Back in Delhi (By Justyna)

Well, we have arrived back in extremely hot Delhi. The monsoon has definitely not come and the air is scalding hot, dusty, dirty, dry. there are water and electricity shortages and although we are this time placed in a better hotel than previously, with working air con, being back in crazy Delhi really hit us hard. the plan was to stay overnight and the next day take a night train to Udaipur in Rajastan and spend the remaining 5 days around the state of Rajastan (Udaipur, maybe Pushkar or Jaipur etc) then go to Agra on way back and finally fly home. However to our amazement, there are not trains available for the next week. everything has been sold out! (apart from the unseated classes). So our plans have fallen through. we looked at other options, including having a driver, but it all sounded like way too much of a headache, in this heat, worrying about having to feed and water the driver. we also looked at buses but neither of us were particularly happy at the prospect of 12 - 17 hour bus rides into the unexpected etc. So both very miserable, over a lovely dinner, we discussed other options. we only have 5 days, we could fly but again the flights were expensive; we could go somewhere else in India but were not sure about where etc. And having discussed the past three weeks, with all our adventures, we have decided to go home early. Both of us have really enjoyed our travels, but we are quite tired of moving around, the stress of it all etc and we were really pushing the boundaries, basically flying back to Tokyo for one night and then straight onto another flight to the US. So we changed our flight back and we are going home tomorrow, which will give us 4 days to relax in Shinchi. Although it is a shame to finish early, I think we have done so much and next time we will give just India the proper time she deserves, and plan ahead during busy holiday periods for trains and things. Enough adventures, homeward bound!

Impressions (By Justyna)

The monsoon has not happened, all weather reports say it will probably not happen till July now, which although has been good for our climb, is not good for Nepal and India agriculturally but also heat wise. The temperatures are soaring and when we arrived back in Kathmandu to find the hotel we had booked had air con that was not working, we left and had to find another place. I know it sounds like we are spoiled, but honestly after almost 3 weeks of living in some rather rough places, heat, mosquitoes, rat droppings etc, both of us were looking for a bit of luxury. which was very opportune as I happened to have spotted a lovely boutique hotel in Kathmandu (the Ambassador Garden Home), which also happened to have a special deal on (stay 2 nights, one night free) so although it was far more expensive than the $5 per day we had been paying, having a clean, pleasantly furnished, and cool room as a sanctuary in the madness and intensity of Kathmandu, was a blessing in disguise. It even had satellite TV (which like everything in Nepal was temperamental) but kept Triston a very happy bunny being able to watch CNN and BBC news, and both of us reveled in old films on HBO like Wyatt Earp, which we watched whilst having a civilized drink, in bed.

Our last four days in Kathmandu were memorable. Apart from some excellent shopping / bartering on view which we have both now perfected, playing the good cop/bad cop routine and being able to buy a few choice items, we also did other touristy things. Triston really wanted to see Nepal's most important Hindu temple, Pashupatinath, which we decided to stupidly visit by bike. note to self, cycling in Kathmandu not recommended if you want to keep your sanity. Anyways, the temple itself we were only allowed to watch from across the putrid river, being non-Hindu. it was very disturbing, for both of us, even though T has already experienced some similar places. This, like Varanasi in India, is were people get cremated, on plinths just in front of the temple, depending on your caste, on how grand your cremation. all this then gets dumped in the river, where people also bathe as it is sacred. there was ntohign beautiful about it, although the temple complex is over 500 years old, and architecturally stunning, it was pretty grim to say the least. everyone at the sacred temple, it seems, has an angle; we were constantly touted, being offered goods, guides and what I also found horrible and neither of us can understand, is how even priests dressed in their sacred orange robes, come up to you to give you a blessing (put flowers on your head and a tika on your forehead) without you having a say in it and then demand money for it. I basically got cursed as we only had 100rupee bills (quite a lot for a blessing) and Triston gave the two priests who cornered us one bill to share, which they were not happy about.

We also went to the medieval world heritage city of Bhaktapur, perfectly preserved, no cars allowed, and this was truly stunning. Walking around the little higgledy piggledy houses, cobbled streets, amazing buildings like something our of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, we really imagined what it must have been like centuries ago. Apart from the tourist cafes, guest houses and some shops, everything else seemed like it had not changed for centuries. Although lots of poverty was very apparent and yet again one could not escape the begging children and adults (at least no lepers and limbless people this time) juxtaposed by the ticket and guide touts, it was a really amazing experience.

Speaking of begging, two pretty awful things happened to us which shocked me. In Kathmandu one morning when I was having a conversation with a fabric seller, this little boy appeared. although he was very dirty, he was obviously not starving, but was probably the most desperate beggar. Poking Triston constantly, even though both of us said 'sorry no money, no food' he suddenly lunged at my feet and started to kiss them. I was so shocked that I could not deal with it and almost ran away and just felt traumatized. The Nepali tourist office heavily discourages tourists to give into beggars, whether it be food, money or sweets (which the children often ask for) and although at times heartbreaking, T and I never gave into the protruding limbless stumps which are flexed for more effect, or just the doe eyed kids who walk up to me and immediately grab my purse asking for sweets, or the wily teenagers who ask where you are from and whichever country they tell you the capital and expect a reward for their efforts. but this one shocked me profusely. Triston also had his fair share of incidents, the worst being a mentally handicapped girl in Bhaktapur. She came up to him (in school uniform) and tried to have a conversation holding out these two deformed carrots, while dribbling saliva from her mouth. And suddenly grabbed Triston's hands and kissed them and then demanded rupees. For me, these have been the most difficult things to deal with and I feel so awful about the amount of either really desperate people we have seen (as some of them surely are) but others obviously live off the begging quite comfortably (cleanly dressed women in lovely saris, holding chubby babies, coming up to us to ask for money for milk - desperate with their gold jewelry hanging off their grabby hands? I think not).

