Rambling emails on the Annapurna Circuit.

I write this entry Christmas eve 2010.
A new adventure awaits me and I haven't finished writing about my previous one.

To wrap things up I've decided to reproduce some of the emails I sent on the last leg of the journey.


There are quite a few gaps in the story that deserve filling in. Maybe someday.

---

(My Nepalese counting song - based on the Macarena.)

Ek Hima Dui Hima Tin Himalaya
Chaar Hima Panc Hima Chha Himalaya
Sat Hima At Hima Nui Himalaya
Oh... Himalaya

Well it turns out I managed to shake off most of that cold and it didn't slow me down much.

I had a wonderful time travelling up through the glorious amazing mountains.
Two days ago we woke up at 3am to trek up through the Thorung Li high pass at 5600m.
I totally conquered the mountains but I was exhausted at the end of the day.

I feel like most of the trek is over and I am just walking home now.
A brief internet stop in Jomsom.

I've Still got another 5 or 6 days of trekking to go. I really am losing track of the days out here.

Wish you were here
I miss you all.

---

Travelling along the Kali Gendaki

A very woolly looking pony.

Travelling along, Prem teaches me a verse of one of the popular songs we have heard on our journey

Om mane padme om
Om mane padme om
Om mane padme om
Om mane padme om

Manang gungko
Taurau ni
Sarai rum row
Roichi ni

Om mane padme om
Om mane padme om
Om mane padme om
Om mane padme om

---

Today I am at Kalipani, tomorrow I go to Tatopani and the day after Ghorepani.

these village names are literally black water, hot water and horse water.

Three more days of trekking and I will have completed the Annapurna circuit.
I day in Pokhara, 1 day in Kathmandu and 1 day in an airplane.
Back in Melbourne on Monday. Back to work on Tuesday.

Today.

I am at the Kalipani guest house. It is ten to six in the evening.

It is dim inside the restaurant as the power is off. Under the long table is a small pit in the floor where the proprietor has poured burning embers.

It is too stuffy and noisy so I go outside to the flagstone courtyard and grab a light brown painted wooden seat from the outdoor dining setting. I ineffectually shake off some of the rainwater and take it under cover. A wet seat is a small price to be able to breathe the fresh air and write my journal in peace.

there is a light rain and a consistent rumble of thunder. There is a light smell of ozone in the damp cool air.

An old man wanders out on to his roof top across the road. With his hands behind his back he surveys the area. In the mountain villages it is common for the buildings to have a thick flat roof topped with a layer of hard packed dirt.

There are several buildings across the road on the slight slope which lead to a forest of fir trees about 300m away. The trees climb sharply up a steep hill. Behind the hill a series of craggy mountains of barren rock rise and rise to snow capped peaks that are about 45 degrees inclination from where i sit.

The old man slowly completes another circuit of his roof.
A man walks past on the road with a large wire cage of chickens strapped to his back.
A large headband runs across the man's forehead and is tied to the sides of the cage below the man's shoulders. This supports a good part of the load.

It is starting to get colder so I stand up to go to my room to get warmer clothes.
As I turn to the right there are more snow capped mountains in front of me.
As I turn to the right again another range of mountains stretches out to my right.

I am familiar with these mountains because a week ago I was walking on the other side of them.

The last few days I have been walking along the Kali Genducki river. Fierce winds pick up in the middle of the day. I hung out my washing the other day unsure whether it might be blown away to Tibet.

Tomorrow at Tatopani I visit hot springs.

Travelling well.
Feeling healthy and more than a little tired.

Take care
Daniel

---

We finished the trek yesterday.
We decided to come back to Pokhara last night instead of staying at Bhantipur because there is a general strike all over Nepal today.
Hopefully no riots.

8.45 am
Just had a $3 shave and haircut. Heading back to the hotel for breakfast.
Katmandu tomorrow. Aeroplane the next. Back on Monday.
Cameron is picking me up at the airport.

Namaste.

Sunrise from Poon Hill

Chame to Thorung Li

(Photos for this page, still to come.)

The past week our guides have been extolling the virtues of Manang, one of the larger towns on the walk. I am in good spirits this afternoon and I make up a song, alternate lyrics to "let's go to the hop" from the Woodstock album. I teach the chorus and backing to Santosh and we sing together as we walk along a wooded trail.

