Holy Peeps and High Peaks

Last Few Days in Lhasa

10:04 am: I’ve got a killer case of writer’s block, so give me a few minutes here.

10:09 am: Okay, let’s get started. Our last few days in Lhasa were really nice, basically a lot more of the same (which was a good thing). The morning after our last blog update, we caught a public bus out to Drepung Monastery, about 7 km west of Lhasa. From there, we did the short walk through the hills to Nechung Monastery. The walk was pretty fascinating . . . . hundreds of livestock (goats and yaks) and pilgrims (humans) crowded the one kilometer trail between the two monasteries. The pilgrims prayed and begged for Jiao notes (~$0.013/note, fortunately, we had acquired a pocketful before departing) and the animals were indifferent. A handful of ancient monks meditated in these hastily built earthen huts, who were also happy to catch the occasional Jiao. A few craftsman chipped away, engraving holy text into slate tablets. Just another morning in Lhasa.

That afternoon, we headed back into town in order to make our 4:20 entrance time to the Potala Palace. Much to my surprise, the palace was quite empty when we landed inside. I was kind of expecting 1.4 million Chinese tourists, but was pleasantly surprised by the fact that we only encountered a handful of tour groups, which happily blazed by at an Indy Speedway pace. Our favorite room in the palace was the teaching hall, where the Dalai Lama used to hold court before fleeing to India. The elaborite hall had a 20 foot ceiling, a lushly carpeted and padded floor for the monks, and a plush throne for the DL to drop his knowledge from . . . much better use of interior space than say a dining room.

The next morning, we set our sights on Mt. Melchiors (unofficialy renamed after we made the top). The 4,500 meter peak was located on the south side of town, affording sweeping views of Lhasa and the surrounding mountains. On our way up, we scored some massive kharma by helping a local get his dried juniper branches lit (common religious practice) by providing a couple sheets of dry paper. It took us about 3 hours to scramble up the 3,000 feet of elevation between the valley and peak. Up top, we snapped a few photos before making our way down the opposite side of the mountain, finally arriving in a small village around 8 km from Lhasa. Feeling a bit lazy, we caught a lift on top of a trailer of bricks being towed behind a tractor by an extremely nice Tibetan fellow.

That afternoon, we demolished several plates of tasty Indian on the rooftop terrace of the Dhood Gu Hotel, which is the city’s best place for sitting on your can and staring at the Potala. In the evening, we met up with the friendliest man in China, Rocky, at one of the local hotel restaurants, which was a great time as usual . . . we had bumped into him on the street that morning. He happened to be in Lhasa checking out used Landcruisers in pursuit of his newest business interest as an overland tour operator.

That pretty much wraps up our week in Lhasa. The town was great . . . we both fell in love with the place. The inspiring show of faith and overwhelming display of friendliness makes Lhasa formidably charming. Simply observing the infinite number of weathered and worn pilgrims around the Barkhor Square had to be our favorite activity in Lhasa. We even lucked out and got the tongue greeting from several of the ancient pilgrims (in the past, the Tibetans would stick their tongues out at each other to prove they weren’t evil demons, must have been tough for those without tongues). Another funny moment was when I was sitting on a stool next to a fruit stand, waiting for Megan to procure some oranges. An old lady was walking by and I pointed at the fruit and said “wu kwai” (5 yuan). She came over, laughed at me and threw her umbrella and bag in my lap, ordering me to attend to them while she shopped a bit. When she came to retrieve her belongings, I held up a 10 yuan note, demanding money for my services. She laughed at me once again, slapped me across the head with her purse and took her belongings. It was quite the show, certainly enjoyed by all.

Qomolongma, here we come.

The next day, we piled into a Landcruise at the Banok Shol and headed west down the Friendship Highway for Nepal. Our driver was a big, former lady’s man, Tibetan dude that we affectionately named “Big Red” for a couple of reasons: 1) he wore a big, bright red shirt, and 2) he drank Red Bulls like his life depended on it. Our guide was a slight Tibetan who spoke no more than 7 words of English. We landed in Gyatse, our first night’s destination, around 7:00 in the evening. Gyatse had some interesting historical sights involving a brief conflict between the Tibetans and British at the turn of the 20th century. However, I was more interested in getting a hot shower and cold beer. We crashed early in anticipation of the long day to follow. The next morning, we grabbed a bite around 7:00 and set off for Shigatse at 8:00. Once in Shigatse, we were set free for a couple of hours while our guide went to the police station and got all the necessary permits for us to enter western Tibet. While walking around the town, we determined that we should get our driver and guide small gift for 1) being super friendly, accomodating guys, and 2) not running the vehicle off a mountain yet. We bought several cans of Red Bull and a Michael Jackson’s Greatest Hits cassette (Only English language cassette we could find in town. Yes . . . tape deck, no cd player. We later figured out the motivation for rocking the cassette player. There’s no way a CD would play on better than 50% of the roads we travelled.) for the two of them. Both the beverage and beats turned out to be big hits with the guys. After the permits were finally issued, we packed back in the rig and headed west again towards Lhatse. The plan was to crash at a little resort, equipped with bubbling hot springs, just east of Lhatse. Unfortunately, the place was closed which meant we had to head into town for food and lodging. Lhatse isn’t a big tourist destination, which is not a big surprise considering it’s a shithole. However, we lucked out and found the one decent restaurant in town, which also happened to have a massive plasma screen and DVD player. After dinner, Bryan ran back to our hotel and grabbed the short stack of movies from our room. We popped in Mr. Bean’s Holiday and within 5 minutes the whole restaurant was captivated by the bumbling adventures of Rowan Atkinson. For the next hour and a half, we didn’t hear a word out of any the Tibetans, just the grunts and moans of Mr. Bean and the laughter of our gang and the locals.

