Monday, March 28, 2011
Thailand and Tibet May 2005
Since Carol refuses to be gone from home for longer than five weeks (the grandchildren change too much), when we plan trips, I try to make sure we don't get shorted. Our main goal was to trek in the Himalayas, but that was a 23 day trip, soooooo..... hmmm, what else can we do. Carol had never been to Thailand and it had been 43 years since I had been there; therefore, it seemed a natural addition to make our 35 days. In Tibet we actually got as high as 18,000 feet and saw two different base camps of Everest. Wonderful trip on several levels.
Tuk-tuk-tuk
For those with whom we haven’t had recent contact, we’re in Thailand for a quick 10 days and then we’re off to Tibet for the real purpose of the trip, seeing the big mountains, and learning how Buddhism works in Tibet, with the caveat that it’s under Chinese control. The Tibetan part of the trip does not diminish our enjoyment of this beautiful country and its fascinating combination of different cultures.
What a bustling vibrant city Bangkok has become. After a gap of 43 years it doesn’t even resemble the place with the small town feel that I recall from being here in 1962. And while I know we could say that about any place, the changes here is geometric, arithmetic. It has gone from a city of a half million with a small town feel to a megalopolis of 6 million. Skyscrapers abound everywhere. Multiple areas of the city have several buildings topping the 38 story hotel in which we are staying. Everything here reminds Carol of Seoul, what with its non-stop noise and traffic that would make the most hard boiled commuter from home wonder how the people here do it constantly. It’s not exactly a quiet place to be.
Gone are all the little old ladies chewing the betel nuts and spitting the blood-red juice on the sidewalk which made it look like some caricature of an over done slasher movie, and gone is the ease of moving about the city on foot to see the interesting cultural and historical sights. The street vendors are still there hawking almost everything which is to be sold: from the wide variety of food stuffs which you’ll never see in a Thai restaurant at home, gadgets and gizmos of all description and clothing of all sorts. The most amazing “store” we went into yesterday was nearly a city block square complex with six stories entirely filled with every type of computer device made. Literally thousands of little kiosks and shops with mouse devices, laptops, screens, and a myriad of all the little individual items which one can buy for computers are for sale.
In addition the place was the worst-case scenario of Hollywood’s as well as software developers’ nightmare: The piracy shops. Little albums like the ones into which you put your photos are filled with thousands of movie titles on DVD, and music CD’s and everything selling for under $5 per title. Just leaf through the pages of the album, noting titles you want. The “sales person” almost always looking about 14 years of age disappears from behind a screen, and magically reappears with a little plastic envelop with the new CD or DVD inside covered by a picture of the DVD cover, scanned, of course, form the original and printed on a simple piece of paper from the printer.
You want software? Get Microsoft Office for $7, Photo shop which we bought for about $500 costs $5 here. I’ve never seen anything which remotely compares to the complex. With so many vendors all vying for business offering the exact same product at the same price, it made me wonder how anybody could make a living doing business here. I’m not exaggerating when I say thousands of shops and the most amazing part of it was that each shop had anywhere from 10 to 30 people buying, trying out various equipment, and talking the talk. They even have a huge food court which was about 50 yards long and 100 feet deep serving the masses who obviously spend a lot of time there. And best of all, for us, at least, was that it was air-conditioned. The stifling heat outside which makes it easier to be in the mood to buy. We had lunch there for $1 for each of us.
The noise level was that of some trading floor for a commodities exchange. Add to the din the thousands of people talking, and all the food clattering, the constant blare of music from various CD’s, DVD’s and game shops all with product demonstrations going on constantly.
It certainly gave a picture that would give movie, software, and music developers their worst nightmares. And nobody sees anything wrong with it. It’s just entrepreneurship.
The city is clogged with traffic at all times of the day. Thousands of traditional taxis, and the tuk-tuks are everywhere. If you think of an ATV three-wheeler with a small seating area in the back covered with metal roof and you get a picture of the Tuk-Tuk. The name comes from the sound the engine makes as it runs, “Tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk.” We took a tuk-tuk to the main commercial area for less than $1. It took us forever to get there because of the traffic, but it is the most popular form of transportation. . Again, with so many thousands on the street at any given time, it makes you wonder how anybody makes a living at the prices charged. When we left the hotel with all of our luggage for the 35 days, the bell hop at the Sofitel hotel where we stayed couldn’t believe that we wouldn’t take a taxi. “No,” we said, “we like tuk-tuks.” They just shook their head, flagged one down, and off we went down the street, luggage and all. “Tuk-tuk-tuk.”
Then of course there are the motor-cycles. Oh, my god!!!! They weave in and out of traffic, they cut in between lanes of moving vehicles and work their way to the front of the queue when ever there is a stoppage for any reason. At the change of any red light to green there is a roar of the dozens of motor cycles which have jumped the wait and roar off for at least a short distance until they start the weaving and cutting all over again. Walking down the street there is an almost constant line of them all parked on the sidewalk. It is nut unusual to see literally hundreds of them parked at a large store or shopping area. It certainly is a very practical method of transportation here. Many of the streets are very narrow here and the “Motor-cys” make for easy navigation of the maze. It was hard for me to realize how much traffic has developed. Certainly can’t blame the city fathers for not foreseeing that Bangkok would become a driver’s nightmare. Yesterday’s traffic was even worse. Many streets were closed off for the Royal funeral of the King’s grandson who was killed in the tsunami of Dec 26th. Proof that the devastation reached all levels of society.
The heat is absolutely oppressive. I feel like a living scene from Robin Williams’s movie: “Good Morning, Vietnam,” when he does his monologue on the weather. “How hot is it, Roosevelt?” “DAMN HOT!!” and it is. Highs approaching 100 and lows in the 70’s with humidity in the 90 percent range, makes staying outdoors in the sun a dodgy proposition at best. After visiting something of interest and walking to the next, we always scout out the big department stores where we know it will be air conditioned. Just a slow troll around the store revives us and we hit the outdoors again. Even the Thais are complaining. They all tell us we should come in November or December when the weather is much better, a full 5 degrees cooler. Yeah, okay!
Thailand is still a dream for a traveler on a budget, if a place where a plane ticket costs $1,000 can be considered a budget. Many will have seen the 60 minutes show on Thai medicine and gotten a picture from that. Translate that picture into other aspects of life and you will realize how little money you can spend and still have a great time.
Our hotel the other night in Sukathai, was simple but clean, had cable TV, hot water, a king bed, AIR CONDITIONING, and cost $12.50 for the night. We stopped at a nice little roadside restaurant on the way. No AC but good food and it costs $6 for the two of us, everything included. We are now in Chaing Mai and went out for dinner. A really fancy little place: teak timbers, live music, fancy table settings and dinner cost $7.50 after leaving a big tip, because I didn’t have smaller bills, and I felt like such a cheap miser asking for money back. So instead I just became an over-spending tourist making it difficult for those who follow.
Bargaining is the name of the game on the streets, but how do you do that when things are already so under-priced and not feel like a skinflint? So I pay too much, so what. The street vendors have little, and we have so much, it just doesn’t feel right. Last night after dinner, I had only 20 baht left, just 50 cents, since I’d left the rest of my money in the hotel safe. I wanted a muchie and we stopped at a store and I explained through gestures that it was all I had, what could I get for my money. She pointed to a rack of cookies. That sounded good. I took the cookies, gave her the money, and she gave me 10 baht back. Okay, how about some peanuts. Good, but she gave me back 5 baht. I finally left it at that. Having the munchies is one thing. Gorging on junk just to see how much I could get for my money is totally ridiculous.
Roads here are amazingly good. Lots of four lane highways where driving is a breeze. I scoot at about 75 mph without a sign that there are any highway controls. No posted limits, no highway police, just cars, and not many of them at that the further away from Bangkok you get. You just pass the slower vehicles, then get out of the way of those going REALLY fast, about 85-90.
The two lane roads are a little dicier, but the rules seem pretty well established. There are two schools of drivers; they either go too slow or two fast. Naturally, I’m in the too-fast school, but on the bottom rung of that ladder. As you approach a slower moving vehicle, you check to see if there’s enough room to pass, and then pass, even if there’s not necessarily enough room. The cars coming in the other direction understand the rules, so they just move over, if necessary, and there’s no road rage, no middle fingers pointed to the sky, no shouting or high blood pressure.
You have to be aggressively defensive. (or is it defensively aggressive? I forget which) Just understand that even on curves and lots of hills, there aren’t any solid lines to restrict passing. I’d heard horror stories of driving here, but actually, it’s all pretty civilized. You do pay attention, however. No nature, or people viewing. Your attention is focused squarely on the objective.
The hard part comes when approaching towns where the traffic picks up and the motor-cys have entire families on them. Dad drives and has the baby on his lap, while mom is behind him with the older child on her lap, probably sitting sideways. Kids as young as 6 months get sandwiched between the two parents. Hardest of all is the kids driving the motor cycles. I’ve seen them as young as 10 years old, weaving in and out of traffic. Scary indeed!!!
Traffic is slow working through the towns, so you carefully work your way around the myriad of tuk-tuks, motor cys, and types of motor scooters. Then a red light comes up and while you are stopped all the ones you passed swarm around you like bees, and at the green light the process all starts over again as you begin to get around them one at a time.
Today we are heading out near the Burmese; oh excuse me, the Myanmar, border where many of the “Hill Tribes” are located. It will be another fascinating day, we’re sure. Thais of all types are incredibly friendly, helpful, and warm people. We’ve not met anyone who was in the slightest way unpleasant. They all greet you with the traditional hands clasped together, as if in prayer, with thumbs near the nose and head slightly bowed. It is such a warm, humbling greeting. I couldn’t believe in our Bangkok hotel which was filled with Westerners, how many people passed without acknowledgement. Carol and I always respond in the same manner, and when we initiate the gesture, we are greeted with an amazing smile and happiness; I don’t understand how others miss out on being on the receiving end of such warmth as the Thai people are capable of giving.
So we’re off again. As you can see, we still find so much in this world to discover. And again, we’ve found that no matter where we go, people are the best attraction that any country can offer.
We’ll write more at the opportunity presents itself. Hope to get something else off before we leave here on the 8th for our flight to Kathmandu and then on to Tibet.
Here’s hoping that you are all well and happy, no matter where in this world you may be.
With love to all, we are
Carol and Jim
What a bustling vibrant city Bangkok has become. After a gap of 43 years it doesn’t even resemble the place with the small town feel that I recall from being here in 1962. And while I know we could say that about any place, the changes here is geometric, arithmetic. It has gone from a city of a half million with a small town feel to a megalopolis of 6 million. Skyscrapers abound everywhere. Multiple areas of the city have several buildings topping the 38 story hotel in which we are staying. Everything here reminds Carol of Seoul, what with its non-stop noise and traffic that would make the most hard boiled commuter from home wonder how the people here do it constantly. It’s not exactly a quiet place to be.
Gone are all the little old ladies chewing the betel nuts and spitting the blood-red juice on the sidewalk which made it look like some caricature of an over done slasher movie, and gone is the ease of moving about the city on foot to see the interesting cultural and historical sights. The street vendors are still there hawking almost everything which is to be sold: from the wide variety of food stuffs which you’ll never see in a Thai restaurant at home, gadgets and gizmos of all description and clothing of all sorts. The most amazing “store” we went into yesterday was nearly a city block square complex with six stories entirely filled with every type of computer device made. Literally thousands of little kiosks and shops with mouse devices, laptops, screens, and a myriad of all the little individual items which one can buy for computers are for sale.
In addition the place was the worst-case scenario of Hollywood’s as well as software developers’ nightmare: The piracy shops. Little albums like the ones into which you put your photos are filled with thousands of movie titles on DVD, and music CD’s and everything selling for under $5 per title. Just leaf through the pages of the album, noting titles you want. The “sales person” almost always looking about 14 years of age disappears from behind a screen, and magically reappears with a little plastic envelop with the new CD or DVD inside covered by a picture of the DVD cover, scanned, of course, form the original and printed on a simple piece of paper from the printer.
You want software? Get Microsoft Office for $7, Photo shop which we bought for about $500 costs $5 here. I’ve never seen anything which remotely compares to the complex. With so many vendors all vying for business offering the exact same product at the same price, it made me wonder how anybody could make a living doing business here. I’m not exaggerating when I say thousands of shops and the most amazing part of it was that each shop had anywhere from 10 to 30 people buying, trying out various equipment, and talking the talk. They even have a huge food court which was about 50 yards long and 100 feet deep serving the masses who obviously spend a lot of time there. And best of all, for us, at least, was that it was air-conditioned. The stifling heat outside which makes it easier to be in the mood to buy. We had lunch there for $1 for each of us.
The noise level was that of some trading floor for a commodities exchange. Add to the din the thousands of people talking, and all the food clattering, the constant blare of music from various CD’s, DVD’s and game shops all with product demonstrations going on constantly.
It certainly gave a picture that would give movie, software, and music developers their worst nightmares. And nobody sees anything wrong with it. It’s just entrepreneurship.
The city is clogged with traffic at all times of the day. Thousands of traditional taxis, and the tuk-tuks are everywhere. If you think of an ATV three-wheeler with a small seating area in the back covered with metal roof and you get a picture of the Tuk-Tuk. The name comes from the sound the engine makes as it runs, “Tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk.” We took a tuk-tuk to the main commercial area for less than $1. It took us forever to get there because of the traffic, but it is the most popular form of transportation. . Again, with so many thousands on the street at any given time, it makes you wonder how anybody makes a living at the prices charged. When we left the hotel with all of our luggage for the 35 days, the bell hop at the Sofitel hotel where we stayed couldn’t believe that we wouldn’t take a taxi. “No,” we said, “we like tuk-tuks.” They just shook their head, flagged one down, and off we went down the street, luggage and all. “Tuk-tuk-tuk.”
Then of course there are the motor-cycles. Oh, my god!!!! They weave in and out of traffic, they cut in between lanes of moving vehicles and work their way to the front of the queue when ever there is a stoppage for any reason. At the change of any red light to green there is a roar of the dozens of motor cycles which have jumped the wait and roar off for at least a short distance until they start the weaving and cutting all over again. Walking down the street there is an almost constant line of them all parked on the sidewalk. It is nut unusual to see literally hundreds of them parked at a large store or shopping area. It certainly is a very practical method of transportation here. Many of the streets are very narrow here and the “Motor-cys” make for easy navigation of the maze. It was hard for me to realize how much traffic has developed. Certainly can’t blame the city fathers for not foreseeing that Bangkok would become a driver’s nightmare. Yesterday’s traffic was even worse. Many streets were closed off for the Royal funeral of the King’s grandson who was killed in the tsunami of Dec 26th. Proof that the devastation reached all levels of society.
The heat is absolutely oppressive. I feel like a living scene from Robin Williams’s movie: “Good Morning, Vietnam,” when he does his monologue on the weather. “How hot is it, Roosevelt?” “DAMN HOT!!” and it is. Highs approaching 100 and lows in the 70’s with humidity in the 90 percent range, makes staying outdoors in the sun a dodgy proposition at best. After visiting something of interest and walking to the next, we always scout out the big department stores where we know it will be air conditioned. Just a slow troll around the store revives us and we hit the outdoors again. Even the Thais are complaining. They all tell us we should come in November or December when the weather is much better, a full 5 degrees cooler. Yeah, okay!
Thailand is still a dream for a traveler on a budget, if a place where a plane ticket costs $1,000 can be considered a budget. Many will have seen the 60 minutes show on Thai medicine and gotten a picture from that. Translate that picture into other aspects of life and you will realize how little money you can spend and still have a great time.
Our hotel the other night in Sukathai, was simple but clean, had cable TV, hot water, a king bed, AIR CONDITIONING, and cost $12.50 for the night. We stopped at a nice little roadside restaurant on the way. No AC but good food and it costs $6 for the two of us, everything included. We are now in Chaing Mai and went out for dinner. A really fancy little place: teak timbers, live music, fancy table settings and dinner cost $7.50 after leaving a big tip, because I didn’t have smaller bills, and I felt like such a cheap miser asking for money back. So instead I just became an over-spending tourist making it difficult for those who follow.
Bargaining is the name of the game on the streets, but how do you do that when things are already so under-priced and not feel like a skinflint? So I pay too much, so what. The street vendors have little, and we have so much, it just doesn’t feel right. Last night after dinner, I had only 20 baht left, just 50 cents, since I’d left the rest of my money in the hotel safe. I wanted a muchie and we stopped at a store and I explained through gestures that it was all I had, what could I get for my money. She pointed to a rack of cookies. That sounded good. I took the cookies, gave her the money, and she gave me 10 baht back. Okay, how about some peanuts. Good, but she gave me back 5 baht. I finally left it at that. Having the munchies is one thing. Gorging on junk just to see how much I could get for my money is totally ridiculous.
Roads here are amazingly good. Lots of four lane highways where driving is a breeze. I scoot at about 75 mph without a sign that there are any highway controls. No posted limits, no highway police, just cars, and not many of them at that the further away from Bangkok you get. You just pass the slower vehicles, then get out of the way of those going REALLY fast, about 85-90.
The two lane roads are a little dicier, but the rules seem pretty well established. There are two schools of drivers; they either go too slow or two fast. Naturally, I’m in the too-fast school, but on the bottom rung of that ladder. As you approach a slower moving vehicle, you check to see if there’s enough room to pass, and then pass, even if there’s not necessarily enough room. The cars coming in the other direction understand the rules, so they just move over, if necessary, and there’s no road rage, no middle fingers pointed to the sky, no shouting or high blood pressure.
You have to be aggressively defensive. (or is it defensively aggressive? I forget which) Just understand that even on curves and lots of hills, there aren’t any solid lines to restrict passing. I’d heard horror stories of driving here, but actually, it’s all pretty civilized. You do pay attention, however. No nature, or people viewing. Your attention is focused squarely on the objective.
The hard part comes when approaching towns where the traffic picks up and the motor-cys have entire families on them. Dad drives and has the baby on his lap, while mom is behind him with the older child on her lap, probably sitting sideways. Kids as young as 6 months get sandwiched between the two parents. Hardest of all is the kids driving the motor cycles. I’ve seen them as young as 10 years old, weaving in and out of traffic. Scary indeed!!!
Traffic is slow working through the towns, so you carefully work your way around the myriad of tuk-tuks, motor cys, and types of motor scooters. Then a red light comes up and while you are stopped all the ones you passed swarm around you like bees, and at the green light the process all starts over again as you begin to get around them one at a time.
Today we are heading out near the Burmese; oh excuse me, the Myanmar, border where many of the “Hill Tribes” are located. It will be another fascinating day, we’re sure. Thais of all types are incredibly friendly, helpful, and warm people. We’ve not met anyone who was in the slightest way unpleasant. They all greet you with the traditional hands clasped together, as if in prayer, with thumbs near the nose and head slightly bowed. It is such a warm, humbling greeting. I couldn’t believe in our Bangkok hotel which was filled with Westerners, how many people passed without acknowledgement. Carol and I always respond in the same manner, and when we initiate the gesture, we are greeted with an amazing smile and happiness; I don’t understand how others miss out on being on the receiving end of such warmth as the Thai people are capable of giving.
So we’re off again. As you can see, we still find so much in this world to discover. And again, we’ve found that no matter where we go, people are the best attraction that any country can offer.
We’ll write more at the opportunity presents itself. Hope to get something else off before we leave here on the 8th for our flight to Kathmandu and then on to Tibet.
Here’s hoping that you are all well and happy, no matter where in this world you may be.
With love to all, we are
Carol and Jim
Thai food anyone
One of our great joys in traveling is the opportunity to discover and enjoy all types of food. Certainly Carol is a little more experimental than I am, she’ll eat stuff that I won’t even smell, but the vast array of foods is a wonderful benefit to our travels.