Anyways, we had a few lovely evenings, listening to a couple of live bands, eating more Nepali food and having a few cocktails (I have become a total lightweight having not drunk at all during our trek). We both really loved our time in Nepal, a very beautiful, vibrant, interesting place. Would we live here? No, as it is just too crazy and at times unsettling. but it has been a wonderful experience. Back to Delhi tomorrow and onto other adventures, though both of us admitted we were getting quite home sick and miss out sanity in Shinchi.

(below) Justyna shopping in Bhaktapur

The Long Road to River Side Springs (By Triston)

(below) J Takes Off

(below) T's Flight


MUCH ADO ABOUT SOMETHING
Our time back in Pokhara was a much needed set of relaxing days after the extremes of trekking. Right when we got back, we were stopped in the street by some kids. Our first impulse was to avoid eye-contact and say "no thank you, not interested," as this is what you have to, for better or for worse, because of the huge amount of beggars, scheisters, impostors, and swindlers (young and old) one encounters all over this great land. This group of kids, though, was quite different. They were in school uniform and wanted us to come see their school's performance of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet"! After a deep tissue massage that had both J and I in tears (they found our most painful points--usually in the calves after the trek--and dug into them with their elbows) we limped over to the bar where the performance was to be held. The accents were adorable, and the dance interlude where the entire caste danced to "I'm a Barbie Girl" was priceless. My favorite part was when they drank the poison and then laid there on the stage for 15 minutes because the other kids forgot what came next! Justyna and I were even persuaded to get up and dance with the kids at the end of the play. Very cool. TEAM TRISTYNA TAKES FLIGHT After a night of feel-good play-watching and a feast of grass carp (not haploid in case Bryce is wondering), Justyna and I decided we would do something chilled out and low-key, in light of the intensity of the previous week on the mountain. We decided to strap ourselves to insane men who were themselves strapped to parachutes, and then hurl ourselves off the tallest mountain in the Pokhara valley. Some people call this activity "paragliding." To be honest, it was a smooth ride and I had a great view of Justyna in her own paragliding harness, floating high above me as we both soared thousands of meters above Pokhara. The only negative side to the experience was when we had to land. The guy I was strapped to said that we were "going down"--which I took to mean something bad and undesirable. When I asked: "Is this supposed to happen," as we began what seemed like a death spiral downward and my stomach was sucked up into my larynx, he replied: "No....not good...." Strangely, although I was terrified, the adrenaline seemed to win over fear and I let out a "yoohoooooo!" with a big stupid smile on my face! Turned out the flyboy was just messing with whitey as he probably usually does. It made my day though. Oh, and the other negative thing was that I was sick as a dog for about two hours after the flight. Never though I would get motion sickness, but this thing was pretty different than plane turbulence or a trip down a winding road. Justyna flew seamlessly and calmly like a cool, collected veteran. THE BUS FROM HELL After our flight, we decided we hadn't had enough of putting our lives in the hands of risk-taking, testosteronized youths, so we decided to take a public bus to this famed resort (cue tabla drums and mystical sitar lick....."RIVER SIDE SPRINGS RESORT-SORT-SORT-sort-sort-sort.....")which was on the way back to Kathmandu. At first the bus ride was sweet. I bought a big coke that was frozen solid so it was a rare opportunity for ice cold drinking pleasure for the first few hours. We also bought some good food from a vendor outside the window at one of the thousand villages we stopped at. The boys come up to the bus, see you are foreign (a breathing, talking bag of rupees basically) and then press their food, drinks, veggies, on your bus window and pester you until you buy them. We usually say no to them (which in our minds means "no" to various bacteria and potential cultural incidents). This time, though, I decided to give it a shot. I bartered, haggled, hummed, hawed, tried to walk away (but I was in a bus so that didn't work) and finally acquired some mangoes and coconuts for a decent price.... and they were really good! As we were enjoying the bountiful fruit of Nepal, we started to realize three things: 1. There were already three times as many people as seats on the bus. 2. The bus was traveling at speeds and rates of acceleration/deceleration that we had never experienced before--especially atop the precarious river-side roads with nothing between you and the canyon but a garbage heap and (if lucky) a stubborn, urinating water buffalo. 3. Whenever the bus was not careening around blind corners atop the canyon of death, it was picking up entire Nepalese cricket teams and wedding parties who had now started to hang on to the sides of the bus (outside) and were sitting on top of each other in the isles. It is one thing to be terrified in a vehicle but to know that, if truly necessary, you can at least try and run to the front, yank the emergency break and wrestle the driver to the ground. It is quite another situation when there are 78 strangely calm Nepalis between you and that much-needed locus of control......After five hot hours of the insanity, the bus assistant assured us that we were at (cue choral "ahhhhs" and banjo breakdown....."RIVER SIDE SPRINGS RESORT-SORT-SORT-sort-sort-ort.....") In reality, we were 5KM from the riverside resort, so we got our back (which had miraculously not fallen off the top of the bus) and set our bodies into the familiar pattern of one-foot-in-front-o-the-other. RIVER SIDE SPRINGS RESORT-ORT-ORT-ort-ort-ort..... You know that feeling when you unwrap a McDonald's hamburger and think to yourself: "Man! This is not like the picture! The patty looks like clay. The bun is paper thin, the whole thing is hobbit-sized!"??? You know that feeling of injustice???....like you've been had by false advertising!? That is kind of how J and I felt when we got to the famed "outdoor, spring-fed swimming pool" of the River Side Springs Resort. It wasn't so much the pool itself, which was kind of shabby but not too bad. It was more the cheesy Indian dance music blasting out at us and the rude (most insanely rude people we've ever encountered) clients who were sitting on the bar, hawking loogies into the pool, smoking in the pool, discarding beer bottles in the pool, and generally being complete buffoons in the pool. It was so rude and obnoxious that J and I laughed hysterically...but that wasn't what made us feel ripped off. That happened later on, when Justyna opened a roti (kind of like naan bread) to find a giant bug seemingly baked inside. Right about then, the power went out and our quasi-romantic time at River Side Springs Resort came to an abrupt end. The next morning, instead of staying in town for one more day, we took an air-conditioned tourist bus straight to Kathmandu.