The next morning we set off for the primary destination of the trip, Mt. Everest Base Camp, situated at 16,900 feet of elevation on the north side of the mountain. Around 6:30 pm, we first laid eyes on the world’s highest mountain. The weather was affording us peak-a-boo views of the summit and partial views of the lower mountain. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a start. Megan, Bryan, Corina, and I hooted and hollered as the Landcruiser approached the mountain. The guide and driver chuckled at our enthusiasm.

We got checked into our tent guesthouse, the Hotel de California oddly enough, piled on warm clothes, sipped hot tea, and savored the remaining views of the mountain as darkness set in. We awoke the next morning to beautiful blue skies and crystal views of Everest. We hiked the 4 km trail from tent alley to the actual base camp, where we stared in awe at the mountain for a few hours, before making our way back for a late lunch. That afternoon, Megan and I slipped on swimsuits and bathed in the refreshing (ice-cold) glacier snow melt. The bathing episode was a quite a spectacle to the small local community. The children giggled and the old people stared . . . front page stuff if there was a morning paper. The next day, the weather cooperated again, and we hiked to Rongbuk Monastery, which also offered stunning views of the mountain. Another great day. That evening, we had a big gang over to our tent for a meal and beers. We ate fried rice with yak meat (for the 10th time since leaving Lhasa) and sipped on cold Lhasa Beer. We found a small cassette player, jammed out to MJ’s Greatest Hits, and enjoyed one another’s company.

Our first couple of full days on the mountain were spectacular. The views were incredible and no one croaked from acute mountain sickness due to the elevation . . . about as much as you can ask for. Unfortunately, when we awoke the third day, the weather didn’t look so promising. We had a relaxing morning, sent a handful of postcards off from the world’s highest post office, and waited for the weather to clear. Around 1:00, we had a quick pow wow with our guide and driver, came to the conclusion that the weather wasn’t going to cooperate, and decided to head off for Nepal a day early . . . . not much point staring into a sea of clouds even if Mt. Everest is standing behind it. The decision to leave wasn’t painful at all as we were all satisfied with the two remarkable days we had on the mountain. We were lucky to get them.

That afternoon, we loaded up the Landcruiser and set our sights on Tingri, the first major town on the Friendship Highway as you head west from Everest to Nepal. Although, our first attempts at a warm bath were spoiled in Lhatse, we lucked out in Tingri. We pulled up to the Snowlands Resort outside of town, checked in, dropped our bags in the rooms, and headed straight for the hot springs. Of course, it felt terrific. The next day, we took off from Tingri around 10:00, headed for the Nepal border. We arrived in Zhangmu, where our only goal was to find a hotel room that would afford us our first real shower in a week (most hotels don’t have showers in Tibet after you get out of Lhasa). We succeeded. My wife was very happy. I had a phenominal club sandwich for dinner (anything other than yak fried rice would have tasted phenominal) and we crashed around 10:00.

Nepal: Nice People, Lousy Weather

The night before we crossed into Nepal, it rained. It rained all night. A night of rain. Heavy rain. Lots of raining. Cats and dogs. Dogs and Cats. Rain, rain, rain.

The next morning, we got up, packed our bags, and did the short walk to the Chinese customs and immigration. After processing, we hopped into a minivan and headed down the 8 km mountain road to the border with Nepal. We walked across the Friendship Bridge into Nepal where we jumped through the necessary immigration hoops and set out to find a driver for the 110 km journey to Kathmandu. We found what seemed like a nice guy with a sturdy four wheel drive and headed south. About 6 km into the trip, we came across a raging river, a result of the 4 or 5 inches of rain (guess) we received the night before. Apparently, there was supposed to be a concrete bridge somewhere underneath that raging river. As our vehicle could not fly, the lack of bridge was not promising. We scratched our heads for a few minutes and came to the only possible conclusion . . . we ain’t going to Kathmandu. The driver dropped us back up the road a few kilometers at the Family Guest House. I wasn’t expecting much as the only reason anybody would stop at this place would be due to unforeseen circumstances (like a road being flooded). Fortunately, I was dead wrong. The place was great. Along with the four of us in the guest house was a Dutch family (mother, father, 8 and 12 year old daughters), who were also trying to get to Kathmandu. We all drank warm spiced tea, ate dal and rice, played cards, and waited for the water to go down. By late afternoon, it was clear that we were stuck for the night . . . . not such a bad fate.

