Old story: We could have gone any number of ways

Another unfinished story from last summer's trip to Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. This story is about the journey from Vietnam into Laos. Again, I lost the motivation to wrap it up.

We could have gone any number of ways. Well, actually we had just two choices. One was a 24 hour sleeper bus taken south from Hanoi, down the same route we had just come up. And then we’d cut over and up into Laos. $40 for the entire trip, accommodation included. Or was it 29 hours? It varied depending on the travel agent you asked, as did the price, which was expected. The problem with this choice is that we would be traversing over ground that had already been traversed and I hated doing that. And once in Laos, we’d be going to the north first and then heading south, once again we’d be stepping on ground that had already been stepped on. But it was an easy option. Buy a ticket in the guest house, wait for the bus and follow the sheep in front of you…

The other option was to take the road less traveled and go west. Go west young man! Head in a general westward direction towards Dien Bien Phu and cross into northern Laos and then down to Luang Prabang. The travel agents we asked said it was impossible and that we had to go south first and then cut over. It was the one and only option. I don’t actually remember them saying it was impossible, but it was implied as such and they clearly wanted us to buy a ticket from them.  Of course.

The four of us decided on the second option. It was more adventurous to figure it out on our own and more intriguing to be able to see a part of Laos that we wouldn’t otherwise see. We headed out from the hotel at about 11:30am and took a taxi to the local bus station. The driver was perhaps the most annoying Vietnamese person I’ve ever met. He spoke at a volume suitable for elderly folks lacking hearing aids and he spoke excessively. He also couldn’t drive and wasn’t good at keeping his eyes on the road – nearly veering into the center divider on more than one occasion. But we wouldn't have been harmed at such a ridiculously slow rate of speed. He didn’t seem comfortable above 25 kph. In any case, he did get us to the bus station and fortunately for us, it was departing sooner rather than later.

There was only one bus, a sleeper to the town of Son La and we knew we’d have to bed down there since we’d gotten a relatively late start. And the bus, despite being the most comfortable and cleanest sleeper I’d ever seen, was not the best mode of transportation for an afternoon journey. So painful for me to see such sights from a reclined position and viewed through tinted windows. And no wind in my face and ability to stop anywhere along the way to absorb what I wanted to take in. It was clear quickly that a motorbike journey was the only way to really see these parts. Next time I swore.

My heart raced as we swept through the countryside and the limestone karsts climbing high around the bright green rice fields. I feel it up here, higher in the mountains and around a different, more interesting kind of people. Bright orange corn, in addition to rice, appeared to be cultivated nearly everywhere. And they were in the midst of processing it as well, right on the side of the road. Massive piles of the orange stuff laid next to massive piles of unkernaled cobs.

Corn, as seen from the bus.

I lied in the back of the bus on the upper bunk, five beds lying side by side. It was just me on the far right and a H’mong lady wearing her traditional dress on the far left. Love the traditional dress. Love it. She was coughing up something nasty so it was probably best she was over there. A young kid eventually joined us in the middle and then a short inconsiderate middle-aged man squeezed in who thought we all might like to listen to his music. Eventually I fell asleep, for some reason I always sleep better on the move than in the comfort of my own bed.

We stopped once for meal and bathroom break. We were the only foreigners and the food was actually good and not overpriced. I like being on the road less traveled! The bathrooms, on the other hand, were still filthy and nothing special, but as expected. Sugarcane juice accompanied by a silver platter of steamed rice, mustard greens and some fried eggs. I love rice! I hadn’t eaten that variety of greens in a long time and despite being slightly bitter, they were a refreshing change from the norm.

After arriving in Son La, near the center, we took a taxi down the road to the Trade Union Hotel and somehow managed to negotiate the room price from 500 to 250 thousand, but no free breakfast. 

Considering I don’t usually eat breakfast and that it was only 30,000 to purchase separately, it seemed pretty good to me. We checked in and then wandered down the road to fill our bellies and see what was going on. Not much as expected. Back near the hotel we sat down with some locals and the cute girl from our hotel’s reception to partake in some banana rice wine. It seems to me, that rice wine in general, is never very good despite the various ways of producing it and making it sound more appealing.

Once it was determined the one girl amongst the table of approximately ten guys was married, there was no longer any incentive to stay out any longer. We headed back up the narrow road to the hotel and visited the intriguing massage place that seemed to be hidden behind the hotel. There was an older woman and two unattractive girls poorly informed in the art of seduction, but interesting nonetheless to take in that moment and see some older gentlemen appear in time with other relatively unattractive girls who had just finished the massage and whatever else was negotiated. We then went to bed. True story.

Our bus to Dien Bien Phu the following morning arrived at 8:30am. It was perfect, actually on time if not a couple minutes early, and picked us up from the hotel. We boarded the small minibus and had upright window seats, which were as perfect for enjoying the scenery as could be from such a mode of transportation. Maybe this is where we saw all the corn, I can’t remember. The driver was skilled at getting us there as quickly as possible without being overly aggressive and having us fear for our lives as so many bus drivers in Vietnam are so capable of doing.

I love this scene, working in the rice fields.

We arrived in pretty decent time, right at noon, perfect for a quick lunch before we continued on the next leg of the journey – to the border. Again, sugarcane juice was the beverage of choice washing down a mountain of steamed rice and lightly fried tofu and fresh tomato sauce. Our only option was to take a taxi to the border as we had already missed the one morning bus that made that trip. And they wouldn’t negotiate. It was 500 thousand dong or approximately $25. For four people, it wasn’t bad, but we still knew it was overpriced. Not wanting to stay the night and wait for the cheaper bus, we went ahead and endured the driver shaking his head and smacking his tongue in dismay every time the car bottomed out in a pothole or splashed dirty water onto the windshield. So heavy! he cried. I’ll have to get a carwash, he moaned. So annoying.

