Day 2

The second day bears all of this trail's colors- we knew it would be difficult, and "Knowing is half the battle (name that cartoon)". Even though the effort doesn't change, knowing that something will be difficult not only makes it seem easier, but you are more excited to do it... it's all attitude I guess. We walked for 10 long hours that brought us 12 more miles towards Namche Bazaar and over 6000 feet of elevation were gained. We crossed the Lamjura La at 11,581' to reach the high point of our approach trek. I just have to keep reminding myself that I am trekking in Nepal, towards the highest mountains in the world. Like I said before, a constant effort to keep things real. We get glimpses of snow peaks as teasers- the Rowaling Range reaches over 20,000' and is seen on the first day- 25,000' peaks on the second. A taste of what's to come- a carrot in front of this hungry man.
Right now I am laying in my bed at the Namaste Lodge in Junbesi, Nepal- facing my window, staring out at a steep valley cut by a clean, quick mountain stream. The other side is densely wooded by Asian pines and high-alpine firs, interrupted by family homes and farmsteads- some brown in fallow others bright green with abundance and harvest. I am listening to the hum of Buddhist chanting, murmured by local monks in the prayer room of our lodge. The rhododendrons are blooming- deep reds and pinks seem crisp against the heavy greens of mountain pines- stark whites blend and mix with the morning mists and fog. We are staying an extra day here to see a local Sherpa celebration- a festival of dancing and singing in honor of Guru Rimpoche, one of Buddhism's most holy figures. Seen everywhere as a seated monk with a thin curly moustache, the Guru, known as Padmasambhava, peacefully greets even the most foreign traveler into most homes and monasteries.
To stay in the moment, to really acknowledge the experience as it is happening, absorb as much as possible- into my body, my brain, my skin, my eyes, my ears, my feet, my hands- to take this trip with me for the rest of my life- to never leave these mountains. That is my goal.

Day 1

Our first day took us 9 hours to cover 2 passes and 14 miles from Jiri to Kenja- our bodies could hardly keep up with our spirits and our legs felt great. Very few people actually follow this route anymore into the heart of the world's tallest mountains- airplanes into Lukla have altogether by-passed this part of the trek and given access to many more people who would have been weeded out by miles of ups-and-downs. It is an unfortunate reality because lodges and teahouses along this 59 mile stretch suffer from the lack of trekkers walking into the Khumbu. It further separates tourists from the tour and magnifies the unbalance of wealth between foreigners and locals- no one uses their legs anymore, just their credit cards. Our trail took us through villages and past houses, alongside bhattis and around rice paddies. The scenery was incredible- these people have worked the land and made it their own- carving into the hills and making it provide. It is a new sense of order- still "natural" but heavily humanized- arranged but beautiful, transformed but productive- changed and appreciated. The terracing is ubiquitous and ownership must be understood because it all blends together to cover the entire landscape. There are no fences. There are no Private Property signs. It would be presumptuous of me to assume that the land belongs to everyone- a Commons-type idea does not seem to be at work here- but it seems like there is a pervasive understanding that everyone is in the same boat, living off the land and working just as hard as his neighbor for food and family. This lifestyle seems so simple, but then I ask myself, "Are things simple when survival is at stake?" Subsistence farming to keep your family alive- simple becomes crucial- basic becomes necessary. The sherpa porters here are the most impressive I have seen yet. The whole community carries goods back and forth using a trump-line, the largest being 150 kgs, so we've been told. Imagine strapping a load of over 300 pounds onto your forehead... Up and down these hills- and we can hardly walk down the street... it puts the American sense of effort in a new and very bright light.

Himalayan Trekking... a work in progress

This trek seems distant to me, which is indicative of how quickly time and distraction affects an experience. My travels through the Solukhumbu District of this Himalayan country were so close to what I have always wanted they sometimes felt unreal- so good I had to concentrate harder, with more effort, on where my legs were taking me- what my eyes were showing me. The TV documentaries and National Geographic articles and Traveller photos position a trip like this into a category of almost unreachability- the Himalayas... Everest... Yetis... Buddhism. What a picture these words create- a world so entirely in your head has a hard time becoming real. But it was a trip that will never leave these bones- a fusion of subjects and objects to produce pure Quality in every way. I felt IN it- I walked IN it. Not content to leave it in the past, this landscape will be walked through again and again.

