DAY FOUR: FINDING THE LAMA HOTEL
Our night visitor was back
the next day and once again imploring me to take a walk with him and
help in some manner. I couldn't refuse his pleas and besides I was stone
out of my mind and paranoid. Whew. What a relief.
It seem that
the whole village had gathered in the room of the farm house where I was
lead to see the poor woman who indeed had a nasty gash in her head.
I
asked how it had happened and they told me they throw stones at a
barking dog. Seemed reasonable enough, but what a tragic result.
No
soon had I look at the wound (what the hell was I doing here?) and
turned to give my same advise,.... that it happened. Almost on cue, as
is orchestrated and choreographed by a great directed,..... the man who
had taken me to the poor women looked me in the eye and said: "We need
money to go to hospital in Kathmandu. Can you help?" Simultaneously
every doe eyed, tearful, and desperate looking villager looked at me in
concert. I was alone in this small room as everyone waited for my reply.
Was
I on the spot??? This seemed a little too well timed, so I used a time
honored excuse,..."Let me ask my wife." Although Kirsten and I were not
married, for simplicity we pretended to be when traveling in traditional
cultures. It saved a lot of explaining and made them feel better.
The
entire village followed me back to the tea house. Rob & Julie had
already come down to join Kirsten and I for breakfast. I must have
looked like quite a site arriving with the entire village at my elbow.
We
made a little conference. Rob rationalized that even if it was a scam
you could in good conscience not help out. It was possible that that
woman really need emergency care and we were her only hope. As an
experienced Asian traveler, I took a harder line, but in the end
relented. Everything seemed a bit suspicious.
In the end we
decided to help. I asked what they needed and they told me 400 Rupees.
This amount was about $8. at the time. I was shocked. I was expecting a
very high figure and realized that the economic disparity between us and
villagers was vast. It was a humbling experience. I only hoped that
this small amount would really be used for the injured lady.
A
heavy breakfast was enjoyed of Tibetan bread which is like as very dense
pancake. Ordinarily that dense of food would give me wicked
indigestion, but with 6 hours of hiking ahead it would all be burned up
for fuel.
We saddled up with our back packs and bid farewell to
our hosts and the dramatic events of that village. The ridge was a great
choice as the views were outstanding.
As I stuffed my things into
the backpack a young village boy stuck his head in to watch. I was
compelled to take a picture looking at his silhouette in the doorway. He
invibbed the village watching silently, an aura of innocence and
curiosity with his hat and smock on. I didn't have much in the way of
gifts, but gave him a stick of Nag Champa incense to reward him for the
photo.
Standing behind in the road his father jumped up for a gift
also. In these telling moments you begin to grasp the poverty of such a
village. It's not that they are suffering from it. It's just the stark
realization that they have nothing extra, not even a stick of incense.
In times like this your realize what you have and what you don't need.
We
were going to try to make it down through Chongong Village to pick up
the main trail and then up the mountain valley to a guest house called
Lama Hotel to spend the night.
Lama Hotel was a famous stopping
point and naturally the name held some fascination. It was a long walk,
but we could make it by dark if we moved steadily. Also, on these treks
you don't stop for lunch. There's no time really. The big breakfast is
meant to last you until dinner.
One of the facts of life in these
villages is that meals are all made on a one burner propane stove. They
are simple and they take about two hours to make. There is no one
cooking in the midday. It is not their tradition. The most you can get
is tea and some bland biscuits when you take a break at a tea house.
Also,
you can only hike about six hours a day so you have to make the most of
it. As it is, at that high elevation it is bitter cold in the mornings
and evenings. On the ridge, we had plenty of light, but the rest of the
journey would be along the Langtang Khole (river) and in the valley you
can only hike between 10 AM and 4 PM. After that the sun is behind the
mountain.
The Himalayan Villages are connected by paths that are
the equivalent to roads in the Kathmandu valley. Everything is traveling
on those roads. Goods and supplies are hauled by men and women who hold
enormous woven reed baskets on their back with a strap to their
forehead. It looks uncomfortable and yet they have smiling eyes and
greet you cheerfully with "Namaste" when you pass.