Naturally, that would hold true to the nth degree here in Thailand. Thai food is so popular nowadays everywhere in the world, and justifiably so. What a wonderful variety of tastes are available. We’ve had red curry, yellow curry, green curry, coconut milk dishes, and lots of different peppery dishes. You will get served an assortment of condiments: something sweet, something sour, something salty, and something hot. They are served in small bowls and you just choose the one which you think will go best with your meal.
Some of the dishes are beef, but chicken and pork, and, of course, lots of choices of seafood are most common.
One interesting thing for us is the fact that they don’t use chop sticks. They are never placed on the table, and it’s not just because the Gringos are in town. People eat with a fork and a soup spoon. One is used as a pusher and the other as the feeder, as it were. People will use one or the other without any special rules about which is to be used for which purpose.
I love to eat off the street, with the hundreds of vendors which we pass on any walk down any street in any town. Food is always available. I particularly like the chicken or pork slices served on sticks with a red pepper sauce cooked on like barbecue sauce which are just munchie food to me.
Each area has its own regional dishes and we love to experiment with the local dishes. However, one choice is a particular favorite of ours because we’ve had it several times, and each time it is completely different. Pad Thai can be vegetarian, made with tofu, chicken, beef, or seafood. Spicing seems to be different each time so that you never tire of having the same dish.
Sometimes we eat in more upscale restaurants where the menus have pictures of the dishes, sometimes we eat on the streets, sometimes we have stopped along the road while traveling from point to point where we look into the pots to see what it looks and smells like to decide what’s for lunch. But the point is that we have never had a bad meal, and because each time we share food to increase our variety, we seem to always say to each other, “Boy, that’s really good.”
As we’ve traveled to the far north of the country now, we are in Elephant country.
We’ve stopped twice to do the touristy “Elephant center.” Interestingly though, it‚s not just the western tourists that attend. Elephants are very important in Thai culture. They are a symbol of royalty and the kingdom, and a white elephant is still worshiped as a living divinity. They represent wealth, prosperity, and power, and there are more Thais than Europeans at the shows. The elephant is no longer used in the logging industry as they had been for generations, so the shows and demonstrations of training are just for demonstration purposes, they still hold a fascination for all. There are literally dozens of centers. They call themselves by different names: Training center, preservation center, Young Elephant camps and other such titles, they are all well attended.
They have areas where the elephants all go onto the water for bathing (a particular favorite of the crowd), logging techniques, marimba playing, elephants doing painting (you can buy the pictures for about $12, proceeds go to helping the elephants, so they say), and they demonstrate variety of other “skills.”
After the show you can ride an elephant, but that was just toooooo touristy for me. One thing that I would have been interested in doing, but no time, was to take an elephant trek where you ride elephants to areas that you basically couldn’t walk to, and visit some of the various hill tribes and see villages that are to difficult to get to by foot.
In one center that we visited, you could stay at the camp and do a kind of “Mini-camp.” Where you learn how to give commands, ride them like the mahouts, bath them in the rivers, and do a variety of things, all of which simply alleviate the elephant fixation which many of us have. The Asian elephant is smaller in size, and seemingly more trainable than their African counterparts, although they have signs put up for the tourists where they tell you: “When feeding the elephants, give them the whole bunch of bananas at a time so that the elephants will not become impatient.” Yeah, that would be a good thing. Nobody wants an impatient elephant who’s getting one banana at a time.
It‚s all very hokey, but good fun, none-the-less.
Thailand is a very Buddhist country and Wats, or temples, abound everywhere. There are over 300 of them in Bangkok alone. One of the interesting aspects of the literally tens of thousands of monks in their saffron robes, is that they eat only when offered food. That is one of the tenants of being a monk. To that end, they go to the market area each morning where they simply stand there stoically with their metal bowls until somebody stops and puts food into their bowl. Women do not touch monks under any circumstances, (Don‚t know what that’s all about) but they certainly do offer food to them. The people offering food will then, usually, kneel, whence the monk will bless the person/persons offering the food or say a prayer for a departed one. The short blessing and prayer being finished, the monk will continue to wait for more food, with the process repeating itself until he has enough food for himself or his “Household.” I haven‚t seen any fat monks, but nobody seems to go hungry. Giving food to the monks brings good karma to the giver. Some monks will eat once a day, some twice, but not more. Eating after noon is prohibited. Nothing that can be chewed can be ingested, but liquids are okay. That’s a good thing in this heat!
At the various monasteries that we have seen there are individual little houses where three or four young boys live in one very austere room. In Sukhothai we saw a whole line of boys, some of them really little munchkins about 6 years old. Quite a sight to see them all carrying their bowls off to the market. They are usually the children of poor families who turn the boys over to the monks for education that they would otherwise not have. They stay a minimum of three months, but are free to remain as long as they adhere to the teachings of the monks. We talked to one person whose father started as a boy and stayed for 20 years eventually becoming a lama. I’m not sure how that works, I think that the monks can marry, or maybe they just leave the “Monkhood.” I need more clarification on that issue.
The boys always have a bright smile on their faces though. They are not dour, downtrodden types who are deprived. They seem thoroughly happy, interacting with all aspects of society. It is considered quite an honor to have a monk in one’s family or a boy who is under the care of the monks.
The friendliness of the Thai people is legendary, and we’ve not found anything to dispute that. When asked where we are from, we have learned to say: “The United States,” because as has been pointed out: “Canadians, Mexicans, Peruanos, and everybody else in the hemisphere is an American, can you be more specific, and less self-important.” But here when we say the United States, they just look at us blankly. We quickly reply: “America.” At which point, faces light up and people have lots of stories about relatives who live there, travels to the US by themselves and others, etc.
I was asked before we left home if we ever said that we were from Canada because of the Anti-American feeling around the world. We’ve never done that for several reasons. We are who we are and there’s no reason to try to appear otherwise, and since we don‚t do the “Rah-Rah, America” thing that people should see that some Americans do try to be citizens of the world, for example. At any rate, in spite of the fact that we as a nation have a checkered past here in the region, there is no obvious dislike of the country. This week, for example, marked the 30 year anniversary of what is called here, “The American War.” The fall of Saigon ended that horrible part of our history. What a sad commentary that we seem to be making the same mistakes all over again, with another country in the cross hairs, literally and figuratively, of our limited view of the world and the people who live in it.
At any rate, people here in Thailand are incredibly warm and friendly. We’ve been told about not touching the people that it’s not part of their culture, but they reach out, take your hand, pat your arm and just show a natural affection person to person.
The faces of the people are never far from an easy smile. It really seems to be the more natural configuration of their face. Relax the muscles of a Thai, and the face just goes to a smile. Give them any reason to be happy and they just beam. Whether its people on the street or people in shops, it’s so nice to be amongst such people.
The biggest problem that we’ve had is just not enough time!!! We knew that to begin with, but it’s even harder when you are here with so many things that we want to do, and we just don’t have the flexibility to do them. We leave Sunday for Nepal and THERE’S JUST NO TIME!!! I mean, here we are in the heart of the Thai silk industry and Carol‚s not going to have time to check it all out. When looking at our schedule we had the choice to do more and see less, or concentrate on one area. Carol had never been in the region and it was decided to do this as an overview, since she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to do. Yesterday she said that she could spend an entire month up here in the north. So it looks like another trip back to the region is in the offing. There are so many different ethnic peoples in the area it is hard not to visit the small villages and see the origins of so many of our students from our teaching days.
Plus she wants to do the elephant thing with her daughter and grandson. Surprise, surprise.
Naturally, that would hold true to the nth degree here in Thailand. Thai food is so popular nowadays everywhere in the world, and justifiably so. What a wonderful variety of tastes are available. We’ve had red curry, yellow curry, green curry, coconut milk dishes, and lots of different peppery dishes. You will get served an assortment of condiments: something sweet, something sour, something salty, and something hot. They are served in small bowls and you just choose the one which you think will go best with your meal.
Some of the dishes are beef, but chicken and pork, and, of course, lots of choices of seafood are most common.
One interesting thing for us is the fact that they don’t use chop sticks. They are never placed on the table, and it’s not just because the Gringos are in town. People eat with a fork and a soup spoon. One is used as a pusher and the other as the feeder, as it were. People will use one or the other without any special rules about which is to be used for which purpose.
I love to eat off the street, with the hundreds of vendors which we pass on any walk down any street in any town. Food is always available. I particularly like the chicken or pork slices served on sticks with a red pepper sauce cooked on like barbecue sauce which are just munchie food to me.
Each area has its own regional dishes and we love to experiment with the local dishes. However, one choice is a particular favorite of ours because we’ve had it several times, and each time it is completely different. Pad Thai can be vegetarian, made with tofu, chicken, beef, or seafood. Spicing seems to be different each time so that you never tire of having the same dish.
Sometimes we eat in more upscale restaurants where the menus have pictures of the dishes, sometimes we eat on the streets, sometimes we have stopped along the road while traveling from point to point where we look into the pots to see what it looks and smells like to decide what’s for lunch. But the point is that we have never had a bad meal, and because each time we share food to increase our variety, we seem to always say to each other, “Boy, that’s really good.”
As we’ve traveled to the far north of the country now, we are in Elephant country.
We’ve stopped twice to do the touristy “Elephant center.” Interestingly though, it‚s not just the western tourists that attend. Elephants are very important in Thai culture. They are a symbol of royalty and the kingdom, and a white elephant is still worshiped as a living divinity. They represent wealth, prosperity, and power, and there are more Thais than Europeans at the shows. The elephant is no longer used in the logging industry as they had been for generations, so the shows and demonstrations of training are just for demonstration purposes, they still hold a fascination for all. There are literally dozens of centers. They call themselves by different names: Training center, preservation center, Young Elephant camps and other such titles, they are all well attended.
They have areas where the elephants all go onto the water for bathing (a particular favorite of the crowd), logging techniques, marimba playing, elephants doing painting (you can buy the pictures for about $12, proceeds go to helping the elephants, so they say), and they demonstrate variety of other “skills.”
After the show you can ride an elephant, but that was just toooooo touristy for me. One thing that I would have been interested in doing, but no time, was to take an elephant trek where you ride elephants to areas that you basically couldn’t walk to, and visit some of the various hill tribes and see villages that are to difficult to get to by foot.
In one center that we visited, you could stay at the camp and do a kind of “Mini-camp.” Where you learn how to give commands, ride them like the mahouts, bath them in the rivers, and do a variety of things, all of which simply alleviate the elephant fixation which many of us have. The Asian elephant is smaller in size, and seemingly more trainable than their African counterparts, although they have signs put up for the tourists where they tell you: “When feeding the elephants, give them the whole bunch of bananas at a time so that the elephants will not become impatient.” Yeah, that would be a good thing. Nobody wants an impatient elephant who’s getting one banana at a time.
It‚s all very hokey, but good fun, none-the-less.
Thailand is a very Buddhist country and Wats, or temples, abound everywhere. There are over 300 of them in Bangkok alone. One of the interesting aspects of the literally tens of thousands of monks in their saffron robes, is that they eat only when offered food. That is one of the tenants of being a monk. To that end, they go to the market area each morning where they simply stand there stoically with their metal bowls until somebody stops and puts food into their bowl. Women do not touch monks under any circumstances, (Don‚t know what that’s all about) but they certainly do offer food to them. The people offering food will then, usually, kneel, whence the monk will bless the person/persons offering the food or say a prayer for a departed one. The short blessing and prayer being finished, the monk will continue to wait for more food, with the process repeating itself until he has enough food for himself or his “Household.” I haven‚t seen any fat monks, but nobody seems to go hungry. Giving food to the monks brings good karma to the giver. Some monks will eat once a day, some twice, but not more. Eating after noon is prohibited. Nothing that can be chewed can be ingested, but liquids are okay. That’s a good thing in this heat!
At the various monasteries that we have seen there are individual little houses where three or four young boys live in one very austere room. In Sukhothai we saw a whole line of boys, some of them really little munchkins about 6 years old. Quite a sight to see them all carrying their bowls off to the market. They are usually the children of poor families who turn the boys over to the monks for education that they would otherwise not have. They stay a minimum of three months, but are free to remain as long as they adhere to the teachings of the monks. We talked to one person whose father started as a boy and stayed for 20 years eventually becoming a lama. I’m not sure how that works, I think that the monks can marry, or maybe they just leave the “Monkhood.” I need more clarification on that issue.
The boys always have a bright smile on their faces though. They are not dour, downtrodden types who are deprived. They seem thoroughly happy, interacting with all aspects of society. It is considered quite an honor to have a monk in one’s family or a boy who is under the care of the monks.
The friendliness of the Thai people is legendary, and we’ve not found anything to dispute that. When asked where we are from, we have learned to say: “The United States,” because as has been pointed out: “Canadians, Mexicans, Peruanos, and everybody else in the hemisphere is an American, can you be more specific, and less self-important.” But here when we say the United States, they just look at us blankly. We quickly reply: “America.” At which point, faces light up and people have lots of stories about relatives who live there, travels to the US by themselves and others, etc.
I was asked before we left home if we ever said that we were from Canada because of the Anti-American feeling around the world. We’ve never done that for several reasons. We are who we are and there’s no reason to try to appear otherwise, and since we don‚t do the “Rah-Rah, America” thing that people should see that some Americans do try to be citizens of the world, for example. At any rate, in spite of the fact that we as a nation have a checkered past here in the region, there is no obvious dislike of the country. This week, for example, marked the 30 year anniversary of what is called here, “The American War.” The fall of Saigon ended that horrible part of our history. What a sad commentary that we seem to be making the same mistakes all over again, with another country in the cross hairs, literally and figuratively, of our limited view of the world and the people who live in it.
At any rate, people here in Thailand are incredibly warm and friendly. We’ve been told about not touching the people that it’s not part of their culture, but they reach out, take your hand, pat your arm and just show a natural affection person to person.
The faces of the people are never far from an easy smile. It really seems to be the more natural configuration of their face. Relax the muscles of a Thai, and the face just goes to a smile. Give them any reason to be happy and they just beam. Whether its people on the street or people in shops, it’s so nice to be amongst such people.
The biggest problem that we’ve had is just not enough time!!! We knew that to begin with, but it’s even harder when you are here with so many things that we want to do, and we just don’t have the flexibility to do them. We leave Sunday for Nepal and THERE’S JUST NO TIME!!! I mean, here we are in the heart of the Thai silk industry and Carol‚s not going to have time to check it all out. When looking at our schedule we had the choice to do more and see less, or concentrate on one area. Carol had never been in the region and it was decided to do this as an overview, since she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to do. Yesterday she said that she could spend an entire month up here in the north. So it looks like another trip back to the region is in the offing. There are so many different ethnic peoples in the area it is hard not to visit the small villages and see the origins of so many of our students from our teaching days.
Plus she wants to do the elephant thing with her daughter and grandson. Surprise, surprise.
They say there are no accidets in life, but.........
They say there are no accidents in life, but I am living proof that there are. The other day while driving in the north we were on a remote, winding, road going down a steep hill in a rain storm, the road made a sharp bend to the left, and when I tried to slow to make the curve, the brakes locked up and I began that agonizingly slow, but inexorable slide to the guard rail, and CRUNCH! We got up-close and very personal with an understanding of the laws of gravity working at odds with (or in conjunction with?) a non-friction surface as we hit the guard rail at about 15 miles an hour.
The front right side of the car looked like a refugee from a Nascar wreck. Our first thoughts were. “Uh-oh, here we are 80 miles from nowhere. What do we do?” Luckily, today’s cars being the tin cans that they are, I was able to peel the fender away from the tire and drive it. The only physical damage that occurred was the momentary pain when I hit my hand on the steering wheel being so angry at myself for not being able to prevent it from happening; that and my bruised ego.
Carol was, of course, true to her nature, pointing out that nobody was hurt, the car was drivable, it was nobody’s fault, it was just the coming together of all the forces at work, and wondering why it is always so easy for me to forgive others, and so hard for me to forgive myself. She is always such a calming influence in my life. Situations like this always bring into focus just how much she adds to it.
We drove the 60 miles to Chaing Mai where we turned the car into Avis, got a replacement. It just cost me $125 deductible on the insurance I had gotten with the rental car, and we were back like nothing had happened, with the exception of me trying to look inside and find what it was I should learn from the experience.
I thought of my friend Bob Wilson who had a small crunchola in New Zealand; tried to find the balance with being never afraid to try anything to the realization that that might not always be the best approach; told myself that it was all right to make mistakes in judgement; told myself that maybe this was a gentle reminder that I needed to be more cautious so that something more serious didn’t happen, and a myriad of other internal mental questions, answers to which I am still searching for.
We stayed in Chaing Mai and then went to Chaing Rai, which turned out to be our favorite place here in Thailand. It was small enough that we could walk from our hotel to any point in town and had lots of options within easy reach. We made contact with Bua, a Thai woman who is married to a client of mine, and was the main impetus for us to come here. I have done tickets for Gerry and their son who travel back and forth between Lodi and the small town on the Burmese border Mae Sai where she runs a garlic processing factory. She had actually been a teacher’s aide at Village Oaks School, in the district where we taught. We spent much of a day with her and she drove us out to the Golden Triangle, that spot on the Mekong river where Thailand, Burma, and Laos all come together, we visited the factory where she processes 100 tons of garlic each month. She had just gotten back from China where she negotiated a deal to supply diesel fuel for the upriver towns. She is quite a remarkable person. She had her cook fix us a sumptuous lunch that was excellent, and we just talked about Thailand and life here: being a woman in business in Asia, the Royal family, Thai society, etc. It was very informative and thoroughly pleasant. As always, making contact with the people of the country we are visiting is what is the most interesting for us.
We visited a temple and talked to a young woman in her twenties who was staying at there studying meditation for a few days. She and her sister, a doctor, just come up and take some time off once in a while to re-focus. She told us that anybody could stay at the temples for free. There are rooms at each, and visitors are always welcome. Bua said that the temples are owned by the government, quite a conceptual change for us non-church/state types. We were invited to stay, but time constraints prevented that, but the concept was appealing.
We visited “The Union of Northern Hill Tribes,” which sounds fine, but I left with the feeling that these people were being exploited, and that I was contributing to that exploitation. There is such a fine line between supporting indigenous peoples and simply using them to further your own ends. There was no attempt to explain their customs, their culture, or anything else about them. Just pay your money, walk around and watch them. It reminded me a little of the Kinky Friedman song: “Ballad of Ira Hayes,” where the tourists want to know: “When do the Indians dance?” I felt like a voyeur as I filmed them, both fascinated by their dress and manners, and ashamed of myself for taking video just so that I had some shots of them on tape. We have traveled in many places and have always been interested in learning about the different ways that peoples have worked out this living of life. It has always fascinated me that no matter where we have been, people have found joy in life, meaning in their surroundings, and are certainly no worse off for not having the trappings of our western civilization. But, with that being said, I don‚t want for them to feel that they are just performing seals for the benefit of the tourists, and that they are reduced to doing this type of degrading exhibition because they are poor and their tribal ways of life are passing and they can no longer continue them as “Civilization” takes over. It’s such a fine line. I hope that I’m wrong, and that the money for the entrance fees goes into making their lives better. I just didn’t see it. On a positive note, Carol was able to watch some of the ladies weave on back-strap looms.
Some short snippets of observation:
We’ve been surprised at how many people speak English here in Thailand, not just in the big cities, but most everywhere. Stopping at a 7-11 (yes, they are VERY prevalent here) for directions or help, walking down the street, or lots of other times, we have been able to communicate our needs without struggle.
The roads have been a very pleasant surprise, with the exception of one curve on one road near Pai. Lots of four lane roads, well surfaced, easy to make good time once you learn the rules.
Names of towns on the map have provided us with some humor. Many are difficult to pronounce so we just come up with our own version for identification purposes. Some have sounds that seem like something else. One small town was named
Pa Dead, which made me happy that the next village wasn’t larger where it might be called Grand Pa Dead. Ang Thong is a real town, Rong Kat sounds like one of my animals, there’s Bo Man, Bang Wang, and of course there are the temples, Wat Po and the like.