Eventually we got there. The meter read 384 thousand dong and one of the guys said ok, 400 thousand is all he’s getting and the other guys sort of agreed without agreeing. 100 each. I hate this sort of situation. We should have paid him 500 even if he didn’t deserve it because there was some sort of verbal agreement in place. He wouldn’t have gone for 500 and we would have had to wait til the morning for probably near the same price. However, I wasn’t going to get stuck paying 200 out of sympathy for the guy. The driver chest bumped me out of anger and frustration when he realized he wasn't getting what he wanted and I was his last hope to recoup the negotiated fare. I felt a little shame, but it dissipated when the border guards laughed at him and did nothing as if to say C’mon man, you got enough.

Exiting Vietnam was relatively easy as we were the only ones and didn’t have to wait, however the guards still managed to over-inspect our passports and seemingly tried to give grief where no grief needed to be given. Just stamp the fucking thing. I could feel the tension rising as the one English speaking guard explained how the Lao border checkpoint was 7 kilometers away and we could hire a car if we wanted and he could arrange that. Yes, of course he could. Dick. He reeked of corruption.

We had no other choice as my friends were loaded down with luggage. Perhaps three bags each. I had my rolly bag and a light backpack and would have just thought of it as exercise, but I accepted fate that day. We got to the border faster and didn’t break a sweat and were only out another $5 each. The joke was definitely on us. And it was only 6 kilometers, but not enough to make a difference.

The visa to Lao for a United States citizen was $35. The overtime processing fee was $1, the sticker fee was $1 and there was other service fee for $1. The last fee couldn’t be explained and all of them were typical, especially of your off-the-beaten-track border crossing. Just another way to finagle a few extra bucks from every relatively rich backpacker with no other option than to do what? Refuse to pay and get denied entry all for a buck? I know I know, it’s not the dollar, it’s a matter of principle.

There was no accommodation at the checkpoint as we were told so we had to make a decision. We decided to have a beer. It was 10,000 kip after being told they were 7,000 kip. Again, of course. And then we decided to walk 3 kilometers down the mountain to the next village where we hoped we could then hitch a ride to the some other village and get a proper place to sleep as opposed to sleeping on the floor of the restaurant at the checkpoint shivering and lathered in mosquito repellent, but at least knowing a bus would be there in the morning to take us down the mountain and further into Laos.

Luck was on our side. First of all, the 3 kilometer trek was all downhill and the surrounding jungle was beautiful. And upon arrival, we met two Vietnamese mechanics, one of whom spoke English and agreed to take us to the town of [i can't remember] for a price, of course, after he finished repairing the Komatsu he was working on. $20 for 30 kilometers on windy, bumpy wet roads in the dark seemed reasonable after paying the same for 6 kilometers of relatively smooth gravel road in no man’s land.

Waiting for the mechanic to finish repairs.

Eventually we found a guest house...

Old story: bowling in Laos

I wrote this story about ten months ago, but failed to finish it. Didn't seem worthy of my time at the time. As I'm feeling relatively uninspired at the moment and looking for something to do, I thought I'd post it, unfinished. Enjoy...

It all began with a casual nod of acknowledgment from across the bowling alley. It was approximately 3am and the crowd of mostly young white backpackers had begun to slowly disperse. We were in Laos, specifically in Luang Prabang. One of the guys raised a glass to which I shrugged and raised an empty. Seeing that, he waved me over. I accepted although I was happily lubricated and needed no additional fuel to keep the fire burning. My group had scattered anyway and I was practically twiddling my thumbs or would have been had I not been consuming cheap, mind-numbing Lao whiskey.

The bearded friend now appeared to be getting intimate with the girl we had previously determined to be rather repulsive. The dreaded friend was off gallivanting with the gal he had been banging a month before in Cambodia as they had just reunited only hours before after nearly a month hiatus. The other curly, long-haired fellow was off chatting with somebody, making new friends as he so often did. And I had unknowingly been left alone as the alcohol began to settle and I failed to perceive the emptying chairs around me. I’m that interesting.

It turns out the table of Lao dudes I was now getting acquainted with had no desire for female companionship. That explained why they were so friendly. At least they weren't backpackers. I’d had enough of those conversations for the evening. Where are you from? How long are you traveling for? Where are you going next? Dude, we’re in Laos!! So, conversing with someone of a different culture and sexual identity was a refreshing change. No testosterone being thrown around and no one-upping the next guy with a superior traveling tale. Not that I remember any of the conversation. Actually I only recollect throwing back a couple glasses of Beerlao.

In any case, it got late and people were leaving. Put, this fit Lao dude with a slightly acne-riddled face offered to drive me home. Oh, no thanks, I replied. I’ll just get a tuk-tuk with my friends. I glanced around to see only the bearded one who was still intently conversing with the one with whom he’d end up watching the sunrise. So I changed my mind and agreed to the ride in part to save the fifty cents and in part because I figured I could take him in the event he tried to sodomize me without my consent.

We ended up driving down what seemed to be every street in the neighborhood of my guesthouse, but we couldn’t find it. We had just arrived that evening in the dark, checked-in hastily and quickly departed to enjoy the few hours that remained to help forget the long, leg-cramping bus rides we had endured since earlier that morning and to celebrate the bearded one’s birthday.  It also didn’t help that I had relinquished the business card to a friend who needed the name of the GH earlier in the evening. I knew it began with an S, but they all seemed to and none of them looked the same. I knew it was in there somewhere, south of the temple on the hill and near the Pousi Hotel, but it wasn’t.

Put was patient yet persistent in inviting me to come with him and have another drink. I repeatedly declined. There was no incentive. I need to have some kind of motivation to drink when I’m tired and a guy with a rectum sweating at the thought of intercourse didn’t do it for me. I would have been quite fine just getting out and wandering around til I found the place, but he wouldn’t have that. Instead, he offered a place to sleep at his bar, not his bed fortunately, and that sounded ok to me. Ok.

