Off the Couch and On the Road

We met our trekking guides today, decided they were very cute and that maybe we wouldn’t die, and took a short flight in a very small plane to Lukla, at 2620m where we would begin out trek.

It was an easy day, and we took it slow, only walking for about 4 hours altogether. Lunch was at a small tea house on the way – potatoes and noodles – and we ended up at our guest house just after the afternoon clouds rolled in and it began to rain. We had tea and biscuits at 4pm, supper at 6pm, and I was in my cabin tucked into my down sleeping bag, exhausted, by 8pm.

-Sarah

The capital of the Kingdom of Nepal is Kathmandu, which sits at 1350m. Incidentally, it is also the year 2064, today in fact, as Nepal celebrated their New Years Eve last night.

It took me a full day to acclimatise, but it was the temperature and not the altitude that was the biggest shock (I guess time travel does that). We spent the day travelling around the city to various temples and stupas, including the monkey temple, and old Royal Palace within the city of Patan, and some other stupas which I am sure are great but they are looking all the same to me now.

We also visited the crematorium – an outdoor burning of bodies of which the ashes are then thrown into the river. It wasn’t the most lovely tourist attraction for me, but I suppose it was interesting. Until the ash hit the air and began blowing against our faces and then we were keen to get out of there, pronto.

That afternoon I did a last minute shop for trekking gear, which worked out insanely cheap, so I felt justified in my lack of preparation, mumbling ‘good thing I didn’t buy this in Sydney’, whenever I could, until people stopped nodding their heads in agreement.

It was an early night, and there was a lot of nervous conversations about how exactly the altitude would affect each of us and what drugs everyone was taking to prevent AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness). I didn’t have the heart to mention I only brought Panadol and was more worried about my general lack of fitness than anything. Wing it, my friends, wing it.

-Sarah

My flight from Bangkok to Kathmandu was uneventful, and I mysteriously did not have to pay the 700 baht departure tax a few others I have heard from had to pay.

Kathmandu airport is a building of brick walls and a concrete floor, and not much else, and as I walked outside, thousands of taxi touts and drivers climbed over each other to try and get my business. Unfortunately, about a million were holding ‘Kumuka’ signs, and I eventually chose one that looked nice and slowly ended up at my hotel, where I met my group later that evening.

My group was pretty much all Australian, and on average an older crowd, which made me feel slightly better, as I pretty much as am unprepared as you can get for this trek. Once they started listing all the equipment we needed, and all the treks they had done (usually involving sentences like ‘well, when I was in Borneo’, or ‘on the Kokoda trail’) however, those thoughts flew straight out the window, and I wondered what exactly was going through my mind in an air-conditioned office back in Sydney to make me think I could actually do this.

But my first lesson in PR was ‘wing it’, and so I decided I would do just that. Not that I had much of a choice by that time mind you, but it was either that or cry, and I figured the latter wouldn’t produce as many great photos. Dramatic maybe, but not stuff postcards are made of.

-Sarah

It was one of those really long days, kind of like Boxing Day or New Year’s Day, where nobody feels like doing anything and nothing is open. And normally you would just chill out at home or visit friends, and you could always rely on McDonald’s to be open.

Normally you could also count on walking down the street without having water thrown on you. We couldn’t rely on any of the above, and having washed and dried our clothes ready for flights, weren’t too keen on continuing the new year celebrations, despite the heat.

So we ate pizza, chilled out and caught up on emails. It was a long day.

The following morning – an early flight, another airport, a different currency. Next stop, Nepal.

-Sarah

PS As I will be trekking for the next two weeks or so, I won’t be able to update this blog, so you will have to make do with Desperate Housewives or Grey’s Anatomy for your entertainment. I know, they’re not as entertaining, but you will make it. I promise! I also haven’t been able to upload photos, so again you’re going to have to wait until I am in London. Why wait for photos of waterfalls and pigs when you can have mountains, waterfalls and pigs – I know, enticing right? Right?

The road from Siam Reap back to the Thai border was pretty rough. Rough would actually be an understatement, if Bonds sponsored roads like that in Sydney, they would sell a hell of a lot more sports bras. Apparently the concept of finishing one part of the road before digging up another didn’t quite allow the Cambodian government to generate as much revenue, so they dig up the entire stretch, wait for the rainy season when the road is washed away, and then ask Thailand for more money to fix the road they originally paid for in the first place. Not stupid, those Khmers.

It was a long four hours, but once we hit the Thai border we were blessed with paved roads and less cows, and the remaining four hours went more smoothly. It was a bit sad to be back in Bangkok where we first started, going our separate ways. Tired from the bus ride, I had an early night and a few of us ended up treating ourselves to a traditional Thai massage the following morning before lunch on Khao San Road and a chilled out afternoon.

Not having seen the Grand Palace, museum and the temple of the Emerald Buddha (which is actually Jade, but green stone is green stone, right? And plus, Emerald has kind of a cool Wizard of Oz feel to it) I did the touristy thing the next morning, more out of obligation than anything, but the site was amazing and if you mentally blocked out the millions of Japanese tourists it was a great morning.

That day was pretty much the start of the Thai new year festival, ‘Songkran’, which is a water festival, so we head out that night to a bar Sakai knew in Silom to take part in the festivities.

Prepared with water pistols, we entered the street party, where bars had shut their doors, placed plastic around the furniture, and pumped the music into the street. Hoses were flowing with water in big garbage bins and everyone was dancing and trying to soak as many people as they could.

It was awesome, and we were soaked through in about 5 seconds flat. We took our positions and fought back – the kids were the worst culprits and it seemed the more little and innocent they looked, the more water they poured on you. We used buckets, hoses and our water pistols, aiming mostly for terrified tourists running down the street, and there was a point where buckets of flour and water were passed around to throw onto anyone close enough to aim at (mostly innocent looking children with massive water pistols).

The locals were really into the spirit of the new year, even out tuk-tuk driver provided us with water to fill the pistols on the way home so we could hit innocent bystanders on the street with shots of water.

It was the most awesome new year’s celebrations, and if Thailand should export one thing, it should be the water festival.

Well, maybe two things, because Tiger Balm rocks. It’s just not as fun.

-Sarah