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Published: November 21st 2008
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Sorry for the delayed update; there have been many adventures, and unfortunately misadventures, since my last blog so it's about time everyone knows about my happenings and whereabouts. I guess I'll go with a chronological order of events:
After the termination of festivals, it was time to settle into a routine for at least a couple of weeks, that is, until the next festival occured. I was looking forward to spending some quality time with the children at the orphanage assisting with english lessons during their evening studies and exploring more of Kathmandu valley during the day. I met up with my friend whom I had travelled to Pokhara and Chitwan with as it was drawing near to her departure from Nepal and we decided to explore the valley village of Bhaktapur.
After a leisurely morning of enjoying a cup of "real" joe at a local cafe, not the nescafe crap that most places serve, we ventured through the mid-morning bustle on the streets to the bus station in order to catch the local bus headed toward Bhaktapur. Now listen, I must tell you that the terminology of "bus station" is not quite what you're thinking of. There's no
building where you check in and retrieve your boarding ticket, no clerk to assist you in finding the right bus, no destination signs on the buses themselves, and best yet, no actual station. Upon turing the corner on a main downtown street, lined on the side of the road as well as blocking traffic we find minibuses (12 passanger vans), buses that appear to be on the verge of breakdown, and buses painted and decorated with hindu inspirations. The drivers are shouting destinations that aren't comprehendable, at least not to us and locals are pushing their way past our confused expressions. I stand listening intently as I possibly can in the middle of the maddness in order to try and recognize the pronounciation of "Bhaktapur," which I can best make out as "Bagpu." We hop onto the bus and head to one of the oldest villages in Kathmandu valley.
Bhaktapur, known as the "town of devotees," is characterized with old narrow brick-laid streets and small doorways that lead into maze-like passages. The durbar square, or temple area centrally located, is dated back to the 17th century and the biggest temple is restricted to hindus. There were plenty of sights
to soak in for a few hours until the pestering of vendors and tour guides began to wear on us, in which we decided to escape the tourist trap. That evening we spent the night in a far eastern village on the valley fringe known as Nargarkot where the views of the Himalaya Range were noted to be "dazzling" and "spectacular"! However, mountain weather systems remain a mystery to me. One day you see them, the next you don't. Well, we landed on a "don't" day. Oh well, no stressing over something you have no control over.
We returned to Kathmandu city the next day and I said goodbye to my travel friend, maybe we shall meet again someday. I returned to sniffling/coughing kids, thankful to receive the warm hospitality that i had been missing. My next adventure planning was getting underway shortly thereafter. I had posted a "trekkers wanted" notice on the community bulletin board at a well-known tourist hotel and was happy to get numerous responses via email. I met up with a woman from Switzerland who was also travelling solo around Asia and who was equally excited to do a somewhat challenging trek in the Annapurna
region of Nepal. We both agreed that hiring a guide would be the best decision so we found a reputable guiding service and put a down payment on a 10-day trek. I was so excited as this was what I really wanted to do here in Nepal, to see the tallest mountains in the world up close and personal, to breathe the fresh mt. air, and enjoy some solitude in nature, one of my favorite things to do.
The day I was suppose to meet up with my new-found trekking partner, I woke up with a high fever and inflamed lymph nodes in my groin, an unsettling feeling that had appeared out of nowhere. I was too nervous to just ignore the feeling knowing that in a few days there would be no medical service available if I needed it. I think helicopter evacuation in the mountains is NOT cheap unfortunately. I listened to my better judgement and wisely decided to go to the well-known western medical clinic in Kathmandu to find out what was going on with me. Oh, I forgot to mention that I was experiencing fevers on and off for the past week, but had been
ignoring them and keeping them at bay with a little western medicine known as Ibuprofen. The outcome of the doctor visit was not what I was hoping for. My doctor, an American who had been in Nepal for the peace corps and returned to live with his family, said my diagnosis was uncertain. My blood tests were negative and my urine/stool cultures were clear of any bacteria. The only thing he could base his diagnosis off of was the fact that I was bitten by leeches in Pokhara and that perhaps the bites became infected, thus infecting my lymphatic system. He sent me home (back to the orphanage) with a 10 day course of amoxicillin antiobiotic and told me to keep an eye on the fevers and to return to the clinic in four days. Oh, and a recommendation NOT to go trekking at least for the next 2 weeks. Of course my original return date was sheduled for only 3 weeks away, not providing an adequate amount of time to go on a trek. Over the next few days I got worse, high fevers and a feeling of my body getting weaker and weaker. By the time I went
back to the clinic for a re-check, I was on the mend finally, but it sure didn't feel like it.
I made the very difficult decision to return home to the US to recover from this jungle fever. I was worn out, both physically and mentally, not to mention making my parents worry sick about me half way around the world. It's not easy being sick so far away from anything vastly familiar, in addition to a communication barrier with the kids and staff at the orphanage. They never seemed to understand the severity of my illness, and so expected. Realizing that I would not be able to trek on this sojourn broke my heart, but it will heal in time in knowing that those mountains have been grounded in Nepal for some time now, and they aren't going anywhere anytime soon. Someday I hope to return. I would like to look at this physical obstacle as something that simply made me stronger in my adventure. It was a challenge and I overcame it. No regrets on returning to people that love me and love knowing that I am safe and sound.
Update: I am recovering, slowly but surely.
I am happy to be home. I will have more adventures to come, and I hope you all will share them with me! Love and peace.
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