It was a little weird, but considering the circumstances, acceptable. So I accepted the offer after clarifying my own sexuality and otherwise saying that I wasn’t looking for an anal massage that evening. He did persist as any guy does after a woman says no. With one hand on the steering wheel and one on my thigh he drove to his place. I didn’t immediately push off his hand to allow him some time to grieve about this missed opportunity. That is, until his hand started to creep under my shorts and further down my thigh. Then with no further hesitation, I clamped down and removed his hand from the premises. I had to remind him again of my sexual preference, as if he had forgotten and ask questions about Lao girls, about which I really wasn’t wondering. Good for him for trying, he’s a man, that’s what we all do well – gay or straight. Sometime that persistence will pay off, but not tonight.

I didn't really see where this story was headed so I lost interest in wrapping it up. Suffice it to say, I woke up, rectum intact, and decided to get home as quickly as possible. In order to do that, I had to find my new friend. I went upstairs, knocked on his door and an older, overweight white dude opened the door. Umm, good morning. Turns out it was his ex-boyfriend and partner in the bar business. Ok, I'm ready to go home now!

Killing time over coffee

I’ve got five hours to kill so I’ve come to Café Coffee Day, an Indian coffee chain that doesn’t provide wifi, but does provide coffee concoctions with unique names such as Cold Sparkle, a nice mix of just the right amount of coconut milk ice blended with coffee.  I’m overlooking the main junction in McLeod Ganj, nestled in the pine trees just above Dharamshala and home-in-exile of His Holiness, the 14^th Dalai Lama and many other Tibetans. The square below, or rather, the clusterfuck of an intersection, is filled with people – namely Indian tourists, but also hippies, monks, Tibetans, policemen, a boy selling cotton candy and many an asshole who thinks that honking consistently every few seconds will enable them to maneuver through the mess that much faster and creating so much unnecessary suffering, at least for me anyway. I try to ignore it or have compassion for the driver who must be suffering even more than me, but more often than not, I want to strangle the motherfucker and drag his limp body through the broken window.

The main intersection in Mcleod Ganj enjoying relative tranquility.

Upon first arrival, I thought Awwwww, look at this cute place. Now I’m anxious to get out of here. I’ve seen the Dalai Lama’s temple, the Tibet museum, Bhagsu, the waterfall, the meditation centre, Dharamkot, I’ve bought some shit and I’ve gone to virtually every café that has wifi. I’ve tried the brownie, the cookies, the carrot cake, the chocolate, the muffin...there is nothing left for me to do here. It’s not that I want to sit on a bus all night, but my time is running out and I can’t endure the noise here anymore. Funny thing is that the noise here is nothing compared to the rest of India. Ahhhh well, at least there will be a change in scenery. And maybe a new brownie to try. Man, I wish I had some self-discipline.

I've always had a sweet tooth, but this is too much. I think I’m filling a void that would normally be consumed by consuming alcohol, chasing tail or good conversation. I guess I’m just over all that for the time being. I haven’t drunk much these past couple of months. I think I can count the number of beers on my two hands. One in India in the first 10 days, four in Nepal in five weeks, three in Tibet in a week and two in India this past week. Exactly 10 beers in two months. Mind you, they’re big beers, but still, 10 beers might be normally consumed in a week’s time rather than eight weeks. Why am I not drinking?

I didn't drink in India because a) nobody else was drinking, b) I had no idea where to buy beer and c) I had stomach issues. I didn’t drink much in Nepal because a) I was taking antibiotics, b) I had stomach issues, c) I was trekking and didn’t want to, d) it didn’t taste that good and e) I was taking a meditation course that asked us to abstain from intoxicants. And now, I’m abstaining again because basically there is no need to drink. Not much stress, no women and besides, the one beer the other night gave me a lasting headache. I’d rather go to sleep early and enjoy an early peaceful morning.

I miss seeing pretty women. Not that India is entirely devoid of pleasant scenery, it’s just that I have no desire to pursue anything. Too much effort. The Tibetan women are the most attractive, remind me a lot of the Hmong people in northern Vietnam for their colorful attire and bright smiles. Occasionally I’ll see an attractive foreign girl, usually from Germany or some other Asian country, but most of the time, I just can’t be bothered. Just give me the cookie. I’ll be back in the land of short shorts and smooth silky skin soon enough, albeit briefly, before I return to the states this summer. At least then, my eyes can consume some candy rather than my mouth.

I know I shouldn’t drink coffee. Again, it’s a matter of self-discipline, of which I have little. I like the taste and it makes me feel good momentarily, so I indulge. Finding happiness through sense pleasures! But later on is usually another story. I am even more irritable than normal, which if you know me well, you’d probably keep your distance. I hate being an asshole, I really do, but sometimes it just emanates from my pores as naturally as the scent from a rose. People can sense that shit. Assholes tend to smell like shit unless they’re given a good scrubbing. Maybe that’s what I need. Anyone have a loofah?

This guy just sat at the table behind me. Pulled his chair out bumping mine, sat down and threw his elbow up into my back. What the fuck is wrong with people? Pay some fucking attention. I’d let it go if he just said oops, but somehow even that is too hard for some people. Acknowledge when you make a mistake, people! Own up! And instead of me just brushing it off, I have to be confrontational. Less confrontational than some people and then it simmers inside. And then I passive-aggressively let it be known that I think he’s a dick. One day, one day I’ll look at him with compassion and see his suffering. And then I’ll probably wake up because I was in fact dreaming.

I’d love to sip on another coffee. Just to distort my senses and somehow seemingly enable me to get through the afternoon. Not that I need help, coffee just tastes good. A ginger lemon tea also tastes good and is good for you, but it’s not the same.  And I know that two coffees won’t keep me awake because I’m usually extra tired a few hours after coffee intake, which might bode well for the bus. And I tend to sleep even better on buses – somehow the motion helps to induce some zzz’s.  However, that’s not the case if I’m in the back and bouncing to the roof over every pothole. I’m not Superman, contrary to what everyone thinks.

