Tag: Nepal

Finding Ground Above Clouds in Nepal

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“Drink chhaang, nectar of the Gods. Then eat shutki”.

I couldn’t decide which aspect made me more hesitant: the pungent aroma of the fermented millet drink wafting into my nostrils or the sun-dried little fishes, their round eyes fixed on me eerily. As I directed their heads toward my mouth, my face contorted in anticipation of the impending circus about to unfold on my taste buds, my expression unmistakable. With each sip of the glass, I chased it down with a fish, battling the unique combination. Upon triumphantly finishing my glass, Manik promptly refilled it.

“Oh no, thanks, Manik,” I implored, grappling with a piece of fish scale lodged between my teeth.

“It’s a mountain tradition! The glass is always full. Drink!” he insisted, his chubby cheeks flushed from the consumption of the homemade brew as he passed around the shutki.

Manik, a 5-foot tall Nepali, didn’t fit the typical stature of a Himalayan guide. However, his weathered skin, yellowed eyes, and chapped lips attested to prolonged exposure to the sun and cold, characteristic of a life in the mountains.

Two days prior, we had booked a three-day trek around Kathmandu, the capital and gateway to tourism in Nepal. Nestled at the foothills of the Himalayas, Nepal had been a sought-after destination for trekkers and climbers since the 1950s and had long been on my travel wish list. This trek was the perfect start to our two-month backpacking adventure through South Asia.

“I’ll set you up with our best guide,” the tour agent affirmed while finalizing our booking. “He’s a very experienced trekker and has great knowledge of the area. You’ll undoubtedly like him.”

Day 1: 16km to Chisapani (2340m)

In the early morning of November, Manik collected us from my hostel. The taxi delivered us to the entrance of the Shivapuri National Park, situated on the northern edge of the Kathmandu Valley in Sundarijal. Chickens roamed freely near a set of steep stone steps carved into the mountain, while goats accompanied our ascent, intermittently grazing on woody plants lining the trail. We ventured through expansive forests of pines, oaks, wild cherry, and rhododendrons. As the forest gradually receded, we entered rural villages, catching glimpses of villagers engaged in their daily routines.

The scenery became more enchanting with every step we took. We journeyed through alpine meadows, traversed yak pastures, and crossed glacial moraines. Gradually, we ascended to the clouds, piercing through thick fog and inhaling the crisp mountain air. In the jungle, where the trail narrowed, we noticed prayer flags hanging from the trees, gracefully floating through the mountain mist. As we continued to gain elevation and hiked along the mountainside footpath, we were treated to breathtaking views unveiling a dramatic landscape of maize fields and rice terraces below.

Upon reaching Chisapani, we stepped into a candlelit teahouse where a gathering of guides and porters engaged in lively conversation around a table.

Manik extended a warm invitation to the rooftop terrace, where he joyfully served us hot tea from a gleaming silver tray.

The night embraced a chilly atmosphere as winds swirled through the crevices of the stone walls. With no electricity in the teahouse, darkness enveloped the space, rendering it cold and immersed in quietude. I curled into a ball, enveloped by wool blankets, memories filling the emptiness as I gradually drifted into a serene slumber.

Day 2: 15km to Nagarkot (2195m)

At 5 am, we awoke to a profound silence, as if transported to a different world immersed in a tranquil haze. The heavy fog slowly crept in through the windows, resembling a ghostly mountain presence.

Embarking on our daily trek, well-rested and nourished, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of my own lack of fitness as we tackled the slanted trail. My legs struggled with each step.

Manik, with his round-shaped head, suggested, “I can carry the bag,” nodding persuasively with a warm smile.

“Oh, no, but thanks,” I declined with a slightly frazzled smile.

He insisted, “I’ve been a porter before, carrying big bags for weeks—bigger than you, bigger than me.” He gestured, exaggerating the size of a tourist’s bag with his lean body. His goofiness amused me, but I resisted his offer, contemplating my decision with each sweaty step.

“How was it to be a porter?” I asked while navigating across a river.

“Very hard. My family was poor. Before being a porter, I worked in corn fields. Mountain life is very challenging.”

Manik shared his past life in the city, working as a rickshaw driver. Unfortunately, he almost lost a leg in a traffic accident. He returned to the mountains to recover and eventually became a porter.

“No English,” he continued, wind tousling his raven-black hair. “Carrying tourist bags for days, weeks, months in the mountains. Hard work. People can be mean. No shoes. I may not look strong, but I am very strong.” He flexed his biceps with a giggle, feet sliding into his oversized, well-worn sneakers.