We’ve had to slow down for police checks on the highways. They make serpentines to slow you down and pull cars over for checks. Sometimes the police are just there reading the paper, sometimes actually doing checks. As soon as they see the AVIS sign in the car window, we are just pushed on through. If smugglers are smart, they’ll just rent Avis cars to do their trafficking.
Traffic lights stay red/green for a longer time, and they often have numbered signs which count down the time before a change. When leaving Chaing Rai we were stopped at a light and realized we hadn’t gotten a picture of a beautiful shrine there at the corner. I saw the numbers count down 130-129-128, set the hand brake, got the video camera, stepped out, did my filming and still had 40 seconds to spare. Cool idea, because you don’t sit there and say: “come on, come on, change.” Oh, you mean, I’m the only one who does that?
We saw many places that sold small houses that looked like some kind of massive bird house sale yard. We later found out that most Thais buy one of these, sometimes small like the bird house size other times massive ones that are big enough to live in for the resident spirits to reside. They protect the family and their house and are very prevalent both in city and rural areas.
Over 50% of all Thai men serve some part of their life as a monk. Most commonly just before marriage and starting their family, a young man will go through an ordination ceremony and become a monk. In the villages, these ceremonies are great cause for celebration and the entire village will take part.
Thailand is a multi-cultural country: Thais, Hmongs, Khmers, Laos, and dozens of smaller groups of peoples have lived in harmony in the country for centuries. Buddhism lends itself to racial tolerance. Buddha, after all, was from India. We neither saw or felt any hint that they saw differences in people.
Thailand is truly a beautiful country and its people mirror that beauty. Orchids grow everywhere, in the crotch of limbs of trees, things that we call house plants grow wild and add beauty and color to the most mundane of walks. The Thais take great pride in adding color to the streets, highways, and small lanes. It has really been a pleasure to see that even in poor areas; people find ways to add beauty to their lives.
The country is very vibrant. Smiles come easily. Laughter fills the air, and everybody makes the visitor very comfortable in being a small part of their world even if only for such a short visit as we have had. It is easy to think of returning again to see more of the country, and taking more time to understand what we’ve seen. This trip was always intended as a preliminary to the upcoming trek in Tibet. It deserves more than that. It’s not a throw-away in any sense of the word.
So, tomorrow we fly to Katmandu and then start the 25 days into something which will be totally new to both of us. It’s always fun to discover together something which neither of us has any experience.
Let the adventure begin.
Love to all,
Carol and Jim
The front right side of the car looked like a refugee from a Nascar wreck. Our first thoughts were. “Uh-oh, here we are 80 miles from nowhere. What do we do?” Luckily, today’s cars being the tin cans that they are, I was able to peel the fender away from the tire and drive it. The only physical damage that occurred was the momentary pain when I hit my hand on the steering wheel being so angry at myself for not being able to prevent it from happening; that and my bruised ego.
Carol was, of course, true to her nature, pointing out that nobody was hurt, the car was drivable, it was nobody’s fault, it was just the coming together of all the forces at work, and wondering why it is always so easy for me to forgive others, and so hard for me to forgive myself. She is always such a calming influence in my life. Situations like this always bring into focus just how much she adds to it.
We drove the 60 miles to Chaing Mai where we turned the car into Avis, got a replacement. It just cost me $125 deductible on the insurance I had gotten with the rental car, and we were back like nothing had happened, with the exception of me trying to look inside and find what it was I should learn from the experience.
I thought of my friend Bob Wilson who had a small crunchola in New Zealand; tried to find the balance with being never afraid to try anything to the realization that that might not always be the best approach; told myself that it was all right to make mistakes in judgement; told myself that maybe this was a gentle reminder that I needed to be more cautious so that something more serious didn’t happen, and a myriad of other internal mental questions, answers to which I am still searching for.
We stayed in Chaing Mai and then went to Chaing Rai, which turned out to be our favorite place here in Thailand. It was small enough that we could walk from our hotel to any point in town and had lots of options within easy reach. We made contact with Bua, a Thai woman who is married to a client of mine, and was the main impetus for us to come here. I have done tickets for Gerry and their son who travel back and forth between Lodi and the small town on the Burmese border Mae Sai where she runs a garlic processing factory. She had actually been a teacher’s aide at Village Oaks School, in the district where we taught. We spent much of a day with her and she drove us out to the Golden Triangle, that spot on the Mekong river where Thailand, Burma, and Laos all come together, we visited the factory where she processes 100 tons of garlic each month. She had just gotten back from China where she negotiated a deal to supply diesel fuel for the upriver towns. She is quite a remarkable person. She had her cook fix us a sumptuous lunch that was excellent, and we just talked about Thailand and life here: being a woman in business in Asia, the Royal family, Thai society, etc. It was very informative and thoroughly pleasant. As always, making contact with the people of the country we are visiting is what is the most interesting for us.
We visited a temple and talked to a young woman in her twenties who was staying at there studying meditation for a few days. She and her sister, a doctor, just come up and take some time off once in a while to re-focus. She told us that anybody could stay at the temples for free. There are rooms at each, and visitors are always welcome. Bua said that the temples are owned by the government, quite a conceptual change for us non-church/state types. We were invited to stay, but time constraints prevented that, but the concept was appealing.
We visited “The Union of Northern Hill Tribes,” which sounds fine, but I left with the feeling that these people were being exploited, and that I was contributing to that exploitation. There is such a fine line between supporting indigenous peoples and simply using them to further your own ends. There was no attempt to explain their customs, their culture, or anything else about them. Just pay your money, walk around and watch them. It reminded me a little of the Kinky Friedman song: “Ballad of Ira Hayes,” where the tourists want to know: “When do the Indians dance?” I felt like a voyeur as I filmed them, both fascinated by their dress and manners, and ashamed of myself for taking video just so that I had some shots of them on tape. We have traveled in many places and have always been interested in learning about the different ways that peoples have worked out this living of life. It has always fascinated me that no matter where we have been, people have found joy in life, meaning in their surroundings, and are certainly no worse off for not having the trappings of our western civilization. But, with that being said, I don‚t want for them to feel that they are just performing seals for the benefit of the tourists, and that they are reduced to doing this type of degrading exhibition because they are poor and their tribal ways of life are passing and they can no longer continue them as “Civilization” takes over. It’s such a fine line. I hope that I’m wrong, and that the money for the entrance fees goes into making their lives better. I just didn’t see it. On a positive note, Carol was able to watch some of the ladies weave on back-strap looms.
Some short snippets of observation:
We’ve been surprised at how many people speak English here in Thailand, not just in the big cities, but most everywhere. Stopping at a 7-11 (yes, they are VERY prevalent here) for directions or help, walking down the street, or lots of other times, we have been able to communicate our needs without struggle.
The roads have been a very pleasant surprise, with the exception of one curve on one road near Pai. Lots of four lane roads, well surfaced, easy to make good time once you learn the rules.
Names of towns on the map have provided us with some humor. Many are difficult to pronounce so we just come up with our own version for identification purposes. Some have sounds that seem like something else. One small town was named
Pa Dead, which made me happy that the next village wasn’t larger where it might be called Grand Pa Dead. Ang Thong is a real town, Rong Kat sounds like one of my animals, there’s Bo Man, Bang Wang, and of course there are the temples, Wat Po and the like.
We’ve had to slow down for police checks on the highways. They make serpentines to slow you down and pull cars over for checks. Sometimes the police are just there reading the paper, sometimes actually doing checks. As soon as they see the AVIS sign in the car window, we are just pushed on through. If smugglers are smart, they’ll just rent Avis cars to do their trafficking.
Traffic lights stay red/green for a longer time, and they often have numbered signs which count down the time before a change. When leaving Chaing Rai we were stopped at a light and realized we hadn’t gotten a picture of a beautiful shrine there at the corner. I saw the numbers count down 130-129-128, set the hand brake, got the video camera, stepped out, did my filming and still had 40 seconds to spare. Cool idea, because you don’t sit there and say: “come on, come on, change.” Oh, you mean, I’m the only one who does that?
We saw many places that sold small houses that looked like some kind of massive bird house sale yard. We later found out that most Thais buy one of these, sometimes small like the bird house size other times massive ones that are big enough to live in for the resident spirits to reside. They protect the family and their house and are very prevalent both in city and rural areas.
Over 50% of all Thai men serve some part of their life as a monk. Most commonly just before marriage and starting their family, a young man will go through an ordination ceremony and become a monk. In the villages, these ceremonies are great cause for celebration and the entire village will take part.
Thailand is a multi-cultural country: Thais, Hmongs, Khmers, Laos, and dozens of smaller groups of peoples have lived in harmony in the country for centuries. Buddhism lends itself to racial tolerance. Buddha, after all, was from India. We neither saw or felt any hint that they saw differences in people.
Thailand is truly a beautiful country and its people mirror that beauty. Orchids grow everywhere, in the crotch of limbs of trees, things that we call house plants grow wild and add beauty and color to the most mundane of walks. The Thais take great pride in adding color to the streets, highways, and small lanes. It has really been a pleasure to see that even in poor areas; people find ways to add beauty to their lives.
The country is very vibrant. Smiles come easily. Laughter fills the air, and everybody makes the visitor very comfortable in being a small part of their world even if only for such a short visit as we have had. It is easy to think of returning again to see more of the country, and taking more time to understand what we’ve seen. This trip was always intended as a preliminary to the upcoming trek in Tibet. It deserves more than that. It’s not a throw-away in any sense of the word.
So, tomorrow we fly to Katmandu and then start the 25 days into something which will be totally new to both of us. It’s always fun to discover together something which neither of us has any experience.
Let the adventure begin.
Love to all,
Carol and Jim
And now for something completely different
Flying in a northeasterly direction, our first view of what was to come was an incredible line of white, jagged peaks inching ever closer in the window, until they encompassed the entire vista. Looking as far back and as far forward as we could, they were there. Like some giant saw-tooth knife contrasted against the blue sky, the Himalayas just seem to rise from nothing and soar skyward. It was a magnificent view and was a thrill to know that we were, indeed, in for something different.
The ride from the airport was a further indication of just how far we had traveled, not just distance wise, but culturally. From Buddhist Thailand to predominantly Hindu Nepal everything was different. Coming in on the transfer from the airport in Bangkok we passed dozens of modern sky scrapers, architecturally astounding creations, each more than 30 stories tall. The road was a four lane modern toll road, flanked by another four lane freebie road.
Time warp to today’s transfer here in Katmandu. The road was a narrow road not built for cars but with two way traffic without lane markings, so traffic wove back and forth, with horns constantly barking out their warning signals. Caveat Emptor may mean buyer beware, but here it’s caveat pedestriano. In Thailand, if you crossed in the middle of the street, traffic came to a halt to allow you to pass, here it’s: “Don’t do that, I’ll run you down.” In the 7-10 miles from the airport to the hotel, which is right downtown, we think, there is not a single traffic light nor stop sign. Crossing the street therefore, given the above warning is a test of will and nerves.
As in Bangkok there are lots of motorcycles, but here again, there is a vast chasm of difference. In Thailand, the motorcys were modern, sleek, well taken care of machines. Here they are older, less well maintained, and reflecting the dirt streets in many areas, they are covered with a layer of dirt which just makes things look poorer. Lots of bicycles here. We saw maybe a handful of them in our ten days in Thailand, and thousands of them on the way into town here.
From the opulence of Bangkok to the squalor of Katmandu, the contrast has just been mind jarring. Everything looks and feels more like India. Everything has a coating of dust on it, and everything just looks dirty.
We’re staying at the Radisson hotel, and while there’s nothing wrong with it, it certainly doesn’t remind one of anything representing an up scale hotel. A modest three star at the best.
The smiling faces and pleasant greetings of the Thais on the street have been replaced by a disdainful look from the Nepali. People pass you by with nary a glance or acknowledgement of your existence. Kathleen, on of our traveling mates says that the people are very friendly, so we’re hopeful that what we’ve seen is just an aberration.
All of the above is not to be in any way disparaging to this country or its people. But just serves as a jarring reminder that when traveling, one needs to put the past aside and begin to see new things for what they are on their own terms and in their own light. But it does rattle the senses until you can get your mind and spirit around your new surroundings. First impressions are just that.
One thing that really surprised us as we were reading before we came was the fact that we thought of Nepal as a mountainous place, thinking of Katmandu as a place high in the mountains surrounded by even higher ones. In fact, the elevation here is just 4,200 feet, 1,300 meters or so. The “Hills” surrounding the valley into which the city sits do go to around 9,000 feet, but it isn’t until you get to the northern part that you reach the big boys, K2, Lhotse, and the king, Everest, at 29,000.
In fact, Katmandu is further south than New Delhi, India, and if you go further south to the lowlands, the elevation is only 200 feet above sea level. There you can take elephant safaris, see rhinos, tigers, and the like. Not exactly high mountain stuff.
We awoke this morning to a drizzling rain, but that dissipated as the day wore on. We went to a very holy Hindu temple where the scene was much the same as the pictures we’ve all seen of people washing in the Ganges River. The river here feeds into the Ganges and, hence it is considered an even holier pilgrimage to come here than to the Ganges. It is a very major cremation site, and in the time we were there we saw no fewer than five separate corpses being prepared for the funeral pyre. In one case, we watched (from a proper distance) as they prepared the body on the stack of wood in preparation for the cremation, watched them light the fire and stood there, both fascinated and astounded as the flames rose and engulfed the body. The pyre next to it had been burning for a few hours and was in the state of a late night camp fire by the beach. Mostly ashes, but with some obvious solid pieces which had not yet broken down to ashes. We got a whole lesson on the cremation process, the hows, whys and wherefores. It is actually quite sensible and spiritual when explained properly. I don’t have time here to do so, but it did make the whole scene more palatable to the senses.
Nepal is 85% Hindu and only 10% Buddhist, even though Buddha was born here in Nepal to a royal Hindu family. We saw many levels of Hindu thought right down to the sadus (sp.) who disdain their families and live an ascetic life, which is quite harsh.
Even Buddha went through a sadu phase before finding the way to inner peace and enlightenment through what we now know as Buddhism. I use the 85% figure for the Hindu population but as we were told, when the census takers make their rounds, they often say, well this family looks Hindu, so they often make very subjective judgements to save time.
There are actually something like 64 entirely different ethnic groups here in Nepal, and many are visible here in Katmandu. From a sleepy town, it has boomed into a place teeming with over 2,000,000 people with the political troubles wracking the country. The king has declared absolute power, disbanded democracy, and rules despotically. There are Maoist guerillas in the countryside forcing many people to flee to the “Safety” of the city, and Katmandu simply bulges at the seams.
Even the royal family is in turmoil, much of it stemming from the 2001 palace massacre where the crown prince supposedly got pissed because mom and dad wouldn’t let him marry who he wanted, so he murdered them, a brother and sister, an aunt and uncle and others before taking his own life. That’s the official story but there seems to be a large group the doesn’t believe it. So the king is now the remaining brother who escaped the carnage.
We also visited a wonderful Buddhist temple. In Thailand, the wats were brilliant temples with roofs of glittering golden color and ornate decoration inside. The stupa or temple today was truly Tibetan, a wonderful precursor for our foray into Tibet tomorrow. Prayer flags by the thousands blew from all direction, and you could see by the ethnic Tibetan dress that this was a place where Tibetans fled, and continue to flee their occupied homeland. The shops in the giant square, actually a circle, were full of Tibetan goods, and it was really nice to see what was available. We now know that we can get many of the things we want here upon our return if we don’t/can’t get them in Tibet. Space is the problem. We each have one “Kit” bag into which we have to put everything for the trip. We left a bag in Bangkok of the “Tropical” clothes, and again we are having to consolidate and leave a bag here. The tour leader laughs because he says if you bring everything that World Expeditions tells you to bring (we did) you can’t get it all into the bag (you can). So it looks like more of the Camino type laundry situation. Take a minimum and wash every night.
We were walking down the street when a distinctive plant caught our eye. A whole yard full of five foot high marijuana plants. It just grows wild here, and I mean everywhere. It is used medicinally and also in religious ceremonies. There is a festival in Feb. where apparently the whole city turns on. No wonder Katmandu became a hippy destination in the 70’s.
Our group looks like a really nice one indeed. We are just five, Carol and myself, obviously, and then there’s Dave an anesthesiologist from Melbourne, Tony who works corporate travel in London, and Kathleen who is a governmental consultant from Brisbane in Australia. They all look like they are in their 30’s, so grandma Carol and grandpa Jim are definitely the old farts. We all seem very compatible and spend the afternoon hanging out in the market place together.
There is also a group of 17 who are doing a shorter version without the trekking and so we will be together for a while with them then they will go their own way. We all fly together tomorrow to Lhasa.
The afternoon in the market was a wonderful time. It is one of the most vibrant areas I’ve ever seen. Narrow streets just chock full of stores on both sides selling everything trekkers or climbers or just souvenir hunters could ever want, and all at bargain prices. The streets are alive not with tourists interestingly enough, but with Nepalese going to or from somewhere. The streets are a wave of color, ebbing and flowing as women in brightly colored saris pass in front of view. The entire color wheel at any glance fills the view. The saris are so bright, some solid colors, others multi-colored, but all of them giving a vibrancy and vividness to the atmosphere.
And so our visit to Katmandu is very short indeed. We return on June 1st for two more nights where we’ll fill the remaining room in our suitcases with the things we saw today. As much as we look forward to tomorrow, we also look with anticipation for our return and a little more time here.
Until later, still enjoying life and living large, we are,
Carol and Jim
The ride from the airport was a further indication of just how far we had traveled, not just distance wise, but culturally. From Buddhist Thailand to predominantly Hindu Nepal everything was different. Coming in on the transfer from the airport in Bangkok we passed dozens of modern sky scrapers, architecturally astounding creations, each more than 30 stories tall. The road was a four lane modern toll road, flanked by another four lane freebie road.
Time warp to today’s transfer here in Katmandu. The road was a narrow road not built for cars but with two way traffic without lane markings, so traffic wove back and forth, with horns constantly barking out their warning signals. Caveat Emptor may mean buyer beware, but here it’s caveat pedestriano. In Thailand, if you crossed in the middle of the street, traffic came to a halt to allow you to pass, here it’s: “Don’t do that, I’ll run you down.” In the 7-10 miles from the airport to the hotel, which is right downtown, we think, there is not a single traffic light nor stop sign. Crossing the street therefore, given the above warning is a test of will and nerves.
As in Bangkok there are lots of motorcycles, but here again, there is a vast chasm of difference. In Thailand, the motorcys were modern, sleek, well taken care of machines. Here they are older, less well maintained, and reflecting the dirt streets in many areas, they are covered with a layer of dirt which just makes things look poorer. Lots of bicycles here. We saw maybe a handful of them in our ten days in Thailand, and thousands of them on the way into town here.
From the opulence of Bangkok to the squalor of Katmandu, the contrast has just been mind jarring. Everything looks and feels more like India. Everything has a coating of dust on it, and everything just looks dirty.
We’re staying at the Radisson hotel, and while there’s nothing wrong with it, it certainly doesn’t remind one of anything representing an up scale hotel. A modest three star at the best.
The smiling faces and pleasant greetings of the Thais on the street have been replaced by a disdainful look from the Nepali. People pass you by with nary a glance or acknowledgement of your existence. Kathleen, on of our traveling mates says that the people are very friendly, so we’re hopeful that what we’ve seen is just an aberration.
All of the above is not to be in any way disparaging to this country or its people. But just serves as a jarring reminder that when traveling, one needs to put the past aside and begin to see new things for what they are on their own terms and in their own light. But it does rattle the senses until you can get your mind and spirit around your new surroundings. First impressions are just that.