Let's go to Manang (Oh baby)
Let's go to Manang
Let's go to Manang (Oh baby)
Let's go to Manang
To Manaaaa-aaang
Let's go to Manang

They've got beautiful flowers and nice hot showers in Manang (Ooh ah Ooh ah)
Ginger teas and yummy nak cheese in Manang (Ooh ah Ooh ah)
Chaya Masala and wa wa we wa in Manang (Ooh ah Ooh ah)

Let's go to Manang (Oh baby)
Let's go to Manang
Let's go to Manang (Oh baby)
Let's go to Manang
To Manaaaa-aaang
Let's go to Manang

Dida and dai, bahini and bai* in Manang (Ooh ah Ooh ah)
I really could go for a veg momo in Manang (Ooh ah Ooh ah)
Comfortable room and boom-chicka-boom in Manang (Ooh ah Ooh ah)


Let's go to Manang (Oh baby)
Let's go to Manang
Let's go to Manang (Oh baby)
Let's go to Manang
To Manaaaa-aaang
Let's go to Manang

(* woman and man, girl and boy or more literally, older sister and brother, younger sister and brother. )

We arrive at Lower Pisang. The weather is cold due to the altitude. There aren't many trees around and the buildings are mostly made of stone.
At our lodge I have a shower. With trial and error I work out which tap is for cold water and which is for freezing. I feel fresh and clean afterwards.

We take a short walk climbing stone stairs to Upper Pisang. Here there is a beautiful monastery with a large stone courtyard with prayer flags flapping in the wind overlooking the stone houses, the village, the valley, the river, and with a back drop of snow covered mountains. From down the valley the mountains tower above us but from here we face them and taste their bitter cold.

---

At manang we have a day to relax. I sit in a cafe and order a large piece of apple pie and a pot of hot chocolate. In the afternoon we go to the "cinema" - a darkened room with wooden bench seats with a DVD player and tv. We watch "into the wild" which I remember discussing with Sherrie and Kerstin on top of a boat on lake Titicaca, Peru. The DVD freezes in several places and we use the remote control to coax it along. With about 10 minutes to go the power goes off. We groan.
Nepal has only so much hydro electricity - not enough to meet demand. When the water stops flowing so does the electricity.
We grumble as we leave the small cinema but the proprietor pursues us. He has a generator and we return for the end of the film.
That night hundreds of people of all ages gather for a concert put on by renowned performers who are Nepalese famous. The locals are happy and excited. A young boy has a bag of crispy fried noodles which he is eating dry from the packet. He comes across the flavour sachet and looks at with puzzlement. He decides that it is designed for throwing and does so forthwith with gusto. We dance with the crowd some young men dance on a nearby rooftop silhouetted by moonlit snow capped mountains.

---

Over the days we progress further up the valley. The river gets narrower. The trees disappear as we get higher.
One day we climb up to visit a small monastery overlooking - well, overlooking everything. When we descend and continue on our way I thing we are progressing along a mild downhill slope but after a couple of hours I notice the river is flowing towards us.

Onwards and upwards.

---

At Thorung Pedi we get up at 3AM.
I am outside my room and its not as cold as I thought it might be. It's maybe five degrees centigrade. I decide against wearing my down jacket and settle on my thermal shirt, tee shirt, shirt, jumper, fleece jacket and windproof jacket.
I have porridge for breakfast and I pocket 2 boiled eggs for a morning snack.

We turn on our headlamps and begin our walk up the steep path of dust and stones. Soon the outlines of mountains appear as our eyes adjust to the dark. After a couple of hours of continuous climbing, everything is visible in the pre-dawn light. The mountain behind is surrounded by golden billowous cloud lit up by an unseen sun.

We reach high ground and new mountains come into view. Up and down and around and over rocky ground. Here and there are patches of slushy icy snow by the side of the path. In the not too far distance there are large fields of snow covering areas of mountain side.

Gradually we climb higher and higher. At 5600m we reach the top. The Thorung Li pass is the highest point in our trek. There are cheers and photographs and congratulations. We see the other side of the pass has a steep descent into a huge valley.

