Adieu, Asia, Adieu

The last week in Asia was pretty uneventful, at least, in relation to the last few months. After my delectable shower, I decided to go eat anything that tickled my fancy, sandwiches, pastries, mashed potatoes, candy bars, cheetos, even Mountain Dew (what??? When do I consume these things?). I pretty much did this for three days, while updating my blog and watching movies in my room, Kathmandu’s hustle and bustle drove me up the wall; I just wasn’t in the mood to be heckled, stared at, whatever, so I basically just hit from everyone. I got a message from my Canadian friends, Jo and Bret, that they were hanging out in Pokhara and they told me to hop on a bus to join them. I had been wrestling with the idea of seeing a little more of India, but after realizing that I didn’t even have the patience for Nepal, I would have no hope in India. I booked a bus to leave at 7sm and then went out for dinner. I found a Mexican restaurant called Jesse James that had nachos, one of my key cravings while hiking—sold. As soon as they were placed in front of me I knew it was a bad idea but I dove in anyway. So much cheese and refried beans, my stomach immediately was killing me. I went back to watch a movie and lie down. At about one am I was done for. I hardly slept because I had to keep rushing to the bathroom to, ahem, relieve myself. 6:30 am rolled around and I was in no shape to get on a bumpy, windy seven-hour bus ride. I decided I had to stay in a horizontal position for longer. Luckily, later that day, they said I could just pay two dollars and change the ticket to the next morning—horray! I avoided anything could agitate my temperamental stomach for the rest of the day and made the morning bus, no problem.

Ii got to the guesthouse Jo said they were at at two in the afternoon; the man at reception said they had ched out and left—what? I knew that Bret had to go, but why did Jo leave??? He gave me a room and I immediately raced to the internet café to see if she had left a message, only to find her in a book store across the street. Thank God; apparently, the guy that told me they left was being rude, so she moved across the street. I went back to get my belongings and the man said it was too late because I had already checked in. I stopped and said no, you KNEW my friend went across the street—you lied to me and you know you did; sorry, I’m not staying and I’m not paying. How dare he lie to me and expect my business; sorry, sweetheart, I’ve been scammed way too many times in the past eight months, you’re not getting me, this time.

Pokhara is so much more relaxed than Kathmandu; it’s what Nepal is really like. yes, there are some stares and a bit of heckling but, in general, we were free to wonder and be left alone. We spent a lot of time talking/reading/eating and movie watching. Our sleep schedules are so off from trekking that we’re tired at eight or nine at night. I got up to go for a run twice (whoo!); the first time in a month!! The Stockholm race is going to be a challenge to say the least. We also rented bikes and peddled around the lake until the road was too bumpy ad we had to turn back. We went through little villages and saw kids biking to school, men fishing, people going about their daily lives. The best part was, they didn’t care about us one bit; we could go about our business (and observe a bit) while they went about with theirs. The view is supposed to be amazing because there are mountains surrounding the town, however, they could rarely be seen in the distance because of what looked like clouds but turned out to be smoke coming form forest fires. The country doesn’t have the money to put them out (and many people don’t even know this is occurring) so they’re just waiting for the monsoon season to put them out---what??? That’s exactly what we need to be happening to the world’s oxygen and timber supply, let it burn—unbelievable.

On our last day in Pokhara, we were wondering around purchasing gifts when we stopped to look at what a Tibetan woman was selling. She was sitting on the ground with a blanket spread out in front of her with the same bracelets/rings/earrings that everyone else has. Suddenly, she started shooing us and yelling, “move!” A water buffalo was taking a stroll down the sidewalk and heading our way. We stepped into an alley and the beast walked right in front of the woman, not trampling any of us, however, with each step, left a plop of poo which missed us completely but splattered all over the woman and her jewelry. EWWWWW. We felt awful; she was light hearted about it, though.

We got on the bus back to Kathmandu at nine am. We had one last meal at our favorite little eatery (where we had seven consecutive meals mostly consisting of momos—steamed dumplings filled with vegetables or meat-or the trekker’s breakfast-coffee, juice, fruit/muesli/curd, and a hard boiled egg) and then took a cab to the bus stop. The ride took FOREVER and was so hot, but at least it had a TV and played Bollywood music videos the whole way. We arrived in Kathmandu at five at night, even though it’s supposed to be a six-hour ride. They dropped us off in Thamel, the main part of the city. I went to get off of the bus, where there are taxi cab and rickshaw drivers crowding the exit yelling at me to use their ride when I slipped on the top step and slid all the way to the ground, slamming my bum and head on every stair. I landed, feet sprawled straight out ion the dusty ground and all the drivers rushed to my side. I was so shocked, I just sat there laughing—yeah, I’m fine, my egos just a bit bruised. Jo took care of getting us a cab, 100 rupees (about a dollar and fifty cents) to get us to her old hotel. We were dropped off, but a room wouldn’t be ready for a few hours so we got some coffee and dinner (more momos). On our way out, we saw our cabbie got stuck in a pothole while backing up and we had to push from the hood, along with another guy, in order to get him out. So random. Her room was way nicer than mine; it had a big queen sized bed, a fan, and a TV with cable. We soaked up a bunch of that whenever there was electricity (It’s frequently out about eight hours of the day)

