Notes From Nepal
Journal entries from the past few weeks in Kathmandu and trekking the Annapurna Circuit
Kathmandu, April 27 to 29
The men sitting next to me at the hotel breakfast will be climbing the North side of Everest. They are meeting for the first time– a businessman from Singapore; a doctor from Scotland; and many other men with grey hair from Holland and Germany and such. They’ve prepared for this climb by sleeping in hypoxic tents (basically, tents that simulate being at higher altitudes) in the comfort of their bedrooms. Already ‘acclimated,’ they will take a helicopter to basecamp and aim for a rapid ascent. Dad says it's all B.S. Back in his day you’d be on the mountain by the end of March, hoping for a summit by the end of May. These men won't be at basecamp till May 1. No trekking through the local villages, no mailing home letters with the assurance that you are still alive; just a quick trip to the top of the world– using PTO– and then back to their 9 to 5’s.
Dad and I decide that the next time we come to Nepal we won’t stay at the Yak & Yeti. The 5-star hotel is too pretentious for us, the crowd not rough or worldly enough. It’s full of rich Europeans and Americans who think they are the coolest people in the room. Really, who are we to judge?
But, I’m happy to be here, in Kathmandu. The air is chilly and the flowers are blooming and an old friend that feels like family picks me up from the airport. There’s a cockyness that comes with coming back to a country. I stride through the airport, getting through the tricky immigration situation quickly. I know how to get places without using GPS. The shopkeeper I buy water from is impressed that I know how to say ‘thank you’ in Nepalese and asks if I’ve been here before. Yes. I feel radiant.
Coming back to a place also means I get to compare two different people: the person I was last time I was here and the person I am now. A lot has changed for the better and I feel really proud of myself.
Drive to Danaque, April 30
My mind is in another world on the ten hour jeep ride from Kathmandu to the mountains, a bumpy, unpaved, construction-site mess. I catch myself, distracted, get disappointed with myself for not being present, and then don’t fix it. I’m thinking about my next destination and a boy I haven't talked to in three years and constructing ‘close friends’ instagram stories in my head that I will never post because I deleted the app. So delusional it’s disgusting. Girl you’re in the fucking Himilayas, surrounded by the tallest mountains, and you’re thinking about this shit?!? Girlhood is experiencing other’s dreams but being too consumed by your own thoughts to be present.
Chame, May 1
I meet the Nepalese Minister of Agriculture today. One of those what the fuck is my life moments that has been happening a lot in the past few months. We are staying at a farmstay, the owner a young, entrepreneur-ish man with a big mind. He shows us his fields then surries down the mountain to explain the importance of what he is doing to the minister. We eat Dal Bhat– all made with fresh veggies and beans from the farm– with his family, sitting cross-legged in the dark Nepalise kitchen. We even get lucky enough to experience the once-a-year ceremony where they put up the new prayer flags. The men hoist up the pole, the old man of the house chants, and they pour rice wine in our hands to drink at 8 a.m.
Dad is in awe the whole time and I think about how wonderful his sense of wonder is; this man has seen the sunrise from the top of Mount Everest, among so many other phenomenons, and he’s still curious and excited about so many things most people find mundane. A stark contrast to myself; I’m surrounded by the world’s most beautiful landscapes, and still, I find ways to be delusional, making up scenarios in my head and thinking about the future. Why can’t I be more present!?
Lower Pisang, May 2
The prayer flags are always flapping in the wind and I always spin the prayer wheels when I get a chance and I’ve been thinking a lot about the spirituality of Nepal. This country, specifically in the Himalayas, will always feel more spiritual and grounded than any other place I have been or will probably go. There’s India, yes, but Nepal is more quiet about it all, it’s more calm, which to me brings you closer to whatever you may be looking for. The countries both cremate bodies on the Holy river and have their big temples, but here has always felt more something to me. It may just be the solace I find in the mountains and the liking I take towards the buddhist villagers and their decaying monasteries, but yes, here will always feel better to me. It’s more connected to nature here.
Manang, May 3
Today I observe my feet walking across dirt and rock and the clouds move across the mountains. It’s clear enough to see Annapurna two, three and four; impossible looking snowy peaks. Phula shows us the building where he went to mountaineering school, there’s a pretty blue lake in front of it. We eat lunch sitting in the sun. The mountain sun hits differently, a warmth on your skin that doesn't make you sweat because the air is chilled enough. Simple little joys.