Ok, that’s enough. Only three and a half hours to kill now. Time for some tofu and veggies. I’ll be good. And just being more conscious about it now, I’ll try not to let anything irritate me this afternoon. Hopefully I won’t have to hold my breath. I actually feel better now, this is a good outlet, thanks for listening. Bueller? Back out into the chaos, off to another café, see what happens between here and there. So many horns, so many cows, so many inconsiderate suffering bastards, I mean beings, to encounter. So much to potentially overcome.  I can do it! <cheering myself on from the sidelines>

In case you are wondering, I will be back in Southeast Asia on 1 June. Looking forward to it. I miss the aforementioned pretty scenery, the food and the overall vibe. Why not go back now? The flight has already been booked and besides, this is me just complaining now. I'll be marginally better in a few minutes after some additional sense pleasuring. And after Thailand, I'll be heading back to the USA. Haven't been home in nearly three years - I am a bad son, brother and uncle! Looking forward to it, but first, let me just be here now.

Trekking in Nepal

I arrived in Nepal in early April with the intention of doing some trekking. A bus wreck set me back a couple weeks, but gave me ample time to check out the trekking shops in both Kathmandu and Pokhara and I was able to familiarize myself with the various treks that were on offer. Previously I had really only heard about the Annapurna Circuit and had thus, set my eyes on it. But with my back in uncertain condition and me being unsure about the cold and my lungs at high elevation (5400m), I decided it was best to accept my fate and just do Annapurna Base Camp (ABC). It was shorter in duration and easier, yet still provided spectacular scenery. I still wish I had the time and good fortune to attempt the Annapurna Circuit, but looking back, I can say with certainty that the ABC trek was the highlight of my trip to Nepal.

Everything came together in Pokhara, Nepal’s second largest city. As my back regained strength, I made inquiries at the local tour agencies to get the requisite information. I went to the local permit office and obtained both my ACAP and TIMS permits, while throwing together in quick itinerary I found on the internet. I opted to go alone without a porter or a guide as I was told it was not necessary. Of course, every travel agency seemed to suggest it was required to have a guide, but clearly that was bullshit and just an effort to extract more tourist dollars.  I wanted to carry my own gear and wanted to interact with more people than just my guide.

I probably went to a dozen trekking shops, but finally found one with a guy who knew his shit. You can just tell when you meet such a person. He was a former guide and had been on the mountain many a time so he knew precisely what I needed and what I didn’t. I appreciated him not saying How much you want to pay? when I asked the price on various items. No bullshit please! Anyway, I rented a sleeping bag and purchased a bunch of other inexpensive gear and then made my way to various supermarkets, getting the essential snacks in order. I’m pretty sure the bag of snacks was the heaviest item in my pack and the fleece jacket was the bulkiest.

Day 1     Nayapul (1070m) à Ghandruk (1940m)

The morning my trek was to begin, I woke early and stored the majority of my belongings with the douche bag running the Galaxy Inn. I took a taxi to the local bus station and got my ticket to Nayapul, the base village for many a trek running up to either ABC or Poon Hill. We shook, rattled and rolled all the way there, with me unable to shake that feeling of an imminent disaster each time the brakes squealed as the driver slammed on the brakes. Many a turn later, we arrived, surprisingly unscathed and it was time to trek.

I got off the bus and didn’t know what to do or where to go. This was the benefit to having a guide, I thought. But certainly I thought, people would be willing to give directions and that’s all I needed. A woman at a roadside tea shop motioned down the hill and after downing a quick chai I headed down the trail, down through the cornfields and across a long suspension bridge. Freeeeeeeee! I was pretty excited to say the least and so much weight was falling from my shoulders. Finally, the time has come. A mere five minutes later, a woman told me I was going the wrong way. Fucking map. It dampened my spirits for a minute, but I got back on track quickly.

Shortly up the right trail, I met a nice couple at the ACAP permit check station. We would trek on and off together for the next week. We made it to Gandruk, elevation 1940m, at approximately 4:30pm and checked into the Family Cottage, where I obtained a room for 50 NRs (Nepali Rupees) – amounting to less than one dollar! Of course, you are supposed to eat where you sleep – that’s where they make a bit of money. The food is more expensive because it has to be brought up the mountain by porters. As you might imagine, the higher the elevation, the higher the price. The Family Cottage was like a farmhouse, but I had a private room with three single beds and numerous heavy blankets. The bathroom was around the corner near the cow, but if I had wanted luxury I would have chosen the two dollar option.

The following are excerpts from my trekking journal…

Day 2     Ghandruk (1940m) à Chhomrong (2170m)

Woke up at 6am to a rooster and Om Mani Padme Hum and the sunrise over the mountain with a couple of huge peaks not too far away. Fuck yeah, 2:45pm and we have arrived in Chhomrong (2170m) about 6.5 hours after we left this morning including a 30 minute rain delay and various stops along the way. Some cute kids, donkey bells and even a monkey. We’re staying at the Excellent View Guest House and they didn’t lie. 150 NRs – what a fucking deal. Waiting for my lemon tea now on the balcony looking at the Himalayan range.

The trek down to the river was pretty leisurely, but hurt the quads to descend so rapidly. The ascent on the other side was pretty brutal, but stormed up LOL – only say that cause I passed a bunch of people and seem to be faring well with my ok fitness. Happy about that. No lung issues yet, no back pain – no more than normal – and not too cold…yet.

Day 3     Chhomrong (2170m) à Himalaya (2900m)

Woke up @ 5:30am with the slight need to pee. Great views of the sun rising – still happening at this moment. We left at 7:35am after a mediocre fresh chocolate danish and an overly sweet hot chocolate. We had to go down a punishing downhill to cross the river and then climb again to Sinuwa, a nice place to stop on the way back I thought. From there I went on my own pace to Bamboo, where I met a slightly older Danish guy and trekked with him to Himalaya at 2920m, just barely getting rained on and arriving at just after 1pm. It was damp hike up through rhododendron forests and progressively uphill. We made pretty good time. Happy to be here at the ‘lodge’ but my hands are cold here at 2920m and I’m worried about tomorrow night.