Namaste is the
traditional greeting of
Nepal and translates to mean: "I salute the God
within you." It is all said with hands in prayer position and a slight
bow. What a wonderful tradition. I enjoyed greeting people like this
very much. It was a great cultural traditions.
Another feature of
these Himalayan highways were the unbelievable quantity and variety of
animal excretions (a nice way of saying shit). Oh well, I tried. My God,
it was a challenge to walk on the paths between the Yaks, Cows, Dzo
(half yak & cow), horses, sheep, goats, and unknown do-do makers
littering the path. Sorry to ruin the romance, but really this is what a
Himalayan trek is like! Better that I tell you now before you find out
at the beginning of a month long trek in the Himalayan mountains!
Small
obstacles aside, the trek was unfolding into a wonderland of delight.
The were rows of Mani stones with carved mantras on them marking
different holy sites. These stones were carved as gesture to the Gods to
gain merit for a future rebirth.
I don't know if the God's were
impressed, but for me the added a magic that was immeasurable. Imagine,
every trail adorned with ancient art to bring you to higher
consciousness. It kinda made up for all the do-do. Also, it was a
perfect illustration of the balance of all things. Such beauty along
side of it's opposite.
The trail was by no means tame. Sometimes
the path narrowed with sharp inclines and other times narrow rope &
plank bridges crossed deep valleys. It took some steady nerves at times.
Rule number one: Don't look down! The vegetation was lush with unusual
flora and fauna.
Various small no name villages were scattered
along the way. Many of these were primitive tea house for travelers to
take a break. At midday we stopped at one of these to have some Chia
(milk-spice-tea) and simple sweet biscuits. The ridge trail we had
chosen was so rarely traveled that a foreigner was too much temptation.
We weren't so sure about the whole rock episode the night before. Was it for real or a scam? Now comes the tea episode.
It
typically takes about 10 minutes to make Chai. In a sad rude gesture
the man at the tea house decided to delay the tea and send his son out
to beg for one rupee during the entire time we waited.
It's
frustrating sometimes. You have sympathy for the poverty in Nepal and
disdain for the manipulation and tricks that are often used just to milk
alittle more money out of you. The problem is you have to go through
alittle soul searching with each event to try and figure out if it's a
real need or a scam and you know,..... it's impossible to know.
Onward
and upward. We left the teahouse with a bad taste in out mouths.
Teahouses are generally sanctuaries of peace and shelter. This one was
just an emotional drain. Ah, more fodder for practice of Buddhist
non-attachment. Not all of the Himalayas is a Tibetan fantasy. Sometimes
reality intrudes.
At one point, we were crossing an entire
mountain of marijuana plants. I was stunned. There was a billion dollar
crop growing wild without inspiring any harvest. Things were different
up here.
Another big surprise as we hiked out of the Sherpa tribal
area and into the Tamang Tribe were the difference in dress. The Tamang
shepherds wore a red turban like head dress and a thick wool lungi
(wrap for pants) with a red sash and long machete.
The first time
we came across one of these sheep herders rounding a a switch back tail I
was shocked. One look at that long machete in his belt and I thought:
"Oh no! We're Dead!" With almost perfect delivery of comic relief the
Tamang man asks: "You want hashish?"
Oh my God, what a relief I
felt. I thanked him and said no. My last foray into getting high had
unexpected results and I didn't feel a need to liven up my evenings any
more.
He moved on down the trail with a dozen or so sheep. As we
encountered more people here and there it became evident that selling
hashish was lively cottage industries for the locals. A lot of trekkers
like to mellow out this way on a long hike.
It was also legal in
Kathmandu until 1975 and there were many hashish and ganja (marijuana)
shops in an area of town called "Freak Street". (You can guess how it
got it's name.)
Eventually, we got to the main trail in a place
called Chongong. One lone Guest House was at the junction with quite
noble Tibetan family. The friendly host offered us lodging, but we had
been eager to stay in the Lama Hotel not far ahead. He shrugged his
shoulders and pointed the direction. He had a simple resolve of mountain
nobility or Buddhist acceptance. I'm not sure which.
