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Published: November 14th 2009
Mt. Phulchoki
steep slippery shortcuts - Friday night brought the beginning of Dashain celebrations, and with it, my introduction to beaten rice. I would spend the next two weeks trying to either avoid this particular version of a food I had been living off of for the past two weeks, or trying to suffer through it. It is essentially a dried and flattened version of cooked rice, which is delicious. Beaten rice, however, tastes like very thin bits of cardboard, no matter how much dhal you soak it in. This is the only part of the longest Nepali festival of the year know as Dashain that I am not a fan of. Well, goat and buffalo sacrifices aren’t all that fun either.
I’ll tell you what
is fun though—drinking home brewed rice beer and socializing with Shrawan and his friends on the second floor patio. Also, having your hand held for two hours by the foremost tiny-violin-looking-instrument player in Nepal, who doesn’t seem to speak a lick of English. Pell can tell you more about that experience. The physical contact code of conduct is much different here. A handshake doesn’t last a few seconds. After the initial “shake,” Nepali men will continue to
Mt. Phulchoki
lost in the jungle hold hands for 2, 5, 10, 20 minutes, while they talk. To the ignorant American, it would seem that there are a lot of openly gay men in Nepal. This is not the case. It certainly does take some getting used to, due to my American conditioning. Once you understand it, I would say it is loosely comparable to putting your arm around your friend, but much more drawn out, affectionate, and uncomfortable (for the uninitiated). Some of the older boys will grab my hand and hold it, fingers interlaced, while they talk to me. After about 10 seconds all kinds of mental alarms begin sounding up in my head. “Warning! Warning! Handshake duration has exceeded legal and safe limits! Abort!” I don’t know what to do with myself. However, I always go against my societal conditioning and let the hand-holding continue so as not to offend. I commend Pell for enduring two whole hours of this discomfort.
Phulchoki - That evening Pell told me of his awkward hand-holding experience, and of his conversation with a very inebriated Bhesh. It appears on Sunday we three will be climbing Mt. Phulchoki, the highest peak in the valley, which Pell has
Mt. Phulchoki
done and done been aiming to climb since he arrived. The peak has always been shrouded in clouds, however, and the ascent wouldn’t be worth it if you couldn’t see anything once you arrived at the summit. Pell had been waiting and waiting for a clear day to no avail. After a bit of research he learned that Phulchoki is home to one of the last remaining cloud forests. Well that explains a lot. So, inebriated Bhesh and Pell decided to just go for it and hope for the best. Sounds like my whole Nepal trip in a nut shell, so I am, of course, on board.
A trek up the highest peak in the valley might sound a bit epic, so let me clear things up. It is a very high peak, standing at over 10,000 feet; but we are already at 5,000 feet. Add to that the facts that it is essentially a big forest-covered mound, and it is very much still summer weather (no snow), and this epic trek is quickly downgraded to a very long walk. A very long, very steep walk.
A road goes all the way to the top where there is a military post
and a Buddhist Temple. Terribly contradictory, I thought. We could follow the road all the way up, but that would take forever; so we took short cut trails that crossed the road, straight up the side of the mountain. Hello, burning calf muscles. Nice to see you again.
Our last short cut got us lost in the jungle. We eventually found the road again; and it was good we did, because we soon came across signs warning us to stay on the road or risk being shot at. The road is nice. The road is my friend. I like the road. The military folk were kind enough to let us go all the way to the top where we had a snack while admiring the small temple. It was clear the entire hike, until we reached the top when, right on cue, the clouds rolled in and said "Ha-ha, no view for you. Suckers."
On the way down we managed to take a “short cut” that led us around the valley in the wrong direction, effectively lengthening our return by an hour or more. I’m pretty sure it was my fault as I was the one leading at
Mt. Phulchoki
Buddhist Temple at the Top that point. It turned out all right though, because a friend of Bhesh’s had always wanted to go that route but didn’t know how. Well, thanks to my poor sense of direction, Bhesh could now fill him in.
On the walk back into Godavari we stopped at the hotel and met the group from California just as they were checking in. Bhesh was excited to introduce us to Dave, the leader of the group and a friend of his who had visited six years ago. We had introductions, shook hands briefly (like normal people), and left them to check in. They would join us later at Ama Ghar for the program the children had prepared to welcome them. And some dhal bat. Always for some dhal bat.
Welcome - I had a cold shower at the apartment and headed over to Ama Ghar. After a delicious dhal bat dinner we all went upstairs. The children were quietly working out the program and before I knew it (literally) I had been volunteered to be a part of it. The children informed me that I would be playing and singing Green Day’s
Basketcase. I didn’t seem to have a choice
in the matter, but I threw in my own stipulation anyway: Sajan, one of the older boys, would play it with me. He agreed. And we rocked.
The program was fantastic, to say the least. There was singing, dancing, and more singing, plus more dancing. We even managed to rope Pell into singing
Knocking on Heaven’s Door with us because the rest of us didn’t know all the words (surprising as it’s only two simple verses). Akshay, one of the older boys and a madman on the guitar, busted out an amazing solo and stole the show (in my opinion). I did a poor impression of Axel Rose, but to be fair, Axel Rose does a poor impression of singing. Our new guests were grateful and very impressed with the entire program—as they should be. They had now been properly introduced to these incredible children. Welcome to Ama Ghar, my friends.
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brayntea
bryan
A Late Finish
i know i've been back from Nepal for almost a month now and it is about time i got to recounting the last two weeks of my trip. my apologies for the delay. thank you all, again, for reading.