Day 4     Himalaya (2900m) à Annapurna Base Camp (4140m)

Woke up at just before 6am and had a few small cookies and some lemon tea for breakfast. Left with Peter (the Danish guy) at 7:10 and arrived solo at Deurali @ 8am. Rested until 8:15 and then continued up the trail arriving at Machhapuchhre Base Camp (MBC) also known as Fishtail at 9:45am. Had some watery porridge, dried out my sweaty clothes and then was on my way again. Arrived at ABC before noon and checked into Snow Land Guest House.

It is cold here now. We had it good until 3:30pm – practically sunbathing. Dinner was nice – just really needed to eat something hearty and warm. Happy to be here with three giant peaks surrounding us, but will be happy to get down to warmer, lower elevation tomorrow. Sunrise in the morning and then a leisurely push to get down to Bamboo or below…

Day 5     ABC (4140m) à Sinuwa (2360m)

Shitty sleep! As to be expected at such high elevations, but still. Had some tea and it was too cold to hang out for long so I left at 7:15am. Arrived MBC at 8:10am and had breakfast in Deurali shortly after arriving around 9:30am. Rested until 10 and then continued down, down, down the trail. Considered staying in Bamboo, but it was still quite early so I went on. Arrived in Sinuwa @ 1:30pm and decided to stay for the night.

2:30pm now and I am REFRESHED. Getting set up in my room after my first shower in a couple days. A gas-powered hot shower for 100 rupees. Yes, please. First shampoo and shave in five days. The lady is nice so I am pleased. It is raining out now. So happy to be done for the day. 7:15am start à 1:30pm finish. 6.25 hours trekking. Read some, ate some and feel good. I’m warm and that’s nice. Only wish I had some female company. That’d be nice. Hot springs tomorrow. Easy day.

Day 6     Sinuwa (2360m) à Jhinu (1780m)

Slept pretty well. Not cold. A bit of noise from above and out the front & back windows, but from 10-5 it seemed pretty quiet. Can’t wait for a shit and some sunshine and I’ll be on my way. Hot springs…sound pretty nice as I’m a bit sore overall. Left at 8am. Steps down, steps up. Arrived at the German bakery at 9:15am. Spent two hours there eating some challah and some apple pie washed down with a milk tea. Nothing really to write home about. Saw everyone while at Chhromrong and eventually landed at Jhinu with the Canadian brothers, the Swiss-Danish couple, the Dutch-German couple, all the Koreans, the two American girls and the Swiss-Austrian girls.

The hot springs were nice, quite a walk down and a hike back up in the rain. Few dips in the river. Beautiful Tibetan girl here selling shit. Nice too. Bought a Buddha necklace and an ABC shirt. She was nice conversation. Tried but failed to convince her to kiss me. Instead had good conversation with everyone in the dining room. The food was good, the best yet. I had a ginger tea, warm boiled eggs, burritos (!) and an apple roll with custard. Big belly was a brewing.

Day 7     Jhinu (1780m) à Tadopani (2630m)

Late start this morning bullshitting with the gang and the Tibetan gal. Left at 8:30am and got to the top of the hill at 9am – pretty impressed with myself. It was a tough climb today, approximately 850m. Arrived in Tadopani @ noon. Really a short day trekking, but I didn’t stop much and preferred to haul ass, get accommodation, eat, read and enjoy. One monkey sighting today, that makes two. Whatever lodge I am at is cold. I need a blanket for sure tonight. Reading my book and not really socializing. Don’t feel like it. I’m tired. Actually looking forward to finishing up the trek soon to get more consistently warm temps, but still enjoying this “commune with nature.”

Day 8     Tadopani (2630m) à Ghorepani (2860m)

Didn’t need breakfast this morning, but ate to kill time. Boiled eggs, pancake and ginger tea. I love ginger tea. Fucking lodge was cold, but the people were nice and the girl with dyed hair was cute. Left at 8:15am – downhill and then uphill. Along river through beautiful rhododendron forests. Through Banthanti and over Deurali Pass at 3200m and down to Ghorepani. Arrived 11am.What the fuck! These treks are fast. I almost thought I might pass out or my knees might snap. Luckily they didn’t.

I’m at The Hungry Eye guest house – it seems nice. I have the downstairs furnace’s chimney running through my room. Hope that has the effect I think it might. My fingers are cold! Can barely write. Fucking glad to be here. Might check out Poon Hill in the afternoon so I know where I’m going at the butt crack of dawn. Now 7:30pm and I’m in my room. This furnace has been amazing. People are nice, my clothes are dry and room is much warmer than normal and that is huge.

Day 9     Ghorepani (2860m) à Poon Hill (3210m) à Tikhedhunga (1520m)

Woke up at 4:55am and began trek to Poon Hill at 5:17am. Arrived 5:40am = 23 minutes. Local dude kept me pushing to the top. Nice views of all the mountains. Happy to get back to the guesthouse. Muesli and ginger tea were perf. Ready to go DOWNHILL!

I can’t walk downhill. Simple as that. Made it to Tikhedhunga in less than three hours. Some random guide said it would take five. Could have easily finished up the trek today, but as I was in no rush to get back, I stopped for a coffee and lunch to consider my options. I opted to stay. Enjoyed a nice, hearty meal, refreshed with a hot shower and nearly finished my book.

5:30pm and nothing to do. We have filled up with a tour group. I hate tour groups. Oh well! About 8pm now. Ok dinner. Fried rice is not a Nepalese specialty. First time I’ve squirted ketchup all over it. Haven’t talked to anyone here. Don’t want to. Loneliest night yet, but whatever. Pokhara tomorrow. I’ve exhausted my book, journal, music, et al. Nothing to do, but try to go to bed early. Kind of lame here.

Day 10   Tikhedhunga (1520) à Nayapul (1070m)

Well, a relatively quiet night til about 5:45am when the local douche and his fat, unfriendly lady friend awoke and started talking and moving about. Plywood walls suck. I’m a little filled with hatred for inconsiderate people. It’s hard to find compassion. Ahhh silence for a minute.

