DAY FOUR: FINDING THE LAMA HOTEL
I could not refuse his pleas and besides I was stone out of my mind and paranoid. Whew. What a relief.
It seemed 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.
Almost on cue, as is orchestrated and choreographed by a great directed, .. that it happened. ... "The need need money to go to hospital in Kathmandu. help?" Simultaneously every doe eyed, tearful, and desperate looking villager looked at me in 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." Though Kirsten and I were not married, for simplicity we pretended to be when traveling in traditional cultures. It saved a lot of explanation and made them feel better.
I must have looked like quite a site arriving with the whole village at my elbow.
We made a little conference. As was experienced Asian traveler, I took a hard line, but in the end relented. Everything seemed a bit suspicious.
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 substance of food would give me wicked indigestion, but with 6 hours of hiking ahead it would all be burned up for for.
We saddled up with our back packs and bid farewell to our hosts and the dramatic events of the village. The ridge was a great choice as the views were outstanding.
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 did not have much in the way of gifts, but gave him a stick of Nag Champa incense to reward him for the photo.
It's telling moments you for begin to forgive the poverty of such a village. It & # 39; s not that they are suffering from it. It & # 39; s just the stark Real time that they have nothing extra, not even a stick of incense.
We were going to try to make make down down Chongong Village to pick up the main trail and then up mountain valley to a guest house called Lama Hotel to spend the night.
There is a famous stopping point and naturally the fascination. There was a long walk, but we could make it by dark if we moved steadily. Also, on these treks you do not stop for lunch. There 's something. no time really. The big breakfast is mean to last you until dinner.
They are simple, they are 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.
On the ridge, we had a plenty of light, but it is not a hike about six hours a day so you have a lot of it. the rest of the journey would be along along the Langtang Khole (river) and in the valley you can only ride between 10 AM and 4 PM. After that the sun is behind the mountain.
Everything is traveling on those roads. Goods and supplies are hauled by men and women who hold intense 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.
I enjoyed greeting people like this very much. It is all a handful of people in the traditional greeting of Nepal and translates to mean. was a great cultural traditions.
Another feature of these Himalayan highways were the unbelievable quantity and variety of animal excretions. Oh well, I tried. My God, it was a challenge to walk on the paths between the Yaks, Cows, Dzo ( 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. These stones were carved as gesture to the gods to gain merit for a future rebirth.
Imagine, every trail adorned with ancient art to bring you to higher consciousness. It kinda made up for all the do-do Such, beauty along side of it & # 39; s opposite.
It took some steady nerves at times. Rule number one: Do not look down! The vegetation was lush with unusual flora and fauna.
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.
Now being the tea episode. Was it for real or a scam? Now comes the tea episode.
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 poverty in Nepal and disdain for the poverty in the milk alittle more money out of you. sa real need or a scam and you know, ..... it & # 39; s impossible to know.
Not all of the Himalayas Ah, more fodder for practice of Buddhist non-attachment. Not a deep mouths. is a Tibetan fantasy. Sometimes reality intrudes.
There was a billion dollar crop growing wild without inspiring any harvest. Things were different up here.
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 .
One last at we came across one of these sheep herders rounding aa switch back tail I was shocked. "Oh no! We & # 39; 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 forked him and said no. My last foray into getting high had unexpected results and I did not feel a need to liven up my evenings any more.
A we 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?
Occasionally, 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 shoots his shoulders and pointed the direction. I have a simple resolve of mountain nobility or Buddhist acceptance. I & # 39; m not sure which.
We arrived in a narrow valley by a stream to discover a dozen small rock and log shacks with various signs saying: "Lama Hotel". Appearedly word had gotten out and in typical Asian style everyone had cooped the same name.
What we bitter cold before was decidedly frigid!
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 sudnessness. 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 toilet and in a hurry!
It is a concept that Western travelers have been for granted and that many Himalayan villages have never heard of.
The man we ask was set pointing over there, .... the only problem is that there was nothing "over there". Sometimes we figured it out. People just went in the field. This prompted an immediate lifestyle change for my traveling companion Kirsten. She adopted a long skirt for attire and privacy from then on.
Naturally building a separate little smelly structure had never been necessary for toilet.
The toilet was built overhanging a thousand foot drop on the side of a cliff Here in this to sound to excite if you are imagining something built in the west, but in the Himalayas carpenters did not have to build to code. Here these little hanging out homes felt as if at any moment become airborne.
Second I was in an extreme hurry without a moment to spare to get my bearings. Third the was only one outhouse for the whole village around Lama I was not describe here. I was not describe here. It was some distance away.
I expected the worst and I wanted to be born his flashlight. He expected 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.
My gI track fired away merclysly and left my long underwear covered 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 in 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.
Now as fait would have it a group of people with flashlights were headed my way.
I was 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 beloveds.
It was a blazing fire, but still inadequate to keep out the nights frigid winds.
The guess house with water in the night. I sleep the deep exhausted sleep of a survivor and put the night events behind me. It & # 39; s all just a dream within a dream as the philosophers say. A dream. Just a dream, ......
Look for day five, coming soon!
