Tatuskus in Japan!

Here is our video of Tatuskus in Japan. Hope you enjoy!

RASCAL!!!

Apologies Apologies!!!!
The reliably consistent blog you once new has been frozen in time for far too long. Lets just say that we have not been at Huyuman's Tomb for the past 3 months! We have been swamped with travelling and work. Our summer was busy but our new school year in Japan is even busier!!! Teacher's Association obligations and class prep take up a lot of our time, but the truth is that a small, white and brown mammal has entered our house and is changing our lives in so many ways, especially with regard to the budgeting of time....

.... Lets just say that Papa Tori has gotten very little sleep between 3am pee pee times and endless pee pee clean-ups. Mama Justyna has gotten very little relaxation time either, considering that this mammal's favorite behavior is to attach its mouth to her pant-legs while she is cooking, writing, and watching TV. Nonetheless, this small domesticate wolf is sometimes adorable and sweet (as long as you exhaust him through constant exercise and have treats handy). Words cannot do justice to the positive effects he has had on our lives.

Introducing: the Jack Russel who is more fearless and cute than even the pet-shop girls in Miyamadaera predicted: RASCARU!!!!!!!

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