Arrived in Berethanti at 10ish. Left the Chandra Guest House at 7:25am after a nice muesli breakfast. No point in lingering – nothing to do!!! A breeze walking down, but pretty boring compared to the previous nine days. Berethanti was nice though. Walked over the bridge, checked out  at the checkpoint and decided to go to Lumle instead of the easy 15 minute stroll to Nayapul. MISTAKE! Got chased by a dog, had to hike up hundreds of stone steps and got lost and pissed in the process. Thorns, stinging nettles, monkeys, wandering an extra hour – not fun! Finally got to the main road again and caught an already full, shitty bus to Pokhara.

The End

Not the best finish to an overall wonderful ten days of trekking, but whatever. In reality, not all stories have happy endings. As you can tell, the first 3/4 of the trek was more enjoyable and the last 1/4 it was more of a push to just get it done. Still enjoyable, but a bit boring as I was going in the opposite direction as most people. 

I wish I had had more time to do more trekking in Nepal or at least elsewhere in the Himalayas, but that'll have to wait. In Nepal, the four most popular treks are ABC/Poon Hill, the Annapurna Circuit, Lang Tang and Everest Base Camp. If you ever make it here, you'll most certainly hear of them and probably do one of them. 

Reflections on the meditation course

Just two days later and I seem to have forgotten everything I learned from my recent meditation course. How can it happen so quickly? Oh yeah, I’m in India. At least I recognize the negative emotions when they arise, but it’s really not that difficult to know when you are angry, irritated or annoyed. Same shit, different word. Oh and I’m back indulging in sense pleasures too. A brownie and a blended coffee please. I know happiness comes from within, but until I find sufficient quantities in there, I’m going to continue supplementing externally.

It all began circumambulating the Boudanath stupa the day the course ended. Back fully immersed in samsara, it's hard not to find yourself surrounded by inconsiderate people. I don’t know how many times people bumped into me without acknowledgment or apology. Too busy counting their beads I guess. Instead of practicing patience and emanating compassion for my fellow suffering sentient beings all I could do was grit my teeth and be reminded why negative emotions are so hard to eliminate.

And I certainly didn't help my situation yesterday by overindulging in chocolate. Short-lived happiness I know, but I couldn’t help myself. The 2-hour plane delay didn’t seem to affect me much, but hmmm...I was talking to a rather attractive Russian girl – another sense pleasure! And when I finally got to the bus station in Delhi and booked my ticket, I realized later I had been way overcharged. Grrrrr!!! It’s hard to feel compassion for a dick who pulls something like that, but I blame myself for doing my homework and for not asking around for the actual cost of the ticket. And I thought he was just a nice guy.

I still haven’t killed anything, at least that’s working. It was quite hard to not kill that mosquito on the first night outside the monastery, but I recognized it for my mother in a previous lifetime and couldn’t bring myself to do it. So hard to think of every single living being as having been my mother or my father or my sister or my brother countless times in previous lifetimes. EVERY single sentient being. What!? We’ve supposedly been reincarnated a lot of times and that is a glaringly huge understatement.

The ‘meditation course’ seemed to be a bit inappropriately named. It was really a 10-day Introduction to Tibetan Buddhism. Mostly teachings from the Buddha, some meditation and a bit about Tibetan culture, but I learned more about the latter from reading Seven Years in Tibet. Our daily schedule was as follows:

6am                                    tea

6:30-7:30am                      morning meditation

7:30am                               breakfast

9:15am-11:30am               teachings

11:30am                             lunch

2-3pm                                discussion groups

3-3:30pm                           break

3:30-5pm                           teachings

5-6pm                                tea

6-6:45pm                           meditation

6:45pm                              dinner

7:45-8:45pm                      Q&A and meditation

We were instructed to keep silent from 9pm until after lunch the following day, which wasn’t too hard to do as we could still ask questions during the teachings and we mostly managed to acknowledge others with a head nod or silly grin, when we probably should have been looking down and actually practicing ‘noble silence.'

It was quite easy waking up early as we went to bed at approximately half nine every night. It was nice to have silence after the last session as it ensured I wouldn't be blaming my fellow dormitory mates for a bad night's sleep. And fortunately for me, none of them snored. The only time I slept poorly was when I ate some processed crap a bit too late in the evening, which I presumed to be the cause. Anyway, there was something nice about being awake shortly after 5am and watching the sunrise, on most mornings anyway.

The first meditation was led by a Belgian Buddhist guy who couldn't pronounce the –th sound. Other than that, he was alright. The first teaching was taught by a Swedish woman who had been at the monastery for nearly 40 years. She was a sweet woman really, but tended to answer questions with the most drawn out answers and seemed to pull whatever she wanted to say out of her head in random fashion, which led to her being here one minute and there the next. She also had a funny habit of saying isn’t it? instead of saying right? or isn’t that right? Patience...patience.

The food was actually pretty good. We were never deprived. Mountains of rice, vegetables, some tofu, many varieties of bread, homemade peanut butter, a few kinds of tea and even instant coffee. In the morning, we always had porridge, muesli and some kind of bread. Lunch was the most varied, but always incorporated rice and dinner was pretty constantly some kind of soup and bread. Probably the least looked forward to meal of the day, but still tasted good most of the time and I tend not to like soup so that says something.

Our discussion groups were only for the first five days. They were interesting solely to get an idea of what others were thinking and how they felt about the sessions to date. After the first five days we had different activities to keep us busy. The afternoon teaching was led by a Tibetan monk, who was a very nice guy, but really said the same thing over and over. I think it was intentional in order for that specific piece of information to really be beat into our brains, but it was rather painful to hear again and again. This guy had the habit of saying Do you get it? after nearly every sentence. Got it! I skipped two of his sessions and practiced yoga on the hill for the first time in nearly five years.

The afternoon meditation session was broken into two analytical meditation sessions. We led into it with a group motivation and then we were instructed to think about certain topics within the Buddhist realm in order to think more deeply about compassion or the impermanence of things for example. It was easy to get distracted.  The post-dinner session was mostly Q&A unfortunately and a short time spent reciting mantras, which sounded nice at first, but towards the end I mostly stopped participating as I felt like a brainwashed robot just saying words I really didn’t understand.

