.

I looked at her homework, and after laboring to translate the Nepali, discovered that her assignment was quite difficult. The first problem was:

Find the greatest common factor of x² – 1 and x³ + 1

I tried to show her polynomial long division, but soon discovered that she was hopelessly lost. I checked her algebra skills by giving her some 8th grade problems, but she was still lost, so I taught her some very simple stuff and then told her,

"Sita, this 10th grade math is very difficult, and you can't do it if you don't know 8th grade math. I'm not kidding, mathematics will be very hard for you, but just try your best and don't worry because many people find mathematics difficult.

"I know," she said, "I fail my mathematics exams every year!"

Mathematics exams--the curse of the lower castes!