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Published: January 3rd 2008
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09-DEC-2007
We are forced to rise painfully early at 630am, the sun will not rise until 8am so it feels like the middle of the night. I leave my old coat in the closet in the room, because I simply do not have room for her. We've had so much history together, it almost feels like leaving a child behind. As we've grown accustomed to, the hotel staff are sleeping on the couches in the lobby.
No one seems to have a major issue with it, so I lunge for the front seat in the jeep. No matter how cold I may be, I really cannot tolerate being smooshed between three other people in the back seat. As much as it seems as though my regard for personal space should have dissolved by now, it truly has not... especially for long periods of time. I come up with a scheme to make things fair, however, and say we can alternate with the front seat in half day shifts. No one seems to take much notice of my idea. Fine.
Everyone is sleeping for the first few hours of the journey, and again, I cannot understand this. As far
as I'm concerned, there is entirely too much scenery going on out there regardless of how tired I may be. My brain has a way of playing tricks on me so that I am not able to sleep during times like these, and I am truly grateful.
Four hours down the road, the tire falls off the jeep on a flat straight stretch of highway in the valley, about 10min from the nearest town. We couldn't have been luckier in terms of timing. Immediately, the others break out into panic mode and discuss every possible scenario from here on out. What if this happens? What if that happens? Quite frankly, I am surprised they made it out of their houses in their home country with as worrisome as they are. I simply cannot listen to this so remove myself from the situation. Unfortunately, they feel the incessant need to follow me around the other side of the jeep. It is a constant struggle to keep away.
As recommended by the jeep driver, once the wheel is reattached, we head into town and have the nuts and bolts replaced on the respective wheel and continue on our way. In
town, I suspected that Everest would be cold and broke down and bought some cheapo gloves to protect myself from the elements.
Up and down the mountainsides, the scenery is absolutely beautiful. We forge up a mountain along endless hairpin turns along a dusty bumpy dirt road to an amazing lookout of Everest. We've lucked out bigtime in that it's a clear day. Apparently it doesn't happen all that often. As the sun sets behind the mountains, we head down into the subsequent valley and into a small isolated village near base camp for the night. Its so dry and desolate, I feel as though I'm on another planet. Absolutely nothing grows up here. The environment consists of dry red and brown soil shaped into monumentous formations. Along the bumpy road, we pass quaint villages, and people moving about via horse and cart.
In our guesthouse, we stay in a 6 bedroom, large, colorful room with heaps of character. There is no means of illumination in the 'toilet', which is simply two rectangular holes in the concrete floor. I heart my headlamp. We retreat downstairs into the loungy dining area, where it is virtually impossible to order, even
by pointing to the chinese characters on the menu. I enjoy two luxurious helpings of tasty Tibetan dumpling soup before experiencing a near emergency bathroom incident. After brushing my teeth with my water bottle at a small trash can, I snuggle into bed where my blankets slide off my sleeping bag all night long. It is so cold here.
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