Zen & the Art of Grorbies & Snot-rockets

It's been almost a month since I last wrote a post. My excuse is I've been a little busy walking the Himalayas, and eating healthy food at a yoga meditation retreat. I'm going to do my best to recall what I actually did. That which will interest you anyway. This is not going to be the travel diary-like: Day one bla bla bla... Day two: bla bla..., three reasons. One: I started off writing everyday, but progressively slacked off throughout the trek (I blame the altitude). Therefore I probably can't accurately recall my day-to-day activities. Two: I find that travel diaries, unless they are full of exciting things such as me being lost in the mountains having to survive by killing wild yaks with my bare hands, are pretty boring to read - I don't want to waste your time. And three: I find day-to-day travel diaries are pretty boring to write, and I don't want to waste my time.

My trek around the Annapurna Circuit started on Tuesday the 4th of November, 6.00am. With me waiting. Waiting for my guide to come and meet me at hotel. He turned up about 45 minutes late. Not a great first impression. The excuse, the trekking company couldn't open the office door. Hmm... Still not a great impression. I was actually intending to leave the day before, but I came down with a bit of the flu on my first day in Nepal. I woke up during the night with aching legs. I admit I panicked a little since I had just spent the last few days in Delhi. Who know what you can catch there. Dengue fever came to mind. Thankfully, nothing serious.

Nepali trucks - I like to call them the Clown Trucks

Gokul (my guide) and I caught the bus to Besisahar, the little town where we started out trek. I love public buses, especially ones where the seats are just a little bit too close together, so your knees rub on the seat in front. Gave me flash-backs of my 24hour bus ride across the desert in Xing Jiang. But at least this was only 6 hours. My flu sickness by this point had progressed into a pretty bad upset stomach - I'll spare you the details.

The bus ride is where I first met The Honeymooners. There was this couple sitting a few seats in front of me, on the opposite side. A blonde woman (Nicoline), and a Chinese looking man (Eddie, who looked about mid 20s rather then late 30s). They had decided to not stow one of their packs on the roof of the bus with everyone else. Instead opting to carry it on their lap. Not a small bag either. To be honest, I thought they were a bit strange. They were all cutesy and icky. The kind of way that's only OK if it's you. Not OK if you have to watch. I was to travel most of the trek with this couple, and I tell you the cuteness and ickiness only got worse. But I learnt it was their honeymoon, so I cut them some slack. You have to admire the honeymoon choice - slogging away for 20+ days around the Annapurna Circuit, rather then relaxing on a tropical beach somewhere. They were definitely strange. Strange, but I like them - and I think they liked me. It was nice walking and talking with Nicoline and Eddie, being apart of their special occasion. I even shared a room with them a couple of times. Nicolines said she could tell her friends she spent the night with two men on her honeymoon. For one, there were limited rooms in the towns, and also both places were high altitude - above 4000m. I heard from a Nepali that it was very bad luck in Nepal to do any hanky-panky' on the mountain above that height. So in a way I was like an umpire making sure there wasn't too much contact between the teams - for their own safety of course. They could have well died if it wasn't for me.

The Annapurna Circuit was a bit of a trekking super highway, with thousand of people walking it every year. It puts a lot of people off. But I figured this many people don't walk it for no reason. The scenery was amazing - beautifully diverse. It's funny how while you struggling for breath climbing over 5000m high, in the freezing cold, not a tree in site, you forget that you're in the same rich green rice growing country, scattered with banana palms, you were in only a few days earlier. I guess that's why the Himalayas are so powerful, not even the Nepali summer can strip them entirely of snow. 'Hima' mean 'snow', and 'alaya', 'abode'.

As we were trekking, I was reading, Ekhart Tolle's 'Practicing the Power of Now', and practical version and notably smaller version of his bestselling, 'The Power of Now'. Basically it's about not living in the past or future but the present, not letting the mind control you, and other zen, hippy stuff. It was much easier to process than 'The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying' which I started off reading, and quickly regretted bring with me. I was one of few people who didn't hire a porter to carry my things. Some people said I was brave. Basically another word for foolish.

I was walking day by day trying to practice the power of now. Not feeding the mind. Conscious, not the subconscious. That's the way to enlightenment (or at least to an easier life). It was a good thing to be reading while trekking. You really notice how your mind wanders when you are doing a repetitive thing like walking. I was observing the differences between the Nepali and the Westerners. How can these people who are a smaller build carry so much? Some of the contract porters (who carry goods up the mountain, - necessary supplies like Coke, mineral water, chocolate biscuits, etc), carry up to 80kg. They are paid by the kilogram, so they obviously carry as much as they can. They don't have the latest hiking boots, only plastic sandals. Some even have bare feet. I watched these men as they step by step climbed the mountain. I can tell they're not contemplating their destination - that would make it too hard. They just focus on the moment... step-by-step. When tired they rest. When they need a smoke, they have a cigarette.

