The Buddhas welcome people to temple.
Even going to temple is a climb.
Animals play an important role in the world although in certain circles, a political group purports to care, but wishes to rid the world of bovine creatures. Sounds like a lot of hot air. Be that as it may, Jen wasn't that happy with one of those creatures this week as we hiked around Fewa Lake in the large and busy second city, Pokhara. As we returned from our turnaround point, we noticed a pair of cows standing part-way in the main road that passes the lake. Cows resting or walking in and along roads is far from an unusual sight. We are quite accustomed to these domestic animals as we meet and deal with many cows in nearly each country we visit. Cows are usually passive but inquisitive, hardly interrupting their days of grazing to give us the time of day. It's the bulls that have given us the odd scare, typical males. This pair was different, particularly, the one that had been scratching its neck against a pole. We could relate to being itchy and the method of relief.
I strode past the cow, giving my usual friendly (silly) greeting including regards from home when I heard a moan and turned to see Jenni stumble. The cow butted her thigh, bruising it. It was a first—we've never encountered aggression from a cow before, a bull, yes. I made a terrible mistake after checking to ensure Jen was not injured seriously, shooed the animal away and proceeded to suggest she be more aggressive toward cows and animals when they appeared ready to pounce. I thought this to be solid advice following my check on her well-being. I learned that I had blown it—I should have offered much more sympathy, less advice. Far more important (essential) to provide excessive 'oohs and ahs' mixed with sympathy, understanding and if one can force a few tears, so much the better. (Continued below...)
A favorite, at dawn: Ama Dablam from Tengbuche as the low sun hits the exposed part of peak.
After a couple of hours on trail: Lunch. Down the mountain, across the bridge, down to the river, across it and up the mountain to the tea-house in the distance. How about we skip lunch and get a ride instead?
'This is my space!'
'Fine. You have the space, I'll eat the berries.'
Standing at base camp. By now, those fellows together might have summitted, perhaps failed to summit or be one or more that never made it back.
Jen crosses another river (one of the highest, if not the highest altitude in the world), one of her 'favorite activities'.
I think the mountains are 'this wide'. These peaks 'knock us out'. Just gorgeous.
"We'd like a dozen toilet rolls. Do you take American Express?" (The trustworthy Dipak of 'Hiking Nepal' behind me).
A more compact view of Everest, at rear, and Lhotse on the right. These icons never fail to reach emotional hotspots deep inside one.
The following night, we sat in an outdoor restaurant drinking tea while watching the activity on a main road of the city. Cars passed, scooters and motor bikes raced in and out of the main flow, pedestrians filled the sidewalks and then Jen exclaimed, "I've just watched two cows ambling along the main road without a herdsman, weaving in the traffic casually and the motorists take it in their stride." This occurs quite frequently and apparently without collisions so what's the problem. Often, we see these creatures standing in main roads without a care in the world. Within our first hour in Kathmandu, on the way in from the airport, we noticed what looked like a large bull covering most of a sidewalk. Obviously, a statue we surmised. Wrong. Obviously, a bull taking a break from … who knows?
During daylight hours, the dogs are quiet and either roam about the streets or lay about the sidewalks looking, to be frank, dead. However, this changes once the sun sets. A new dynamic develops, one which is frustrating to say the least. We still don't understand why the locals accept it. It occurs in many countries. A cacophony of noise arises, making it difficult if not impossible to sleep. The dogs bark continuously. They are usually encouraged by a couple of leaders. We heard one the other night that did not appear to need to breathe between barks—it was as if he could let go and maintain one long pause-less howl. It's horrible and the owners/neighbors don't care or are not bothered. Maybe it's they who are fortunate and do not even hear the noise. By 3:45 each morning, just in case a person has had a fulfilling sleep and rest, the roosters take over and sound the morning alarm. A little later, motorists resume their frequent tooting, making it a less than holy trinity. Life sure has some unnecessary challenges.
On the way back from dinner, we noticed a goat on the sidewalk tied to a pole. On the ground within easy reach, it had access to a healthy looking pile of green vegetables from which it sated itself. The goat looked, should we have stood in its shoes, as if life could not get any better. Unfortunately for the goat, it probably did not understand what awaited it. Little did it know that it stood outside a butchery. Life provides some tough breaks. They say 'One man's meat is another person's goat'—kinda gets your goat, doesn't it?
Notwithstanding the above, but including most parts of it, we find ourselves walking about Nepal even when struggling up some of the tough inclines, with a sense of wonder, almost observing the history of the world 'live', and perhaps most of all, feeling bemused. All this is with full respect for the inhabitants and especially, the Sherpas and porters. Nevertheless, the pace, attitude, care and style of the people is unique, certainly nothing like that experienced in the West. Besides much of what we have written, an example illustrating the point may be grasped from the following experiences: Restaurants offer very large choices on their menus. Jen used to wonder how such offerings were stored. The other day we ordered a green salad, on another day I ordered a Coke Zero and Jen ordered tuna. On each occasion, after waiting a rather long period for service, we noticed the waiter returning from outside with salad greens (whole lettuce and cabbage), a Coke and can of tuna respectively. It certainly indicates the food is freshly made … or made to order.
At a peak across from Everest, 'chewing the fat' with 'Mr. Santos', the affectionate name of this sweet young man (19).
Jen about to make a steeper climb on a good path, sharper than the one she thought may have been the last of the day.
A scene alongside base camp, Khumbu Ice Fall.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
The weather turned a little south. Harsh but attractive.
