In which I attempt to ascent a mountain but am defeated due to altitude sickness.
A story to be told.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Langtang Trek - Part 1
My guide, my porter and I catch a bus from Kathmandu at 7.30 am. We quickly leave the city and progress through forested regions. The road twists and turns. I am sick several times. I will spare you the details. I am not the only one.
After we break for lunch, which I decline, I start to feel better. "Better out than in" as my father used to say. I try to rest. The seat in front of me isn't attached very well so the weight of the man in front of me squashes my knees.
The road goes on and on.
And then we stop. We arrive at the small mountain town of Syapurbesi. My room is comfortable. I have a nice soup to settle my stomach. I am tired from the days journey. It worries me that I am so worn out from a day of basically doing nothing. It doesn't bode well for the next 15 days of trekking.
The first day trekking is hot through a forested area. We climb a thousand metres today and so does the raging river we follow. Two pairs of trekkers that do not have guides walk on the wrong side of the river. They follow the path clearly marked on the map. After a couple of kilometres they come to the bridge on the map only to discover that it it hasn't been built yet. They have to backtrack to the start and cross the river.
In the afternoon we spot a couple of large monkeys in the trees. Their bushy white fur mostly covers up their black skin except for their jet black hairless faces.
In the evening, at my accommodation, I meet two of the back-trackers, a young British couple.* They have been travelling extensively for many months. They have come from the south of Nepal - the hotter regions of the Terai and Chitwan. They weren't expecting the mountain area to be so much cooler. They have some cold weather gear but they didn't think to bring sleeping bags. Although the day has been hot there is a chill in the air overnight. They have a cold, restless night huddled together. In the morning they pass a spare room with an open door where they notice a large pile of blankets.
* "Young" is a relative term, isn't it? In their late twenties they might not see themselves as young. As for me, in my late forties, I don't see myself as old.
Within an hour of walking through the forest I am suddenly greeted with a lovely mountain vista through a break in the trees.
We climb up following the river and leave the forest behind. There are now fewer trees, more grasslands, farmlands and some yaks. Looking back on the valley I remember why I am here.
An old man is sitting on a rise above the path. As I pass I greet him with a "namaste" which he acknowledges. I lose my footing, stumble and almost fall. I look back at the man and now he has a huge grin. I point at my camera and he nods and I get a nice picture of him with a big smile.
Another man is lying on the grass on his back resting under the sun. There is a large burden on the ground near him. A huge wooden beam plus some fire wood. Later on after I have stopped for a rest the man overtakes me. He is carrying the beam across his back with much of the weight supported by a strap that crosses his forehead. I can't help but think of Jesus carrying his cross. "Airplane" my guide says.
Later on I pass the man as he is resting. I compliment him on how strong he is to carry such a load and he is pleased. After I have checked in to our teahouse, he happens to stop for another rest just by the stairs to my room. I ask if I can take his photo and he agrees giving me a nice smile with gnarled teeth.
He them beckons to me. I start to show him the photo I have taken but he waves it away and holds out his hand. I realise he wants some money. This is a bit cheeky of him but I give him 15 rupees anyway which is only about 20 cents.
That night I am told that there will be dancing in a nearby building and that I should go and have a look. The British couple are staying at the same lodge. They are good company so I dine with them and we compare our travel adventures. After dinner I wander over to where the dancing is. There are a few people outside and I ask if it is okay for me to enter. Yes, yes, come inside. Inside the door is a modest entrance hall. A woman is dishing out some soup to people. Everyone is wearing traditional local attire. There is a large number of shoes on the floor outside the door to the main room. I leave my sandals there and enter. The room is about 15 by 15 metres. Around three walls there are about 50 people sitting with their backs to the walls on low continuous bench seats. in front of them is a low continuous bench table.
I am invited to sit down and I choose the nearest seat by the door. Towards the front of the room is a large table covered with about 100 candles. About 30 of them are lit. behind the table against the wall is a long table covered with piles of scripture books. Each book is a collection of loose leaf pages about 8cm high and 25 cm wide. I am offered some Sherpa noodle soup but I decline as I am too full from my dinner. Perhaps some Nepali tea? Yes thank you. But there is no Nepali tea left. Have some yak milk tea instead. Better for you I think.