Kathmandu... it grows on you

I had such an unrealistic, romantic idea of this city- I imagined close streets, dark, unfamiliar, foreign with an asian influence, mysterious and appealing- the Orient- the unknown. What an awesome image, the "Big Trouble in Little China" type with old men and their wispy beards selling sketchy artifacts in dark alleys... not so much? It was just another sprawling, dirty, Indian-type city- complete with beggars and touts, trash and filth, bad air and run-down parks. There were a few back streets that had the asian mystery I had conjured up in my mind with random temples and a few dragon statues- but at first, I was sorely disappointed. At first...
The more I walked around, re-calibrated and shifted to a completely different culture, the more I enjoyed every bit of it. Probably because my expectation wore off and I enjoyed it for what it is. You have to find those aspects in these places or else it's too easy to dislike the entire package. Similar to India but with its own vibe, Kathmandu started piecing itself together into quite an unexpected and foreign form... exactly what I was hoping for.
It is known as the city of many temples, and it couldn't be more true. Everywhere you walk, there is some type of structure that thousands of people worship. Big asian pagodas with gold-gilded dragons, small clay ovens with Hindu gods, random stupas and innumerable inlaid carvings into every alley wall and corner. This country is fascinating- being mainly a Hindu Kingdom, it did not open its borders to Westerners until around 1950. The plains and big cities are mostly Hindu and the mountains, dominated by the Sherpas, pray to the gods of Buddhism. It's a contrast that cannot be understood easily, as both religious histories blend and weave to form some of the most intricate, beautiful and confusing patterns of spiritual thought I've ever encountered.
Ironically, with all of its emphasis on religious piety and a life led for the divine, Kathmandu has one of the most brutal and violent pasts of the asian continent. In 2001, the "Royal Massacre" took place where the prince, denied a marriage to a rival family by his own blood, went on a killing rampage and slaughtered his entire royal line. Then he tried to kill himself. His corrupt uncle took the crown and their has been revolt and bloodshed ever since. The democratic system has tried for years to establish itself, while Communist parties and other power-hungry political groups fight and kill for any government position. The maoists here are incredibly violent, and interestingly, both feared and supported in large numbers here. While spending time in this beautiful country, the papers repeatedly covered daily killings and attacks leading up to the "democratic" election. In 2004, Nepal had the highest rate of "disappeared persons" in the world.
It has been quite a trip through this land of plains and mountains- peaceful to these eyes, but with such a difficult past for those who call it home. Such a difference between flats and hills, the Terai and the Himalayas, the Hindus and the Buddhists, the rich and the poor- contrasts and contradictions, such heights and such lows.

DRUKYAL

The Land of the Thunder Dragon- The Land of the Peaceful Dragon- Drukyal is the Kingdom of Bhutan. These names indicate how foreign this place feels- breathes- touches my senses. I not only look and see- smell and inhale. The land feels back. This can be said about my time in India, my association with that land. What a different feeling- rough and beautiful, sweet and rancid, energized and completely barren... this changes all the time, and you become fascinated with the unpredictable.
Bhutan, however, is that soothing hand you eagerly take once you realize just how tired you are. I do not feel separated- a function of mountains and land. No matter where you find yourself, earth and stone welcome you home. It's a comfort in beauty I seek- and what's beautiful, what's "Quality"- that is what defines me, that choice- I agree with Robert Pirsig. And mountain air and alpine scenery... that's quality.
These hills colored tan and green by grass and tree. The air is cool and crisp- temperature affects a body in interesting ways. The heat makes you sweat- expel- shed. You feel burdened, overwhelmed and suffocated. Necessary sometimes, but right now I look forward to its opposite. The cool brings it in- introspective, tight and drawn in. You need inner fuel- the warmth of yourself- hands in pockets, a hunched pose of meek confidence.
Houses dot these hills- strong and purely Bhutanese. Blocks and squares painted white and colored by traditional designs- pagoda like but not Japanese- clean but surprisingly fitting to their natural placements. Deities and spirits, animals and gods adorn every side- protecting and inviting the inhabitants and guests. The buildings are exceptional- the outline is simple and detail is incredible- deep reds, purples and blues- highlighted by splashes of yellow, orange, green and white. The colors place these structures back into the earth from which they came- at home between mountain and tree, soil and sky.
Similarly, one feels equally at home within these elements. Along the road from Phuentsholing to Thimpu, this country begins to reveal the secrets that every set of foreign eyes finds so intriguing. Lowland broadleaves and creeping vines give way to hearty rhododendrons and deep green pine trees. The air clears as the Indian skies blend with and give way to its royal neighbor- mountains filtering out the heavy and unpleasant. Nature's sieve. As you rise, the pines gain strength and size- adapting to the rich life of alpine scenery. Coulds gather and the air becomes saturated with a deep, comforting moisture only available in mountains heights. Thick, heavy breaths feel like cleansing cycles of natural medicine. As I climb, the mists begin to take shape. Clear moisture condenses to a white vapor by changes in temperature- hot to cold- transformation- form demanded by mountain cold. This is the scientific explanation. Change of state. What I see is different- more connected to land and culture- the mystery of this place expressed by mist.
The breath of dragons- real and alive. Exhales from hot, wet mouths condensing as it reaches the dipping mercury. Small wisps here, a large plume- unseen bodies with real life signs. Hidden in earth, behind trees- soft but omnipresent, a cultural icon owned by these people and born of these hills.
A blessing for this mind- a treat for these eyes- an adventure for these feet. A body completely engaged- mind, body and spirit.