Silly Stories and More on the Trek

 I just realized that it’s easy to get the impression that everything has gone perfectly on our trip- I think that’s one of the biggest downsides to social media. We tend to mostly post the good stuff. Here are a few of our trials and tribulations to make you feel better about your own travel woes:

On the car ride to Lachung, Diya sat in the very back of the van and ate popcorn, spicy chips, and a large bottle of Coca Cola. Turns out she gets car sick just like the girls and I do - all over the back seat of the van. My brothers probably think it’s karmic justice for all of the times it took 12 hours to make an 8 hour trip because I kept getting sick on family car rides when I was younger.

On our way to Rabungla, our driver thought he was taking May and I back to Gangtok (Tim and Gyatso had ridden ahead on motorcycles), and drove us an hour in the wrong direction before Gyatso called to ask what was taking him so long. He glared accusingly at me as if somehow I was supposed to know he had been going the wrong way, then made up the time and soothed his annoyance by driving even more recklessly until we had caught up to them.

One of the huts we stayed in while trekking had a hole in the floor close to where I made my pallet. In the middle of the night I felt a gentle tug on the end of my sleeping bag, then a somewhat sharper yank. Keep in mind that it was pitch black, as the nearest electricity was at least 50 miles from where we were. I did the thing I did when I was a kid and thought there was a monster in my room - I kept completely still and tried not to breathe, hoping it would go away. Eventually I realized that the weight of my extra clothes and cellphone, which I always sleep with in the bottom of my sleeping bag when I’m camping so that they stay warm, had caused the end of my bag to slide off of my pad and then down into the hole. I am proud to say I didn’t wake up anyone in our party, but they all got a good laugh the next morning when I told them what had happened and how scared I was.

At the hotel in Lachung, the Happiness Home girls came to our room to show us how to use the heating pad. Because of our inability to speak each other’s languages, I fear sometimes they think we are incapable of higher functioning. Just before they arrived, May and I heard a strange buzzing noise - it was somewhat alarmingly electrical sounding and worrisome. While the girls were in our room, I asked if they had heard the strange noise in their room. Speaking very slowly and pointing to the space heater that was humming away in the corner, one of the older girls said: “That is a heater; it is for keeping you warm”. Umm- yes, I got that. I imitated the sound and told them it had happened twice right before they knocked on our door; they dissolved into helpless giggles. Who knew that a hotel room could have a doorbell and that it would sound like the precursor to an electrical fire?

Trekking suits me. I am apparently genetically predisposed to climb mountains in high altitudes without any problem. Poor May was gasping for air and felt like her heart was going to explode if she didn’t stop frequently. She got enormous blisters on both of her big toes and messed up her right knee. Sherpa life is not for her, but to her credit she smiled a lot throughout the experience. And she loves to tease me about how the locals keep trying to speak to me in Nepali or Tibetan to ask who my Caucasian friend is.

We met the resident monks on their way down Thulong mountain as we were climbing up. Evidently they were in the midst of a shift change, because we met two more monks making their ways up as we came down the next day. But for our one night - we had the entire mountain top of Thulong to ourselves, the only resident a surly white pony that we gave treats despite his unpleasant disposition. The quiet is profound in this isolated place; only our group and the constant rustle of the prayer flags interrupts the silence.