I think about creativity. It’s funny, I thought creativity would sprint into my mind with all this time away from my phone, all this silent walking. But, it's just scenarios and memories running through my head. Creativity doesn't always come from isolation, a belief that has been drilled in my head by so many prolific writers. It comes from conversations and music and reading and observing.
Shree Karta, May 4
We mostly walk uphill today and the altitude starts to get to me. My appetite decreases and I shake from the cold. I buy face-sized cinnamon rolls at the local bakery for our crew.
Tilicho Base Camp, May 5
Today is my birthday. Twenty-five. Mid-twenties. I mostly don’t think about that, which is a relief. Finally a birthday where I don’t cry at the end of the day. We have a simple celebration in the morning– pancakes and a singular candle lit– then we forget about it. The room I get that night has an en-suite toilet, a western toilet! The best birthday present I could ask for (most tea house rooms have only shared bathrooms and most of these shared bathrooms only have the traditional, in-ground toilet).
The perfect birthday: no wifi (so as not to get hurt by the people I don't receive messages from), a long hike, and living the day as if it is just any other day. (If you don’t love your birthday, I highly recommend traveling to a remote place for that day lol.)
Tilicho Lake, May 6
Today is a 3:30 a.m. start time to hike to one of the highest lakes in the world. When we get there after three hours of uphill, the frozen lake is covered by clouds.
Yakarta, May 7
War is breaking out everywhere today, still impacting us in a little himalayan village. India and Pakistan are fighting on the border, again. A war a little too close for comfort. Mom texts us frantically telling us to keep her informed about our safety.
In the next tea house over, a group of Russian trekkers meet a group of Ukrainian trekkers and a fist-fight breaks out. The police are called, they walk three hours from the main, neighboring village, and ‘arrest’ the culprits, walking them back to the main village again. All the guides gossip about the ordeal and fill us in, saying they will probably be taken to Kathmandu, kicked out of the country, and blacklisted. But, we see the Russians a few days later; they probably bribed the tourist police.
Throng La High Camp, May 8
The altitude is getting to my head. Tonight, we sleep at 16,000 feet. I try to journal but only get down a few sentences about the complaining Aussie girls sitting near me in the teahouse. I play solitaire and force myself to eat then go to bed at 7 p.m.
Thorong La Pass and down to Muktinath, May 9
17,769 feet this morning. We reach the high-point of the trip after waking up at 3:30 a.m. to walk up a mountain pass. It was snowing when we left but we quickly walk above the clouds and the sky is clear enough to see all the surrounding mountains and the magic that comes with morning light hitting snow-capped peaks. We celebrate at the top with coffee and snickers and photos, then get down to the bottom before noon. It’s all very exciting and rewarding, but incomparable to the shower I take later that day, washing over a week’s worth of filth off. After 6 plus hours of hiking, I spend the rest of the day in bed, enamored with my phone (priority #1: catching up with this past week’s SNL episode).
Jomson and Pokhara and back to Kathmandu, May 10 to 14
How nice it felt to walk everyday and have a sense of purpose, something I've been grasping for on my travels. The simple life most people live here feels so much more purposeful than what we have constructed for ourselves back at home. That’s what I want even though I know most of the people here just want what I have.
There’s a relief with being back to civilization, though. I reach for the western-life, drinking smoothies everyday and taking yoga classes in the touristy area of Kathmandu. I sit for hours, smacking at my laptop keys and being upset with how much I actually enjoy working.
I redownload instagram and immediately feel disgusting and anxious and sad. You notice how things actually make you feel when you go without them for a while. I was comparing my life to my feed and the comparison makes me anxious; I suddenly care about people I haven't spoken to in years. We only post to validate ourselves and no one can convince me otherwise. I realize I do not want to be living a life made for photos and videos and proving myself to people I no longer know. I still post my photos from the trip.
On my last day, I spend two hours in my hotel room bawling. Not because I’m sad to leave, but because I want to go home. I’ve officially hit the four month travel mark and know this breakdown is because of my period and the knowledge of upcoming change, but it all hurts just the same. I look at flights home just to comfort myself, then I board a flight to Bali (poor me!).