The AST Part V: The Last Day (By: Justyna)

It was definitely the right decision to stay at Jinhu last night rather than continue on to Kyumi. Fully rested, having enjoyed a more relaxing birthday feast with even a couple of cans of beer, we were both really rested and excited to face our last day down the valley. Having breakfasted on home-made bread and scrambled eggs, we set off down the steep stone staircase towards the bottom of the Khola valley. As predicted, I did find this incredibly taxing - even though I had invested in some knee supports back in Japan, my knees were killing me by the time we were half way down the 500m decent. We did meet en route our little Japanese friend, who has been in many ways a constant companion and a reminder of 'home'. Walking down the valley towards Kyumi (1300m) and then beyond, reminded us very much of the incredible journey we had both been on and how much we had actually achieved. On average we walked between 30km and 10km per day (depending on the climb), averaging 7hours trekking per day, climbed a vertical distance of over 3000m. the last two hours in the intense midday heat towards Birthanti and Naya Pul, was probably the most tiring as you finally allow your body to think of rest and suddenly the 13kg backpacks we had been carrying actually felt alien and heavy. With a final check-in at TIPS (trekkers safety management that we had actually got down the mountain) and a fond farewell to our walking sticks, we caught a bus back to Pokhara. The scary-ass bus ride from hell that is! the 'highway' (I use this term loosely) to Pokhara is full of ridges, pot-holes, and mad drivers (two buses going full speed trying to out-race one another, as a taxi, a goat and a motorbike are also trying to maneuver the same route). We were buried under our backpacks, in sticky seats, with a young girl vomiting in front of us out of the window (at least not me this time) which had to be kept closed in case the vomit hit us. We were both tired and agreed the course of action upon getting to the bus stop, get a cab to our hotel, shower, cold beer and then food (having not eaten since 6am and it was now close to 2pm). T almost got into a fight with some local dude who was very rude on the bus, and both of us got off the us at Pokhara as quickly as possible to escape any possible consequences (and get some fresh air). When to my intense anger and disappointment, instead of heading to the taxi ramp, T put on his backpack and starts walking. Now, we were dropped off in a part of Pokhara I did not recognize, but I knew it was far enough, and there was no way I wanted to walk further. So gently I showed my anger at not taking a cab. (T's response) - Well, we could either walk, or take an EXPENSIVE CAB RIDE HOME (emphasis on the expensive). The palpable venom rose up in me and although it was the last thing I wanted to do, I was determined to prove to the suddenly very frugal Triston that I could deal with another 5km walk, but I would make him sorry. so the entire route down to our hotel from upside Pokhara, was spent with a fuming Justyna walking at least 5m away from an equally fuming Triston. By the time we got to our hotel, and having dreamt of a clean shower, you can imagine my intense devastation when upon reaching our room, and walking into the bathroom, I notice it has recently been used by someone and in the corner of the shower is a HUGE BALL OF SOMEONES VERY BLACK HAIR! those of you who know my hair phobia, will not be surprised that I promptly marched down to the reception, and got the young Nepali boy who gave us our key to march up with me, show him the evidence and leave him to deal with it as I went to give our laundry to the washroom (4.5kg of stinky, ripe, trek gear!) Back in a now clean room and bathroom, T and I finally burst out laughing at our moments of anger, and after a few refreshments went to have a delicious meal in a local restaurant. There is so much we will take away from this awesome adventure, not just the sights, sounds and smells of the mountains; the laughter, tears and emotions from the top at ABC, frustrations and fear and a sense of achievement. Most of all I think we are just really pleased to be alive, well and able to do this together, and hopefully will one day share this route with our children.
(below) J walking with fellow travellers

The AST Part IV: MBC to Jinhu (By: Triston)