The man next to me strikes up a conversation asking where I am from. I ask if they are all Sherpa people and he says, no they are Tibetan. This is the third day of a nine day ceremony which started on the full moon, which they regard as the birth day and death day of Gotama Buddha. Tibetan people have gathered from neighbouring villages. There is a holy text that they must read to completion over the nine days. They have been reading all day and now they are relaxing and socialising. They are singing and chatting and a few people get up and dance and everyone is having a good time.
The Tibetan border is only about 10 kilometres away. But borders are largely political constructs based around geographical practicalities. These are Nepalese people in the political sense - to whatever degree the government impacts their lives in this remote area. But they are Tibetan in their cultural identification. At least, this is the sense I make of the situation later. We don't really discuss politics. The man has relatives living in Tibet and he gets a permit once or twice a year to visit them.
People in this area are farmers and yak herders so I imagine the day to day challenges of living off the land are far more important to them than distant bureaucracies.
The man tells me that the villages along the trekking route are relatively well-off but there are villages only a few kilometres away where poverty is a problem. Trekkers contribute significantly to the local economy but consequently are insulated from the true poverty experienced in remote villages.
As we walk higher up the valley I become more impressed by the grandeur of the approaching mountains. The river is on our right. On the left of the river is grassland with fewer and fewer farms. On the right of the river, forest climbs the steep slope. I am not sure if the slopes on this side of the valley has been deforested or if the other side has more sun and better soil and weather.
The air is fresh. The sun is warm and offsets the coldness of the light wind. I hear the wind pick up suddenly and I look across to the trees on the other side of the valley expecting to see movement of an approaching gale. All is still. Suddenly I see the river and realise I mistook the sound of rushing water for a mighty wind. It is half the size of yesterday but flows quickly, coldly clattering over rocks. It's about a 3 hour walk to Kyanjing Gompa . Mostly flat but surely rising to 4180m. I am feeling nauseous from the altitude. Kyanjing Gompa is a large village, mostly lodges, surrounded by mountains and glaciers and featuring a prominent monastery. The lodges are mostly deserted at this time of year. My room at the lodge has beautiful views with windows facing two directions.
My stomach feels very uneasy. I force myself to breath quicker and deeper to get more oxygen into my body. This works and the queasiness subsides.
We progress up the mountain. The views are stunning and continue to improve. The glacier is further away than it looks. There are very few trees here and as we ascend we mostly have grassland with low heath, wildflowers and some low scrubby bushes.
We start to follow a ridge which divides the landscape. On the right is grass and heath dropping away to a valley which then climbs to a forbidding saddle. On the left, dry dirt collapses to a spread of rocks, boulders and gravel which approaches the glacier.
The British couple are way ahead up the ridge but when we approach a huge boulder, my guide leads me down to cross the rocks and boulders. This seems like a dubious approach to me. The rocks aren't altogether stable and there is a risk of landslide. Occasionally some of the rocks shift beneath my feet. My walking pole helps me keep my balance provided it can make purchase on the rocks.
I make slow progress. I am tired and the altitude causes me to get exhausted easily despite my deep breathing exercises. I start to get used to the instability of the rocks I am clambering over. It's approaching 4 pm and I am worried about the lateness of the day. I think we should turn back but my guide assures me we have almost reached our destination. I climb the next level of rocks and then the glacier is directly in front of us. An enormous wall of ice perhaps about 80m away.
"Is this good enough?" my guide asks. Yes. It is wonderful and I am tired.
We take photos in front of the ice. My guide asks me to take his photo. The next thing I know he heads towards the glacier, scrambling quickly over rocks. In under a minute he is running up the ice of the glacier.
After we break for lunch, which I decline, I start to feel better. "Better out than in" as my father used to say. I try to rest. The seat in front of me isn't attached very well so the weight of the man in front of me squashes my knees.
The road goes on and on.