The next morning, we headed down to the bridge . . . . still under running water, but not near as much water. We decided to head back to the guesthouse, give it four hours, then return and reasses. That afternoon, we headed back to the bridge, bags packed, confident we could get across where several 4WD’s waited to take travellers to Kathmandu. A large freight truck was shuttling people across the flooded bridge. We paid the 50 rupees each ($0.80) to get across and found a driver who would take us to Kathmandu. (For moms and dads: We were 100% confident that the truck would have no issue crossing the flooded bridge as we’d seen it make the journey half a dozen times.) We (Megan, myself, Dutch family . . . . Bryan and Corina bailed earlier, tired of waiting) tossed our packs in the roof rack and piled into the jeep. We took off in the pouring rain, headed to Kathmandu about 100 km away. We cruised along for about 20 minutes, at which point we came across a landslide, which obviously blocked the road. Things were not getting any easier. We grabbed our packs, which for me included a huge bag of jackets that I agreed to deliver to the Hotel de California manager’s family in Kathmandu, settled up with the driver, and set off down the 2 km of partially cleared road in order to find yet another driver who could take us to Kathmandu. I looked like a refugee walking with my pack on back, massive UNICEF bag, which used to hold pig feed, now full of knockoff $#@#$ %^$# jackets, on my head, tromping through the mud and heavy rain, wearing flip-flops, not so happy (but not crying) wife in tow. We finally made it across the obstructed section of road. Where the hell are the 4WDs and drivers? All we saw was public buses packed to the gills, trying to get a couple more desperate souls on board for the remaining 85 km to Kathmandu. Megan gave me that “no way in hell” look. I was on the same page. We kept walking, passing bus after bus. By slight miracle, we eventually encountered an empty minibus . . . 300 rupees to Kathmandu. Sign us up!!!!! The Dutch family and the two of us piled our bags and bodies in and we set off for Kathmandu . . . no more landslides, life was good.

Namaste.

We got into Kathmandu around 7:00, just as the day was ending. We caught a cab to the old district, Thamel, eventually checked into the Hotel Nana, and met up with our European buddies from base camp to celebrate one of their birthdays. We dined on steak and potatoes at K-Too, “probably the best steak house in town” as proclaimed by the sign above the entrance. The non-yak fried rice, slab of half decent beef was phenominal. After dinner, we sang happy birthday, Mark blew out the candles, and we all headed to Tom & Jerry’s (one of the oldest bars in town). The next day, we grabbed a late breakfast before starting the prep work for the next phase of the trip . . . the 17 day trek of the Annapurna Circuit in the heart of the Himalayas. In the afternoon, we got our entrance permit for the protected Annapurna Conservation Area. Afterwards, we got a few odds and ends (pack covers, rain pants for Megan, etc.) before meeting back up with the Dutch family at La Dolce Vita . . . .which I translate “damn good Italian food”. The Dutch four have become some of our favorite people we’ve met on the trip and we’ll be sad to say goodbye tonight.

I guess that brings us to the here and now. Tomorrow, we’ll catch a bus to Pokhara, where we’ll stay for one night, before stashing around 70% of our gear and heading off on the trek.

Looking forward: After the trek, we’re heading to India where we’ll play tourist a couple of weeks before heading to the far north to volunteer for four weeks or so. After we save the world, we’ll make our way back to Delhi where we catch a flight to Bangkok, spend a week or so on the beach (essential before heading back to the northwest IN THE WINTER), then jump one last flight back to good old Washington just in time to gain back the few lbs we’ve lost travelling by grotesquely inhaling several helpings of Thanksgiving dinner.

Current State of Mind = Happy

The eastern half of China was a bit of a bitch . . . dirty, smoggy, and pain in the ass to get around (the one thing I’ll say for China is that the people were really pleasant in general, not what I expected . . . other than the rich Chinese tourists who were unbelievably obnoxious). A couple great sights and some great people helped get us through. Landing in Yunnan Provence, on the eastern border of Tibet, was a breath of fresh air . . . . literally and figuratively. Things have only gotten better since then and the next couple of endeavors look promising as well.

Current State of Appearance

Megan = Megan
Rob = Grizzly Adams/Rob

Love and miss everybody . . . we’re out.