As the day warms up I skip and bound and dance down the mountain side. A young Israeli man that I have met several times on the trail expresses his admiration of my craziness.

Chame

Another day. We continue to wind our way up the valley. The haze has started to lift and we have good views of snow covered mountains obscured by clouds.

We have lunch on a restaurant roof top overlooking the village of Tanchok with beautiful blossoming trees and a backdrop of hills and mountains.



We continue on to the small village of Chame. I visit an internet cafe and share my love and joy and worries with those who care. I am worried that I am coming down with a cold.

I sleep fitfully with coughing and spluttering. In the morning I have a cold and I expect the next day to be difficult.

But after a light breakfast and a pot of tea I start the walk in good spirits. My symptoms are ignored as the morning walk captures my attention.

And here is where our journey starts to change as the mountains begin to appear. The air is fresh. Snow and ice are clear white on the mountain tops.

In the back of my mind there is something counterintuitive - to have climbed so high and still be at the base of huge mountains. It invokes wonder, it is spiritual, it is magical.

This is the land at the top of the beanstalk. The land of the magic faraway tree. Where the clouds have coalesced to create a firmament. Where the winds are driven by ancient spirits that whip through prayer flags.

People speak of conquering the mountains. We do not conquer such places. We conquer our own spirits as we strive to climb higher than our own limitations. The feeling of elation doesn't come from mastering our environment. It comes from being overwhelmed by the grandeur.

Some people feel insignificant when they encounter such magnitude. I think this comes from either feeling disconected or threatened. Its different if you feel you are part of it, accepted by it, contributing to a universal synergy. Does a child feel insignificant when they encounter their parents love?

It is sublime to visit such a place, to be small on the edge of a great expanse, to walk on the roof of the world.

This is where we now journey.

Chamje to Dharapani

We ascend with the river. The steep sides of the valley, a barrier from the surrounding countryside are broached by numerous waterfalls. The river cascades a turgid grey – the colour of run-off from a cement mixer.

The sky is hazy and the weather is mild, cooler than the previous days. Our path is a gash on the steep valley wall, sometimes cutting into the rocks.

We head up through a wooded area. Beside the path are the white flowers of wild strawberries.

We enter the Manang district and descend to the floor of the valley which is now flat and wide. The valley sides are cliffs of rock. We pass through a village on the valley floor. I wonder that it doesn't get flooded in the monsoon season this close to the river. The river meanders through the valley floor. It is much narrower than it was a few days ago.


We climb out of the valley again, back to narrow paths and we cross the river again, and continue our gradual climb.

At a village, the road is blocked ahead as they are blasting. Each year there are landslides in the monsoon season and the road needs to be cleared again.

About a hundred people, a mix of locals, porters and trekkers, and about thirty horses are gathered waiting. Beyond the barrier, in the distance three small children run across a high suspension bridge. They bound along the path laughing. Soon they join us.

There has been dust in the air all day and I can taste the grit of it against my teeth. A few more minutes and there is a loud boom. Then a second boom. There is a cloud of dust in the distance. Then the path is open and we continue on our path across the bridge to our lunch spot.




It's a long wait for lunch but we appreciate some time to rest. After lunch we climb up narrow paths. We hear the clatter of rocks on rocks. Across the river, a dozen men are clearing a road. They are attacking a large rock with crowbars. They are trying to pry it loose and send it tumbling into the river below. We wait a bit hoping to see the mayhem but it takes too long. We continue on our way.



We cross the river again and climb. Finally we arrive at our accommodation in Dharapani and we relax.
That night we celebrate a birthday dinner for one of our party.

As well as the obligatory "Happy Birthday", our porters and guides sing a popular Nepalese song

Resham Firiri
Resham Firiri
I am a donkey, you are a monkey
Resham Firiri

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OhVKQVi07U)

More Walking on the Annapurna Circuit

The mornings walk is pleasant. We start early to avoid the heat of the day. The sun rises as we begin but as we descend into the valley it has a change of heart, returns the way it came and goes back to bed for another hour.

We pass by small houses and farms. Here and there patches of wild hemp line the narrow winding path.

We cross the river on a wire suspension bridge and climb a dusty road rich with pyrite sparking in the sun. A darker soil makes the river run a dank muddy grey. Wet rocks shine golden in the middle of the raging torrent.