One thing that really surprised us as we were reading before we came was the fact that we thought of Nepal as a mountainous place, thinking of Katmandu as a place high in the mountains surrounded by even higher ones. In fact, the elevation here is just 4,200 feet, 1,300 meters or so. The “Hills” surrounding the valley into which the city sits do go to around 9,000 feet, but it isn’t until you get to the northern part that you reach the big boys, K2, Lhotse, and the king, Everest, at 29,000.
In fact, Katmandu is further south than New Delhi, India, and if you go further south to the lowlands, the elevation is only 200 feet above sea level. There you can take elephant safaris, see rhinos, tigers, and the like. Not exactly high mountain stuff.
We awoke this morning to a drizzling rain, but that dissipated as the day wore on. We went to a very holy Hindu temple where the scene was much the same as the pictures we’ve all seen of people washing in the Ganges River. The river here feeds into the Ganges and, hence it is considered an even holier pilgrimage to come here than to the Ganges. It is a very major cremation site, and in the time we were there we saw no fewer than five separate corpses being prepared for the funeral pyre. In one case, we watched (from a proper distance) as they prepared the body on the stack of wood in preparation for the cremation, watched them light the fire and stood there, both fascinated and astounded as the flames rose and engulfed the body. The pyre next to it had been burning for a few hours and was in the state of a late night camp fire by the beach. Mostly ashes, but with some obvious solid pieces which had not yet broken down to ashes. We got a whole lesson on the cremation process, the hows, whys and wherefores. It is actually quite sensible and spiritual when explained properly. I don’t have time here to do so, but it did make the whole scene more palatable to the senses.
Nepal is 85% Hindu and only 10% Buddhist, even though Buddha was born here in Nepal to a royal Hindu family. We saw many levels of Hindu thought right down to the sadus (sp.) who disdain their families and live an ascetic life, which is quite harsh.
Even Buddha went through a sadu phase before finding the way to inner peace and enlightenment through what we now know as Buddhism. I use the 85% figure for the Hindu population but as we were told, when the census takers make their rounds, they often say, well this family looks Hindu, so they often make very subjective judgements to save time.
There are actually something like 64 entirely different ethnic groups here in Nepal, and many are visible here in Katmandu. From a sleepy town, it has boomed into a place teeming with over 2,000,000 people with the political troubles wracking the country. The king has declared absolute power, disbanded democracy, and rules despotically. There are Maoist guerillas in the countryside forcing many people to flee to the “Safety” of the city, and Katmandu simply bulges at the seams.
Even the royal family is in turmoil, much of it stemming from the 2001 palace massacre where the crown prince supposedly got pissed because mom and dad wouldn’t let him marry who he wanted, so he murdered them, a brother and sister, an aunt and uncle and others before taking his own life. That’s the official story but there seems to be a large group the doesn’t believe it. So the king is now the remaining brother who escaped the carnage.
We also visited a wonderful Buddhist temple. In Thailand, the wats were brilliant temples with roofs of glittering golden color and ornate decoration inside. The stupa or temple today was truly Tibetan, a wonderful precursor for our foray into Tibet tomorrow. Prayer flags by the thousands blew from all direction, and you could see by the ethnic Tibetan dress that this was a place where Tibetans fled, and continue to flee their occupied homeland. The shops in the giant square, actually a circle, were full of Tibetan goods, and it was really nice to see what was available. We now know that we can get many of the things we want here upon our return if we don’t/can’t get them in Tibet. Space is the problem. We each have one “Kit” bag into which we have to put everything for the trip. We left a bag in Bangkok of the “Tropical” clothes, and again we are having to consolidate and leave a bag here. The tour leader laughs because he says if you bring everything that World Expeditions tells you to bring (we did) you can’t get it all into the bag (you can). So it looks like more of the Camino type laundry situation. Take a minimum and wash every night.
We were walking down the street when a distinctive plant caught our eye. A whole yard full of five foot high marijuana plants. It just grows wild here, and I mean everywhere. It is used medicinally and also in religious ceremonies. There is a festival in Feb. where apparently the whole city turns on. No wonder Katmandu became a hippy destination in the 70’s.
Our group looks like a really nice one indeed. We are just five, Carol and myself, obviously, and then there’s Dave an anesthesiologist from Melbourne, Tony who works corporate travel in London, and Kathleen who is a governmental consultant from Brisbane in Australia. They all look like they are in their 30’s, so grandma Carol and grandpa Jim are definitely the old farts. We all seem very compatible and spend the afternoon hanging out in the market place together.
There is also a group of 17 who are doing a shorter version without the trekking and so we will be together for a while with them then they will go their own way. We all fly together tomorrow to Lhasa.
The afternoon in the market was a wonderful time. It is one of the most vibrant areas I’ve ever seen. Narrow streets just chock full of stores on both sides selling everything trekkers or climbers or just souvenir hunters could ever want, and all at bargain prices. The streets are alive not with tourists interestingly enough, but with Nepalese going to or from somewhere. The streets are a wave of color, ebbing and flowing as women in brightly colored saris pass in front of view. The entire color wheel at any glance fills the view. The saris are so bright, some solid colors, others multi-colored, but all of them giving a vibrancy and vividness to the atmosphere.
And so our visit to Katmandu is very short indeed. We return on June 1st for two more nights where we’ll fill the remaining room in our suitcases with the things we saw today. As much as we look forward to tomorrow, we also look with anticipation for our return and a little more time here.
Until later, still enjoying life and living large, we are,
Carol and Jim
The land of the smiling faces
It was a wonderful flight from Katmandu, beautifully clear and the mountains were absolutely just ‘right there,’ since we flew over them. Manoj, our tour leader said that he has flown this route over a dozen times and had never seen them this clear, so we were lucky indeed. Saw Everest, Lhotse and all the other big boys. Quite a thrill!!
We drove the two hours from the airport to Lhasa along the Brahmaputra river which runs over 1,800 miles through Tibet until it eventually dumps into the Bay of Bengal in Bangladesh. It reminded me of the Nile where in there was vegetation and arable land on either side of the river in a small band, and then nothing but desert stretching out to the mountains in both directions the further you got away from the river itself.
I knew that we were getting close to Lhasa as the distances between the villages became less. Eventually it was just one long stream of buildings, so I kept a keen eye and suddenly, there it was, the sight I had really come to see, the Potala palace, the home of the Dalai Lama when he lived in Lhasa. I have always been fascinated by pictures of the palace. It seemed such a remote and exotic place, and here I was seeing it with my own eyes. It was really reassuring to know that there are still magical places in the world for me. While I enjoy every place I visit, there are special places that hold special meaning for me. Red Square in Moscow was like that for me as well.
We got to the hotel about 5 p.m. and went for a walk and wow, what a contrast to Katmandu. People look you in the eye and smile, even before you do. Greet them with a hello in Tibetan and they positively beam. Little kids run up to you saying “Hallo,” and laugh and giggle when you say “Tasha delay,” (phonetic pronunciation). It was a continual parade of happy, friendly faces.
When we returned to the hotel, everybody who had been out said the same thing. How they felt the coldness and distance when walking in Katmandu, and how warm and accepted they felt here.
In fairness to the Nepalese, Kathleen said that she had been impressed by the friendliness of the Nepalese before, and I wondered if the political situation with the king taking absolute power and the Maoists being active just has people on edge and they’ve no time for frivolous encounters when lives are at stake in the country.
I asked Manoj about freedom of the press since the stories about the Maoists are very inflammatory, and he said that the papers were very controlled. Anybody who writes an uncomplimentary article or is critical of the situation just disappears. Again, cause for unsmiling faces.
So with that being said, I’ll not say anything critical about the Nepalese, but will just enjoy the wonderful Tibetan people.
After dinner, Carol had a crampy stomach and decided to stay in the room and take recovery time, and therefore, I went out for a walk after dark. I had asked Manoj if it was safe to walk and he assured me that it was. Getting off the main street there weren’t any lamps lighting the way and so it was dark indeed. In spite of this, I never felt safer, not even walking my own driveway. There were literally thousands of people out and again I was continually rewarded for my walk by the friendliness of the people. Most people keep their doors open to the street and I saw what looked like a huge chunk of butter inside a doorway. I stopped to look and the woman inside greeted me with a smile, invited me in and offered me tea. I continued on my way and a man making prayer flags hailed me inside to see him working. It wasn’t a sales pitch, he just smiled and kept working. Some men playing a dice game with a cup similar to bar dice but with really tiny dice invited me to sit and watch and play. And all of this in the course of a simple one hour walk.
Being at 11,780 feet to start our Tibetan adventure is a good primer. We have been to our ultimate altitude which is 17,500 feet before when we were in Peru, but we were 14 years younger, a somewhat easier task. But at any rate, to start here at about 12,000 and then work our way up is a good way to approach things. We will have four nights here in Lhasa and that should help us acclimate to the elevation. We had a little headache to start with, but that has gone away, and although we get short of breath, we’re having we’ve been walking up the stairs as some extra preparation. However, after visiting the Potala Palace today and climbing the approximately 14 stories to the top, we woozed out and took the elevator upon our return.
The visit to the palace was everything we had hoped it to be. It is such a magnificent edifice. I’ve seen pictures of it all my life and to walk up the stairs and enter was an absolute thrill. To see the Dalai Lama’s quarters, the room where the 17 point agreement was signed, and the various chapels was just awe inspiring. There are over 1,000 rooms to the two parts, and many are closed off to tourists. It’s a good thing, since we spent almost four hours there.
We walked around the Barkhor market place in the heart of old Lhasa and it too was great. Sunday is Buddha’s birthday, and tens of thousands of pilgrims are in town to celebrate. Most from the far reaches of Tibet, and almost all in their traditional regional dress, their everyday clothes, gave an insight to the many different aspects of Tibetan society. They all walk around the palace several times, no small feat since it’s more than a mile around each circuit. They go postrate in prayer 108 times when they are in from of the palace. No wonder there aren’t any fat Tibetans.
Another highlight of the day occurred when we were walking back to the hotel and passed a barber shop. I love to get haircuts in places that we visit and since I didn’t get Carol to cut it before we left, it seemed the natural thing to do. It was really fun. There was a young woman of about 25 finishing up a man’s hair and they had us sit down. Her husband appeared and so he washed my hair while she was finishing up the man. Add to the scene a 3 year old being tended to by a grandma and you have the scene. Younger sister appeared and was shocked to see a westerner in the barber chair. Carol took some video of the boy and grandma and really enjoyed just taking in the whole scene. The husband disappeared and when he returned, he had a camera and took pictures of his wife cutting my hair. We thought that this was an original experience for them. It was probably a real mind blower to cut a westerner’s hair. The haircut cost $3 and when we went to leave, dad wouldn’t have it. He had to have more pictures. There were pictures of the barber wife with Carol and me, pictures of Grandma, baby, Carol and Me, pictures of
Grandma, wife, wife’s sister, baby, Carol and me, and any other combination you could think of.
Then it was our turn, video of.... Well you get the idea. Everybody had a grand time, and I got a really good haircut in the bargain.
We walked down the street but were stopped again by a giant carding machine carding wool. Naturally Carol had to stop and watch, and then we went through the video thing again. Although we don’t mind at all, and they really laugh and giggle when we play the video back for them. The smiles of the people are so genuine and come so easily that even with the political situation of being taken over by the Chinese, these are irrepressible people. You see people laughing on the street just amongst themselves, men and women horse playing and laughing, and everybody just seeming to enjoy life.
Our original plan was to spend most of the trip in Nepal and about a week here in Tibet, mainly coming to Lhasa to see the Potala palace. But Carol had read a book by Tenzig Norgay’s son about his father and the conquest of Everest with Edmund Hillary, and really wanted to see Everest. We looked at lots of various programs for months and couldn’t decide which, and what, to do. Then a World Expeditions brochure came to the office and I brought it home for her to see. It was a company of which I had never heard, and we had never received any literature from them before the brochure appearing at the office one day last October.
Carol looked at all the programs and immediately became enamored with the trip we are now on. Given the political and social situation in Nepal, and how much we are enjoying Tibet with another 21 days to go, it was obviously the right decision. Another example of how our travel spirits take good care of us and lead us in the right direction, if we only let ourselves be open to what they are trying to show us
So, once again, everything is going swimmingly for us and we’re enjoying ourselves immensely. There’s lots more to talk about, but I want to get this off today. Hope to write again before we leave Lhasa.
Hope you are all well. Stay safe and we’ll be home all too soon.
Love to all,
Carol and Jim
We drove the two hours from the airport to Lhasa along the Brahmaputra river which runs over 1,800 miles through Tibet until it eventually dumps into the Bay of Bengal in Bangladesh. It reminded me of the Nile where in there was vegetation and arable land on either side of the river in a small band, and then nothing but desert stretching out to the mountains in both directions the further you got away from the river itself.
I knew that we were getting close to Lhasa as the distances between the villages became less. Eventually it was just one long stream of buildings, so I kept a keen eye and suddenly, there it was, the sight I had really come to see, the Potala palace, the home of the Dalai Lama when he lived in Lhasa. I have always been fascinated by pictures of the palace. It seemed such a remote and exotic place, and here I was seeing it with my own eyes. It was really reassuring to know that there are still magical places in the world for me. While I enjoy every place I visit, there are special places that hold special meaning for me. Red Square in Moscow was like that for me as well.
We got to the hotel about 5 p.m. and went for a walk and wow, what a contrast to Katmandu. People look you in the eye and smile, even before you do. Greet them with a hello in Tibetan and they positively beam. Little kids run up to you saying “Hallo,” and laugh and giggle when you say “Tasha delay,” (phonetic pronunciation). It was a continual parade of happy, friendly faces.
When we returned to the hotel, everybody who had been out said the same thing. How they felt the coldness and distance when walking in Katmandu, and how warm and accepted they felt here.
In fairness to the Nepalese, Kathleen said that she had been impressed by the friendliness of the Nepalese before, and I wondered if the political situation with the king taking absolute power and the Maoists being active just has people on edge and they’ve no time for frivolous encounters when lives are at stake in the country.
I asked Manoj about freedom of the press since the stories about the Maoists are very inflammatory, and he said that the papers were very controlled. Anybody who writes an uncomplimentary article or is critical of the situation just disappears. Again, cause for unsmiling faces.
So with that being said, I’ll not say anything critical about the Nepalese, but will just enjoy the wonderful Tibetan people.
After dinner, Carol had a crampy stomach and decided to stay in the room and take recovery time, and therefore, I went out for a walk after dark. I had asked Manoj if it was safe to walk and he assured me that it was. Getting off the main street there weren’t any lamps lighting the way and so it was dark indeed. In spite of this, I never felt safer, not even walking my own driveway. There were literally thousands of people out and again I was continually rewarded for my walk by the friendliness of the people. Most people keep their doors open to the street and I saw what looked like a huge chunk of butter inside a doorway. I stopped to look and the woman inside greeted me with a smile, invited me in and offered me tea. I continued on my way and a man making prayer flags hailed me inside to see him working. It wasn’t a sales pitch, he just smiled and kept working. Some men playing a dice game with a cup similar to bar dice but with really tiny dice invited me to sit and watch and play. And all of this in the course of a simple one hour walk.
Being at 11,780 feet to start our Tibetan adventure is a good primer. We have been to our ultimate altitude which is 17,500 feet before when we were in Peru, but we were 14 years younger, a somewhat easier task. But at any rate, to start here at about 12,000 and then work our way up is a good way to approach things. We will have four nights here in Lhasa and that should help us acclimate to the elevation. We had a little headache to start with, but that has gone away, and although we get short of breath, we’re having we’ve been walking up the stairs as some extra preparation. However, after visiting the Potala Palace today and climbing the approximately 14 stories to the top, we woozed out and took the elevator upon our return.
The visit to the palace was everything we had hoped it to be. It is such a magnificent edifice. I’ve seen pictures of it all my life and to walk up the stairs and enter was an absolute thrill. To see the Dalai Lama’s quarters, the room where the 17 point agreement was signed, and the various chapels was just awe inspiring. There are over 1,000 rooms to the two parts, and many are closed off to tourists. It’s a good thing, since we spent almost four hours there.
We walked around the Barkhor market place in the heart of old Lhasa and it too was great. Sunday is Buddha’s birthday, and tens of thousands of pilgrims are in town to celebrate. Most from the far reaches of Tibet, and almost all in their traditional regional dress, their everyday clothes, gave an insight to the many different aspects of Tibetan society. They all walk around the palace several times, no small feat since it’s more than a mile around each circuit. They go postrate in prayer 108 times when they are in from of the palace. No wonder there aren’t any fat Tibetans.
Another highlight of the day occurred when we were walking back to the hotel and passed a barber shop. I love to get haircuts in places that we visit and since I didn’t get Carol to cut it before we left, it seemed the natural thing to do. It was really fun. There was a young woman of about 25 finishing up a man’s hair and they had us sit down. Her husband appeared and so he washed my hair while she was finishing up the man. Add to the scene a 3 year old being tended to by a grandma and you have the scene. Younger sister appeared and was shocked to see a westerner in the barber chair. Carol took some video of the boy and grandma and really enjoyed just taking in the whole scene. The husband disappeared and when he returned, he had a camera and took pictures of his wife cutting my hair. We thought that this was an original experience for them. It was probably a real mind blower to cut a westerner’s hair. The haircut cost $3 and when we went to leave, dad wouldn’t have it. He had to have more pictures. There were pictures of the barber wife with Carol and me, pictures of Grandma, baby, Carol and Me, pictures of
Grandma, wife, wife’s sister, baby, Carol and me, and any other combination you could think of.
Then it was our turn, video of.... Well you get the idea. Everybody had a grand time, and I got a really good haircut in the bargain.
We walked down the street but were stopped again by a giant carding machine carding wool. Naturally Carol had to stop and watch, and then we went through the video thing again. Although we don’t mind at all, and they really laugh and giggle when we play the video back for them. The smiles of the people are so genuine and come so easily that even with the political situation of being taken over by the Chinese, these are irrepressible people. You see people laughing on the street just amongst themselves, men and women horse playing and laughing, and everybody just seeming to enjoy life.
Our original plan was to spend most of the trip in Nepal and about a week here in Tibet, mainly coming to Lhasa to see the Potala palace. But Carol had read a book by Tenzig Norgay’s son about his father and the conquest of Everest with Edmund Hillary, and really wanted to see Everest. We looked at lots of various programs for months and couldn’t decide which, and what, to do. Then a World Expeditions brochure came to the office and I brought it home for her to see. It was a company of which I had never heard, and we had never received any literature from them before the brochure appearing at the office one day last October.
Carol looked at all the programs and immediately became enamored with the trip we are now on. Given the political and social situation in Nepal, and how much we are enjoying Tibet with another 21 days to go, it was obviously the right decision. Another example of how our travel spirits take good care of us and lead us in the right direction, if we only let ourselves be open to what they are trying to show us
So, once again, everything is going swimmingly for us and we’re enjoying ourselves immensely. There’s lots more to talk about, but I want to get this off today. Hope to write again before we leave Lhasa.
Hope you are all well. Stay safe and we’ll be home all too soon.
Love to all,
Carol and Jim
From the top of the world
Our trip to Tibet continues to be one of amazement . The spirit of the people is so overwhelming that it is very sad to think how the Chinese have tried to absolutely destroy this blissful corner of the world. Tibet had been isolated from the rest of the world for centuries, known as the “Forbidden Kingdom.” Foreigners were not allowed in the country, and given events it seems a wise decision, but alas, that was to change dramatically.
The last 50 years have been sad ones for the Tibetans as the Chinese went about trying to systematically trash the culture. In 1950 30,000 battle-hardened Chinese troops attacked and slaughtered the 4,000 ill-equipped and ill-trained Tibetan troops. No match at all for this country which had been frozen in time and isolated from the world. In the name of liberation and destruction of “Old thought,” the Chinese purposefully tried to destroy the heart of the Tibetan culture - the Monasteries, of which there were over 6000 in the country. People were not allowed to bring food to the monks, monks were basically enslaved in work gangs, and many of the monasteries were forced to denounce the Dalai Lama or face prison. And all of this happened with the West sitting on their hands and saying nothing. The Brits and Indians even got the UN to delay any debate on the Tibetan situation as the murder continued. I’ve got to do some research when I get home and find out in which country the US was meddling at the time. Sounds like about the time we were installing the Shah as head of Iran, and we all know how that turned out. But that’s another story.