MBC to Bamboo J and I woke up before sunrise on June 16th. I actually didn’t really sleep, as I was too hot wearing my fleeces (as Justyna demanded I do) and when I tore them off in a fit or rage…. I became cold….. The altitude was also getting to me a bit and I kept having the same dream that we were in a cave. Justyna, with the patience of Job, kept reassuring me over and over with her practical-sounding British accent: “No darling….you we are not in a cave.” I though that the hike from the Manchupuchre Base Camp to the Annapurna Base Camp would be easy, as we left our bags at MBC in our room which we hadn’t checked out of yet. The idea was to hike out to see the sanctuary, hike back, have breakfast at MBC, and then descend. In fact, the hike up to see the sanctuary—even without a bag—may have been the hardest. At 4300 meters, I was really struggling to get air in my lungs and I had to keep asking J to stop so I could catch my breath every twenty steps or so. I felt like I was having an aneurism too, my head was pounding and I felt lightheaded. I told Justyna what I was experiencing, and she was concerned, but she ruled out diabetes and heart attack (my first two hunches). Her final diagnosis was simply altitude sickness…. As we slowly climbed, we gradually saw the white-capped Himalayas rising around us like a crown of ice circumscribing a lush green interior full of flowers and mountain ferns glistening in the pre-dawn haze. We knew we had reached the finale when we were completely surrounded by the daunting 8000 meter peaks which were 4000 meters above us on all sides. Both J and I got emotional and our lives flashed before our eyes as the sun rose over Fishtail peak the east. With tears in our eyes we stood in silence and took in the full meaning of the insane panorama we were witnessing. After a religious 30 minutes or so, J and I congratulated each other and then headed back to MBC for a breakfast or veggie omelets and chapatti (Nepali flat bread). JJ’s Not-So-Decent Descent After loading up on our food, we reluctantly packed our backpacks and loaded them onto our backs…mmmm…that old familiar feeling, like piggybacking a sweaty hobbit. The reason I say this is because I sweat so much every day that the entire contents of my massive backpack were completely soaked and had to be air-dried every night! I was extremely happy at this point, as the altitude issues were sure to dissipate the further down we got and the thought of hiking downhill for three days sounded so much better than hiking uphill for four as we had just done. We quickly ran in to some issues though. While traversing the small glacier below MBC, Justyna fell and scratched her “bum and leg.” I must say I was scared when I saw her go down because if she had kept sliding, she’d have ended up in the most rapid-strewn part of the rushing river below. After that, there was a slight freak-out session when we came to the wobbly bridge featured in the video below. Justyna’s legs were so tired from going downhill that she was afraid she’d fall off the thing. We tried looking for a place to cross on the many boulders in the river, but the space between them was just to much to safely cross. After about 30 minutes of coaxing, Justyna valiantly faced her fears and crossed the rickety old bastard of a bridge. After she was safe, she unleashed the fury of hell on me for trying to video tape her in her darkest hour on the mountain. Hence, there is no footage documenting this event. After a days hiking we reached Bamboo, a set of lodges tucked into the side of the mountains at a place where the river was unusually calm. I was fine, but Justyna’s legs were shot. Her knees get jarred when going downhill and her shoes did not have enough grip to handle the gravelly stretches of the steep path. At Bamboo, we met a nice Australian couple and we also happened to run into Shin, a Japanese guy who owns a restaurant in Cambodia—we had crossed paths with Shin numerous times and he took a liking to us because we could talk to him in Japanese. In the room next to us, there were two other Japanese guys who were acting kind of squirrelly and giggling in the mess hall (more on that later). We chatted with the Aussies, who were about 55 years old and had a Nepali guide with them. They were taking it really slow on the way up and J and I kind of freaked them out with our stories about crossing the “glacier” and the “shaky bridge.” The Aussie guy and I commiserated about not being able to get an ice-cold beer and we tried to figure out a contraption that could lower the beer cans into the ice-cold river and then retrieve them upon request. We were getting tired so we left the mess-hall and headed to bed. Just as we had turned off the light, the familiar smell of marijuana smoke trickled into the room. The walls were pieces of plywood, loosely hung, that did not fully span the room so there were massive cracks through which anything (including ganja smoke) could pass. After smelling the herbaceous cloud, we soon heard impish laughter and uncontrolled coughing from the next door. I guess that explains why those two Japanese guys were acting so weird. Bamboo to Jinhu I woke up on my birthday in Bamboo to find that Justyna was already in the mess-hall. When I put my glasses on and made it out to join her, I was greeted by a “birthday apple pancake”. I had almost forgotten it was my birthday! J also had a present wrapped and everything: a Nepali cookbook. That day is hazy in my mind because I feel like it may actually have been the most exhausting. Expecting only downhill hiking, I was stunned to realize that I had forgotten Chomrong, the Gurung village on the hill where we had spent the night earlier. After 2500 upward steps (counting them was the only way to stay sane) and a call to Dad telling the world that we had made it back down, we were at the top. We had a delicious lunch of chapatti sandwiched with yak cheese and Tibetan momo dumplings and felt rejuvenated. After this, we headed down the steepest part of the journey, basically straight down a ridge to the village of Jinhu. On this stretch we ran into Shin again. He was sitting with a Gurung lady looking at pictures of Japanese travelers she had met during the 80’s. She was in the middle of threshing corn and had her threshing basket and the dried cornels laid out on her yard which was somehow carved into the impossibly steep ridge. This lady was a character. I asked her if she spoke Japanese and she listed every dirty word, private part, and sexual position in the Japanese dictionary. Shin’s glasses started to fog up as he was getting embarrassed by this very “un-Japanese” use of his mother tongue. After drinking a luke-warm sprite that she rustled out of her hut for us, we continued down to Jinhu where, tired and exhausted again, we decided to spend the night. Two girls from England were staying there two, so we chatted to them and went to bed early after a few birthday beers, luke-warm of course. Shin made it down later and ended up staying further down the ridge at the other end of the village.