“Porter for 15 years,” he continued. “Hard work. Learned English by talking to tourists like you. Now I’m a guide. Hoping to trek Everest. Good money on Everest,” he explained, pointing to the horizon.

“Do you have a family?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he affirmed, pride sparkling in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Three boys. I guide now. Can afford education. Hoping for the best future for my boys.”

As I delved into Manik’s life stories, the trek became more effortless. How could he exude such contentment, being healthy inside and out, living a life so distant from my own? I empathized, inspired by his optimism and heartened by his genuine care.

Eight hours and a dozen swollen bug bites later, we reached the second summit of our trek, Nagarkot. My legs were inflamed, my face beet-red, and sweat dripped endlessly from my forehead.

“How I’d love a glass of wine right now!” I exclaimed between breaths.

“I’ll find wine for you!”

I watched as Manik trotted down the dirt hill, fading with the dusk.

As the moon ascended and settled in the sky, we gathered around a low table, perched on wooden drums outside a vendor’s hut. With the company of a fellow guide, Manik uncapped a reused water bottle and poured the chhaang into four glasses. Then came the shutki. The family residing in the hut observed us with curiosity from within.

He inquired about our journey, and I asked about his dreams. We engaged in a conversation about life, all while the moon traversed the starry sky.

Day 3: 15km to Thamel

We witnessed the sunrise over the Himalayas, observing the snow-capped Mount Everest gradually piercing through the blushed clouds. As I reflected on the hues of the sky, my thoughts turned to Manik and how he guided me to see things in a new light. Much like my taste buds, he heightened my awareness of things I had previously failed to appreciate. While tourists busily snapped photographs of the morning spectacle, I found myself lost in contemplation, pondering the why and the how, gazing upon a life woven with both beauty and hardship.

We returned to the bustling backpacking town of Thamel, where the narrow alleys were congested with both tourists and locals. Soon, I found myself yearning for the tranquility of the mountains, where my thoughts could wander freely amidst the expansive open space.

I gifted Manik my brand new trekking shoes, a perfect fit for his feet. In return, he draped a white silk scarf around my neck: a khata, symbolizing compassion and purity.

Our paths diverged, leading us in different directions. As I stood amidst the bustling crowd, I closed my eyes, transported back to the mountains, navigating rugged trails through the Himalayan mist alongside Manik.

“You want chhaang?” he’d inquire.

I’d smile, savouring the memories and the lessons I had gained. “Absolutely, I’d love some chhaang.”

Head Above Clouds in Tibet

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Intrigued by the allure of China, I found myself drawn to Tibet, a land of soaring mountains, sacred monasteries, and centuries of tradition. The landscapes were as breathtaking as I had imagined, but it was the strength and warmth of the Tibetan people that left the deepest impression on me. Their stories, resilience, and quiet devotion added layers of meaning to every view and every encounter. To experience Tibet is to witness both its beauty and its spirit, carried proudly by those who call it home.

Travelling here is highly regulated. Group tours with guides are mandatory, and customs checks are meticulous, extending beyond security to restrict books or flags tied to Tibetan identity. Foreign platforms like Facebook and YouTube are blocked, and open activism is simply not possible. While the official explanation emphasizes tourism management and local benefit, the intent is clearly also about control.

Still, Tibet’s natural beauty is undeniable. Endless plains and snow-draped mountains create a rare sense of openness. Prayer flags ripple over high passes, their colours vivid against a pale sky.

Monasteries and temples carry centuries of spiritual life, from the former home of the Dalai Lama to the golden tombs of his predecessors.

The people themselves are Tibet’s greatest treasure. In remote villages, families continue to cultivate barley and straw, sustaining life in the high mountains. Hospitality is genuine: a bowl of yak butter tea, a smile that needs no translation. Language can be a barrier, but kindness bridges the gap.

In Lhasa, the capital, the air is thick with incense, yak butter, raw meat and exhaust. Soldiers on street corners underscore the political reality, yet the markets pulse with energy. Stalls brim with inexpensive goods, and the food, quite distinct from typical Chinese fare, surprised me. I found myself eating less meat than expected, shifting almost naturally toward a semi-vegetarian diet.

Shopping in Lhasa became an adventure of its own: haggling over trinkets, exploring side streets, and sampling unfamiliar flavours. The city is at once challenging and rewarding, a place where the contrasts of Tibet are most visible.

