Ah, to be surrounded by color and chaos, by whirring motorcycles dashing hither and yon, by honking and beeping of horns, by jumbles of tottering houses in blue and green, brown and red, by babies with a smudge of red tika on their forehead, by children soaring high on tall rope swings suspended from bamboo struts set up for the week-long celebration of Dashain. To see impossibly green rice paddies and towering jungle-clad cliffs striped with gushing cascades that tumble from unseen glaciers past tall trees and giant ferns and pink flowering bushes, to the rushing river in the deep, shaded gorge below. We’re out of China. We’re in Nepal. No more chopsticks. No more noodle soups. It’s curry time and all is well with the world!
Yesterday was probably the most stirring and astonishing of all days, as within one 36-hour period we:
1. Left Everest Base Camp at somewhere around 17,100 feet, our breath billowing frostily in the chill dawn light, where the north face of Tibet’s Chomolangma (Everest) rose above us in one mighty sweep, radiant in the splendid sunshine that reflected off the night’s new snow.
2. Passed Rongbuk Monastery, which is actually mainly a nunnery, with its white stupa and garlands of red, blue, green, white and yellow prayer flags fluttering in the ever-present breeze. The nuns brought out finely sculpted and dyed butter offerings, and an old woman with a conch shell bracelet walked the circuit around the monastery, chanting in a soft, high voice.
3. Descended on washboarded and pot-holed rough road, back through the high surrounding steppes, past typical Tibetan villages of whitewashed red doored mud houses with intricately carved and painted lintels and blackened window frames and doorways, their flat roofs lined with dung patties for the cooking fire, and pillows of drying grass as fodder for livestock during the coming winter.
4. Passed rocky fields where harvested barley stood in tall sheaves waiting for transport to the nearby village. Tractor- and horse-pulled carts bustled by, tractors garlanded with ribbon, the tiny horses adorned with bright flags and head tassels.
5. Joined several Tibetan men in a local hot springs pool, the water a murky green and drifting with algae. Apparently the minerals in it had curative powers as one man seemed bent on using the waters to heal his boils, while another limped off on crutches, perhaps a bit more agile than when he’d entered the waters some time before. I exited the waters a bit prune, but with very soft skin and, thankfully, not having contracted any major diseases.
6. Ate six momos, the doughy white casings wrapped around a savory bit of finely-diced vegetables, the whole lot extracted from a steam cooker set in a clay pit inside a tiny dark stall.
7. Drove over two more 17,000-foot passes from which most of the Himalayan 8,000-meter peaks were visible, including the magnificent Lhotse, Cho Oyu, Makalu and Shisapangma (see my website for Tips on my favorite mountaineering books).
8. Reached a magnificent gorge through which we wound down, down, down, over recent mud and boulder slides, under branches and rocks splashing and sparkling with waters, into humidity and warmth to reach the border between China and Nepal at Friendship Bridge. Border proceedings were remarkably swift, considering this was, after all, China we were saying goodbye to. And then there we were, in Nepal at 500 meters or less, breathing in moist air laden with incense and perfumed blossoms.
Yes, I know, I have some important reporting to do on Lhasa. And I will. But for right now, I am reveling in the glories of seeing Everest closer than I ever imagined I would, and in some of the most spectacular driving we’ve done this trip.
From Kathmandu we have only a few more days of road “work” to do to reach Calcutta. I am beyond eager to be in a nice hotel, with wonderful food and nothing to do but choose whether to have that pedicure I’ve been needing for the past few weeks (China was rough on my tootsies), or wander around the teeming, colorful city streets for an afternoon. Will I miss the road? Yes, because on a long trip like this, the car and the road become my life. And no, because I’m ready for my life to be something other than the car and the road.
Keep your eyes open for some words on Lhasa and Tibet in the next couple of days.
-Dina