(below) J Crosses the "worst Bridge Ever"


(below) J walking by the mighty Modi Khola River

The AST Part III: Chomrong to the Top (By Justyna)

Waking up in the morning at Chomrong with the first proper view of Annapurna I (8078m) and II (7938m) as well as the Nepali favorite Macchapucchare (a measly 6997m) , T and I almost broke the bed jumping up and down with glee like two little kids. a hearty trekkers breakfast, drew us on our way down the Chomrong Khola (endless staircase occupied by water buffalo performing their morning toilet routine). En route, we met schoolchildren on their way up to the local high school in Chomrong form the surrounding villages. I cannot believe that whole groups of kids as young as 4 every day trek over 2hours one way at times, to get to school, especially on the maddening staircase up to Chomrong (all 2440 steps or so)! glad I am not one of them. From the bottom of the valley, we needed to go up again to Sinuwa. this is where I think I was most annoyed about trekking in the region - the 'fake' villages. According to our maps and guide-books, you pass certain villages along the way and there are approximate timings in between. From Chomrong to Sinuwa, the time was about 2hours. T and I reached Sinuwa after 1h30 which we were so pleased about and continued onto what we thought the next village to be. Another arduous climb and 40 minutes later, we reach Sinuwa. confused? Well, sometimes en route some of the lodges call themselves something in Sinuwa, or Chomrong, or whatever village you are supposed to reach, in order to lull tourists into a false hope of resting / buying food at a designated place / staying the night. We were rather annoyed as this was about the third time it happened to us and you get very worried if what you have reached at the end of the day is the real deal or not. Anyway, our target today was a steep climb from 2330m, down to 2000m (Kuli) up again to Bamboo (2300m) and finally Dovan (2540m) just before we reached Dovan, we met some American chubbies, who put the fear of God into us (see conversation below):

(Male Chubby) - Hey dudes, Whass'up?
(T) - Nothing man, just on our way up to Dovan and then ABC tomorrow . You been?
(Male Chubby) - Hate to tell you this man, but you got a long way ahead to Dovan. At least another hour and a half And it is vertical at times. Really hard!
(Female Chubby) - Yeah, and there are glaciers you need to cross. He (pointing to male chubby) slipped and slid. You guys look like you have real heavy packs. It will be really hard.
(Justyna swallows hard)
(T) - Any avalanches?
(Male Chubby) - No man, but I tell ya, it is tough going. We almost did not make it. You still have a ways. Good luck man!
(Justyna and Triston shakily wave the chubbies goodbye)

10 minutes later as we have a little rest and prepare ourselves for the worse and at least another hour and a bit of climbing to reach our night time destination, we arrive at Dovan (no hard climb in site). Is this the real Dovan? Were we wickedly tricked by the chubbies? Or were they just real chubbies?

It was the real Dovan thankfully and we spent the night, again being the only guests, feasting on Triston's favourite Dal Bhat and my favorite, Yak Cheese chapatis. The two guys who ran the lodge were far more interested in their DVD player than us, but we still had a nice evening, playing poker, doing crosswords, and reading. Next morning, we set off early at 7am up towards Himalayan hotel (2840m). en route we met Diego, a southern Californian who was with us the day before our Trek registering at ACAP. He was however on his way down (for us day 4) putting us to shame (though looking at his incredibly chiseled rock-hard body, he obviously participates in the Sahara Desert marathon on a regular basis) who told us there was nothing to fear ahead, only the most spectacular scenery. He did say there was one wobbly bridge but we would be fine. A mountaineers handshake later, we continue our climb past the most gorgeous valley, full of the most amazing flora and fauna I think I had ever seen. We spent over an hour just taking pictures of flowers, trying to capture the most amazing birds including massive hummingbirds (too fast for us though). Apart from this we did reach the glacier that the chubbies were talking about (the end of an ice trail about 10metres across and if you trod carefully and not on the really steep bits, you were fine). We also reached the wobbly bridge, which I vowed never to cross again, as out of all the bamboo - log bridges en route, that one was really nasty. However, we finally reached Macchapucchare Base Camp 4130m, ran by an ex Gurka called Ram, which had the most disgusting rancid toilet ever. It is very difficult squatting to do your business when your thighs are screaming from the amount of exercise they have been getting at the best of times. Doing that in an environment which promotes projectile vomit, is really tough. So both T and I suppressed any toilet urges that night, and for the first time, really really cold, tried to sleep through a huge storm during the night, in a very cold room. I must say though that even in these conditions, I tried to remain civilized and forced Triston to take a hot water bucket wash with me before we went to bed. Splashing boiling water on our bodies, in a freezing room, and trying to wash our private parts, certainly brings two people even closer together! Today, MBC - tomorrow, the top of the world!



Justyna Crosses the "Glacier"

The Annapurna Sanctuary Trek Part II (By: Justyna)

Day 2: New Bridge to Chomrong

After the incredibly hellish, taxing, gruelling first day of almost 9 hours of trekking, we both got up with renewed fervor in New Bridge, otherwise known as the 'Rat-hole' (due to the rat droppings everywhere). This morning we discovered a wonderful delicacy called Gurung Bread. The ethnic group of people that predominantly lived in the Annapurna region in the mountains, are the Gurung people. The main gurung hub is in Gandruk (which we were supposed to be going towards on our first day, but got lost instead). They farm corn, rice, vegetables and produce lots of dairy products; have their own dialect and are often recognised by the distinctive clothes they wear, especially this wrap-around shawl which forms two pouches and is used to carry things on their backs. Gurung bread makes for a very tasty breakfast, served with honey and is a cross between a very flat doughnut and 'elephant ear'. Yummy!

