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.