05-05-09 Strangely peaceful times
So it takes the country being brought to a standhill for me to find the time to write a bootlog entry! First there was moving house, then fieldwork starting again (only this time very full of work, rather than me sitting in hotel rooms having the time to update), then helping out with stuff for the Association of INGOs Education Task Force, while trying to complete a baseline assessment while trying to input questionnaires to organise the next round of fieldwork.. while trying to se friends…
Yay I love being busy. I also took the time off to do a trek (finally) and have managed to go through the photos, am now trying to upload them on Facebook. We were incredibly luck - we did the Tamang Heritage Trail. This included a 10h bus ride up, which was only good in comparison to the ten hour ride back - where we had a worse bus (no suspension) and I had food poisoning and a lady who insisted on sitting next to me (read: on top of me) and being carsick. Couldn't even sit on the roof like on the way there because of feeling ill - the roof has the advantage of fresh air and more room, but the scare factor of jolting around near precipices…
Upon arrival, the two French tourists Magali was shepherding pulled a bottle of French red and a saucisson out of their packs. We were insanely excited by this (the Russians at the nearby table had only just arrived, they'll understand after months of Dahl Bhaat). So an aperitif followed by dinner much later. A lot of places in the mountains only have one hot spot for cooking in their ovens, but the traditional dish is rice, soup, (tea), curry ate the very least. So anytime you order they start from scratch and it can take up to two hours to prepare - Particularly if one member of the group wants chowmein or something else. It felt like a very laid back trip, since we'd wait at both lunch and dinner, I think we almost spent as much time sitting around waiting for meals as we did actually walking.
Luckily Magali has done a BAFA specialisation of Mountains, and she taught me the trick of only breathing through my nose on climbs, and to slow down if I get out of breath. The important thing was not to burn out the muscles since we had days ahead. So for the first time ever I was managing to scale hills relatively comfortably, if slowly. I was with a great group, with the spirit of "we're on holidays" so we'd pause frequently, gaze at the scenery and chat. After all there was no point racing to the next village to wait. Plus it ave our porter a rest. He was not carrying nearly as much as he normally does since Mag took her stuff back and the rest of us combined was about 20 kilos to his normal 30 (plus they'd budgeted two porters) - we all wanted to carry stuff with us as well.
The first village we stopped at had hot springs, which was lovely. My blisters stung as I got in - despite the fact that I'd been wearing my boots for six months, I still got blisters which lasted the whole trip. Ouch. There was another group of French people there (it was a French dominated trail when we were there) and some of them had brilliant red sunburn which must've hurt more. Somehow I got the idea my blisters weren't so bad later that evening, but I think it was just the water was sucked out of them by osmosis, so I woke screaming in pain that night. Found something to pierce them at 2 in the morning, layered my "fix everthing" (paarderm) cream on and prayer for it to die down by morning. Which it did thank goodness.
The second day was a big climb up to the highest peak, on a beautiful clear day. There were so many beautiful vistas of the ranges! Plus at lunchtime we put up flags at the Shaman's hut then sat and listened as he played a traditional song about their community's flight from Tibet. We spend a lot of time at that high point, then walked to our porter's home village. It turns out we were there to witness a rare ceremony. The monastery had donated its old scrolls to a newly built (apparently nicer) monastery in another village. That evening it was receiving a new set, and 108 people each carrying a scroll were winding their way back up to the village. Some kind of smoky fire was lit, traditional music was played, and the whole village was blessed with each book being tapped on their head. It was like witnessing a part of history.
We missed the celebration afterwards, since we went back to have dinner, and by the time we'd finished that the celebration was over. So we sat in a small group at the meeting spot, looked up at the brilliant, clear skies full of stars and sang our own songs. Then we tried to go to bed but kept finding big scary spiders in our hut… Next day was a short walk, since it is well known that the third day of expeditions is always a low point in motivational terms, unfortunately we took off too late to do the optional quick hike up to the border with Tibet. The fast walkers did it at 6 the next morning, but being crippled with blisters I couldn't go. That evening I took a shower at the only place available - the local water point (well mag showered in the toilets but I really didn't like that option). I think I need lessons on how to shower properly in a sari right next to a guard box and a military camp…. That evening we went to a ceremony for the rebirth of a man from that village who had died 49 days earlier. There were women with plates of food on their head circling the stupa, a small shrine, and no doubt many other things I didn't understand. Afterwards the women, who were all in traditional dress, started singing and dancing in circles around the shrine. It seemed like most of the men were drunk, although some were singing in the temple. We got fed Raksi (local diluted alcohol) out of a teapot that we had to scull since the cups were being passed around. [last couple of days to follow]