And then we stop. We arrive at the small mountain town of Syapurbesi. My room is comfortable. I have a nice soup to settle my stomach. I am tired from the days journey. It worries me that I am so worn out from a day of basically doing nothing. It doesn't bode well for the next 15 days of trekking.
Day One
Early morning light in Syapurbesi. I am feeling jaunty as I begin my trek.
The first day trekking is hot through a forested area. We climb a thousand metres today and so does the raging river we follow. Two pairs of trekkers that do not have guides walk on the wrong side of the river. They follow the path clearly marked on the map. After a couple of kilometres they come to the bridge on the map only to discover that it it hasn't been built yet. They have to backtrack to the start and cross the river.
In the afternoon we spot a couple of large monkeys in the trees. Their bushy white fur mostly covers up their black skin except for their jet black hairless faces.
In the evening, at my accommodation, I meet two of the back-trackers, a young British couple.* They have been travelling extensively for many months. They have come from the south of Nepal - the hotter regions of the Terai and Chitwan. They weren't expecting the mountain area to be so much cooler. They have some cold weather gear but they didn't think to bring sleeping bags. Although the day has been hot there is a chill in the air overnight. They have a cold, restless night huddled together. In the morning they pass a spare room with an open door where they notice a large pile of blankets.
* "Young" is a relative term, isn't it? In their late twenties they might not see themselves as young. As for me, in my late forties, I don't see myself as old.
Day two
Within an hour of walking through the forest I am suddenly greeted with a lovely mountain vista through a break in the trees.
We climb up following the river and leave the forest behind. There are now fewer trees, more grasslands, farmlands and some yaks. Looking back on the valley I remember why I am here.
An old man is sitting on a rise above the path. As I pass I greet him with a "namaste" which he acknowledges. I lose my footing, stumble and almost fall. I look back at the man and now he has a huge grin. I point at my camera and he nods and I get a nice picture of him with a big smile.
Another man is lying on the grass on his back resting under the sun. There is a large burden on the ground near him. A huge wooden beam plus some fire wood. Later on after I have stopped for a rest the man overtakes me. He is carrying the beam across his back with much of the weight supported by a strap that crosses his forehead. I can't help but think of Jesus carrying his cross. "Airplane" my guide says.
Later on I pass the man as he is resting. I compliment him on how strong he is to carry such a load and he is pleased. After I have checked in to our teahouse, he happens to stop for another rest just by the stairs to my room. I ask if I can take his photo and he agrees giving me a nice smile with gnarled teeth.
He them beckons to me. I start to show him the photo I have taken but he waves it away and holds out his hand. I realise he wants some money. This is a bit cheeky of him but I give him 15 rupees anyway which is only about 20 cents.
That night I am told that there will be dancing in a nearby building and that I should go and have a look. The British couple are staying at the same lodge. They are good company so I dine with them and we compare our travel adventures. After dinner I wander over to where the dancing is. There are a few people outside and I ask if it is okay for me to enter. Yes, yes, come inside. Inside the door is a modest entrance hall. A woman is dishing out some soup to people. Everyone is wearing traditional local attire. There is a large number of shoes on the floor outside the door to the main room. I leave my sandals there and enter. The room is about 15 by 15 metres. Around three walls there are about 50 people sitting with their backs to the walls on low continuous bench seats. in front of them is a low continuous bench table.
I am invited to sit down and I choose the nearest seat by the door. Towards the front of the room is a large table covered with about 100 candles. About 30 of them are lit. behind the table against the wall is a long table covered with piles of scripture books. Each book is a collection of loose leaf pages about 8cm high and 25 cm wide. I am offered some Sherpa noodle soup but I decline as I am too full from my dinner. Perhaps some Nepali tea? Yes thank you. But there is no Nepali tea left. Have some yak milk tea instead. Better for you I think.
The man next to me strikes up a conversation asking where I am from. I ask if they are all Sherpa people and he says, no they are Tibetan. This is the third day of a nine day ceremony which started on the full moon, which they regard as the birth day and death day of Gotama Buddha. Tibetan people have gathered from neighbouring villages. There is a holy text that they must read to completion over the nine days. They have been reading all day and now they are relaxing and socialising. They are singing and chatting and a few people get up and dance and everyone is having a good time.