We arrive at our lunch spot. We sit down at wooden tables with a mix of plastic and wooden chairs in a dirt courtyard.

I relax with a small pot of chaya masala. A string of donkeys with bells ringing passes by on the narrow path through the centre of the small village.

I have ordered onion soup and veg fried egg potato with cheese. We will have to wait over an hour for our meals to be ready.

I take off my boots and relax wearing the thongs (flip-flops) that I bought yesterday

A small child falls over on concrete steps and a man starts to yell at a slightly older girl. The girl throws her arms around her younger brother and pats him on the back to comfort him. Soon they are laughing and playing in the courtyard.

A young man has a small monkey with a light rope tied around it's waist. He ties it to a tree and it clambers up. The children laugh at it. The young man chats with some youths sitting on near by rocks.

I take a photograph of the children and they laugh when I show them the results. I show the older man and he also laughs.

He indicates I should take a photo of the monkey. I shake my head in disapproval and pantomime my disappointment at the monkey's captivity.

He understands. He nods and he laughs again.

I move my boots and make sure they are out of reach of the monkey.

---

The afternoons walk takes us away from the road. We slowly ascend the side of a steep valley. The suns heat is diffused through the hazy air. An orange light filters through the trees before the sun disappears behind the nearby hills.

We arrive at our lodgings perched two hundred metres above the river, half way up the valley. The same distance across the valley is the top of a lovely waterfall that drops eighty metres to a small pool, overflows to another drop and splashes onto a tumble of rocks on the valley floor next to the rapid flowing river.

After a hot shower and a change of clothes I step out of my bedroom door and look out toward the waterfall. I am euphoric and I jump up and down for joy exulting in life.

I am awake to my surroundings. Seven hours of walking today and I feel fine. I have the rhythm of the trek and I am confident that I have a momentum that will carry me on to the end.

Although we haven't yet seen the majesty of the Himalayas I am well contented to be lost in a world of remote seclusion, yet still have access to the simple luxuries of a pot of hot chocolate, good food, good company, a warm bed and the promise of new wonders to come.

That night we crowd into a small dining room where we fill ourselves with warmth, camaraderie and delicious Nepalese food. There is an adjacent empty room with large open sides, tables and chairs. It is well lit and hundreds of moths circle the light or rest on the furniture or an empty lemonade bottle left on the table. We look on them with varying degrees of fascination, amusement or horror.


In the morning, I rise early to bring in my laundry, a few items of clothes hand washed and hung out on a small line on the upper balcony. About a hundred moths have settled on my shirt. I shake them out vigorously and from my other items of clothing. I wonder if they have laid any eggs and I think I'll have to boil all my clothes when I get home.

Early days on the Annapurna Circuit

In the dawn the river and sky are a mix of soft shades of pastel pink, blue and grey-white. There are hints of pink reflected in the river.

It is a short three hour walk to our next accommodation.

Along the way Santosh, one of our guides, tells us that the colours of the Buddhist flags - white, blue, red, green, yellow - represent water, sky, fire, forest, earth - the five elements.

Jadon tells Santosh that the correct thing to say when you see a beautiful woman is "wah-wah wee-wah".

We climb up from the river to a small village and from there we ascend a hilltop to our tea-house. There is a lovely view of surrounding hills. The river is a few hundred metres below and you can see it well from inside a small dining hall which overlooks the valley. But the weather is so nice that we prefer to sit in the courtyard.

view from the dining hall

I sit in the shade of a tree out of the hot sun. There is a haze in the air obscuring the view. Before lunch we have a feint view of part of a snow covered mountain appearing over a hill but after a while it disappears into the haze.

In the evening I head down to the village. I walk along a path and come to a spot where I watch the sunset behind the hill that holds our accommodation.


On the way back I come across a small shop and decide to buy a pair of thongs (flip-flops).

The woman wants 350 rupees for them. I am sure this is overpriced so I offer 200. No, she insists, 350 is the Nepali price. I don't want to argue. It's only five dollars and it's worth more to her than me.

As I leave the store a young man asks me how much I paid – eager to learn how foolish I am at bargaining. "One hundred rupees" I tell him. He smiles and laughs.