We set off at about 7 up towards Jinhu and Chomrong. It was another incredibly hot and humid day, but we had learnt our lesson from yesterday, to take it easy, take small sips of water rather than massive gulps (Triston) and also not to take out frustrations on each other (Justyna). The road up to Jinhu was through woodland, rice paddies and then down into a valley, on some very steep stone stairs. We met again lots of children along the way who would be very cute and ask for sweets or just plain simple rupees (heavily discouraged by us) and some other interesting locals who offered us everything from photos with them (for money) to selling us some ganja (widely practiced as medicine in these here parts). Although we flatly refused the medicine, Triston did on occasion agree to take photos for a small donation, saying it was at least better than plain begging. From Jihnu (1750m) we took the most impossibly steep, stone staircase up to Chomrong, which is the second biggest Gurung hub at 2300m. During this ominous climb, Triston had varying symptoms of heart-attacks, brain aneurysms, asthma, heat and sun stroke, and by the end of it was again convinced he is suffering from diabetes. I stayed pretty quiet as I knew full well how I would cope in a few days time when we would be going down the same route, which I always find incredibly hard.
Chomrong could not come soon enough for us and we were elated and then perplexed to reach the top, only to find the ACAP office permanently closed. It was at Chomrong that we were supposed to have our last check-in for safety, and enquire about the route ahead. To be honest, I really was not worried as although we were now entering 'avalanche territory', I knew this was not avalanche season (no snow apart from the very peaks) but Triston as ever the gentleman, was massively concerned for our safety and still asked every passer by about the dangers of avalanches. We decided to stop at one of the three lodges we saw at the top of Chomrong for lunch and here discovered a new gurung delicacy - garlic soup! this little bowl-full of heaven is sipped by locals to help thin the blood and prevent any types of altitude sickness.

Although we only did about 5 hours of trekking, we still felt like we accomplished a huge amount and decided we would stay the night in chomrong. T felt a bit dead after the arduous climb, so as he was recovering I went a bit further down the chomrong valley to see other potential guest-houses (as the three at the very top looked like they were close cousins of the 'rat-hole'). I was very happy I did climb quite a bit further down as we realised that Chomrong is actually quite big and has a fresh bakery, doctors, the local high school and many lovely lodges to choose from. One such lodge was Chomrong Cottage, run by a lovely lady called Sushila and her husband, which was clean, had a hot shower, a sit down toilet (though still with the nasty basket for the 'used loo paper') and delicious food. Sushila even lent us soap to pound some of our dirty clothes for a wash, and even dried them in the kitchen for us overnight during the rain storm. this was much more civilised and after a lovely dinner of garlic soup and a tomato and yak-cheese chapati, we both snuggled into our sleeping bags on a double bed, ready to face the Annapuna massif tomorrow.

(below) The Many Terraced Fileds along the way.


(below) The Adventurers with Sushila in Chomrong

The Annapurna Sanctuary Trek Part I (By: Triston)

J and I were naively gungho about hiking up around the Himalayas. What we didn't realize was that what we were about to do would push us to the limits of our physical strength and sanity! OK, so it wasn't exactly that tough, but we were exhausted on a daily basis and occasionally terrified (see video of Justyna crossing a river on a very shaky bridge above) The first day we woke up bright and early and got in the taxi which we had ordered the night before. Expecting a nice, relaxing drive up to the start of the trek from Pokhara, we were mortified to learn that the guy who runs the Hotel we were staying at was coming with us and was going to use the deserted, winding, extremely dangerous mountain roads leading up to the starting point as his "driving lesson." Suraj (the hotel guy) was a very very bad driver and he did not reassure us when he told us (between stalling and jerking the car on the edges of cliffs) that he was "really really bad at turning!" After the two-hour terror ride, the real taxi driver finally took over and we ended up in Nayapul, at the bottom of the path up to the "Sanctuary." We had a little bight to eat with Suraj and the taxi driver and then headed out on the hot, dusty path.

After the first hour, we realized we had started hiking up the wrong valley (a detour that would've have added five hours to our trek) and had to return all the way down to the starting point again! After that mishap, we were constantly asking the men and women we passed (men and women who were usually carrying ridiculously heavy loads of corrugated steal and wood up and down the mountain) if we were going the right way, as the numerous meandering paths were not marked. There were also numerous "fake towns" which were designed to make you think you had reached your destination for the day, only to find that the real town you were looking for was much higher up the mountain! Well, we got lost again, accidentally choosing a path that followed the river instead of going straight up the mountain (duh....). So we had to make a choice: completely change our plan and follow the river to this mysterious town known as "New Bridge" or backtrack and go straight up the mountain to the mythical (and Tolkien-esque) "Gandruk" high above in the clouds. We chose to stay the course and hopefully hit "New Bridge" before dark.

At first the day was pleasant. We saw local village boys attacking monkeys with rocks. We had to step to the side of the path as numerous water buffalo and mules made their way down the path at full speed carrying goods from the upper villages. We saw gorgeous waterfalls and terraced fields of corn and rice that seemed to defy gravity. But then the sun started getting low in the sky and, after 8 hours of hiking up painfully steep mountains, we started to become exhausted and panicky. It got to the point where every time we took a step we yelped in pain. I have never dropped the "f-bomb" more times in my life. Every time we made it up another ridge, it seemed there was another, even steeper ridge to climb. "F--k!!!" Just when we were about to give up, I spotted a tiny bridge over the river which seemed like about a mile below us. Could this be "New Bridge"?.... After 30 minutes more hiking, we found that our dreams had come true. That night, as we snuggled in to our bed in New Bridge village, were so thankful to be safe and with shelter that we ignored the fact that the sheets were riddled with rat droppings and the floor and walls looked like a barn. We were safe, and we had learned some valuable trekking lessons about time management and map-reading. We were on the beginning of a new and amazing adventure.