We arrived
in a narrow valley by a stream to discover a dozen small rock and log
shacks with various homemade signs saying: "Lama Hotel". Apparently word
had gotten out and in typical Asian style everybody had cooped the same
name.
With alittle scouting we settled for the Lama Hotel that
had a pot bellied stove. As we had gained altitude the nights had
decreased in temperature. What was bitter cold before was now decidedly
frigid!
Everything seemed to be going well. We made it to a decent
lodge with a warm fire. Our nourishing meal of Dhal Bhat was heartily
consumed and we were now surrounded with interesting fellow travelers
from all over the world.
While listening to stories and adventures
around the wood plank table near the warm hearth it hit me with a great
suddenness. A sharp cramp gripped my abdomen. It was like getting
punched in the stomach.
I gingerly started to stand weak from the wrenching in my gut. Oh my God, I needed to get to a toilet and in a hurry!
Unfortunately,
the Himalayan adventure does not end with the daily hike. There is
always the challenge of the toilet. It is a concept that Western
travelers have taken for granted and that many Himalayan villages have
never heard of.
For example, we were passing through one village
and asked for a toilet. The man we ask kept pointing over there,.... the
only problem is that there was nothing "over there". Eventually we
figured it out. People just went in the field. More or less in plain
view. This prompted an immediate lifestyle change for my traveling
companion Kirsten. She adopted a long skirt for attire and privacy from
then on.
All of the Tibetan women wore long skirts and thus
afforded a certain amount of privacy when doing their duty. Naturally
building a separate little smelly structure had never been necessary for
toilet.
On the other extreme some industrious villagers had built
a toilet just for westerners to us at the price of 5 Rupees. The price
wasn't the problem. It was the view. The toilet was built overhanging a
thousand foot drop on the side of a cliff, in order not to have to clean
up the mess. This might sound exciting if you are imagining something
built in the west, but in the Himalayas carpenters did not have to build
to code. Hence these little hanging out houses felt as if could at any
moment become airborne.
Now back to my predicament. First I was in
an extreme hurry without a moment to spare to get my bearings. Second
it was pitch black and snowing outside and my flashlight had no
batteries. Third the was only one outhouse for the whole village around
Lama Hotel and it was some distance away. If that were not enough, there
was the fact that no one maintained this little shit shack and it has
long since deteriorated into something that I won't describe here.
In
a moment of luck Rob was coming in as I was exiting the guesthouse and I
tensely asked to borrow his flashlight. He also pointed me in the
direction of the outhouse with and odd grimace on his face of dark
resolve. I expected the worst and was not disappointed.
To my
utter horror, I did not make it to the out house at all. My GI track
fired away mercilessly and left my long underwear coated with warm mud.
This was a moment of desperation and my survivor mind just had to deal
with it.
I went to the stream slightly downhill from the outhouse
and took off my clothes in the frigid icy wind. There in the dark with
the flashlight in my mouth I pealed away the disgusting mess while
shivering violently.
To complicate my problem I had to perch on a
rock out in the stream as I still having a bad case of the runs. It was
here while trying to wash my long underwear in the dark naked in the
cold Himalayan night that on a rock that the fun escalated even further.
Everything
I had, my money, my passport and my clothes were hastily strew around a
disgusting outhouse in the dark as I had run for the stream in
desperation. Now as fait would have it a group of people with
flashlights were headed my way.
God what could be worse. Being
discovered naked on a rock in a stream during a snowstorm at night or
losing all my worldly possession on a turdy bank near an outhouse. I was
time for action. I leaped off the rock and hastily tried to reassemble
my belongings.
My mind goes blank at this point. I remember only
later sitting by the fire and drying off my stream washed long
underwear. It was a blazing fire, but still inadequate to keep out the
nights frigid winds.
The guess house owner filled our canteens
with hot water that we used for bed warmers in the night. I slept the
deep exhausted sleep of a survivor and put the night events behind me.
It's all just a dream within a dream as the philosophers say. A dream.
Just a dream,......
Look for day five, coming soon!
, so you will not over reach. The opposite is also true as well. When going down a hill you will need to lengthenthe poles. 