I also had a hard time repeating some motivations including but not limited to “I take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Spiritual Community…” and the mantra “Tayata Om Mune Mune Maya Munaya Soha.” And found it strange that one of the ten non-virtuous actions we should avoid was not killing but eating meat was ok as was wearing leather. As long as we didn’t do the killing I guess. And downloading free music was equivalent to stealing, another non-virtuous action, yet the Monastery book shop sold cds and dvds that were definitely not straight from the manufacturer. Hmmm…

In the end, I was glad it was over. Ten days was enough. I didn't take refuge (become a Buddhist) nor did I master the art of meditation as was not to be expected. The final two days were in complete silence and there were meditation sessions throughout the day. A bit like Vipassana I imagined, but easier as we only had two days instead of 10. And I thought that if this had been Vipassana, I probably would have gone insane and therefore concluded that it was probably a good thing I had been rejected from the five courses I had applied to over the last couple of years. Things happen for a reason. Glad I did it, but glad it’s over. I still have a lot to work on.

India, round 2, day 1

The day began in Nepal and it began well over an extra black cup of filtered coffee, some fried eggs and an extra large chocolate croissant. The coffee was strong enough to blur my vision when it was abruptly pried away from my computer screen. The croissant was big enough to last for a couple of hours. I got caught up with my online affairs, went back to my hotel, packed my bags and started walking to the airport because of the strike that was supposedly going to bring Kathmandu to a relative standstill. 

I got a mere 100 meters and was asked where I was headed. Ten minutes later I was sharing a taxi, a very cheap one considering the circumstances, through some back streets and arrived at the airport ahead of schedule. People seemed extraordinarily friendly, the potholes seemed less deep, birds were chirping and angels were singing. The line at check-in was long, but I didn't mind. Eventually I got to the ‘departure lounge’ where I consumed some more chocolate and waited an extra couple hours due to a plane delay. Again, somehow it didn't bother me.

The flight was pretty painless aside from a wee headache and excessive yawning presumably due to the earlier caffeine intake. Upon arriving in Delhi, I noticed this was not the India I had previously experienced. I could sleep on the floor of this airport it seemed that immaculate. Immigration officials were friendly, baggage arrived in a timely fashion, the bathroom was spotless and I was through customs rather effortlessly. Everyone spoke English and was helpful. Was it really this easy?

I went to the local equivalent of 7/11 and pondered the various items for sale. So much more diversity than the shops in Nepal and the prices were even more reasonable. I bought a Snickers and another bar of chocolate as it was a new dark variety – one that I rationalized I might not see again. I went outside to pillar 18 where my bus was waiting and it departed shortly thereafter. It was 43°C and the heat felt good. The bus was modern, comfortable and the fans were sufficient to keep me from not sweating.

Delhi is enormous! We traveled for over an hour through the city, presumably New Delhi as everything looked quite modern and I could not help myself from repeatedly muttering Wow again and again. I could not stop comparing between Kolkata and Varanasi and the difference was like night and day. I need to take a city tour before I head back to Thailand. Eventually we arrived at the ISBT bus station where I was so kindly told to exit and almost immediately found a guy to assist me in buying a ticket on a tourist bus, thank you very much, on the next departing night bus to Amritsar.

He walked me to the ticket booth, assisted in the purchase, showed me where to go prior to departure and accompanied me to the food court, where I just polished off bowls of the best local food I’ve consumed in weeks and it wasn’t even that good. Now I’m stuffed and can only hope this bus has a toilet otherwise everyone will be better off with the windows down. And I sit ‘meditating’ in the corner of this small food stall, fans on high overhead listening to Tibetan Incantations, some delightfully peaceful music.

After consuming my meal, an Indian kid came in as if to clear the table. Finished I said. He hesitated and I repeated and eventually he took the stainless steel platters away. He came back and held up the empty Frooti bottle and I motioned like I was throwing it away. So he copied me and threw the bottle onto the otherwise clean floor. Then he held up the wad of stickers I had taken off my backpack and had intended to throw away. I made the same motion and he threw them on the floor as well. I didn't mean to do that.

Two more hours til departure. And then nine hours on the bus. I know nothing about Amritsar other than it’s in Punjab and home to the Golden Temple. I heard that was nice. So I’ll go there and go from there.  That’s enough for me. Excited and happy to be in a new place. If the rest of India is like this, I might just have to change the generalizations I’ve formulated for the whole of India based on just a few places. I’m prone to be overly judgemental, but I’m quite happy when they prove to be erroneous. Here’s hoping that is the case.

.......update............

I found out I was charged double for my bus ticket and the ‘tourist’ bus was an enormous dilapidated around 75 person capacity bus that was needless to say noisy, provided little comfort and didn't enable me to catch many zzz's. I was a wee bit annoyed for the duration. I could go on and on, but suffice it to say, I think my old feelings are coming back, sigh.

Goodbye Nepal!

It’s 5:45am and I’m awake not to catch the sunrise, but only because I couldn't sleep. The sunrise was nice, but I would have preferred a couple more hours of quality sleep. Tossing and turning and being unable to ignore the sounds of the world waking up – barking dogs, rising shutters and muffled chatter – I decided to succumb to the increasing noise and join the 'uprising'. Better to get going early than prolong a seemingly fruitless attempt at obtaining some decent sleep.

I am going back to India this afternoon. Oh India! A part of me wishes I had one more day, just one more day to assemble all my thoughts and process the past month, which has gone all so very quickly and in such rapid-fire succession.  It blurs together in my mind already. But today there is supposed to be a strike, a sure thing they said, as Nepal is rewriting their constitution. I could be wrong as I haven’t read or seen the news for the past 10 days, but that was my understanding.

I could pack my things and take a taxi now, but I’m not ready. They say the streets will be empty later and taxis, if available, will be quite expensive. So, for that reason alone, I’m glad I’m leaving today. I think I’ll have to walk to the airport, but arriving at 7am for a 3pm flight at an international airport with rather inadequate facilities (i.e. probably no wifi and squat toilets) didn’t appeal to me. I prefer the 45 minute walk even if it means arriving in India a bit dirty. I’ll fit right in. I’m going to hell.