The Tibetan border is only about 10 kilometres away. But borders are largely political constructs based around geographical practicalities. These are Nepalese people in the political sense - to whatever degree the government impacts their lives in this remote area. But they are Tibetan in their cultural identification. At least, this is the sense I make of the situation later. We don't really discuss politics. The man has relatives living in Tibet and he gets a permit once or twice a year to visit them.
People in this area are farmers and yak herders so I imagine the day to day challenges of living off the land are far more important to them than distant bureaucracies.
The man tells me that the villages along the trekking route are relatively well-off but there are villages only a few kilometres away where poverty is a problem. Trekkers contribute significantly to the local economy but consequently are insulated from the true poverty experienced in remote villages.
Day 3
As we walk higher up the valley I become more impressed by the grandeur of the approaching mountains. The river is on our right. On the left of the river is grassland with fewer and fewer farms. On the right of the river, forest climbs the steep slope. I am not sure if the slopes on this side of the valley has been deforested or if the other side has more sun and better soil and weather.
The air is fresh. The sun is warm and offsets the coldness of the light wind. I hear the wind pick up suddenly and I look across to the trees on the other side of the valley expecting to see movement of an approaching gale. All is still. Suddenly I see the river and realise I mistook the sound of rushing water for a mighty wind. It is half the size of yesterday but flows quickly, coldly clattering over rocks. It's about a 3 hour walk to Kyanjing Gompa . Mostly flat but surely rising to 4180m. I am feeling nauseous from the altitude. Kyanjing Gompa is a large village, mostly lodges, surrounded by mountains and glaciers and featuring a prominent monastery. The lodges are mostly deserted at this time of year. My room at the lodge has beautiful views with windows facing two directions.
Photo taken from the courtyard of my lodge.
After lunch my guide suggests we walk to the closest glacier which
dominates the scenery. I don't think I can make it. We can stay here for
a couple of days according to our loose itinerary so there is no need
to attempt the glacier today. Still I know it is important to walk
higher for acclimatisation. I didn't sleep well last night so I am
hoping for a better sleep tonight. I suggest we go in the direction of
the glacier and see how far I can make it. The British couple have
already headed off. We start up past a monastery alongside a stream.
Melt water from the glacier which is a tributary to the Langtang river.
There are a few monks in their dark red robes going about their
business. The glacier is a rumpled curtain of shining white ice draped
over the mountain ahead.
My stomach feels very uneasy. I force myself to breath quicker and deeper to get more oxygen into my body. This works and the queasiness subsides.
We progress up the mountain. The views are stunning and continue to improve. The glacier is further away than it looks. There are very few trees here and as we ascend we mostly have grassland with low heath, wildflowers and some low scrubby bushes.
We start to follow a ridge which divides the landscape. On the right is grass and heath dropping away to a valley which then climbs to a forbidding saddle. On the left, dry dirt collapses to a spread of rocks, boulders and gravel which approaches the glacier.
The British couple are way ahead up the ridge but when we approach a huge boulder, my guide leads me down to cross the rocks and boulders. This seems like a dubious approach to me. The rocks aren't altogether stable and there is a risk of landslide. Occasionally some of the rocks shift beneath my feet. My walking pole helps me keep my balance provided it can make purchase on the rocks.
I make slow progress. I am tired and the altitude causes me to get exhausted easily despite my deep breathing exercises. I start to get used to the instability of the rocks I am clambering over. It's approaching 4 pm and I am worried about the lateness of the day. I think we should turn back but my guide assures me we have almost reached our destination. I climb the next level of rocks and then the glacier is directly in front of us. An enormous wall of ice perhaps about 80m away.
"Is this good enough?" my guide asks. Yes. It is wonderful and I am tired.
We take photos in front of the ice. My guide asks me to take his photo. The next thing I know he heads towards the glacier, scrambling quickly over rocks. In under a minute he is running up the ice of the glacier.
I take some photos and think to myself, what the hell? I scramble after him and it takes me about three minutes but then I too am walking up the ice of the glacier.