The Trek Begins

I receive a message on facebook from my friend who is house-sitting for me back home in Melbourne.

"This place is amazing..it's like a wired up contraption full of bits and pieces that plug in and heaven knows what they all do. I've just spent twenty minutes wondering why the music was still going with the t.v....please angels and god like things - help me not to blow up this place ....
Have loads of fun on your holiday.....Take me next time."

---

Five metres into the trek. So far so good.

We drive to Besi Sahar where we begin our Himalayan trek. Now on foot, we leave the road and head down a small path by the side of a creek. We cross the creek and soon we are on a dirt road which runs along a fast flowing river.

It is a rural area with plenty of trees and long grass. Small houses are surrounded by fields that mostly have corn planted. The young stalks are about a foot tall. It is a hilly area but there are no mountains in sight yet.

This is the start of a nineteen day journey through the Annapurna ranges. We will spend a week following the river up northwards. We will swing west to cross the Thorung La pass - our highest point at 5,416 m. Then we will descend another valley in a south-west direction. Finally we will head south east, away from the river, climbing over a ridge and descending on the other side to complete about seven eighths of a circle.

Some of my companions comment that they have never seen anything like this before. I am reminded of rural areas of Vietnam, China, Thailand, India and to a lesser extent, Samoa, the Rift Valley, the Amazon jungle and the Andes.

But as I fall back into the rhythm of walking, I am mostly reminded of my trek to Everest base camp fifteen months ago. I remember similar landscapes, similar villages, similar people. It feels like a continuation of my previous trek.

A small bus approaches us on the dirt road. It is chock-a-block full of young men. Men are also riding on the roof of the bus. They are flying Maoist flags and cheering and waving like excited school children.

I wonder if they are headed for a demonstration, a riot or a summer camp. I imagine for some it is rare for them to be so far from their village.

The river runs wildly through the valley. Jo says it reminds her of ice and I agree. It seems to be carrying a chalky white dust and it is reflecting the blue of the sky. This gives it a pastel blue colour, like staring deep into the ice of a glacier. The water flows up and down over rocks and obstacles keeping the same shape, the peaks and troughs staying in the same spot. It is both still and in motion.

Two more crowded buses pass us with revellers singing and cheering and shouting to us "Namaste! Namaste!"





We leave the road and travel on a footpath running between the fields. We come to a small village where a small boy greets me cheerily, "Namaste chocolate."

Further along three small girls aged somewhere between about two and four approach me as I sit by the path. "Sweets? Sweets?" they ask as they touch their hands to their mouths. I have no sweets for them. Instead we play a word game. They mimic me as I touch parts of my face and I tell them the English words for eyes, nose and ears. They enjoy this well enough.

We arrive at our accommodation. A colourful picturesque compound with a large garden area and an outdoor covered eating area overlooking the river. We relax in the afternoon with alternating activities - sometimes talking or reading, playing cards or spending time with the river.

The river, the river. It flows wild beauty. It is Gaea's vein, carrying life and nutrients to her body, raising forests from the earth, carrying sustenance to lakes or returning to the deep ocean, the womb of creation, where the sun - the great fiery engine, the heart of our animistic universe, the centre of our scientific universe where any point can be appointed such - radiates, bestows its energy like a blessing, excites the molecules of water and exalts them into the blue sky, into the wind to carry them again to the peaks of the Himalayas or a suburban shower.

I find time to go down to the river and walk out onto the rocks. I climb carefully onto a large rock and watch the power of thousands of litres sweeping around me and I think of Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse and how our lives are like rivers, always moving from one point to the next but always existing in its entirety from beginning to end.

And you and I and I are all here together even if we are in different places or different times.

Bandipur

I apologise for this post being so overdue. It's been about a month since my last post and now I have only progressed my story by a day. I should be able to improve on this schedule as I have actually got most of my journey written down.

---

I meet my travelling companions. All good people. All younger than me. We dine at Rum Doodle - named after a fictitious mountain (I must read that story some day). A delicious place but expensive by Nepalese standards. About eight dollars for a main.

The next morning we pack into a small bus, pick up our guides and porters, and drive through the country. It's hot when we stop for a scenic lunch overlooking a wide river and I wish I was wearing shorts.