(below) T on a typical trail near the bottom

Bartering and Barfing Amongst Buddhist Temples (By Justyna)

Well, as you all know I am the one who got ill pretty much straight
away - 4 days into our trip. Though I am fine now, it was not pleasant
so thought would share my first two days in Kathmandu from my point of
view.

Started to feel very queasy in the middle of the night and ran to the
loo where the inevitable projectile vomiting occurred. Triston, being
the gallant gentleman that he is, rushed to my side to hold back my
hair, pass me tissues and rub my back (of course this has nothing to
do with the fact that I have thus cared for him on many an occasion).
Anyway, in the morning I thought I was better, so we went out for a
walk in Kathmandu to do some shopping. Saw an amazing temple, the
biggest / smallest traffic jam ever and made our way to Durbar
Square, which is where the 'Living Goddess' lives. In the middle as
with any good square worth its name, were some sellers, selling their
wares.

the usual sob stories come out - 'please ma’am, you are my first
customer in 3 weeks, bring me good luck, buy something' or 'I give you
best price, it is off season, no business, you tell me your price, I
tell you my price. Almost free'. As I was at this point not beginning
to feel so good, I was unfortunately accosted by one of these sellers,
and as I was on one hand keeping an eye on T (who was at the next
seller, talking excitedly about something he had found) this lady
gave me one of her sob stories and I was very weak and caved in buying
a 'singing-prayer bowl' from Tibet. Then this other guy came up and
desperately tried to get me to change his 'loonies' for him (3 Canadian
dollars) I was polite, then less polite, and then I knew I was going
to vomit so pushed him aside and ran across the road so as not to
projectile vomit all over the square, but in a corner of a building
instead. Unfortunately I happened to be vomiting on a sacred temple,
but never mind. At this point, 'loonie man' was bothering Triston, who
also pushed him away (although at this point 'loonie man' was telling
T his lady was very sick and needed help) so both of them rushed over
to me, again T being the gallant lad, 'loonie man' telling us that the
tourist toilet is just there, yet still asking us to change his
dollars. I stopped barfing and shakily thought it would be it fine as
I felt very empty so we both rushed off as I had desecrated a holy
place.

sitting, recovering in a restaurant (I didn’t eat) T then excitedly
told me about his amazing finds from his lady. An amazing smooth oval
rock which was cracked open to reveal a trilobite inside! And a heard
of elephants carved into real whale bone! All for just #### rupees!
Well within a second of inspecting his amazing finds we both realized
T had been had and his smooth rock was a mold and his heard of
elephants - resin. So we were both 'lighter' by the end of the
afternoon.

Although I had been quite ill, the wrath of dysentery did not escape
Triston, who kept on having to go to the loo for other purposes, where
I would hear from him "Baby, I got problems!" (so?! What’s new?) "No,
but you don’t understand, I have REAL problems!", which made me feel a
little better especially as later on that night, as we were bartering
(far more successfully) for some Mandalas, I thought I too had
PROBLEMS and needed a toilet really fast. We got very quickly to the
restaurant where we were going to have dinner, only to find that there
was no electricity, no working toilet, and the one they directed me
to, had no loo paper. Not a happy Justyna. thankfully, I did not have
PROBLEMS and after a good nights sleep we left for Pokhara on a bumpy
bus ride from Kathmandu at 7 in the morning. And I feel very ready to
climb to Annapurna Base Camp!

K-K-K-Kathmandu (By Triston)

Kathmandu is a breath of fresh clean air compared to Delhi, although I personally enjoy the rough-and-tumble, crazy atmosphere of India. Kathmandu is about 10 degrees cooler and it is also full of people who are much more courteous than our neighbors in Paharganj. There are hundreds of brilliantly-colored shops selling statues of Hindu gods and Nepalese furniture. There are also shrines to Ganesh, Vishnu, Buddha, etc. around every corner and the market women sit on the sides of them and sell fresh greens and mangos in their fluorescent saris. The whole scene is pervaded by wafting clouds of incense which smells like a sandalwood /jasmine match made in heaven. Justyna is sick as a dog back at the hotel right now, but we are hoping for a recovery by tomorrow when we are scheduled to head to Pokara to start our trek up to the Anapurna base camp. Today we will be checking trek prices and loading up on supplies for the big hike. I now know why my friend Heather loved it so much here. It is a peaceful paradise and each alley brings a new adventure.(See previous blogs for recently uploaded pics)

Death Defying Delhi (By Justyna)