The next morning we got up and walked to the Monkey Temple. Basically, you climb a bunch of stairs that have monkeys hanging out on them to yet another massive stupor where Buddhist go to pray. It has become painfully commercialized, however, the area is covered with stalls selling souvenirs—at least they don’t harass as much as in India. We wondered around taking photos for a bit and then headed back. I purchased my bus ticket to the boarder for the next day because I was worried about how long it would take me to get into India because the boarders had been closed due to riots. Fortunately for my safety (but not the entertainment level of this story) that was only during the recent election and they had opened a day or two before I left—phew. Had I not gone to Pokhara, though, I may have been in trouble.

I went to the bus stand at 6:30am and a man helped me get my ticket and find the bus—then charged me. I HATE when I fall for that; why isn’t there such a thing as common courtesy here? Everyone, everything, every action has its price. The bus took ten hours to get to the border. Then, I got in a packed jeep, which was a three-hour ride to the Gorekshep train station. Somehow 12 people fit in something that would normally hold six…unbelievable. I grabbed my bag and rushed to catch the train leaving for Mumbai in 25 minutes—Sold out. What? Apparently, there was only general class left, which meant I would be sitting in a hard chair for 36 hours. hahahahah no. The next train was at 5 am and I had to go to another ticket counter to get the ticket. When I got there, however, the counter was closed. At this point I’m standing amidst tons of sleeping Indians looking in circles trying to figure out what in the world to do. Some stranger asked me what I needed and I told him the story when he then let me in on a little train secret that you just buy the general class ticket and exchange it on the train--that would have been good to know a few months ago. I went back to the original counter and purchased a five-dollar ticket and THEN he tells me to go to the sleeper car and exchange it there with the ticket agent—why didn’t you tell me this in the first place!! I rushed to the train after first going to the wrong platform where another guy had to run me back just in time. I decided to splurge for an air-conditioned train and got a bed, no problem. I am sweating profusely at this point; I caught a glimpse of my reflection and, well, it wasn’t the most attractive I’ve ever looked to put it lightly. The AC train cost $25 in total; it may have been one of the best decisions I have ever mad. I received sheets, a pillow and a fleece blanket and laid on my berth reading and sleeping for 36 hours (I finished Three Cups of Tea, started and finished Tuesdays with Morrie, and got halfway through Kite Runner.). It was amazing, also, because no one bothered me because the AC trains usually have mainly well off families with small children, I’ll deal with the occasional crying if I don’t have creepy men leering at me constantly.

After I arrived in Mumbai, I had to take an hour taxi ride back to the Salvation Army. It was WAY hotter and muggier than last time. I dropped my bags and jumped in the first shower in over 50 hours of traveling--yay soap, who cares if the shower is cold? It felt perfect. I spent most of the next two days in cafes and on the Internet. I found somewhere with free wi-fi and air conditioning so that’s what I did between last minute errands.

I met a group of girls from the UK who invited me out with them to Leopold’s café my last night so I figured why not? We drank way too much beer and sang our hearts out along wit the blaring American music. We headed back to the Salvation Army at 12:30 to make our curfew and I left in a cab or the Airport. My flight was leaving at 5 am and a cab would take an hour, so off I went. I was drunk going through security, but no one seemed to notice or care. I couldn’t really sleep, so I just sat around eating Kit Kats and French fries from KFC until it was time to board. I couldn’t sleep on the six hour plane ride to Doha, Qatar, either, so I watched movies on my personal TV screen. I then had to sit in the Doha airport for EIGHT hours without the proper currency to purchase food or water, ugh. I used the free Internet until my computer died and then lay down on the ground and tried to get some shut eye. Very little luck. This airport is very pristine, everything is white and glass; there is some intense air conditioning pumping, as well. There are even quiet rooms to sit in and men’s and women’s prayer rooms. My flight to Stockholm I finally got some shut eye, thank God! I arrived to my friend, Krister’s, place in Uppsala after a thirty-minute bus ride and over 20 hours of traveling. Ahhh, what a breath of fresh air, literally ☺

Safaricom Marathon Money Begging

For those of you who don’t know (or don’t remember) a part of my trip was to run a marathon on every continent to
A) keep in shape
B) Do something effectively imbedding myself into each culture and
C) raise awareness for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society.
I have already run three full marathons (26.2 miles, 42.195km) on this trip in Ecuador, New Zealand and Thailand…Sweden is less than a month away. But those aren’t this post’s point.

My final marathon of the trip (and on the 6th continent) is the Safaricom Marathon on June 27th which will be run in Lewa, Kenya through the Masai Mara—the Serengeti on the Kenyan side. The proceeds go to the wildlife conservation; who doesn’t like to help animals? I know I do, and I bet you do, too, because you know me and would love to support me.