---

After lunch we cross a suspension bridge and descend to the river. Our guide, Prem, suggests we go swimming but no one seems interested or perhaps, like me, their preferred swimming attire is packed away in their luggage on the bus.

But it's hot and travelling is about immersing yourself in experiences, so I take of my shoes and socks, empty my pockets and wade into the water, trousers and all. I step carefully on the muddy rocky river bed. The current is mild here by the river bank. Of course with everybody watching, I don't hesitate to dive in when I get out deep enough. The water is cold and refreshing. A little murky but clean enough.

Afterwards we cross back on the suspension bridge and walk to a huge ancient fig tree growing on a nearby hillside. Some children are swinging on large fig roots which hang down from the high branches but they leave for other games as we approach. Another young child from a nearby house calls out "hello" to us, over and over again, smiling and waving. We respond in kind.




We are in the bus again for our afternoon journey half watching a Nepalese video which our porters and guides are enjoying. It is an action/drama/"romance". I am sitting next to Barbara, a German girl and we make up names for the characters so we can discuss the plot.

---

It is mid afternoon and the road narrows as it winds up through hilly countryside. We come to a stop when the road suddenly changes into a set of three stairs. At the top of the stairs the road continues on as if we are expected to drive on. But it's foot traffic only from here.

We are at the remote town of Bandipur. The town stretches along a ridge with the main road running through the centre. Double story buildings line the side of the main road. Small lanes run down the hillside leading to small run down houses.

There is some graffiti on a metal power pole. An upside down spiral question mark - the eye of Buddha. Beneath it, a single word, "loveism". An auspicious sign welcoming me in to the village. It puts me in a receptive frame of mind.

The children are out of school and are playing in the street. The buildings are old and tired but clean and comfortable and there is a strong feeling of community.



In the late afternoon I walk up a hill to the local monastery. It is closed but I find a seat overlooking the surrounding countryside and I watch the sunset, a rich hazy orange.

Why are sunsets so beautiful? There is no obvious or convincing evolutionary explanation.

The unexplained is mystical. The mystical is divine.

The Egyptians worshipped the sun. Gods were depicted with a circle of the suns rays emanating from their head. This artifact transferred to new religions and is seen in the halos of saints.

The sun sets. The day is done.

Kathmandu

I return to the streets of Nepal. It is familiar to me now. I stumble across the garden restaurant overlooked by the ghost white mannequin child in the pashmina store across the street. I order momos and soup and some chaya dudh masala (tea, milk, spice) just as I did fifteen months ago.

I am tired.

Part of it is because of the plane ride and adjusting to a new time zone. But there's more to it than that. There are things I had forgotten about travelling.

Sure, the Grand Adventure I had last year was amazing and in my journal I focused on the adventure and the excitement.

But I forgot what it's like to be alone in a strange hotel room, to wander streets slightly lost, displaced, on guard, to be constantly harassed by merchants, taxi and rickshaw drivers, dope dealers and beggars.

"Hello. Where are you from. Oh, Australia. Land of the kangaroo, emu and koala. Melbourne? Sydney? I have a cousin living in Brisbane. The capital of Australia is Canberra. The Prime Minister of Australia is Kevin Rudd. I am glad you love Nepal so much. I think we have similar hearts. Can you buy some milk for me? I need some milk. No? Well, you are a useless tourist."

The young man who calls me useless has clean clothes, styled hair and no sign of poverty about him. He tries to befriend me three times that day.

His attitude is uncommon. Most Nepalese beggars will depart showing their disappointment, but this is the first to show such resentment. I don't think he likes his job begging. He must spend a lot of hours at it.

---

The next morning a woman approaches me with a four year old girl in tow, clinging to her mothers dress. She shows me an empty milk bottle and begs me to buy milk for her child. I offer her some money but she refuses. She doesn't want money she needs milk. I decline and depart.

I can't think why she would refuse money except that it is not enough. I have heard that this is a common scam to sell milk at an over inflated price.

I leave to find some breakfast.

Useless tourist.