The Chinese then collectivized the farms here and forced the people to grow crops which were not well suited to the land. The result was that 100.000 people died of starvation. In all over a million people died at the business end of Chinese rifles and/or administrative policies.
Then came the “cultural revolution,”: the Red Guards which wreaked havoc throughout China, but nowhere that I know of as much as here in Tibet, where they burned and looted and literally destroyed virtually every one of the monasteries in order to bring the Tibetans to the correct way of thinking. The Dalai Lama was forced to flee to India or face imprisonment. He is still revered today here in Tibet, and he is seen as a man of peace around the world.
The good news is that things are improving here. The farmers are again allowed to grow their own crops, the monasteries are rebuilding, although on a much smaller scale, and there is a great amount of personal liberty to worship and move about for the Tibetans, as long as they don‚t try to leave Tibet, and, most importantly as long as they know who the real power is.
The bad news is that the Chinese have given economic and social benefits to ethnic Chinese who move here and it seems only a matter of time before the Tibetans are a minority in their own country. It’s similar to what the Soviets did in the Baltic states, Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia. The other bad part is that all courses offered in higher education are given in Chinese, so again, an insidious attempt to just slowly erode the existing culture by overwhelming it.
This year they are “Celebrating” the 50th anniversary of the signing of the 17 points, a phonyed-up document where they basically told the government, “Sign, or we’ll blow up the whole country.”
To understand Tibetan society one needs to understand the Buddhist monastery life. To that end we have visited several.
Today we went to Gandan Monastery which lies about an hour and a half from Lhasa. It’s at an elevation of 14,000 (4,000 metres) and climbing up the stairs in the various chapels and rooms certainly gave reason to think about what is to come when we climb to 17,500 (5250).,The monks at the monastery actually defy the Chinese and have picture of the Dalai Lama on display in one of the rooms. As far as anybody knows, it is the only publicly displayed picture of this man of peace who the Chinese fear so. The theory is that the monks can always take it down if officials come, but they don’t come and besides, most of the officials wouldn’t even know whose picture it is. Still, if the officials found out that it was there, there would be hell to pay. Another example of how things are in this “Autonomous Region.” Our guide, Jimmy is Tibetan (Manoj is our tour leader), and he says that there are now some Chinese tour guides who tell a completely different story about events. For example, Gandan monastery once had 3,000 monks before the Red Guard came in, burned the place to the ground, and stole all the precious gems. The Chinese guide’s story is that it caught fire and burned. Well, yeah, but who lit the fire on purpose
Dave, Tony, and I then decided to climb up the mountain where there were a series of prayer flags displayed. We didn’t have much time so Tony and I bailed about half way up, which was an additional 500 feet, and encouraged Dave who really wanted to make it to the top to go for it and not worry about the time. We had the rest of the afternoon off and so what if we got back to Lhasa a little later than the schedule. He made it and said it was awesome.
Tony has a watch which tells you what elevation you are at, so we call him “meter man” and are continually asking him, how far up we’ve climbed. When we got down we asked Manoj if any of the actual treks will be that severe a climb and he smiled and said “More so.” That really gave us pause. The worst part of the statement was that it came on the second day of trekking.
Oh well, we’ll find out. I’m sure we can all make it, we’ll just take our time and not race with anybody. Everybody in both groups keeps talking about the smiling and happy Tibetans. We talked to a German woman today who had been to Nepal 7 years ago, and she said it was night and day compared with the friendliness of today. She too is entranced by the Tibetans. Everybody we meet is. If you’ve ever seen the movie “Seven Years in Tibet,” and think of the grizzled face of the old lady in whose house the Brad Pitt character lives, well, she is on every street here in Lhasa. They just have this incredible countenance about them.
Kathleen has recovered from her illness, Sanjay had a tough night, Dale continues to have the trots as do some others, and everybody is trying desperately to stay off Avo‚s ( an Aussie of Armenian extraction) “Board of Death,” the unofficial tally of who’s not feeling well.
The five of us on our trek, Dave, Tony, Kathleen, and Carol and myself are a nice fit and we interact well. In the other group there is an American family mom, dad, and 13 year old daughter taking a year travel around the world, Avo, who keeps everybody happy, and a mixture of others.
I particularly like Sanjay and Annu, a brother and sister from London area who are of Indian extraction. Hindu by birth, they are an incredibly open to everything. They are my favorites. We have lots of talks about lots of different subjects. I’ll be sorry to see them split off when the other group does its things in a few days.
We have visited several more monasteries and while it has been very enlightening, I must admit that I’m a little “Monasteried” out. Sort of like visiting cathedral after cathedral in Europe.
So tomorrow we begin to move. One night each in Gyantse, Shigatse, and Shegar. Then we begin our trek and head for the other back side of the moon.
Lhasa has been fascinating. Carol and I keep nudging each other to see what the other has seen. We just sat for a half an hour today and watched people walking in the Barkhor, the market area. Simply fascinating.
Tibetans have mastered the opposite of the MacDonald’s “Super sizing.” Each block has hundreds of shops on it. Each shop is about 15 feet wide and deep, with the family living behind and/or above. Pool is extremely popular here, so there are lots of “Pool Parlors,” with one table each. Barber shops have maybe two chairs in them, record stores have a couple of hundred CD’s and that’s it.
But my favorite is the “Movie Theatre.” It is the same 15X15 size, and they have three or four benches which hold four people each, and there is a regular sized TV screen attached to a DVD player. Naturally, they sell all sorts of liquids, soda, beer etc. The same with restaurants, just a couple of tables and a few patrons.
Traffic in Lhasa is absolutely crazy. There are a few traffic signals which give a general hint to what is going on. But don’t be a pedestrian and think that because you have the green walking man that you can venture out and cross safely. Where there is no control, the right of way goes to those bold enough to take it. Our bus is rather old so that the driver operates under the theory that everybody else has more to lose than he does, so he just jumps out in front of everybody. Pedestrians usually walk out into the middle of the street when traffic permits and just stay there until it clears in the other direction. Carol and I absolutely cracked up today when we were parking at a Monastery and a very portly, newly arrived, American walked out in front of the bus, knowing that the bus would stop for him since he had already gotten to the point where the bus wanted to go. His eyes just got bigger and bigger and bigger as the bus inched closer and closer to him. There couldn’t have been more than one foot between them before he finally moved as the bus kept coming forward.
One thing that actually does help is that they have a separate lane separated from the main traffic by a metal barrier for non motorized traffic. Rickshaws, and bicycles can safely navigate traffic without endangering themselves. That is until they get on smaller streets where the barrier lane does not exist.
Carol particularly likes the pants for the little, non potty-trained babies. There are two legs attached at the top, but no crotch, so that mom can just hold them out in front and the little bare-butted babies let it all hang out, literally and figuratively.
We went out for dinner and planned on coming right back to send this email, but decided to go by the barber shop and say goodbye to the barber family. They were in the process of putting together little sachet purses to give out on Sunday, Buddha’s birthday. They had the bags made, but since they were only putting the bags together and didn’t have all the ingredients for the sachet, the husband/dad motioned for us to wait and he left.
We played with the baby who is just Max’s age, we had a brochure from another travel company which had lots of Tibet pictures in it. They looked through it, we showed them where we were going and tried our best to communicate. We got names across finally and after about a half-an-hour the husband showed back up with the white silk scarves which we had been given upon our arrival in Tibet and he gave us the sachets to hang in the car for a safe journey. We thanked them and prepared to say goodbye, and then the kicker. Out came the baby in a complete Tibetan winter outfit. Fur hat, long coat, red tie around the waist, it was just totally precious. Naturally we thought we were through with pictures so we didn’t have our cameras. We hustled back the hotel, then back to the barber shop for pictures all around again. Then it was hugs around, exchanging address, and final goodbyes.
Lhasa was wonderful. It was very interesting, very beautiful with the stark mountains all around, and it filled our hearts seeing the spirit of the Tibetan people. But as always with our trips, it is the interaction we achieve that will be our fondest and most long lasting memories. Grandma, the Barber, her sister, her husband, and of course the baby.
What a wonderful way to send us on our way across Tibet. I don‚t know how it can get any better than this, but somehow, we know that there are further adventures out there, and hopefully, meeting some more people like my barber and her family.
Here’s hoping that you are all well. We think of you often and always with love in our hearts.
Carol and Jim
The last 50 years have been sad ones for the Tibetans as the Chinese went about trying to systematically trash the culture. In 1950 30,000 battle-hardened Chinese troops attacked and slaughtered the 4,000 ill-equipped and ill-trained Tibetan troops. No match at all for this country which had been frozen in time and isolated from the world. In the name of liberation and destruction of “Old thought,” the Chinese purposefully tried to destroy the heart of the Tibetan culture - the Monasteries, of which there were over 6000 in the country. People were not allowed to bring food to the monks, monks were basically enslaved in work gangs, and many of the monasteries were forced to denounce the Dalai Lama or face prison. And all of this happened with the West sitting on their hands and saying nothing. The Brits and Indians even got the UN to delay any debate on the Tibetan situation as the murder continued. I’ve got to do some research when I get home and find out in which country the US was meddling at the time. Sounds like about the time we were installing the Shah as head of Iran, and we all know how that turned out. But that’s another story.
The Chinese then collectivized the farms here and forced the people to grow crops which were not well suited to the land. The result was that 100.000 people died of starvation. In all over a million people died at the business end of Chinese rifles and/or administrative policies.
Then came the “cultural revolution,”: the Red Guards which wreaked havoc throughout China, but nowhere that I know of as much as here in Tibet, where they burned and looted and literally destroyed virtually every one of the monasteries in order to bring the Tibetans to the correct way of thinking. The Dalai Lama was forced to flee to India or face imprisonment. He is still revered today here in Tibet, and he is seen as a man of peace around the world.
The good news is that things are improving here. The farmers are again allowed to grow their own crops, the monasteries are rebuilding, although on a much smaller scale, and there is a great amount of personal liberty to worship and move about for the Tibetans, as long as they don‚t try to leave Tibet, and, most importantly as long as they know who the real power is.
The bad news is that the Chinese have given economic and social benefits to ethnic Chinese who move here and it seems only a matter of time before the Tibetans are a minority in their own country. It’s similar to what the Soviets did in the Baltic states, Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia. The other bad part is that all courses offered in higher education are given in Chinese, so again, an insidious attempt to just slowly erode the existing culture by overwhelming it.
This year they are “Celebrating” the 50th anniversary of the signing of the 17 points, a phonyed-up document where they basically told the government, “Sign, or we’ll blow up the whole country.”
To understand Tibetan society one needs to understand the Buddhist monastery life. To that end we have visited several.
Today we went to Gandan Monastery which lies about an hour and a half from Lhasa. It’s at an elevation of 14,000 (4,000 metres) and climbing up the stairs in the various chapels and rooms certainly gave reason to think about what is to come when we climb to 17,500 (5250).,The monks at the monastery actually defy the Chinese and have picture of the Dalai Lama on display in one of the rooms. As far as anybody knows, it is the only publicly displayed picture of this man of peace who the Chinese fear so. The theory is that the monks can always take it down if officials come, but they don’t come and besides, most of the officials wouldn’t even know whose picture it is. Still, if the officials found out that it was there, there would be hell to pay. Another example of how things are in this “Autonomous Region.” Our guide, Jimmy is Tibetan (Manoj is our tour leader), and he says that there are now some Chinese tour guides who tell a completely different story about events. For example, Gandan monastery once had 3,000 monks before the Red Guard came in, burned the place to the ground, and stole all the precious gems. The Chinese guide’s story is that it caught fire and burned. Well, yeah, but who lit the fire on purpose
Dave, Tony, and I then decided to climb up the mountain where there were a series of prayer flags displayed. We didn’t have much time so Tony and I bailed about half way up, which was an additional 500 feet, and encouraged Dave who really wanted to make it to the top to go for it and not worry about the time. We had the rest of the afternoon off and so what if we got back to Lhasa a little later than the schedule. He made it and said it was awesome.
Tony has a watch which tells you what elevation you are at, so we call him “meter man” and are continually asking him, how far up we’ve climbed. When we got down we asked Manoj if any of the actual treks will be that severe a climb and he smiled and said “More so.” That really gave us pause. The worst part of the statement was that it came on the second day of trekking.
Oh well, we’ll find out. I’m sure we can all make it, we’ll just take our time and not race with anybody. Everybody in both groups keeps talking about the smiling and happy Tibetans. We talked to a German woman today who had been to Nepal 7 years ago, and she said it was night and day compared with the friendliness of today. She too is entranced by the Tibetans. Everybody we meet is. If you’ve ever seen the movie “Seven Years in Tibet,” and think of the grizzled face of the old lady in whose house the Brad Pitt character lives, well, she is on every street here in Lhasa. They just have this incredible countenance about them.
Kathleen has recovered from her illness, Sanjay had a tough night, Dale continues to have the trots as do some others, and everybody is trying desperately to stay off Avo‚s ( an Aussie of Armenian extraction) “Board of Death,” the unofficial tally of who’s not feeling well.
The five of us on our trek, Dave, Tony, Kathleen, and Carol and myself are a nice fit and we interact well. In the other group there is an American family mom, dad, and 13 year old daughter taking a year travel around the world, Avo, who keeps everybody happy, and a mixture of others.
I particularly like Sanjay and Annu, a brother and sister from London area who are of Indian extraction. Hindu by birth, they are an incredibly open to everything. They are my favorites. We have lots of talks about lots of different subjects. I’ll be sorry to see them split off when the other group does its things in a few days.
We have visited several more monasteries and while it has been very enlightening, I must admit that I’m a little “Monasteried” out. Sort of like visiting cathedral after cathedral in Europe.
So tomorrow we begin to move. One night each in Gyantse, Shigatse, and Shegar. Then we begin our trek and head for the other back side of the moon.
Lhasa has been fascinating. Carol and I keep nudging each other to see what the other has seen. We just sat for a half an hour today and watched people walking in the Barkhor, the market area. Simply fascinating.
Tibetans have mastered the opposite of the MacDonald’s “Super sizing.” Each block has hundreds of shops on it. Each shop is about 15 feet wide and deep, with the family living behind and/or above. Pool is extremely popular here, so there are lots of “Pool Parlors,” with one table each. Barber shops have maybe two chairs in them, record stores have a couple of hundred CD’s and that’s it.
But my favorite is the “Movie Theatre.” It is the same 15X15 size, and they have three or four benches which hold four people each, and there is a regular sized TV screen attached to a DVD player. Naturally, they sell all sorts of liquids, soda, beer etc. The same with restaurants, just a couple of tables and a few patrons.
Traffic in Lhasa is absolutely crazy. There are a few traffic signals which give a general hint to what is going on. But don’t be a pedestrian and think that because you have the green walking man that you can venture out and cross safely. Where there is no control, the right of way goes to those bold enough to take it. Our bus is rather old so that the driver operates under the theory that everybody else has more to lose than he does, so he just jumps out in front of everybody. Pedestrians usually walk out into the middle of the street when traffic permits and just stay there until it clears in the other direction. Carol and I absolutely cracked up today when we were parking at a Monastery and a very portly, newly arrived, American walked out in front of the bus, knowing that the bus would stop for him since he had already gotten to the point where the bus wanted to go. His eyes just got bigger and bigger and bigger as the bus inched closer and closer to him. There couldn’t have been more than one foot between them before he finally moved as the bus kept coming forward.
One thing that actually does help is that they have a separate lane separated from the main traffic by a metal barrier for non motorized traffic. Rickshaws, and bicycles can safely navigate traffic without endangering themselves. That is until they get on smaller streets where the barrier lane does not exist.
Carol particularly likes the pants for the little, non potty-trained babies. There are two legs attached at the top, but no crotch, so that mom can just hold them out in front and the little bare-butted babies let it all hang out, literally and figuratively.
We went out for dinner and planned on coming right back to send this email, but decided to go by the barber shop and say goodbye to the barber family. They were in the process of putting together little sachet purses to give out on Sunday, Buddha’s birthday. They had the bags made, but since they were only putting the bags together and didn’t have all the ingredients for the sachet, the husband/dad motioned for us to wait and he left.
We played with the baby who is just Max’s age, we had a brochure from another travel company which had lots of Tibet pictures in it. They looked through it, we showed them where we were going and tried our best to communicate. We got names across finally and after about a half-an-hour the husband showed back up with the white silk scarves which we had been given upon our arrival in Tibet and he gave us the sachets to hang in the car for a safe journey. We thanked them and prepared to say goodbye, and then the kicker. Out came the baby in a complete Tibetan winter outfit. Fur hat, long coat, red tie around the waist, it was just totally precious. Naturally we thought we were through with pictures so we didn’t have our cameras. We hustled back the hotel, then back to the barber shop for pictures all around again. Then it was hugs around, exchanging address, and final goodbyes.
Lhasa was wonderful. It was very interesting, very beautiful with the stark mountains all around, and it filled our hearts seeing the spirit of the Tibetan people. But as always with our trips, it is the interaction we achieve that will be our fondest and most long lasting memories. Grandma, the Barber, her sister, her husband, and of course the baby.
What a wonderful way to send us on our way across Tibet. I don‚t know how it can get any better than this, but somehow, we know that there are further adventures out there, and hopefully, meeting some more people like my barber and her family.
Here’s hoping that you are all well. We think of you often and always with love in our hearts.
Carol and Jim
And now to the back side of the moon
Hello to All;
We're in Shiatse ready to start the trekking part. We do so with anticipation and trepidation.
I have a letter written describing the incredible last two days, but can't connect my laptop and don't have time to rewrite the whole thing since we're out of here.
I remember when the first Apollo moon shot took place they didn't know if they would slingshot back with the moon’s gravitational pull or if they'd just keep on going. When they hit the back side of the moon they were out of communication until they reappeared on the other side.
And so it is with us. We're starting our trek not knowing how it will go. We may just not reappear from the other side and with no way to communicate with anybody, but hopefully on June 2nd we will reappear in Katmandu and I will be able to send all the notes I will keep on my laptop during the trek.
In the meantime, love to all and happy trails.
Carol and Jim
We're in Shiatse ready to start the trekking part. We do so with anticipation and trepidation.
I have a letter written describing the incredible last two days, but can't connect my laptop and don't have time to rewrite the whole thing since we're out of here.
I remember when the first Apollo moon shot took place they didn't know if they would slingshot back with the moon’s gravitational pull or if they'd just keep on going. When they hit the back side of the moon they were out of communication until they reappeared on the other side.
And so it is with us. We're starting our trek not knowing how it will go. We may just not reappear from the other side and with no way to communicate with anybody, but hopefully on June 2nd we will reappear in Katmandu and I will be able to send all the notes I will keep on my laptop during the trek.
In the meantime, love to all and happy trails.
Carol and Jim
We're alive and flourishing
Hello to All:
Contrary to my fellow trekker Tony's conspiracy theory that the Americans really didn't land on the moon, I can, in fact, verify the boomerang effect since we have rebounded from two sides of Everest and wound up back in Katmandu.
I won't go into detail now since time is limited and there's lots to do before we return home on Friday. However, I did write each day on the trek and will send those out in the next few days. They need some serious editing. Zero degree temperature, give or take a few degrees between friends, icy fingers and general exhaustion do not make for final products on first writings, but just to cut to the chase, let me say that this was the most exhausting, difficult, physical and mental challenge that we have ever done in any of our travels.
With that being said, let me add that it was also the most glorious, exhilarating and beautiful trip that we could ever imagine, and I think that the two opposites are inseparable, each adding to the other.
