After nearly 4 weeks in Nepal, it all seems a bit of a blur. However, as we look back, certain moments stand out for us.
- Perhaps an ominous sign, we hadn't even left the city limits of Kathmandu and I had already stepped in human feces twice. In hindsight, it would appear the Universe was letting us know that "s*#t was about to go down."
- At the end of our first day of trekking, we labored up a steep, 600 foot climb into the village of Bahundada where we would spend the night. In the midst of huffing and puffing and rest-stepping the entire way, I turned to Jo and choked out, "slow and steady…one foot in front of the other." To which she responded, "that's the only way this can be done." As if perfectly on cue, at the exact moment she was speaking, a flip-flop wearing Nepalese man carrying a large and heavy looking sack came sprinting by us up the trail, disappearing from sight as quickly as he materialized. We looked at each other and agreed that, "apparently there is more than one way to do it."
- One night over dinner we were getting to know our porter/guide, Suraj. He explained that he grew up on a farm. Jo, attempting to navigate the language barrier, proceeded to describe our home and raised beds in Portland as, "a small farm" (the word garden does not seem to have a Nepalese equivalent…at least not one that our guide was aware of). Further attempts to explain were likely not helpful, though I thoroughly enjoyed the image Suraj must have had of our urban "farm".
- A very good-looking, good natured young man, Suraj seemed like someone who would not need any assistance meeting and falling in love with a nice young Nepalese girl. Indeed, as we passed through each successive village, women young and old seemed to flock to our friend. We were thus surprised when he explained to us that when he married it would be an "arranged marriage", and that he was accepting of that. We were even more surprised the next morning, as Suraj, wearing a sheepish grin admitted to having attained "digits" from the beautiful daughter of the owners of the guest house where we had stayed. We would continue to see that sheepish (perhaps s*#t-eating) grin many more times as we teased Suraj about being a "player".
- Now, it has been discussed previously in this blog the degree to which Johanna is terrified by large, hairy spiders. If you're aware of this fact, than perhaps you can picture the look on her face when we returned to our room one night after dinner to find a large, hairy spider on the wall about 4 inches from Jo's sleeping bag. A tense stand-off ensued and in the end this spider was no match against the swift blow from a Chaco. However, to add insult to injury, the next night as Jo was preparing the bed in our new guesthouse, a large hairy spider dropped from inside her pillow case and proceeded to charge toward her. This beast as well felt the pain of my now notorious Chaco, however for us the damage was done. Despite winning two successive battles, we clearly lost the war as we proceeded to sleep each of those nights with the lights on and dreamt of further stand-offs with large hairy spiders.
- Five days into the trek, we endured a particularly cold and rainy day of hiking. We were desperate to indulge in some serious calorie intake, and excitedly ordered a "snickers roll" desert. Our joy quickly soured as the highly anticipated desert turned out to be a fried lump of chocolate that in no way resembled in appearance or taste a snickers bar. Practically in tears, Johanna exclaimed, "how can you mess up chocolate." She then proceeded to threaten a hunger strike.
- "Hot shower my ass!" The sign of every guest house proclaimed the promise of a hot shower. This was true maybe 50% of the time. We arrived in Manang after 6 days of trekking and found the village, located at 3500 meters of elevation to be quite cold all the time. At night the cold forced us into our sleeping bags with the fortification of two down comforters in order to stay warm. Thus, the news of the absence of hot water was a bit troubling. Our first day there, the guest house owners graciously provided us a bucket of boiling water with which to bathe. It was quite a process as we used a second child size bucket (probably the same one that we used to scoop water to flush the toilet) that they supplied in order to mix the boiling water with the ice cold tap water from the outdoor shower to create a concoction that was suitable for bathing. Though laborious, this process ultimately yielded a modestly satisfying "shower" for which we were grateful. However, as it became clear that the boiled water was a one-time offer, Johanna and I both declared a strike on cleanliness.