---

I had intended to use my old phone as an mp3 player but I left it in the car when Cameron dropped me off at the airport. I have music on some memory cards that I know I will need to boost my morale me on the hard parts of the trek. I spend the afternoon trying to find a way to transfer them to my iPod touch on the hotel computer with no iTunes and a slow internet connection. Eventually I give up and go out and buy an mp3 player for about $25 AUD.

Useless Apple.



A new morning and I wander south looking for breakfast. It's too early in the morning and nothing is open. I come across a courtyard with a large white dome stupa. I walk around it clockwise three times and study the locals. They are praying or talking or simply going about their morning business.

At the far end of the courtyard hundreds of pigeons wander the ground, patiently anticipating to be fed. People take photos of each other among the birds, beneath the prayer flags, in front of statues surrounded by burning incense and the stains of oil, wax and coloured powders of yesterday's prayers, layered over the hopes and dreams of the day before, and so on unto antiquity.

A child walks through the flock delighting in the way it responds with fluid unity. The child learns the limited control she can exert on her immediate environment. She can push the flock away buy she can't draw it closer. If she waves her arms she can raise part of the flock like a blanket but she can't hold it up in place. If she stops, the flying birds rearrange and settle back down into the blanket.




Back on the streets, people pay religious observance at small shrines nestled by the roadside. I find this reassuring. It demonstrates a people seeking a better world, peace and tolerance and choosing right over wrong. Publicly showing there devotion, including the community and inspiring others without being intrusive.

It is after 8am and shops are serving breakfast. I find a reasonable looking restaurant with English menus. I take note of my order for future reference.

Small pot of chaya masala - 65 rupee
Two fried eggs with tomato and potato 40 rupee
Two pieces of toast with butter - 20 rupee
Tibetan bread - 20 rupee

With tax it adds up to 159 rupee or about $2.40 AUD.

The Tibetan bread is a round, flat and deep fried. About the size of a small plate. It has two parallel slits in the middle spaced like button holes. This one is light and puffy and tastes like a doughnut but with less sugar. Sometimes they don't puff up and they are crispier.

Ten percent tip is standard but I round it up to $3. Not all Nepalese meals are as inexpensive as this one and I would normally expect to pay four to seven dollars. Up in the remote trekking areas a big meal might be as much as twelve dollars. Copious drinks of tea and hot chocolate can easily account for forty percent of the food budget.

A New Adventure

After five months abroad I return home. I re-establish relationships with mixed results.

I return to my work. It eats my life. Around the edges I battle entropy.

Hours, weeks and months disappear.

I am not happy. I snarl like a trapped animal.
My life sleeps.

Every morning I switch on my computer. The desktop shows a random photograph of last years adventures. It lifts my spirits as I recall sunsets in the Galapagos, the Masaii Mara, glaciers in the Himalayas, the Amazon jungle.

I start to think of myself living two lives. The first is anchored to routine and is stagnating. My other life is one of travel. Dynamic, endless change, full of vibrancy and adventure.

A new year begins and I start recounting the old.
This time last year I was in Japan.
This time last year I was in Hong Kong.
This time last year I saw my first wild lion.

Easter is approaching so I look at the calendar. By combining public holidays with annual leave I calculate I can take a 25 day break from Good Friday to Anzac day.

I look for a suitable tour that I can do in that time. I want to walk in mountains. The Annapurna Circuit in Nepal is the obvious choice. It starts on Easter Sunday and finishes 3 weeks later. I will have to arrive in Kathmandu on the Saturday and I can get home midday on the Anzac holiday and be back at work the next day.

Within three days it is all booked. I can save a couple of hundred dollars by leaving a day earlier and I figure I might as well spend the extra time in Kathmandu than Melbourne.

So now I am packing and you would think after five months abroad I would know exactly what to take. But I have forgotten which trousers I should take and how many shirts I will need.

Still, I am all packed two days before I have to leave. And after work on Holy Thursday all I have left to do is go out to dinner with friends.

There is a bit of excitement for about an hour when I can't find my passport. Friends help me unpack and repack and recheck and it is found in a bag I was sure I rechecked three times.

I am only 15 minutes late for dinner and it is all very yummy. But I'm getting edgier. Then it is straight to the airport and I am away.

Flying from Bangkok to Nepal I make sure I get a seat where I can get a good view of the Himalayas.