Of course, I can say that now that we're safely ensconced in our Hyatt Regency, Club Level (drinks are complimentary at 5:00. I'll be there), room.
So we did indeed, survive, but............... well that's another story to be told soon,
Love to all,
Carol and Jim
Contrary to my fellow trekker Tony's conspiracy theory that the Americans really didn't land on the moon, I can, in fact, verify the boomerang effect since we have rebounded from two sides of Everest and wound up back in Katmandu.
I won't go into detail now since time is limited and there's lots to do before we return home on Friday. However, I did write each day on the trek and will send those out in the next few days. They need some serious editing. Zero degree temperature, give or take a few degrees between friends, icy fingers and general exhaustion do not make for final products on first writings, but just to cut to the chase, let me say that this was the most exhausting, difficult, physical and mental challenge that we have ever done in any of our travels.
With that being said, let me add that it was also the most glorious, exhilarating and beautiful trip that we could ever imagine, and I think that the two opposites are inseparable, each adding to the other.
Of course, I can say that now that we're safely ensconced in our Hyatt Regency, Club Level (drinks are complimentary at 5:00. I'll be there), room.
So we did indeed, survive, but............... well that's another story to be told soon,
Love to all,
Carol and Jim
On the trek
From Shigatsie, Tibet May 17.
We leave Shigatse tomorrow and have our last communication with the outside world for the next 16 days. Of those 16, 10 will be trekking and 13 will be camping, and for five of them we will travel by our Toyota 4-wheel-drive Land Rover, and two will be what is euphemistically called “basic” hotel. I have no clue what that means, but my mind does consider some of the possibilities
We’re all filled with a little trepidation and a lot of excitement to finally get to the portion that drew us to this trip. We leave the other group tomorrow morning, and if we had opted for that trip things would be a lot easier, but the five of us are really looking forward to getting started. The trepidation comes from just how we will react to the extreme altitude and general health of the group. Colds have been rampant in both camps. In our group, Tony has had one for five days, I got mine yesterday, and even Manoj, that veteran of dozens of treks has caught the bug. Luckily, Carol has remained healthy and, like always, is taking good care of herself.
It’s hard though, weather extremes mean that you can be overly dressed one minute and severely underdressed the next. We all try to do the “layering” thing, but there’s only so much you can do when it comes to donning thermal underwear.
Our two-day overland here to Shigatse has really been an adventure. We awoke yesterday morning to a snowstorm in Lhasa, which gave us both a thrill and a sense of “Uh-oh” this could be a portent of things to come.
Because of highway construction, our journey took us 11 hours over mostly very rough terrain. We called it the “11 hour flight with severe turbulence.” By the time we arrived in Gyangtse at 7 p.m. we were severely spent but full of wonder as the “Road” took us to places that we never would have seen. We had three snow storms, rain, full sunshine where we went down to tee shirts, went over three passes in excess of 16,000 and past some of the most beautiful and desolate terrain we have ever seen.
We passed pilgrims prostrating themselves all the way to Lhasa. They make about 8 feet of progress with each prostration. They have a small rock in their hands which they place on the ground at the point where their arms are extended. They then walk to the spot of the rock, go to the ground, pick up the rock, stretch out, and start the process all over again. The pilgrims we saw were a full 60 miles from Lhasa. At the end of the day they mark the spot where they finish, and pick up at that point the following morning. It takes literally months in many cases. I’m afraid that I’d be rolling the rock a little forward each prostration to speed up the process. I guess that’s why I’m not very spiritual.
It’s barley planting time on the plateau, and everywhere people are out tilling the fields as they have done for hundreds of years with their yaks and wooden plows. Two yaks to a yoke, and each animal is brightly embellished with colorful ribbons and flags. We even saw some that had the Chinese flag on them, and were told, “Well, they’re colorful,” No political significance here. Land is privately held and everybody has their own little plots. In some areas there were literally hundreds of people in an area no bigger that 20 acres, each family planting their own little piece of the world. Any arable piece of ground was being prepared, even pieces as small as 10 feet wide by 30 feet long.
Barley is the only thing planted in the hinterlands. The people exist on a diet of barley and yak products, milk, butter, and limited amounts of meat. They do, in fact, butcher goats and sheep, but yak is the main meat product. The butchering is done by a class of society which is more or less a butchering caste, since Buddhists don’t believe in killing, period.
The yak also provides a winter source of heat and fuel. They take the yak dung, mix it with straw, pat it into circles about the size of Frisbees, slap it up on to the wall of the house, and when it dries, they stack it in mounds, put a covering of mud on top to protect against rain, and it’s ready to go when needed.
Going over the passes you couldn’t help wonder how anybody could exist out in these conditions, but there would be a tent made of spun yak hair which served as home and hearth for the herders of the area.
We stopped for a picnic lunch, and as always happens no matter how isolated, it seems that there are people in the area. Women, men, and children appear as if from nowhere. They gather around to watch, simply because it is such a different sight for them. Jillian, the 13- year-old doing the year-long trip with her parents, asked if we could share our food with them, and was told no. She couldn’t understand why since they looked very poor. She was unable to accept the fact that just because they look poor by western standards, they aren’t. They have sufficient food, good shelter, a spiritual faith, and family both close and extended. She could only see that in her MacDonald’s,-Nintendo eyes, they were deprived. Manoj tried to explain to her that to give them food would only spoil them. They would come to expect it of other groups coming through the area, making it difficult for them as well. They didn’t beg or show need, they were just curious. That’s not to say they don’t have a hard life, but they are not wanting. She could only see that she would feel deprived if she were in that situation.
Some areas looked very Gobi-like, full of sand dunes and, except for the high mountains around, could have been Mongolia. Then that scene would disappear as we climbed to a pass in a blustery snow storm. Prayer flags adorn the passes and are quite colorful. Weaving our way down into the valley we passed a fairly sizable village of a couple of thousand people with a one-way road snaking its way through the center. One of our vehicles met another coming the opposite, and they had to do some backing up until there was room to pass.
These villages seem frozen in time - no electricity, horse and buggy are the main method of transportation, and people live in little more than adobe-type huts which have probably stood for centuries. I wonder how many people in even more isolated villages never come into contact with the “Modern” world, as we call it.
Today is Buddha’s birthday, and because of that I got to see one, well actually three of the things I really wanted to see in Tibet, the sand mandala. In these cases they were being made of barley flour, but none-the-less, they were beautifully intricate designs. They were quite large circles, about 10 feet in diameter, and while not completed, they would soon be finished and literally swept in nonexistence, as an example of a central concept of
Buddhist thought, the impermanence of everything.
And so we have reached that point to which I mentioned at the beginning, we head to the high mountains. Excited, unsure, but ready. Here’s hoping that we come back on the other side and I’ll be happy to be back in communication with my world. I know that some of you will be wondering how we’re doing, and to that end, I’m carrying my laptop. I have three batteries for writing every day and will send something upon our return to Katmandu on the 2nd.
In the meantime, Love to all, and happy trails.
Carol and Jim
We leave Shigatse tomorrow and have our last communication with the outside world for the next 16 days. Of those 16, 10 will be trekking and 13 will be camping, and for five of them we will travel by our Toyota 4-wheel-drive Land Rover, and two will be what is euphemistically called “basic” hotel. I have no clue what that means, but my mind does consider some of the possibilities
We’re all filled with a little trepidation and a lot of excitement to finally get to the portion that drew us to this trip. We leave the other group tomorrow morning, and if we had opted for that trip things would be a lot easier, but the five of us are really looking forward to getting started. The trepidation comes from just how we will react to the extreme altitude and general health of the group. Colds have been rampant in both camps. In our group, Tony has had one for five days, I got mine yesterday, and even Manoj, that veteran of dozens of treks has caught the bug. Luckily, Carol has remained healthy and, like always, is taking good care of herself.
It’s hard though, weather extremes mean that you can be overly dressed one minute and severely underdressed the next. We all try to do the “layering” thing, but there’s only so much you can do when it comes to donning thermal underwear.
Our two-day overland here to Shigatse has really been an adventure. We awoke yesterday morning to a snowstorm in Lhasa, which gave us both a thrill and a sense of “Uh-oh” this could be a portent of things to come.
Because of highway construction, our journey took us 11 hours over mostly very rough terrain. We called it the “11 hour flight with severe turbulence.” By the time we arrived in Gyangtse at 7 p.m. we were severely spent but full of wonder as the “Road” took us to places that we never would have seen. We had three snow storms, rain, full sunshine where we went down to tee shirts, went over three passes in excess of 16,000 and past some of the most beautiful and desolate terrain we have ever seen.
We passed pilgrims prostrating themselves all the way to Lhasa. They make about 8 feet of progress with each prostration. They have a small rock in their hands which they place on the ground at the point where their arms are extended. They then walk to the spot of the rock, go to the ground, pick up the rock, stretch out, and start the process all over again. The pilgrims we saw were a full 60 miles from Lhasa. At the end of the day they mark the spot where they finish, and pick up at that point the following morning. It takes literally months in many cases. I’m afraid that I’d be rolling the rock a little forward each prostration to speed up the process. I guess that’s why I’m not very spiritual.
It’s barley planting time on the plateau, and everywhere people are out tilling the fields as they have done for hundreds of years with their yaks and wooden plows. Two yaks to a yoke, and each animal is brightly embellished with colorful ribbons and flags. We even saw some that had the Chinese flag on them, and were told, “Well, they’re colorful,” No political significance here. Land is privately held and everybody has their own little plots. In some areas there were literally hundreds of people in an area no bigger that 20 acres, each family planting their own little piece of the world. Any arable piece of ground was being prepared, even pieces as small as 10 feet wide by 30 feet long.
Barley is the only thing planted in the hinterlands. The people exist on a diet of barley and yak products, milk, butter, and limited amounts of meat. They do, in fact, butcher goats and sheep, but yak is the main meat product. The butchering is done by a class of society which is more or less a butchering caste, since Buddhists don’t believe in killing, period.
The yak also provides a winter source of heat and fuel. They take the yak dung, mix it with straw, pat it into circles about the size of Frisbees, slap it up on to the wall of the house, and when it dries, they stack it in mounds, put a covering of mud on top to protect against rain, and it’s ready to go when needed.
Going over the passes you couldn’t help wonder how anybody could exist out in these conditions, but there would be a tent made of spun yak hair which served as home and hearth for the herders of the area.
We stopped for a picnic lunch, and as always happens no matter how isolated, it seems that there are people in the area. Women, men, and children appear as if from nowhere. They gather around to watch, simply because it is such a different sight for them. Jillian, the 13- year-old doing the year-long trip with her parents, asked if we could share our food with them, and was told no. She couldn’t understand why since they looked very poor. She was unable to accept the fact that just because they look poor by western standards, they aren’t. They have sufficient food, good shelter, a spiritual faith, and family both close and extended. She could only see that in her MacDonald’s,-Nintendo eyes, they were deprived. Manoj tried to explain to her that to give them food would only spoil them. They would come to expect it of other groups coming through the area, making it difficult for them as well. They didn’t beg or show need, they were just curious. That’s not to say they don’t have a hard life, but they are not wanting. She could only see that she would feel deprived if she were in that situation.
Some areas looked very Gobi-like, full of sand dunes and, except for the high mountains around, could have been Mongolia. Then that scene would disappear as we climbed to a pass in a blustery snow storm. Prayer flags adorn the passes and are quite colorful. Weaving our way down into the valley we passed a fairly sizable village of a couple of thousand people with a one-way road snaking its way through the center. One of our vehicles met another coming the opposite, and they had to do some backing up until there was room to pass.
These villages seem frozen in time - no electricity, horse and buggy are the main method of transportation, and people live in little more than adobe-type huts which have probably stood for centuries. I wonder how many people in even more isolated villages never come into contact with the “Modern” world, as we call it.
Today is Buddha’s birthday, and because of that I got to see one, well actually three of the things I really wanted to see in Tibet, the sand mandala. In these cases they were being made of barley flour, but none-the-less, they were beautifully intricate designs. They were quite large circles, about 10 feet in diameter, and while not completed, they would soon be finished and literally swept in nonexistence, as an example of a central concept of
Buddhist thought, the impermanence of everything.
And so we have reached that point to which I mentioned at the beginning, we head to the high mountains. Excited, unsure, but ready. Here’s hoping that we come back on the other side and I’ll be happy to be back in communication with my world. I know that some of you will be wondering how we’re doing, and to that end, I’m carrying my laptop. I have three batteries for writing every day and will send something upon our return to Katmandu on the 2nd.
In the meantime, Love to all, and happy trails.
Carol and Jim
Our first camp
We‚re finally headed to what we came here for, the trekking. We left the other group in Shigatse and headed for Shegar, a tortuous journey of only 165 miles which took 8 hours to do even though the first 55 miles were paved. It left me nauseous and thankful when we finally arrived. In spite of that it was magnificently beautiful as has been all the trip so far. I can’t believe just how desolate things can be here. There doesn’t look like there’s any way people can survive on the land, but up crops a village here, a few tents there, and everywhere, people appear out of nowhere with that great Tibetan smile when you pass or make eye contact. Children shout “Hallo,” at you and just giggle with delight when you respond.
We were slowed by “Road” construction, which is certainly different from anything we can conceive of at home. It is almost entirely done by hand. The Tibetan plateau is just rocks: big rocks, small rocks, and everything in between. They all get picked up by hand, actually hands, thousands of them. and moved to a machine that looks like a rototiller with a seat on it and a small pick-up bed maybe 4 feet long, three feet wide, and a couple of feet deep. The rocks then get moved to a place where they put the rocks, again by hand, into square piles. There are piles everywhere!!! Thousands of them, literally.
I’ve never seen a landscape this rocky.. They make walls with them to separate their plots of ground, they make stockades for their animals, they build houses with them build canals for water diversion and a myriad of other uses. It is the building material of both choice and necessity.
Along the drive we stopped at a highlight for Carol, a barley mill, which she got to see in operation. Just as seeing animals in every locale, it is her mission to check up on the milling process everywhere as well. Naturally, she was the expert explaining to everybody, even our guides, how the whole process works, how it is different from mills in other places, and.. well a whole litany of information.
Carol continues to prosper on the trip. No illness, she sleeps well, eats all the different things at which everybody else turns up their collective noses, and is just full of energy for everything day in and day out. Not so with me, I’m fighting the cold which has gone around the group, am not sleeping well, I’m just delighted when the wake-up call comes so that I can get up without disturbing her, and am generally low on energy, but certainly not in spirit. I, like Carol, am just loving everything we’re doing.
When we finally arrived at Shegar, it was the COLDEST hotel we’ve ever stayed at, and it was the best in town. Actually, the places we’ve stayed have been quite nice, but this one, we just walked into the room and looked at each other. The temp indicator in the lobby said that it would be 24 degrees Fahrenheit at night with a high of 50, but that’s before anybody starts calculating the wind chill factor. Adding to the coldness was that all outside doors are left open and it was cold!! They showed us that there were comforters in the room, and they were indeed warm, but weighed a ton, and I felt as if I was sleeping under a stack of quilts where moving was difficult. The 5 a.m. wake up (door knocking) came none too early for me.
We left early so that we could get to the top of a pass where you can see a magnificent line of high peaks, including Everest. There was a cloud cover, so we didn’t see the entire line, but Everest did appear just as were leaving, and was a treat, knowing that it’s up ahead in a few days.
On the way up there was a series of maybe 30 or more switchbacks to reach the top.
After viewing the mountain peaks we started down the switchbacks, and our driver looked at Manoj and asked: “Short cut?” Manoj answered “sure” so we took the short way down, STRAIGHT DOWN!! He was right, it was shorter. I looked at Carol and said: “You wouldn’t let me do that.” “No way,” she replied, “He knows what he’s doing.” Another vote of confidence from my best friend.
We stopped for lunch in a small village where we actually ate our own food, but paid a small price to eat at tables in a guest house, a euphemism for really cheap, really dirty hotel for locals and travelers traveling on the tightest of possible budgets.
It was another time warp for us. The village seems so far from anywhere, so removed from everything, so limited in prospects and where everything is pretty much done as it has been for hundreds of years.
The last part of the journey was a precipitous drive on a one-way road that is actually two ways with a sheer drop 300-400 feet down into the Kharta River gorge. Truly spectacular scenery. Lots more rocks, really big ones here. Incredible formations that geologic forces had shaped. And finally we arrived here at “Camp.”
Carol and I have our own tent, an 8x8 two-person affair. We were given our down sleeping bags, mummy type, down jackets, and what are being referred to as our “Dog blankets.” They are wool inserts for our sleeping bags to provide extra warmth. Inside the tents they lay down mats for padding and on top of that we put our “Thermarest” blow-up pads. These old bones need as much padding as they can get. We’ve moved our pads together to sleep side by side and put the “Kit” bags, in which all our gear is contained, off to the side. So this will be home for the next 10 days. We don’t like mummy bags, too claustrophobic, but that’s what we’ve got.
Dinner was surprisingly good tonight: good, hot, and about 5 different options.
Since Kathleen and Tony are vegetarians, and Dave has decided that he’s not touching meat in this atmosphere, we’re in for a veggie trip it seems. Fine with Carol, and okay with me.
Jimmi has gone off to get the yaks. When we arrived there was another group in camp. A disappointment to Manoj. He doesn’t like sharing facilities. They are a group of 7 family members from Denver, so that seems very different. Haven’t seen gringos very much at all. They were supposed to leave yesterday, but their yaks didn’t arrive so they seem to have the same itinerary as us. We’ll see how that works out. So tomorrow when our yaks hopefully arrive, we start trekking for the next ten days. It seems that we’ll be walking for a minimum of 3-4 hours, and a maximum of 7 each day to reach Everest base camp, and the Kangshung face of the world’s highest peak. It’s finally started. We’re excited.
Love to all,
Carol and Jim
We were slowed by “Road” construction, which is certainly different from anything we can conceive of at home. It is almost entirely done by hand. The Tibetan plateau is just rocks: big rocks, small rocks, and everything in between. They all get picked up by hand, actually hands, thousands of them. and moved to a machine that looks like a rototiller with a seat on it and a small pick-up bed maybe 4 feet long, three feet wide, and a couple of feet deep. The rocks then get moved to a place where they put the rocks, again by hand, into square piles. There are piles everywhere!!! Thousands of them, literally.
I’ve never seen a landscape this rocky.. They make walls with them to separate their plots of ground, they make stockades for their animals, they build houses with them build canals for water diversion and a myriad of other uses. It is the building material of both choice and necessity.
Along the drive we stopped at a highlight for Carol, a barley mill, which she got to see in operation. Just as seeing animals in every locale, it is her mission to check up on the milling process everywhere as well. Naturally, she was the expert explaining to everybody, even our guides, how the whole process works, how it is different from mills in other places, and.. well a whole litany of information.
Carol continues to prosper on the trip. No illness, she sleeps well, eats all the different things at which everybody else turns up their collective noses, and is just full of energy for everything day in and day out. Not so with me, I’m fighting the cold which has gone around the group, am not sleeping well, I’m just delighted when the wake-up call comes so that I can get up without disturbing her, and am generally low on energy, but certainly not in spirit. I, like Carol, am just loving everything we’re doing.
When we finally arrived at Shegar, it was the COLDEST hotel we’ve ever stayed at, and it was the best in town. Actually, the places we’ve stayed have been quite nice, but this one, we just walked into the room and looked at each other. The temp indicator in the lobby said that it would be 24 degrees Fahrenheit at night with a high of 50, but that’s before anybody starts calculating the wind chill factor. Adding to the coldness was that all outside doors are left open and it was cold!! They showed us that there were comforters in the room, and they were indeed warm, but weighed a ton, and I felt as if I was sleeping under a stack of quilts where moving was difficult. The 5 a.m. wake up (door knocking) came none too early for me.