- Movie Night in Manang! Aching for some comforts of home, we were delighted to find a quaint movie theater in the heart of Manang. The theater, a small, cozy room with bench seating arranged around an efficient wood stove, had space for roughly 40 other trekkers. For the low low price of about $3 each, we were treated to a projection screen viewing of "Seven Years in Tibet", as well as trays of hot tea and bags of popcorn. Who knew it could be this good at nearly 12,000 feet!
- Desperate to eat anywhere but at the guest house where we were stayed in Manang, we gravitated to the "Instant Karma Café". Though the "burgers" we ordered may not have had an ounce of anything that resembled what we considered ground beef, they were tasty and filling. On top of that, the gracious owner provided us our own personal bucket of hot coals to warm ourselves as we ate. After dinner, he invited us into the kitchen to sit and watch the end of a soccer game on his small television set.
- On the theme of soccer, Jo had the opportunity to watch another game with the owner of our guest house and his Buddhist Monk brother. She reports that the experience was "enlightening".
- Despite feeling lousy almost the entire time in Manang, Johanna's sense of humor prevailed. Upon waking me up in the middle of one of the nights there, she requested that we "play hospital". Outlining the game's "rules" , she requested to be a "one to one" assignment and then proceeded to demand a bag of IV fluid, a foley catheter and a call bell (with stressed importance on the call bell).
- For the sake of completeness, please refer to the entry, "The Most Terrifying Hour of Our Lives…" for an account of an experience that at different times was high, low and every station in between.
- As we awoke in Besi Sahar after completing our evacuation, we had a couple of hours to wait until the hospital would open. Feeling that we had a pretty accurate idea of what was wrong with Jo, we crossed the street to the "Pharmacy" in hopes we could find the proper prescriptions to treat her afflictions (and no, one of them was not more cow bell). She hadn't even uttered 2 words before the "Pharmacist" pulled out a stethoscope, grabbed her hand and led her to a dilapidated examination table around the corner. I looked on in horror as he immediately began pressing all over Jo's belly, despite her protests and attempts to explain her symptoms. He then proceeded to write out instructions for the 5 different medications he would sell us to treat her "period pains". Without elaborating, let me say that we were 100% positive that this was not the culprit. Nonetheless, this quack could not be dissuaded. As we pushed the meds back across the counter and began to retreat, he demanded 100 rupees for his "examination". The only silver lining of this experience is that it set the table for us to be absolutely amazed and impressed by the kindness, astuteness and efficiency of each subsequent encounter with a medical professional in Nepal.
- Navigating the Charak Medical Center in Pokhara was quite an experience. First we paid for the "booklet" that would become Johanna's patient chart. Then we saw the doctor in the Emergency Department. He wrote his SOAP note and then transcribed orders for a series of labs, ultrasounds and XRAYS. We were told to go attain the tests and then find him upstairs in his exam room. For each test, we went to the appropriate site and showed the order. They would then write out a ticket, which I would take to the reception desk and provide the appropriate payment. With receipt in hand I would return to show proof of payment and the test would be performed. I made this trip so many times that I thought I detected bemused grins on the faces of the receptionists toward the end of our journey. Did I mention, in the midst of our adventure through this open air medical center, the heavens opened up in a pre-monsoon rainstorm with near black skies and gale force winds. It was heartening to see that Jo still managed to possess her characteristic wit as she pointed out, "When it rains it pours." Nonetheless, the lab results were returned promptly and the XRAYs and Ultrasounds were accurately dictated and seemingly of good quality. The radiologist actually performed the ultrasound himself, and then took the time to explain to us his findings. The surgeon who was on his way home, returned to review with us the lab results and discuss his diagnosis and treatment plan. Though they were in favor of admitting Jo for a night or two, I was thankfully able to convince them to release her in my care to give the oral medications a try, with the option to return if need be. Despite our satisfaction with our experience to that point, the thought of leaving Jo overnight with VERY restricted visiting hours and the promise of IV starts and no food was, shall we say, "less than appealing".
The International Mountain Museum in Pokhara provided an afternoon well spent. We meandered through descriptions of the world's highest peaks as well as accounts of their first ascents. As we gazed upon inspiring photos and gear from the first expeditions into the Himalayas, we were also treated to a rare "Yeti" sighting.
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