We start to return the way we came. Now I notice the ice beneath the rocks. The glacier is also hidden beneath the layer of rocks we have been scrambling over.
As we return we spot the British couple away on the ridge above us. We wave to them and they start to approach us. My guide goes to assist them, taking them my spare walking pole and offering them his own. I wait until they reach my position. It is now 5 pm and we have a long way to return. They had traveled a long way up the ridge, not reaching the glacier and the young man is suffering from altitude sickness. They also look cold so I offer them a spare hat and a spare balaclava. "Thank you," says the young woman. "We didn't think to bring hats."
We head down the mountain together in good spirits. We get most of the way down before the twilight fades. we complete the last 10 minutes in darkness and torchlight. Soup for dinner and then straight to bed. I sleep well.
Addendum
Years later I am still in contact with the British couple and the way the young woman tells the story, I saved their lives that day. Who knows what the outcome might really have been if I had not been there - but it does indicate their frame of mind; they were quite worried.As for my part - I can't claim any great heroics. It was my porter that fetched them and he volunteered to do so. Having spare hats and such - that I can take credit for.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Children of Nepal - Part 2.
June 1st 2012 - Kathmandu
There is a warm heavy rain as I disembark from the plane and make my way towards customs.
Narayan and his cousin meet me at the airport late at night and take me to my hotel. In the morning I spend a few hours wandering the streets of Kathmandu and having breakfast. I notice one restaurant with "prown" on the menu.
5 a.m. view of the Monkey Temple from my hotel window.
Nicky has written letters to each of them individually including photos. I hand them out which gives me a great opportunity to reintroduce myself to each of them. I also have a laptop to give them plus a hundred USB memory sticks all of which were donated from my work.
The children take me by the hand and eagerly give me a tour of their home. It is a freestanding two story building with a room for the boys downstairs and a room for the girls upstairs. A garage style roll-a-door at the front of the building opens up to the kitchen area. A few of the children take me for a walk in the fallow fields around their building. I ask if this is where they play and they tell me it is. I ask if they have a ball that they play with. No, they play with the grass, they tell me matter of factually. We walk a bit down the road where two of the children are hand washing clothes from water drawn from a well. The children tell me how they have seen water snakes in the area and they point out the dry sloughed snake skin in one of the fields. I ask if the snakes are dangerous or poisonous but they don't know and don't seen too concerned.
We return to the orphanage and have a simple lunch of packet noodles with some small pieces of fresh onion added.
After lunch most of the children take me for a walk up to a nearby forest where they say we will see many monkeys.
We pass through a small village. We are a sight with me a tall white giant surrounded by small children.
Whenever my hands are free it's hardly a moment before a child slips their hand in mine. The children want to be helpful and offer to carry my water bottle for me and my camera. Soon they are taking all the photos for me. All my movements are made under direction. Come this way uncle. Be careful uncle. It is slippery here uncle. Come this way. Do not hurry uncle.
We see many monkeys and have a wonderful time. We walk and talk and laugh.
Although they might not have a ball to play with, about 10 of the children have mobile phones. They are 21st century children after all. They take photos and send and receive messages and play music.
When we return the children ask me to stay the night with them. I check with Satish if this is ok and he thinks it's a good idea so I agree.
For dinner we have delicious seasoned chicken with rice and yellow dhal. The children have made chapati for me as a special treat. They feed me first as the guest of honour. Then the children eat. Without sitting down they squat on the cement verandah in front of the kitchen and eat with their fingers in Nepali style. A few of the children are vegetarian and have vegetables instead of chicken. They have copious serves of rice and I am glad to see they are eating well.
After dinner the power goes out and we revert to battery operated lights. I teach some of the children how to sing "I like the flowers" in a round.
At bed time I share a room with seven other boys. I have a single bed by the window so the cool air from outside offsets the heat of the room. In the morning I am up early and I go for a morning walk with two of the boys.
For breakfast we have rice and dhal with a sort of vegetable stew with textured vegetable protein.
The children are hoping that school will be canceled. A Supreme Court judge was assassinated three days ago and they are anticipating a national day of mourning. When the news arrives only the government offices will be closed. School is open. I wave goodbye as the children head off for school. I promise that I will return to see them after my trek.