I’m not sad to be leaving Nepal, I just need time. A part of me wishes I was going back to Thailand so I could just unwind on the beach and eat some good food at last and look at pretty girls at last. But I sealed my fate two weeks ago by booking that ticket. It's ok though, that other part of me is not ready to conclude this portion of this adventure just yet. I wasn't ready, two weeks ago when I clicked the confirm button on Jet Airways website, to just go back to relative normalcy. Kind of sounds good now though. However, I'd still like to give India a second chance.

More has been learned in India and Nepal than just traipsing blindly throughout Southeast Asia like I normally tend to do. I couldn't tell you precisely what, but trust me. It all began with the overturned bus nearly six weeks ago and will conclude with a walk to the airport in approximately six hours time. Hopefully protestors won’t block my road or throw stones. That might leave a bad impression.

I’m done with Nepali food. Can’t write home about it. For the most part, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I haven’t eaten this much western food in years and that is no exaggeration.  The people as well, are rather unmemorable in my opinion – neither here nor there you might say. That’s not to say there are not friendly people it’s just that they don’t do much for me in general. And I’m not just talking about lack of beautiful women, but rather people who appeal to my personality.

Kathmandu isn’t a place you’d want to spend a great deal of time. I should say more specifically Thamel, the backpacker whorehouse of Kathmandu, is not a place you’d want to spend a great deal of time. It has its charm for a minute or two, but it quickly wears off as you realize everyone you run into is either a  foreigner, someone selling hash or a taxi, motorcycle or rickshaw heading in your direction, honking their horn as they try to avoid that pothole. That is exhausting.

Bouda, on the other hand, a short drive into the Kathmandu valley is quite appealing. Home to a giant white stupa with numerous pious Tibetans moving clockwise around its enormous base. They’re not all Tibetans of course, it just seems that way. Rolling their malas through their fingers, turning the prayer wheels, touching and bowing their head to various deities, making offers, ringing bells or prostrating as they make a wish circumambulating the stupa at least three times.

I do wish I had another day here to fully take in the vibe, but as the strike is happening, I’m probably luckier I had booked my ticket today rather than tomorrow as it’s supposed to last. Until when I’m not sure, but rewriting a Constitution doesn’t seem like something that gets taken care of in a day. Oh Nepal, I’m not sure if I’ll be back anytime soon, but thank you for not taking my life as I’m not ready to go yet. Thank you for the trekking, of which I’d love to do more and thank you for the meditation, even if I can barely pause the motion picture in my mind for more than a few seconds.

And thank you as well for taking my mind off of food and women. I’m not really sure if I should thank you for that – consider it appreciation for something else I may have forgotten to say. I still only know one word in your language, which I find rather pathetic, but what can I say? Don’t ask me to say sorry because I’m not. I bid you farewell and wish you good luck with future infrastructure improvements, included but not limited to smoothing out your roads, reducing the daily power cuts and perhaps obtaining some new buses. In time, in time. With that I say Namaste!

Meditation

I am about to take part in my first meditation course. It's a 10-day course at a monastery in the Kathmandu valley. I am excited to take part and feel like meditation is something I need to incorporate into my daily life, but something I have been unable up to now to do on my own. I have tried to register for a course many times and for some reason have been rejected or have been unable to attend for one reason or another. It's almost as if the Universe is telling me to stop wasting my time, but I persevere.

Originally, I was only aware of Vipassana meditation courses. They had been beneficial to a friend and a friend of a friend and that was enough proof for me to want to give it a try myself. I need to learn how to quiet my mind and learn how to focus - not just on women. Maybe one woman? Maybe a direction? Maybe a passion? I at least need to learn how to tell my mind to shut the fuck up on occasion. That would be nice. I'm a very noise sensitive individual, both externally and internally.

I first applied last year for a course in Thailand. It was perfect, it coincided with my Lunar New Year holiday and thus, I wouldn't have to take off much additional time. However, I got an email saying the course was full even though the website said it was still open. Knowing that the courses are run on a voluntary donation basis, I wasn't too surprised that somebody wasn't keeping the site updated. I applied again to a different center in Thailand, but again I received an email, this time saying the course was Thai speaking only. Of course there was no mention of this on the website. I decided at the time it just wasn't meant to be.

More recently, I applied for a Tibetan Buddhism meditation course in Nepal in early April. As my bus was heading to Kathmandu the day before the course was to begin, it crashed into a bicyclist and rolled and again, I was unable to make it. My back and my mind were in no condition to partake in such activities. So as my back healed, I decided to look into other Vipassana courses in Nepal, India and Thailand. I hoped that I could apply and get accepted into one of them before I head back to the states this summer. I at least wanted to try it and not keep wondering.

So, I decided on a course in Kanchanaburi, Thailand at the end of May. What happened? You guessed it, the course was full, despite the website saying otherwise. Getting a little annoyed, I responded to the email to which they replied saying there were two courses at that center which were open in both April and early May. But the website said they were full! I was beginning to lose my patience. I then applied for a course in Pokhara, Nepal that was to begin not long after I was to return from a 10-day trek in the nearby mountains. No surprise here, but I was told there were no seats available. What the fuck!?

About the same time I applied to the Pokhara center, I also applied to a course at another center in Thailand for a date later in May as to ensure I got acceptance to at least one course. But about the same time I received the Pokhara rejection, I also got a rejection from the Thailand center. Bullshit! I wasn't sure if I was filling in something wrong on my application - certainly not all applicants have the same results as I do when applying for a course.

I was quite interested in taking a Vipassana meditation course, but now I say fuck 'em. Should I really keep trying? I thought not. So I applied again to Kopan Monastery just outside of Kathmandu and immediately received confirmation of my booking. They at least seemed on the ball. I really hope nothing prevents my entry into the upcoming course, but if so, I will have to conclude that meditation is either not for me or that I have to learn it on my own. I'll keep you posted.