As my journey through Tibet concludes, a scenic flight over the Himalayas and Mount Everest provides a poignant farewell. Despite the challenges and complexities, the beauty of this remote land leaves an indelible mark. Ready for the next leg of my journey, I prepare to explore Varanasi, the holiest place in the world of Hinduism, eager to continue unraveling the rich tapestry of diverse cultures that shape our world.

Travelling to Tibet is a controlled affair, requiring group tours with guides. The official rationale revolves around supporting local income, yet the unspoken truth is the attempt to manage and prevent foreign interventions. Customs checks, performed meticulously, extend beyond security concerns, focusing on the prohibition of books and flags associated with Tibet. Engaging in any form of activism, even through social media platforms like Facebook and Youtube, is rendered impossible due to internet restrictions.

Yet, amid these challenges, Tibet’s physical beauty is undeniable. Vast open spaces and snow-capped mountains evoke a sense of liberty, a sensation of freedom that once defined the region. The vibrant colors of prayer flags fluttering high above mountain passes create a captivating spectacle against the cold sky.

Temples, repositories of rich history, bear witness to the spiritual legacy of Tibet, including visits to the former abode of the current Dalai Lama and the golden tombs of his predecessors.

The true gems of Tibet, however, are its people. The Tibetans, resilient in their determination to preserve their unique culture, inhabit remote mountain villages where they cultivate barley and straw to sustain their way of life. Generous and genuine, they offer visitors insights into their reality, sharing Yak butter tea and glimpses into their daily lives. Language barriers persist due to the recent influx of tourism, yet a simple smile becomes a universal language, bridging gaps and leaving lasting impressions.

Lhasa, the capital of Tibet, presents a unique blend of cultures, reminiscent of walking through a real-life Chinatown. However, the overpowering mix of pollution, incense, yak butter, and raw meat challenges the senses. The visible presence of communism, with soldiers stationed at every corner, serves as a stark reminder of the complex political landscape.

Shopping in Lhasa is an adventure, with cheap finds beckoning hungry shoppers. The local cuisine, distinct from typical Chinese fare, surprised me, leading to an unintentional shift towards a semi-vegetarian diet. The experience, though challenging, offered a unique perspective on the daily lives of the Tibetan people.

My time here ended with a flight across the Himalayas, Everest rising above the clouds in the morning light. Despite its difficulties and contradictions, Tibet left an indelible mark. It is a place where beauty and hardship coexist, and where resilience carries on in the face of change.

Next stop: Varanasi, one of Hinduism’s holiest cities, where another layer of history, faith and tradition awaits.

At the Foothills of the Himalayas: Nepal

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When I was a little girl, I lived for the days my big brother returned from his travels, especially after his journeys through faraway corners of Asia.

On one visit, he placed a small, unusual ring in my hand, telling me it came from Nepal. Engraved with the sacred Buddhist mantra Om mani padme hum, it quickly became one of my most treasured possessions until, at last, it broke. Yet that fractured ring left more than just an empty space on my finger. It planted a promise in me: that one day, I would set foot in the mystical land that had stirred my early imagination.

Upon arriving in Nepal, I was welcomed by a lively symphony of honks, fragrant incense, and bursts of colour all around me. The Himalayan breeze wove its way through Thamel, where strings of prayer flags painted the sky in reds, blues, and yellows above winding streets filled with bookstores, trekking shops, and inviting eateries. Within this joyful chaos, I felt an immediate sense of belonging, surrounded by the openness and warmth of the Nepalese people.

After a few days of rest and exploration, we set out into the foothills of the Himalayas with Manik as our guide. The trek around Kathmandu, punctuated by nights in rustic tea houses, was awe-inspiring in every sense. Yet it was Manik’s story that gave the journey its deepest meaning, a humble man with a boundless heart. On our final evening together, we shared dubious rice wine and nibbled on curious dried fish, a simple ritual that blossomed into a profound exchange of life stories.

After completing our 45-kilometer trek, we returned to Thamel, where Manik graciously invited us into his home. The next morning, we learned that his entire family, his wife and three sons, shared a modest 8×9 room. Yet within those simple walls, Manik’s generosity overflowed. He welcomed us with lessons of Buddhism, served a meal prepared with care, and, as a blessing of respect and good fortune, draped white scarves around our shoulders. Carrying these tokens of kindness, we set out on the next leg of our journey—across the border into Tibet, China. The challenges ahead loomed large, but Manik’s kindness, generosity and wisdom stayed with us, a beacon of strength and inspiration.