A few of the older children have finished school. One of the boys leads me back to Kathmandu, first by foot, then local bus, then taxi.
Now I start to focus on preparing for my trek.
Children of Nepal - Part 1
Once again I am on a plane headed for Kathmandu. This will be my fifth visit in six years as I am drawn again to the majesty of the Himalayas, the remote quiet villages and the gentle friendly people of Nepal. But the story of my current journey begins with my previous visit and that too was a consequence of other actions.
Many people throughout our lives influence the decisions we make. Over twenty years ago my friend Guenter introduced me to the idea of trekking through the Himalayas. It was Liam, whom I met in Vietnam who recommended the Annapurna region. And when I went to Annapurna it was Dawa, my first guide, who gave me the experiences that caused me to want to return for more. And even this time it was Michelle, whom I met in Borneo, who has directed me to the Langtang region that I plan to explore.
I met Nicky years ago through my sisters. She was a friend of theirs and I would run into her at parties or events and we would often have a chat or a dance. When she was headed to India I lent her a couple of maps so that must be going back about five years now.
She was concerning herself with some beggar children in Varanasi where she met Narayan.
Narayan was from Nepal and he recommended that if she wanted to help children there was an orphanage in Nepal that he knew of that needed assistance. Misfortune can lead many people to become career beggars but the orphans in Nepal were determined to improve their situation. They were victims of civil unrest and many of them had lost their parents to conflict. They were working hard to get an education and needed help to build their future.
So Nicky went with Narayan to Nepal and embedded her life in those of the children, staying with them when she could and returning to her life in Melbourne and returning again to her orphan children when possible and Nicky's own stories are rich and fascinating and encouraging.
So when Nicky heard I would visit Kathmandu after my time in China and Tibet she implored me to visit the children. I did not expect to have much time in Kathmandu but as it happened my time in Tibet was cut short so I arrived in Nepal a week earlier than I had planned.
Many people throughout our lives influence the decisions we make. Over twenty years ago my friend Guenter introduced me to the idea of trekking through the Himalayas. It was Liam, whom I met in Vietnam who recommended the Annapurna region. And when I went to Annapurna it was Dawa, my first guide, who gave me the experiences that caused me to want to return for more. And even this time it was Michelle, whom I met in Borneo, who has directed me to the Langtang region that I plan to explore.
I met Nicky years ago through my sisters. She was a friend of theirs and I would run into her at parties or events and we would often have a chat or a dance. When she was headed to India I lent her a couple of maps so that must be going back about five years now.
She was concerning herself with some beggar children in Varanasi where she met Narayan.
Narayan was from Nepal and he recommended that if she wanted to help children there was an orphanage in Nepal that he knew of that needed assistance. Misfortune can lead many people to become career beggars but the orphans in Nepal were determined to improve their situation. They were victims of civil unrest and many of them had lost their parents to conflict. They were working hard to get an education and needed help to build their future.
So Nicky went with Narayan to Nepal and embedded her life in those of the children, staying with them when she could and returning to her life in Melbourne and returning again to her orphan children when possible and Nicky's own stories are rich and fascinating and encouraging.
So when Nicky heard I would visit Kathmandu after my time in China and Tibet she implored me to visit the children. I did not expect to have much time in Kathmandu but as it happened my time in Tibet was cut short so I arrived in Nepal a week earlier than I had planned.
A year ago
Photo from my hotel room in Zhangmu - border town of the Tibetan Autonomous Region PRC. On the right hand side of the river is Nepal.
I leave Tibet walking across the Friendship Bridge into Nepal. Before I cross my bags are inspected by Chinese customs agents looking for any illegal contraband propaganda such as pictures of the Dalai Lama.
Things feel much more relaxed in Nepal. Five hours later I am in Kathmandu.
Nicky had given me Narayan's contact number. I call him and the next day he takes me out to the orphanage near Bhaktipur. He introduces me to Satish, the young man burdened and blessed with the arduous task of running the orphanage with more than 30 children mostly between 10 and 15.