We left early so that we could get to the top of a pass where you can see a magnificent line of high peaks, including Everest. There was a cloud cover, so we didn’t see the entire line, but Everest did appear just as were leaving, and was a treat, knowing that it’s up ahead in a few days.
On the way up there was a series of maybe 30 or more switchbacks to reach the top.
After viewing the mountain peaks we started down the switchbacks, and our driver looked at Manoj and asked: “Short cut?” Manoj answered “sure” so we took the short way down, STRAIGHT DOWN!! He was right, it was shorter. I looked at Carol and said: “You wouldn’t let me do that.” “No way,” she replied, “He knows what he’s doing.” Another vote of confidence from my best friend.
We stopped for lunch in a small village where we actually ate our own food, but paid a small price to eat at tables in a guest house, a euphemism for really cheap, really dirty hotel for locals and travelers traveling on the tightest of possible budgets.
It was another time warp for us. The village seems so far from anywhere, so removed from everything, so limited in prospects and where everything is pretty much done as it has been for hundreds of years.
The last part of the journey was a precipitous drive on a one-way road that is actually two ways with a sheer drop 300-400 feet down into the Kharta River gorge. Truly spectacular scenery. Lots more rocks, really big ones here. Incredible formations that geologic forces had shaped. And finally we arrived here at “Camp.”
Carol and I have our own tent, an 8x8 two-person affair. We were given our down sleeping bags, mummy type, down jackets, and what are being referred to as our “Dog blankets.” They are wool inserts for our sleeping bags to provide extra warmth. Inside the tents they lay down mats for padding and on top of that we put our “Thermarest” blow-up pads. These old bones need as much padding as they can get. We’ve moved our pads together to sleep side by side and put the “Kit” bags, in which all our gear is contained, off to the side. So this will be home for the next 10 days. We don’t like mummy bags, too claustrophobic, but that’s what we’ve got.
Dinner was surprisingly good tonight: good, hot, and about 5 different options.
Since Kathleen and Tony are vegetarians, and Dave has decided that he’s not touching meat in this atmosphere, we’re in for a veggie trip it seems. Fine with Carol, and okay with me.
Jimmi has gone off to get the yaks. When we arrived there was another group in camp. A disappointment to Manoj. He doesn’t like sharing facilities. They are a group of 7 family members from Denver, so that seems very different. Haven’t seen gringos very much at all. They were supposed to leave yesterday, but their yaks didn’t arrive so they seem to have the same itinerary as us. We’ll see how that works out. So tomorrow when our yaks hopefully arrive, we start trekking for the next ten days. It seems that we’ll be walking for a minimum of 3-4 hours, and a maximum of 7 each day to reach Everest base camp, and the Kangshung face of the world’s highest peak. It’s finally started. We’re excited.
Love to all,
Carol and Jim
Day one trekking
Carol and I got up at 6:50, although we didn’t have to get up until 7:30. I had to pee (again) and she had to as well, so we braved the cold and found out way to the “Loo with a View,” the Tibetan toilet at camp. We have our own toilet, but some of the locals stole the support wires to our pit toilet tent so we used the Tibetan one. No roof, hence the name.
My situation continues to go from the comical to the absurd. I got rid of my sore throat, but have a deep chest cold with the hack that goes along with it. Not only that, but Pink Eye is rampant in the valley and you can get it so easily, guess who got it.
Manoj, that walking drug store, had some medicine and has provided me with some more medicine. I’m like a walking pharmaceutical at this point.
Anyway, I had to get up 4 times during the night to pee. Manoj keeps talking about the dangers of dehydration to us all, and we are supposed to drink a gallon of water each day. Okay, that’s fine, but what goes in has to come out somewhere, sometime. We asked him if we had to drink at ‘s coping as well as they can, with me the one with the smallest bladder. How’s all that for more information than you need to know?
We were supposed to leave early for our first day of trekking, but there was a problem with the yaks. They didn’t arrive. That left us in a real bind.
Finally at about 10 a.m. our yaks showed up and we left camp at 11:30 for what they said should be a 3-4 hour walk. We took 4, so we’re moving a little slower than the norm. No big. Manoj is about as sick as I am so he’s struggling as well. He keeps insisting that the most important thing is to get there, not to rush.
The walk was really magical, hard but glorious. We started at 12,514 feet elevation and ended tonight at 14,562. after about 8 kms, or 5 miles. It was a slow go, with the exception of Dave who went off ahead since he’s the most fit. We climbed the Kharta Valley up out of the river bed, which means that it was very, very rocky. We entered the first of the rhododendron forests. Springtime is just coming to the higher elevations where plants still grow. They have just started to bloom and we should see a splash of color tomorrow when we pass through an area with many of the plants.
We started off in bright sunshine and got quite sweaty with the noon sun beating down on us in the thin air. Then as the clouds obscured the sun and the wind blew off the snow, it made for very cold temps and we quickly went to sweatshirts and thermals.
Mountains appeared as we turned corners and then darted back again behind a bank of clouds which moved in and out of the area. These mountains are just teasers. The big dogs are still hidden behind these. Manoj just dismisses these as being nothing more than “White Hills” with no names. Still impressive, we know that if it’s this good now, it’s only going to get better. It spurs us on.
Upon our arrival here at camp it began to snow, a biting wind-driven ice pellet type of snow rather than the soft, flaky bit we usually think of in snow storms. We got all the tents up and started arranging all the gear. It takes almost an hour to get settled in. They bring a small basin of hot water, which by the time you get ready to use it, is lukewarm. Not the best bathing conditions in cold weather.
There are no washing facilities as such other than your tent. So with the basin containing only about a half gallon of water, we have to wash as best as we can. Feet and pits, and general orifices being the most necessary. Everything else gets placed on hold. My hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in a week, (that analysis comes from my best friend) even though it’s only been two days. But who knows it may be a week before relief is found.
We had a tough night sleeping. I had mentioned that we don’t like mummy bags, and that was reinforced last night. The “dog blanket,” which is actually a sewn bag, was placed inside the bag, and during the tossing, turning, getting out of bed, etc. it got quite tangled inside the bag and was more of a hindrance than a help.
Tonight I’ll try plan B and put the bag inside the dog blanket. There must be a better way than last night.
We passed several villages on our walk today. Manoj pointed out the family house of Tenzing Norgay. This area has been part of both Tibet and Nepal and at the time he was born, it was Nepalese territory. The families here are mostly Sherpa and just born climbers. Kids scamper amongst the rocks shouting and calling as we struggle for breath. We’re only at 15,000 feet and still have another 3,000 to go. Don’t know where that air is going to come from for the lungs, yet. Just have to believe that we will continue to acclimatize as we go. I’m not really sure if that’s a belief or a hope.
Water crashes down the mountainside flooding the way, and we pick our way across streams. Gore Tex is a wonderful invention. The snow-melt must be working in earnest up high, because there are streams and rivulets everywhere. The Kharta River continues to grow smaller as we walk giving graphic testimony to the amount of water that literally hundreds of small streams can actually carry. Each seems so insignificant, but in total add up. Must be a parable in there somewhere.
We have ten yaks which carry all the camp gear, from food, tents, cooking utensils, our bags, etc. Somebody remarked that they didn’t really understand the “It takes a village,” phrase, until they saw how much it took to move just the five of us, Manoj, and the three cooks from point A to point B. The three “Yak Pa’s continually call, sing, whistle to their animals. It makes for a quite lyrical walk. We started out before them, but soon the sound of the yak bells, and the calls of the yak pas filled the air and they passed us on the trail. We just sat down, what a good excuse, to let them pass, and soon realized that we were close to camp so we arrived not too much after they did, hence we were able to help with camp set up.
But we’re on our way!! It’s exciting to know that even though we won’t see the big mountains for a few days, that we’re making our way, albeit very slowly, towards them.
If these are only white hills, the mountains must be really something.
Just know that we share these visual scenes with you in our minds, even though you are not aware of how many times we think of you as something triggers memories or thoughts how a certain view would be special to one of you for various reasons. So we’re far away, but really in our hearts and minds, you’re no further away than a beautiful moment.
We love you all,
Carol and Jim
My situation continues to go from the comical to the absurd. I got rid of my sore throat, but have a deep chest cold with the hack that goes along with it. Not only that, but Pink Eye is rampant in the valley and you can get it so easily, guess who got it.
Manoj, that walking drug store, had some medicine and has provided me with some more medicine. I’m like a walking pharmaceutical at this point.
Anyway, I had to get up 4 times during the night to pee. Manoj keeps talking about the dangers of dehydration to us all, and we are supposed to drink a gallon of water each day. Okay, that’s fine, but what goes in has to come out somewhere, sometime. We asked him if we had to drink at ‘s coping as well as they can, with me the one with the smallest bladder. How’s all that for more information than you need to know?
We were supposed to leave early for our first day of trekking, but there was a problem with the yaks. They didn’t arrive. That left us in a real bind.
Finally at about 10 a.m. our yaks showed up and we left camp at 11:30 for what they said should be a 3-4 hour walk. We took 4, so we’re moving a little slower than the norm. No big. Manoj is about as sick as I am so he’s struggling as well. He keeps insisting that the most important thing is to get there, not to rush.
The walk was really magical, hard but glorious. We started at 12,514 feet elevation and ended tonight at 14,562. after about 8 kms, or 5 miles. It was a slow go, with the exception of Dave who went off ahead since he’s the most fit. We climbed the Kharta Valley up out of the river bed, which means that it was very, very rocky. We entered the first of the rhododendron forests. Springtime is just coming to the higher elevations where plants still grow. They have just started to bloom and we should see a splash of color tomorrow when we pass through an area with many of the plants.
We started off in bright sunshine and got quite sweaty with the noon sun beating down on us in the thin air. Then as the clouds obscured the sun and the wind blew off the snow, it made for very cold temps and we quickly went to sweatshirts and thermals.
Mountains appeared as we turned corners and then darted back again behind a bank of clouds which moved in and out of the area. These mountains are just teasers. The big dogs are still hidden behind these. Manoj just dismisses these as being nothing more than “White Hills” with no names. Still impressive, we know that if it’s this good now, it’s only going to get better. It spurs us on.
Upon our arrival here at camp it began to snow, a biting wind-driven ice pellet type of snow rather than the soft, flaky bit we usually think of in snow storms. We got all the tents up and started arranging all the gear. It takes almost an hour to get settled in. They bring a small basin of hot water, which by the time you get ready to use it, is lukewarm. Not the best bathing conditions in cold weather.
There are no washing facilities as such other than your tent. So with the basin containing only about a half gallon of water, we have to wash as best as we can. Feet and pits, and general orifices being the most necessary. Everything else gets placed on hold. My hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in a week, (that analysis comes from my best friend) even though it’s only been two days. But who knows it may be a week before relief is found.
We had a tough night sleeping. I had mentioned that we don’t like mummy bags, and that was reinforced last night. The “dog blanket,” which is actually a sewn bag, was placed inside the bag, and during the tossing, turning, getting out of bed, etc. it got quite tangled inside the bag and was more of a hindrance than a help.
Tonight I’ll try plan B and put the bag inside the dog blanket. There must be a better way than last night.
We passed several villages on our walk today. Manoj pointed out the family house of Tenzing Norgay. This area has been part of both Tibet and Nepal and at the time he was born, it was Nepalese territory. The families here are mostly Sherpa and just born climbers. Kids scamper amongst the rocks shouting and calling as we struggle for breath. We’re only at 15,000 feet and still have another 3,000 to go. Don’t know where that air is going to come from for the lungs, yet. Just have to believe that we will continue to acclimatize as we go. I’m not really sure if that’s a belief or a hope.
Water crashes down the mountainside flooding the way, and we pick our way across streams. Gore Tex is a wonderful invention. The snow-melt must be working in earnest up high, because there are streams and rivulets everywhere. The Kharta River continues to grow smaller as we walk giving graphic testimony to the amount of water that literally hundreds of small streams can actually carry. Each seems so insignificant, but in total add up. Must be a parable in there somewhere.
We have ten yaks which carry all the camp gear, from food, tents, cooking utensils, our bags, etc. Somebody remarked that they didn’t really understand the “It takes a village,” phrase, until they saw how much it took to move just the five of us, Manoj, and the three cooks from point A to point B. The three “Yak Pa’s continually call, sing, whistle to their animals. It makes for a quite lyrical walk. We started out before them, but soon the sound of the yak bells, and the calls of the yak pas filled the air and they passed us on the trail. We just sat down, what a good excuse, to let them pass, and soon realized that we were close to camp so we arrived not too much after they did, hence we were able to help with camp set up.
But we’re on our way!! It’s exciting to know that even though we won’t see the big mountains for a few days, that we’re making our way, albeit very slowly, towards them.
If these are only white hills, the mountains must be really something.
Just know that we share these visual scenes with you in our minds, even though you are not aware of how many times we think of you as something triggers memories or thoughts how a certain view would be special to one of you for various reasons. So we’re far away, but really in our hearts and minds, you’re no further away than a beautiful moment.
We love you all,
Carol and Jim
The yaks go home
Yes, the yaks decided that something called them home, so in the middle of the night they just went home. When we awoke this morning it was eerily quiet. No clanging of bells which had serenaded us during the night, nor anyone “talking the yak talk” like the herders can do, was to be heard. Manoj just shrugged and said. “Well, they’ve gone after them. It happens all the time. They just wander.” With the nomadic style of life that the Tibetans have, the animals as well as the humans know their way to grazing areas and back home and heed the call when the urge comes to go home. It’s just their life.
Renting yaks is a source of income for many of the people in the area. There is some kind of tribal boss/council which passes the perk around on a rotating basis. There are fewer groups in this area than any other because this is the most remote of the trekking routes. Not a lot of traffic therefore limited sources of income. We have three yak pas. I’m not sure if they’re all members of one family and have the family animals or if they are three individuals with three or four animals a piece. But they have their own home-made shelter: a long plastic tarp, which looks like it’s some oversized feed bag, is stretched over a pole to form the inverted “V” shape of a tent. It isn’t closed on the ends, and so the wind can really whistle through it. The herders sort of hunker down, pile saddles up to provide a little wind break, and build a small fire to ward off the worst of the night air. They just sleep in their clothes, and I assume that these will be their wear constantly for the trek. It’s hard times for people in the mountain, cleanliness and hygiene are not top priorities.
They don‚t seem dirty, they just don’t look clean. They just look like people who have a hard life.
Trekking Day 2
The trek itself continues to be a difficult one, one that stretches the limits of everyone. The air is thin and hard to find, especially when the climb keeps going up and up and up, and the temperature keeps changing and what you have just donned or taken off, now has to be reversed.
We started this morning from Dhampu at 14,550 and climbed here to tonight’s campsite at 15,750.So we climbed over a thousand feet in just three hours. I was crushed when Manoj said that we had only traveled a couple of miles. It certainly seemed much further than that. We left Dhampu at 9:30 and arrived here at camp at 11:30 so it was a short but exhausting climb.
Not only was the climb steep, but it was difficult. We scrambled over rocks, then we clambered over rocks - the whole way. You have to walk with your head down to see where the next steps are going, and suddenly you look up and there was Makalu the world's 6th highest peak coming into view as the clouds parted momentarily.
As we scrambled over the rocks, we could hear the water rushing below us, unseen, but working its inevitable way to the river crashing down the mountain. In some areas there was soil in between the rocks which made it look like solid ground, a fact only belied by the sound of the unseen but ever present rush of water.
We’ve been lucky so far, Just like yesterday, we got here to camp just in time to set up the tents before the snow started pelting down. The wind drives the crystals almost horizontal and pelting is definitely a descriptive adjective.
On a trek like this, everything seems like an ordeal and even simple things take extra effort. Just washing ourselves with the pan of water they bring us, washing a pair of socks and tee-shirt, or getting out of the sleeping bag to dress oneself in the morning requires more energy than we’ve ever thought of giving it before. I guess that I’m overstating it here. It’s just that there are so many things which we do in life that we never give any thought to, and here you are just so much more aware of even the simple tasks, because with the air so thin, your body is continually asking you: “What are you doing?”
I slept most of the afternoon after arriving in camp. This chest cold makes it very difficult for me. Each hack drains me of energy and I fight to get back into my breathing rhythm and continue upward as we walk. I kept drifting in and out of sleep while Carol read. She said that she understood what Tony had said the other day about lying there in the bag toasty warm, except for the hands which were too cold to turn the page of the book.
I made the statement this morning that no matter what, I was going to wash my hair tonight upon arrival, but Manoj said that would be very dangerous. The greatest danger comes from getting cold and not being able to reverse the inevitable cycle that leads to death. Tony says that he’s going to follow Manoj’s dictum: “to wash is to die,” and just not worry about it. We all feel like grunges, but there’s nothing that can be done about that. We’re already talking about getting back to Katmandu and clean clothes and hot showers and that’s two weeks away.
Tomorrow will be an even earlier start as we leave at 8:00 as we have to clear the pass at 17,000 feet before the weather has a chance to make things even more difficult. After climbing, we then descend down to about 12,000 and a meadow where we camp. The relief from the high elevation will be a treat, but the joy will be tempered by the fact that we will have to re-climb to an even higher 17,500 before we’re done.
You don’t, obviously go around these mountains, so you have to go over them, ridge by ridge by ridge. The general rule seems to be: don’t stress about the climbing because relief will come soon as you descend, and don’t be too happy about descending, because you are going to have go back up immediately thereafter.
Flat places are a rarity. Manoj has what he calls: “The Nepali Flats.” This simply means that you are not going straight up or down, but rather like traveling through some rolling areas where the climbs and descents are shorter and more moderate. But flat they are not. His other favorite phrase is: “A few more five minutes.” This means that we’re getting close, but we don’t know how close. So far that has meant anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes before arriving at a specified place.
Last night’s sleeping still didn’t work. I’m at plan “C” for experimentation. Carol slept okay, so she is continuing with her plan “A.” Everybody goes to bed early. Partly out of exhaustion, partly out of boredom (there’s no comfortable or warm place to sit and talk and after dark, there’s nothing to see) partly as a refuge from the cold. I brought a star chart with me, thinking that it would be really cool to look at the stars on a clear Himalayan night. Well, a clear Himalayan night means a cold Himalayan night and since everything takes so much effort, once in the sleeping bag the mind just seems to say: “Is it really worth the effort?” and the body answers, “er-.NO,” and so we’ve stayed in our sleeping bags and talked about the day we experienced.
As always, Carol is my best traveling partner. I get to see things through her eyes, and she is so perceptive, that she sees tons of things that I miss as I plod along. We are pretty much on the same physical level and so there is the added support that you are not alone as you struggle. Then, too, she’s just good company and we find lots to laugh at and enjoy together.
Tony and Dave share a tent, while Kathleen has her own, a real plus. We give her a bad time about being able to spread out in the tent while we all struggle with space and stumble over each other. Tony and Dave get along fabulously and are so funny together. Tony, the Brit, and Dave the Aussie, just have the type of contrasting personalities which somehow mesh, and they keep us laughing all the time. When we’re waking up in the morning and trying to steel ourselves to getting out of the bag, we hear the laughter coming from their tent as they find something humorous about life or their situation at the moment about which they can laugh. It makes it easier for us to get moving and face the day.
I’ve solved the nightly get up five times to pee problem. We brought wide mouthed water bottles to carry our daily supply of water. All our water has to be boiled and each night they bring us hot water for our next day’s supply. The bottles make good bag warmers and warm the tootsies as we crawl in for the night. Well, I decided that we could work around the water supply with a little organization, but that I needed some relief from having to get up, get dressed, go outside, come back to the tent, get undressed, get back into the bag, try to get warm again and then go back to sleep. The whole process was taking about 15 minutes from the time I decided that the stress of not peeing was worse than the stress of having to go through the whole ordeal.