I’m not looking for anything as substantial as I was for the San Diego Rock ‘n Roll marathon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society (I raised over $4,200, if you recall, thank you for all of your support!). I already had to donate $250 dollars of my small, sad backpacker budget in order to hold my place. Not to mention, it costs a small fortune for accommodation on the safari (because I don’t have $200 to burn each night, I’m going to hopefully find myself a tent so I can stay in the self-catered camp for about 100 dollars in total, instead…or maybe I’ll just lay my sleeping bag out under a picnic table).

Here’s what I’m asking; help! Yep, monetary help. I know everyone’s finances are low because of the shhhheconomiccrisisssshhhhh, but I don’t need much. $5-10 from a couple people will go a long way. So, please, click the little donate button to the side and help me out☺ Plus, I’m sure there will be some good pictures of lions and other animals chasing me down because I will most likely be the last person finishing—white girl’s got nothin’ on those professional runners.

You can find out more about the marathon, as well as the organization it supports at

http://www.tusk.org/safaricom-marathon-2009.asp.

Thank you for your support!

I dream of Cuisine

Instead of editing my previous blog post; I’m just going to write a new one consisting of the random details I forgot to mention….

1) I was living off of a 400-500 rupee a day budget (that’s about 5-6 dollars); this includes food and accommodation. This meant that I had to find the cheapest room as well as the cheapest food; the room wasn’t an issue, usually I could have my own room for 100 rupees. Food, on the other hand, was a bit more difficult. The cheapest thing with any sort of substance was RaRa Noodle soup (Instant noodles; yep, I went back to the good ol’ college diet of ramen). However, even THAT got expensive the higher I got (it killed me to spend 3 bucks on something that costs 10 cents in America). After I left Namche Bazaar where I could at least indulge in Snickers bars for 50 rupees a pop, my mind started to get suck on one thought; holidays. I spent my treks dissecting the Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, birthday tables in my mind. Here’s a list of what I pretended I was actually eating…

Mashed Potatoes with lots of real butter and salt
Grandma’s famous chicken wings
stuffing
Medium rare steak
Aunt Barb’s clam chowder
deviled eggs
Christmas cookies of all shapes and sizes (mainly PB Balls and Spritz)
Mom’s creamy vegetable soup
Mom’s cheesy potatoes
tuna noodle casserole
Domino's Pizza....any pizza, really
loaded nachos (Boston bars make them best)
kraft mac ‘n cheese
cereal
rice krispie bars
Mom’s guacamole
ice cream
chilli/velveeta dip with tortilla chips
hummus
Fresh vegetables and fruits (mainly Pineapple, oranges and cucumbers)
Burritos (Anna’s taqueria)
Dairy queen ice cream cake (or really, anything from Dairy queen)
Wine
Tequila


I think that might be it?

2) Security

The airplane security is an absolute joke. Though, at least they have men's and women's lines where I got a nice gentle goosing. You have to put your pack on a conveyor belt for the "security check" where they pat your bag (who care's that it's solid and you obviously can't feel the contents inside that way) and then they slap a little sticker on it and send you on your way. Do you have firearms, knives or lighters? No. OK. Off you go....

3) Porters


The entire way up and down there are supplies being carried along the path; from Lukla to the highest village at Gorekshep, everything must be carried either on a person’s back or on a Jobka or yak. First of all, how the animals don’t fall off the side of the cliff astounds me; there are no barriers and a lot of the times the path is wide enough for one person to walk comfortably—if the side of the path were to be lose the animal/person would be gone. The men and women carry baskets on their backs with a strap across their forehead to hole the weight. They all walk stooped over carrying anything. Lots are carrying cases of beer, noodles, canned soups; all of which are piled way over their head. The most ridiculous thing I saw was a group of men carrying pillars and planks of wood that were at least twice their height. Not to mention, the majority of the porters are walking in converse knock offs w/out socks or FLIP FLOPS (ALL THE WAY to 5300 meters; it’s damn cold up there). I could hardly get up there with my light bag and in my ratty Nike sneakers. Each and every village started on a porter’s back; everything has to be brought up from wood to the stoves that cook and heat, the bedding, glass, not to mention the consistent supply of food for the inhabitants as well as trekkers. These are some extremely patient and strong individuals.

4) GET ME OUT OF HERE

After 11 days I was done. I loved the view, the solitude, the locals, but DAMN someone please get me a shower and a society. It’s not that I didn’t like being out in nature alone, my view was incredible and I have enough going on in my head to entertain me for quite some time. What drove me nuts was, first of all, the incredible need of a shower. I had succumbed to wiping herbal essences shampoo into my sweatshirt so it didn’t smell god-awful. Plus, the entire trail is so dusty that my legs and feet were a new brown color that I knew wasn’t attributed to any sort of tan. Also, and this is a fun trait that festers throughout every country in Asia I have been to; if one more person were to hawk a loogie at my feet or pick their nose while staring at me, I think I would’ve dropped my bag and let all hell lose. SEROIUSLY, get a tissue.