Satish speaks to me of the enormous difference that Nicky has made to the lives of the orphans. Before she arrived the orphanage had run out of funding. The children had limited food of poor quality mostly donated by the local community. The children had difficulties with their studies because of the stress of worry over their predicament.
When Nicky came to help, within a month the situation had changed entirely. The children were fed and clothed. Those that needed medical attention had it. Nicky had organised some funds from people in Australia. The children's outlook changed from despair to hope for a bright future. And Nicky had brought all this along with love. The children loved their Nicky mum and she loved them and looked after them.
While Satish and I sit and chat the children return from school and go about their daily activities. I am eager to meet them but Satish knows it would be best if I didn't disrupt their normal routine. This is an event for them and they need to prepare. When all is in readiness Satish takes me into the common room where all the children are sitting on the floor around the walls of the room. They have bare feet as is common indoors and I feel big and clumsy in my enormous trekking boots with two inch thick rubber soles and deep vicious quality treads.
The children come up to me one at a time and introduce themselves. I tell them how much I like Nepal and trekking and the Nepali people and how much their Nicky mum lives them and all the wonderful things she has said about them and how much she missed them and how proud she is of them.
We have questions and answers and the children ask if I will be their uncle and be part of their family and I agree.
Then the children put on a dance show with the traditional dances they have learnt at school and they invite me up to dance and then everybody gets up to dance and all formalities are dropped as we shift to celebration.
Nepali and Australians have very different pronunciation of the English language which can make communication difficult at times. The children roll their Rs wonderfully. So when the children ask if I like "prroun" I don't understand. But it becomes clear when a plate of prawn crackers is brought out. "Look uncle. They are prrown." "have a prrown crracker uncle." The children insist on hand feeding me prawn crackers one at a time. Soon I am full but this makes no difference. "Uncle, uncle, have another prown cracker. Just one more uncle."
We continue to dance. Satish warns me to be careful with my steps. It is clear that my boots with all my weight on top could do considerable damage to little feet. The night is warm and I am sweating profusely. A young boy brings a damp cloth and mops my brow with great concern and care. The children take my hands and lead me around their home. They show me their rooms and the area where they play. They show me some plastic zoo animals that their Nicky mum has given them. They show me how they can fit the plastic figure of a crane between the jaws of a plastic lion. "Look uncle! The lion is eating the crane."
I have a wonderful time and when I leave I promise to return at the end of the week after my trekking.
I spend four days trekking in the hillside area outside of Kathmandu.
I catch a bad cold. On the fourth day my guide takes me to Nama Boudha. Because of my illness we take a bus part of the way. The bus is crowded so we have to sit on the roof - all part of the adventure of Nepal. The temple is the traditional site of where a holy man sacrificed his life so that his body could feed some starving tigers. I heard of this a couple of Weeks earlier when I saw the same story depicted in the details of a Mandela in Lhasa Tibet near where the monks debated.
Riding atop of the bus.
Buddhist monks kicking around the soccer ball.
When I return to Kathmandu I very much want to return to the orphanage but I know it is not a good idea. There is too much risk I will pass my illness on to the children and in the small cramped conditions many children would become sick. So I call Satish and regretfully make my apologies and a few days later I am back home in Melbourne.
Travelling means visiting other places. The places may be within the country or outside the country. Travelling is for many purposes. It may be seeing sights or studying, the geography, history, culture of the place or spending the holiday. Travelling has many benefits. It removes the monotony of life. It makes the mind fresh. It broadens the mind. It adds to knowledge. Travellers know the customs and traditions of a community. The wrong notions and narrowness of mind are gone. The realities become evident. Travelling establishes friendly relationship with other countries. Political disputes are settled. It is useful for students. What they read may not be clear to them. They may forget what they had studied. But when they see things with their own eyes they understand better. The knowledge become solid and permanent. They never forget the things which they have seen. So travelling should be encouraged. Rosan Shah - class nine.
Several months pass.
In September I visit Paris and after Christmas I travel to Borneo.
It's over a year later now as my plane lands in Kathmandu. There is a warm heavy rain as I disembark from the plane and make my way towards customs.