Well, what can I say about today, especially following our very eventful first day and flight! Neither of us slept particularly well at the hotel Vivek - the heat is stifling and incredibly uncomfortable and even though our room has AC of sorts, it is very third world. But we wanted to make the most of our day here, so got up and went out at about 7AM. Triston needed a haircut so we decided to kill two birds and had breakfast next to a barber shop. Breakfast was great - chapatis with cauliflower and potato on the street, and as I sat and watched Triston being pummelled by the hairdressers, who with each new 'treatment' seemed to be raking in the cash (price of original haircut 50 rupees, price of haircut, blackhead removing face mask, rose water treatment, massage, creaming - 450 rupees - but how can you say no?!) We had decided to see Humayun's tomb which is the predecessor to the Taj Mahal and had to take a Tuk-Tuk there. Our driver pretty much as soon as we got in, started to tell us what we ought to see and that he would show us the 'creme de la creme' of Delhi. Politely we were able to decline everything bar from his insistence on taking us the the most prominent Sikh temple en route. We felt a bit weird, like VIP's but slightly out of place as we were taken by our guide through all the rituals in this beautiful, white marble building. No tourists ever go there but actually it was pretty cool - best of which was the visit to the voluntary kitchen which feeds about 20'000 people per day for free. I even got to roll a couple of chapatis with the locals. Following this diversion, the tomb was stunning, well worth the trip and it will be interesting comparing it to the Taj in afew weeks time. From here we took another death defying drive by Tuk-tuk to Chadni Chowk - the main bazaar area of Delhi, and having navigated 1000's of stalls, people, beggars, dogs in the intense 45 degree heat, we were both losing our cool. Thankfully our efforts were yet again rewarded by stumbling at the 11hour (prior to my biting off someone's, probably Triston's, head) upon a really lovely restauarant which had a very good punjabi menu. The frozen daiquiri and gin and tonic worked a treat as well, and even though on the way home we were witness to our 7th prodding beggar, a naked man with balls the size of a football, yet another impertinent indian man who somehow bumped into my breast, and a bag full of skinned rats, we got back to the hotel full of joie de vivre, though very very tired and in need of some calm. Delhi is mad: certainly the most manic, smelly, dodgy, weird city I have ever been to and I won't lie to say I am really looking forward to flying out to nepal tomorrow to a much more cool and calm environment. But it has been a huge adventure and I am truly blessed with the most perfect travelling companion, who is my protector when i need protection and my sense of humour, when i have none.

Air India and Paharganj (By Triston)

I haven't blogged for a few weeks. Blogging started feeling a bit too solipsistic and I got really busy with the end of the school year. The guys turned in all their Witness to War interviews and final papers and now I find myself on vacation with nothing to do but enjoy! Teaching does have its perks!

Justyna and I were worried about "Air India" being our carrier to Delhi, as my past experience with Indian airlines has been a bit crazy (see previous blog from 4 years back: ). But once on board, the free beers and tasty indian food gave us the impression that we were in good hands.....that is....until we went to the bathroom. Unlike most airplane toilets, Air India's were on a separate floor, you had to go down the stairs. Also, unlike any other airline, there was a constant line of at least 6-7 people at any given time on the 8-hour flight. But the kicker was not the structure of the bathrooms, it was the human excrement that was within (and without) them. Granted, I only went down there twice, but each time I did, the stalls that weren't overflowing with waste (which formed a thin layer on the floor outside the 6bathrooms) were covered in urine. Believe it or not, this was tolerable. I have been to some shady places and done my business in some derelict locations. What wasn't tolerable was what I saw the second time I went down into the pit. Justyna had just finished and had tip-toed up the stairs on the few remaining dry patches of floor outside the stalls. I came out and saw three piles of human feces just sitting there in the hall outside the bathroom! Someone one (or three someones?) had squatted right there and gone to the bathroom right outside the very place where it was supposed to be done! It was at that point that I knew our adventure to Nepal via India had truly begun.

Paharganj
There were many students of our on our flight. Actually, at times it seemed that the entire Indian community of St. Mary's was on our flight. It was funny because every time we told them where we were staying in Delhi, they gave us the same reaction. First disbelief, then concerned silence, and then a grave statement: "Take care....Please...Take Care...." J and I weren't sure what this meant, but after braving the blasting afternoon heat in our taxi from the airport, we knew why they had reacted this way. Paharganj makes Gary look like a philanthropist convention. Dogs, cows, lepers, human waste, potholes the size of a small car, every single person grabbing at you to try and get your business, a donation, your wallet, etc..... It was crazy! And the whole time we were walking towards our hotel, we were trying to dodge the constant insane traffic of the bicycle rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, mopeds, and cows. Strangely, though, we like our temporary neighborhood and are glad we chose this place. The incredible vividness of the colors, sounds, smells of the place make you feel very alive.

After taking our stuff up to the room, Justyna and I went out on the town to look at some sitars and get a bite to eat. Sitars are hard to judge when you can't play them. The last time I was in India, I thought I was getting a good deal on a wooden drum, but the drum disintegrated when I took it back to the States, it was made out of cardboard painted like wood. The sitars were the same. They all look the same and I'm not quite sure what they should sound like. After leaving the sitar shop empty handed, we grabbed some roti and various curries. At first it was tough trying to figure out to what extent you were allowed to use your left hand to tear the bread and spoon the curry, but it ended up working out and being quite delicious too.

There were some shady moments of course. There were a few allies where there seemed-all of a sudden- to no longer be any women around. Not sure why, but in these allies, the dudes were more aggressive in every way and would bump into J's boobs as so many times that it was obvious that it was an intentional "cop-a-feel" move. We left that alley pretty quick, as it was getting narrower and there were shadier and shadier characters appearing. After dodging some sacred cows and stopping to see a few fabric stalls, we headed back to the hotel to get some sleep. Lets just say that after last night, temperature and discomfort for us are relative concepts. Now, a lukewarm shower feels like an ice-cold Andean waterfall and a kick in the pants feels like a nice, cool butt-massage. Outside the temperature feels like you are a human bun in an angry oven. In our room it felt like some nice person tossed us buns a few ice cubes just before turning on the oven. We survived though, although today I feel I have sun-stroke. (Pictures to come)