We all laugh about possible mix-ups in bottles, but Carol’s is a different color from mine, good planning; and my stress level is definitely down. Now I don‚t worry about how much I should drink before retiring. Manoj keeps harping about dehydration, and before deciding to use my water bottle, I could only think, “Well, yeah, but you don‚t have to get up five times during the night.” Last night, Dave actually drank a gallon of water after dinner. I wouldn’t have slept at all if I had done that.
So we are continually adjusting our lives and methods to cope with the new surroundings and new rules. Nothing is routine, everything is new. We feel so much more aware of things that were just automatic responses prior to being here. Amazing how so much of our existence is just done without thinking about it. Here at this elevation your mind just focuses on what you are doing at the moment. Concentration on even the smallest detail of daily life makes us feel so much more alive and in tune with our bodies and minds.
I go to sleep at night wondering what tomorrow will bring. The trepidation we felt at the outset of trekking has been replaced with the realization that we can, in fact, do this. It’s hard, but doable.
When Manoj asks me how I’m doing, I always say “I‚m Okay.” Then I sing him a little Dr. Hook:
“Life ain’t easy. They never said it would be.”
“Life ain’t easy. They never said it should be.”
“Life ain’t easy. And nothing comes free.”
We all laugh and keep plodding along.
Stay safe,
Carol and Jim
Renting yaks is a source of income for many of the people in the area. There is some kind of tribal boss/council which passes the perk around on a rotating basis. There are fewer groups in this area than any other because this is the most remote of the trekking routes. Not a lot of traffic therefore limited sources of income. We have three yak pas. I’m not sure if they’re all members of one family and have the family animals or if they are three individuals with three or four animals a piece. But they have their own home-made shelter: a long plastic tarp, which looks like it’s some oversized feed bag, is stretched over a pole to form the inverted “V” shape of a tent. It isn’t closed on the ends, and so the wind can really whistle through it. The herders sort of hunker down, pile saddles up to provide a little wind break, and build a small fire to ward off the worst of the night air. They just sleep in their clothes, and I assume that these will be their wear constantly for the trek. It’s hard times for people in the mountain, cleanliness and hygiene are not top priorities.
They don‚t seem dirty, they just don’t look clean. They just look like people who have a hard life.
Trekking Day 2
The trek itself continues to be a difficult one, one that stretches the limits of everyone. The air is thin and hard to find, especially when the climb keeps going up and up and up, and the temperature keeps changing and what you have just donned or taken off, now has to be reversed.
We started this morning from Dhampu at 14,550 and climbed here to tonight’s campsite at 15,750.So we climbed over a thousand feet in just three hours. I was crushed when Manoj said that we had only traveled a couple of miles. It certainly seemed much further than that. We left Dhampu at 9:30 and arrived here at camp at 11:30 so it was a short but exhausting climb.
Not only was the climb steep, but it was difficult. We scrambled over rocks, then we clambered over rocks - the whole way. You have to walk with your head down to see where the next steps are going, and suddenly you look up and there was Makalu the world's 6th highest peak coming into view as the clouds parted momentarily.
As we scrambled over the rocks, we could hear the water rushing below us, unseen, but working its inevitable way to the river crashing down the mountain. In some areas there was soil in between the rocks which made it look like solid ground, a fact only belied by the sound of the unseen but ever present rush of water.
We’ve been lucky so far, Just like yesterday, we got here to camp just in time to set up the tents before the snow started pelting down. The wind drives the crystals almost horizontal and pelting is definitely a descriptive adjective.
On a trek like this, everything seems like an ordeal and even simple things take extra effort. Just washing ourselves with the pan of water they bring us, washing a pair of socks and tee-shirt, or getting out of the sleeping bag to dress oneself in the morning requires more energy than we’ve ever thought of giving it before. I guess that I’m overstating it here. It’s just that there are so many things which we do in life that we never give any thought to, and here you are just so much more aware of even the simple tasks, because with the air so thin, your body is continually asking you: “What are you doing?”
I slept most of the afternoon after arriving in camp. This chest cold makes it very difficult for me. Each hack drains me of energy and I fight to get back into my breathing rhythm and continue upward as we walk. I kept drifting in and out of sleep while Carol read. She said that she understood what Tony had said the other day about lying there in the bag toasty warm, except for the hands which were too cold to turn the page of the book.
I made the statement this morning that no matter what, I was going to wash my hair tonight upon arrival, but Manoj said that would be very dangerous. The greatest danger comes from getting cold and not being able to reverse the inevitable cycle that leads to death. Tony says that he’s going to follow Manoj’s dictum: “to wash is to die,” and just not worry about it. We all feel like grunges, but there’s nothing that can be done about that. We’re already talking about getting back to Katmandu and clean clothes and hot showers and that’s two weeks away.
Tomorrow will be an even earlier start as we leave at 8:00 as we have to clear the pass at 17,000 feet before the weather has a chance to make things even more difficult. After climbing, we then descend down to about 12,000 and a meadow where we camp. The relief from the high elevation will be a treat, but the joy will be tempered by the fact that we will have to re-climb to an even higher 17,500 before we’re done.
You don’t, obviously go around these mountains, so you have to go over them, ridge by ridge by ridge. The general rule seems to be: don’t stress about the climbing because relief will come soon as you descend, and don’t be too happy about descending, because you are going to have go back up immediately thereafter.
Flat places are a rarity. Manoj has what he calls: “The Nepali Flats.” This simply means that you are not going straight up or down, but rather like traveling through some rolling areas where the climbs and descents are shorter and more moderate. But flat they are not. His other favorite phrase is: “A few more five minutes.” This means that we’re getting close, but we don’t know how close. So far that has meant anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes before arriving at a specified place.
Last night’s sleeping still didn’t work. I’m at plan “C” for experimentation. Carol slept okay, so she is continuing with her plan “A.” Everybody goes to bed early. Partly out of exhaustion, partly out of boredom (there’s no comfortable or warm place to sit and talk and after dark, there’s nothing to see) partly as a refuge from the cold. I brought a star chart with me, thinking that it would be really cool to look at the stars on a clear Himalayan night. Well, a clear Himalayan night means a cold Himalayan night and since everything takes so much effort, once in the sleeping bag the mind just seems to say: “Is it really worth the effort?” and the body answers, “er-.NO,” and so we’ve stayed in our sleeping bags and talked about the day we experienced.
As always, Carol is my best traveling partner. I get to see things through her eyes, and she is so perceptive, that she sees tons of things that I miss as I plod along. We are pretty much on the same physical level and so there is the added support that you are not alone as you struggle. Then, too, she’s just good company and we find lots to laugh at and enjoy together.
Tony and Dave share a tent, while Kathleen has her own, a real plus. We give her a bad time about being able to spread out in the tent while we all struggle with space and stumble over each other. Tony and Dave get along fabulously and are so funny together. Tony, the Brit, and Dave the Aussie, just have the type of contrasting personalities which somehow mesh, and they keep us laughing all the time. When we’re waking up in the morning and trying to steel ourselves to getting out of the bag, we hear the laughter coming from their tent as they find something humorous about life or their situation at the moment about which they can laugh. It makes it easier for us to get moving and face the day.
I’ve solved the nightly get up five times to pee problem. We brought wide mouthed water bottles to carry our daily supply of water. All our water has to be boiled and each night they bring us hot water for our next day’s supply. The bottles make good bag warmers and warm the tootsies as we crawl in for the night. Well, I decided that we could work around the water supply with a little organization, but that I needed some relief from having to get up, get dressed, go outside, come back to the tent, get undressed, get back into the bag, try to get warm again and then go back to sleep. The whole process was taking about 15 minutes from the time I decided that the stress of not peeing was worse than the stress of having to go through the whole ordeal.
We all laugh about possible mix-ups in bottles, but Carol’s is a different color from mine, good planning; and my stress level is definitely down. Now I don‚t worry about how much I should drink before retiring. Manoj keeps harping about dehydration, and before deciding to use my water bottle, I could only think, “Well, yeah, but you don‚t have to get up five times during the night.” Last night, Dave actually drank a gallon of water after dinner. I wouldn’t have slept at all if I had done that.
So we are continually adjusting our lives and methods to cope with the new surroundings and new rules. Nothing is routine, everything is new. We feel so much more aware of things that were just automatic responses prior to being here. Amazing how so much of our existence is just done without thinking about it. Here at this elevation your mind just focuses on what you are doing at the moment. Concentration on even the smallest detail of daily life makes us feel so much more alive and in tune with our bodies and minds.
I go to sleep at night wondering what tomorrow will bring. The trepidation we felt at the outset of trekking has been replaced with the realization that we can, in fact, do this. It’s hard, but doable.
When Manoj asks me how I’m doing, I always say “I‚m Okay.” Then I sing him a little Dr. Hook:
“Life ain’t easy. They never said it would be.”
“Life ain’t easy. They never said it should be.”
“Life ain’t easy. And nothing comes free.”
We all laugh and keep plodding along.
Stay safe,
Carol and Jim
The art of breathing
One of those automatic responses I referred to yesterday is just breathing. I’ve never realized how much I have always been on auto-pilot when it comes to simply breathing in and breathing out. Now I understand. It’s easy to know that I’m short of breath as we climb at these altitudes. We take 30 steps, stop and rest. Then we take 40 steps and rest, etc. But we have found that we often are huffing, puffing, and struggling for air when not actually climbing, and asking ourselves: “Why am I out of breath?”
The answer is simply: “Because you did something without realizing that you don’t breathe when you do it. Like speaking. Ordinarily, we say what we say, then breathe afterwards. The longer the thought being expressed, the longer the time without breathing. Hence, everybody is learning to speak in cryptic sentences, keeping everything to a minimum, because 10-15 seconds without breathing leaves you gasping. No long philosophical discussions here.
I’ve caught myself dozens of times doing something where I have to remind myself: “Breathe, Jim.” Focusing the camera, taking a video shot, brushing my teeth, having a long drink of water, tying my shoes, and literally dozens of other such things are situations in which I’ve found myself not breathing because I usually don’t breathe when doing them.
So breathing is so much more of a focus than it’s ever been before. I’m so much more aware of everything my body is doing, because it’s talking to me all the time. Or at least, I’m listening to it all the time now. Maybe that’s the difference.
Day 3 Trek
This is our 27th wedding anniversary and, unfortunately, Carol woke up feeling ill for the first time on the trip. Hope it’s not cause and effect. Physically, she had a tough night, and her throat is sore. Looks like she’s looking for a plan “B” on the sleeping comfortably and warmly thing. Mentally, she is discouraged, thinking of the other group who only walked one day and had hotels, hot water, showers and beds. She’s second guessing herself at the moment wondering why she chose this trip which is so difficult, rather than one that gave us most of what we get here without the arduous nature of the high altitude.
Another clear morning greeted us when we got up and exited the tent. Just seeing the peaks in the clean, clear air instills us with an enthusiasm for the day to come, no matter how hard it will be.
True to that theory, today was the most difficult, but most spectacular day of our trip. I suppose that the two go hand in hand. To get to that really spectacular view, it can’t be easy or it wouldn’t mean anything. As Dave said: “I took over ten years of English and didn’t learn anything that could accurately describe today.” We’ve all seen movies of the Himalayas, with the beautiful scenery, or the IMAX movie, and all I can say, is that it’s even better seeing it through our own eyes, but more about that later.
We awoke at six and got out on the trail around 8:30. Manoj wanted to get over the pass we were climbing before the weather deteriorated. It was a very steep climb, and we made it in a steady snow storm. Not heavy enough to deter us, but still for the two-hour climb it drifted all around us. We climbed from the base of Shao La where we stayed at an elevation of 15,750 to the top of the pass at around 17,000. It was a very steep climb.
The first part of it was the usual rock scrambling, then it turned to a solid snow field, through which we climbed in a straight upward manner, no zig-zaging. It was our real introduction to Himalayan mountaineering. We couldn’t believe that climbers do this for ascents of thousands upon thousands of feet at even higher elevations, while we climbed just over 1,000 feet and were exhausted.
Manoj told us when climbing to always look just one step forward, never up. If we want to see where we’ve been, we could stop and admire how much we’ve done. But that it is very discouraging to look up and see how much more there is to do. To that end, I stopped at one point and turned around to see the view. It was amazing. In one direction, a mountain cast in snow, to the opposite direction, a rocky mountain with no snow on it at all. Still anther direction there was a lake totally frozen, and in another, a lake with no ice on it at all. Windward, leeward, sunny side, shady side, each element and physical characteristic added its personal touch to the view.
We crested the top after a steady two-hour climb, which left us really looking forward to the descent to our camp here at Joksam.. Well it just didn’t turn out that way. We spent the next 4 hours picking our way through those rocks which somebody had moved into our path from where we left them on the other side of the pass.
The climb down just rattles the knees and jams the boots into your toes. We descended to 13,500, so we came down over 3,000 feet from where we had climbed “Just” 1,000. The ascent is demanding, slow going, one step in front of one step. The descent is bone jarring. Your entire weight comes down upon the knees and at the end they ache and demand relief.
BUT--- that’s the bad news. The good news was that while we were descending the snow stopped, the cloud bank in front of us cleared, and there it was. Our first view of an incredible Himalayan peak, Makalu, the world’s sixth largest peak, at 27,782 feet. We had seen a hint of it before, but today it was just there, directly in front of us. We didn’t just get to see the peak poking it’s head around from behind another mountain in front of it, but the whole mountain, from base to peak. We sat and ate lunch with this magnificent kaleidoscope, not of colors but of light and shadow, as the clouds moved in and out, allowing the sun to cast the entire mountain in light, then teasing with shade and showing all the nuances that you couldn’t otherwise see when you just see the mountain in its glory of light. And Everest still lies ahead. As I sat there watching the mountain, it was deliciously warm. I’d worn thermals for the summit, and now with the sun out, I was toasty warm. I just spread out and enjoyed myself. It was the first time I’ve actually been warm when not in my sleeping bag.
Tonight’s dinner was topped off with an anniversary cake for our dessert. We all shared it, and then we took the remainder to the cooks and the Yak pas, who seemed very unsure of what they were getting into. Chocolate cake is not exactly part of their usual diet.
I had enlisted Manoj’s help in getting some amber beads which Carol had seen in Lhasa and liked, but said that she didn’t want to have to carry around, so I had Manoj get them for me and I gave them to her this morning when we woke up. The group wanted to know how we had come together and since they are in the early 30’s, the fact that we’ve been married for 27 years was pretty amazing to them. So Carol and I get to add the Himalayas to places where we’ve celebrated our anniversary. A nice touch, indeed. We all wanted an early bed tonight. It had been a day that did not encourage staying up late to discuss the world.
From beautiful Tibet
Carol and Jim
The answer is simply: “Because you did something without realizing that you don’t breathe when you do it. Like speaking. Ordinarily, we say what we say, then breathe afterwards. The longer the thought being expressed, the longer the time without breathing. Hence, everybody is learning to speak in cryptic sentences, keeping everything to a minimum, because 10-15 seconds without breathing leaves you gasping. No long philosophical discussions here.
I’ve caught myself dozens of times doing something where I have to remind myself: “Breathe, Jim.” Focusing the camera, taking a video shot, brushing my teeth, having a long drink of water, tying my shoes, and literally dozens of other such things are situations in which I’ve found myself not breathing because I usually don’t breathe when doing them.
So breathing is so much more of a focus than it’s ever been before. I’m so much more aware of everything my body is doing, because it’s talking to me all the time. Or at least, I’m listening to it all the time now. Maybe that’s the difference.
Day 3 Trek
This is our 27th wedding anniversary and, unfortunately, Carol woke up feeling ill for the first time on the trip. Hope it’s not cause and effect. Physically, she had a tough night, and her throat is sore. Looks like she’s looking for a plan “B” on the sleeping comfortably and warmly thing. Mentally, she is discouraged, thinking of the other group who only walked one day and had hotels, hot water, showers and beds. She’s second guessing herself at the moment wondering why she chose this trip which is so difficult, rather than one that gave us most of what we get here without the arduous nature of the high altitude.
Another clear morning greeted us when we got up and exited the tent. Just seeing the peaks in the clean, clear air instills us with an enthusiasm for the day to come, no matter how hard it will be.
True to that theory, today was the most difficult, but most spectacular day of our trip. I suppose that the two go hand in hand. To get to that really spectacular view, it can’t be easy or it wouldn’t mean anything. As Dave said: “I took over ten years of English and didn’t learn anything that could accurately describe today.” We’ve all seen movies of the Himalayas, with the beautiful scenery, or the IMAX movie, and all I can say, is that it’s even better seeing it through our own eyes, but more about that later.
We awoke at six and got out on the trail around 8:30. Manoj wanted to get over the pass we were climbing before the weather deteriorated. It was a very steep climb, and we made it in a steady snow storm. Not heavy enough to deter us, but still for the two-hour climb it drifted all around us. We climbed from the base of Shao La where we stayed at an elevation of 15,750 to the top of the pass at around 17,000. It was a very steep climb.
The first part of it was the usual rock scrambling, then it turned to a solid snow field, through which we climbed in a straight upward manner, no zig-zaging. It was our real introduction to Himalayan mountaineering. We couldn’t believe that climbers do this for ascents of thousands upon thousands of feet at even higher elevations, while we climbed just over 1,000 feet and were exhausted.
Manoj told us when climbing to always look just one step forward, never up. If we want to see where we’ve been, we could stop and admire how much we’ve done. But that it is very discouraging to look up and see how much more there is to do. To that end, I stopped at one point and turned around to see the view. It was amazing. In one direction, a mountain cast in snow, to the opposite direction, a rocky mountain with no snow on it at all. Still anther direction there was a lake totally frozen, and in another, a lake with no ice on it at all. Windward, leeward, sunny side, shady side, each element and physical characteristic added its personal touch to the view.
We crested the top after a steady two-hour climb, which left us really looking forward to the descent to our camp here at Joksam.. Well it just didn’t turn out that way. We spent the next 4 hours picking our way through those rocks which somebody had moved into our path from where we left them on the other side of the pass.
The climb down just rattles the knees and jams the boots into your toes. We descended to 13,500, so we came down over 3,000 feet from where we had climbed “Just” 1,000. The ascent is demanding, slow going, one step in front of one step. The descent is bone jarring. Your entire weight comes down upon the knees and at the end they ache and demand relief.
BUT--- that’s the bad news. The good news was that while we were descending the snow stopped, the cloud bank in front of us cleared, and there it was. Our first view of an incredible Himalayan peak, Makalu, the world’s sixth largest peak, at 27,782 feet. We had seen a hint of it before, but today it was just there, directly in front of us. We didn’t just get to see the peak poking it’s head around from behind another mountain in front of it, but the whole mountain, from base to peak. We sat and ate lunch with this magnificent kaleidoscope, not of colors but of light and shadow, as the clouds moved in and out, allowing the sun to cast the entire mountain in light, then teasing with shade and showing all the nuances that you couldn’t otherwise see when you just see the mountain in its glory of light. And Everest still lies ahead. As I sat there watching the mountain, it was deliciously warm. I’d worn thermals for the summit, and now with the sun out, I was toasty warm. I just spread out and enjoyed myself. It was the first time I’ve actually been warm when not in my sleeping bag.
Tonight’s dinner was topped off with an anniversary cake for our dessert. We all shared it, and then we took the remainder to the cooks and the Yak pas, who seemed very unsure of what they were getting into. Chocolate cake is not exactly part of their usual diet.
I had enlisted Manoj’s help in getting some amber beads which Carol had seen in Lhasa and liked, but said that she didn’t want to have to carry around, so I had Manoj get them for me and I gave them to her this morning when we woke up. The group wanted to know how we had come together and since they are in the early 30’s, the fact that we’ve been married for 27 years was pretty amazing to them. So Carol and I get to add the Himalayas to places where we’ve celebrated our anniversary. A nice touch, indeed. We all wanted an early bed tonight. It had been a day that did not encourage staying up late to discuss the world.
From beautiful Tibet
Carol and Jim
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