My bag's the little one. About 14kg. Everyone was like "that's so heavy why don't you have a porter?"

Along the route there's a well known village, Manang. One of the largest stops on the trek. It's a busy little town, mainly because it's the official place where trekkers spend an extra acclimatisation day (3519m). I spent my day off climbing around the hillside. In the afternoon I went to visit a 92 year-old Tibet Lama, who has lived on the side of a cliff high above Manang, for the last 38 years. He's a regular tourist attraction, making a healthy living from donations in return for good luck blessings for the 5400m Thorong Pass crossing, a few days ahead. Luckily there was noone else there. I had an excellent afternoon sitting above the valley, soaking up some of the most amazing views I have ever experienced. I guess all good things have to end. It was windy and dusty, and I got sick, again. Just a cold. We were meant to go on a two day trek to Tilicho Lake, the highest lake in the world. But I decide it was better to rest a day instead. This suited Gokul. He, along with most other guides, seemed to think the track to the lake was too dangerous. Rumor has it two Koreans hadn't return a couple of weeks earlier.

View over Manang from the Lama's little hideout.
Check out the amazing turquoise lake below the glacier!

Sunset over glacier behind my hotel in Manang

With my cold began another lesson. How to blow snot-rockets, just like the locals. It may sound gross to you, but when travelling, the usual manners of the homeland need not apply. Not many things are off topic. Discussions of bowl motions and the consistency of poo, coughing and spitting flemme-balls, and of course blowing snot on the ground, is not uncommon. There's good reason for it as well (for the snot and flem, not the poo talk). It avoids using toilet tissue that either gets burnt or thrown on the ground. Some people find it easy, but I cannot master the snot-rocket. I had plenty of ammunition as well... Maybe I'm not anatomically correct for it. Many a shot landed on my shoe or trouser leg, but most just sprayed over my face. Occasionally, when the snot was the right consistency, and I made sure to spread my legs far apart, and lean over bending my head to the side, pointing my nostril at the ground, I had success. And it was good! But generally short lived. Hocking and spitting flem balls on the other hand were a piece of cake. My Chinese side shinning through.

Speaking of cake, Manang had the best apple pie - I dream of apply pie that good. It's amazing how in the whole of China, a decent bakery is as hard to find as decent English, yet in a remote area of the Himalayas, only accessible by foot, you can get all sorts of delicious cakes, pastries, and apple pie - mm mm

Top of the world. Well top enough for me anyway.

The Thorong Pass (Thorong La) was the climax of the trek. Everything was easy in comparison. Most of the days leading up to the pass, you were at your destination by lunchtime. But Thorong La on the other hand was a good 8-10 hour day. Starting out at 4am from Thorong Pedi to avoid strong winds that pick up during the afternoon, we climbed about 1000m in altitude to the pass, then down about 1500m to Muktinath. Climbing 1000m doesn't sound hard, but when there isn't enough oxygen for you muscles to work properly, you find yourself tiring very quickly. Some people deal with it better then others. Some stride over it with no troubles at all (for example the Swiss). Others really struggle. A Korean girl told me she was vomiting along the way. An English girl I met, almost passed out and needed to be assisted by others. Others need to take a horse to the top, and then walk down for a rich US$100. About what you would pay for a porter for the entire trip.

Beginning the pass. Jumping took a lot of effort, I hope you 're impressed.

Leading up to, and crossing the pass, I kept thinking of a group of Russians that were walking on the same day as me. One in particular, I dubbed the Russian Chimney. Every time I saw him he was either smoking, trying to light a cigarette, or arranging his cigarettes in a waterproof container. He was a ticking time bomb. A heart attack in the making. I spent along time, with absolute humane worry, picturing his poor inflamed and swollen heart packing it in on the pass. But there he was on the safe and sound a couple of days after the pass. Obviously I underestimated the Russians. Built for the hard conditions.

The Russian Chimney trapped in the airport, dreaming of another smoke

My trekking ended with a flight from Jompson to Pokhara. The full trek extends for at least 4 more days. But I was more then happy to leave. After the pass, I was getting sick of walking, and was looking forward to starting my Yoga holiday. Six days of healthy food, yoga and meditation.