After 45 minutes on a possessed pickup rollercoaster the driver comes to an abrupt stop and tells us all to get out. “What’s going on?”  “This is it; this is the border.”  “Border, what border, this is village in the middle of nowhere”.  “Just keep walking that way.  You’ll see a bridge– cross it, that’s Nepal”. 

*blink*

So we did… we walked past a mess of bicycle rickshaws at dusk, onto a bridge, and voila– Nepal.

We stayed overnight in the town of Kakarbitta (it’s spelled differently everywhere I look).  Early on the 30th we climbed on a local bus to Kathmandu.   Everything was going fine until we got to the edge of a river and the bus stopped.  That’s it, everybody out.  We were explained that the monsoon had taken out the bridge and the bus couldn’t get to the other side.  We had to  take our bags and cross the river.  How you might ask?  Well by boat– and by boat I mean a bamboo canoe who had to be drained by bucketfulls twice a minute.  Yes, I panicked, but there was no other option, and the river was less than a mile wide, so I’m sure we could swim across, provided we could take our 25 kilo packs off our backs.

We got safely across, where we got a connecting bus (surprisingly, all covered by the same ticket– including the canoe), and continued our journey through Himalayan mountain passes to Kathmandu.  The entire journey took just over 14 hours and was well worth it.

So here we are in Nepal, wondering what the new year will bring.

Happy new year from Kathmandu.  Now onto finding that elephant sanctuary.

p.s. The internet is slow beyond description, and the 10 year old 700mhz computers overloaded with software do not help.  Needless to say, I won’t be uploading pictures until we get back to New Delhi.  Oh– and I lost the computer cable.

Traveling is the fine art of balancing distrusting everyone who approaches you and trusting (almost) everyone you approach– more or less.

We’ve become good friends with Antoine and Anais, a French couple traveling for 6 months in India and Nepal and have been traveling with them since Bodhgaya.  Through some serious harassment, we convinced them to cross the border to Nepal earlier and thus began our unplanned adventure into Nepal.

Our first step was to get out of the Himalayan town of Darjeeling and come back to sea level (Siliguri), where we could catch a 40km bus to the border.  Easy, right?

Getting out of Darjeeling was extremely hard at 6am because the taxi drivers wanted to charge 3x the amount because “Siliguri is closed”.  Saying a venue is closed is a popular scheme to get travelers to go to an alternate bus, hotel, or restaurant, so the schemers can get a commission for redirecting you.  Seasoned travelers that we are, we laughed at the audacity of claiming that an entire town was closed.  So we bargained hard and got the price down to a reasonable level.

Upon arriving in Siliguri we found there were no taxis, no rickshaws, and no open restaurants.  We asked, and were dismayed to find the entire county was on strike because Gorkahaland wants to be their own state and are lobbying in government.  So we got stranded in a town with nothing to do,  nowhere to go, and miles away from a guest house.  So yes, Siliguri was indeed closed.

No amount of rupees could convince a local to drive us past the barricade– not that I wanted to, but our friends were adamant about getting out of India right now!

We approached a young man watching the developments and he responded with a curious Indian accent with a hint of British mixed in.  He was very friendly, explained the details of the strike, and led us to a bamboo shelter to wait for a few hours.  After some chit-chat, we found out he was a sherpa (a mountaineering guide) during the trekking season working for an Australian company.  This quiet unasuming man had climbed with the greats, had summitted Everest not once, but twice, and all with no supplemental oxygen.  Needless to say I pummeled him with questions for an hour.  What does it feel to be on top of the world?  What’s the view like?  How cold is it?  What’s your greatest fear?  He explained that it’s not cold, it’s fucking cold.  You can’t feel your fingers for days.  The view isn’t that great, because the view from climbs like Gokyoryi are better, and the first time he summitted he had mixed emotions over having lost a member on the way up.  Spending time with Anand was a truly remarkable experience.

After lots of questions and answers, he invited us to his house, where his mother prepared tea and food for all 4 of us stragglers.  After some time, the strike subsided, we said our goodbyes and headed over to the border on the back of a pickup truck with 20 other Nepalis/Indians.  We hope to return one day, and trek with a man who was been on top of the world and who has climbed with such greats as Tenzing Norgay’s grandson (yes, we saw the pictures!).

p.s. Tenzing Norgay was the sherpa who, along with Edmund Hillary, were the first to climb Mount Everest.  His descendants are still great names in climbing.

Today I woke up to rhythmic grunting.  I was a bit confused by the fact that Yano wasn’t around and some investigation led me to the bathroom where she was she pumping out sit-ups and push-ups like a man who’s been sentenced to jail.

Being married you learn not to ask questions, so I didn’t say anything.  200 sit-ups later (literally), I hear loud screams and the gush of water.  Yano was taking a cold shower in 0C degree weather, with no heating.  Whatever… I decided to wait for my hot bucket.

I asked for my bucket to be delivered, but the manager said it would be a few hours, so we went for breakfast.  The cafe in front had an excellent selection of western food and Yano wanted an omelet– something about she’s tired of curry for breakfast (wuss).  However, we forgot to read the fine print on the menu– in small leters it said: “Please allow one and a half hours to prepare any meal, as I need to go to town and buy vegetables to ensure the freshest ingredients”.  Now that’s what I call service– not speedy, but service nonetheless!

After breakfast, we went back to the guest house and I asked about the bucket.  The manager gives me a perplexed look and says, “I gave you water yesterday, right?”  Blink.  “I guess so”. — “Water tomorrow, not today.  We have water on Monday.  Water one day.  No water next day.  Water next next day”.

Yes!  I’m on alternating days for showers, cause I am not doing the cold bucket thing in freezing weather.  Yano still can’t feel her feet and it has already been 6 hours, but of course she’s a stud– and that’s why I married her.

We arrived in Darjeeling last night.  It’s a hill station smack in the middle of the Himalayas.  We’ve hooked up with a couple from France and have been traveling with them since Bodhgaya.

Darjeeling borders Nepal, China, and Bhutan, and as far as we’re concerend the last Indian stayed 50kms down the mountain.  It’s all Chinese, Tibetans, Nepalese here.  Needless to say, it’s cold.  Water is a luxury, and our guest house brings one big pail of steaming hot water every morning for us to take a shower.  Today we had the best hot shower ever.  You don’t appreciate hot water until you’re forced to scoop it from a pail at 3 celsius (with no central heating).  Last night we wore all our clothes to bed.  Lucky for me, it’s our anniversary :).

The view from our room is breathtaking.  We can see the surrounding Himalayas, and from the rooftop we can see snow covered Mount Kanchenjunga, India’s highest peak and the third highest peak in the world.  Mount K is just a mere 252 meters less than Everest, so to my untrained eye it’s the same.

Tomorrow morning we’re hiring a Jeep to see the sunrise over Mount K.  On a clear day you can see Mount Everest.

Fingers are frozen, must stop typing.

p.s.  Internet is far too slow to upload photos.  Will do so when we return to less than 7000 feet.

We’re in Bodhgaya, where Buddha attained enlightenment 26 centuries ago.  The descendant of the Bodhi tree where he meditated is still here.

We arrived from Varanasi on an overnight train this morning.  We had to complete the journey with 5kms on a cycle rickshaw pedaled by a man who must’ve been a hundred years old.  And the last 20 kms were on an auto-rickshaw driven by an Indian with a death wish.

At 5am we arrived in Bodhgaya where we had the experience of a lifetime.  Only Buddhists monks were about, since tourists were sleeping, and it was the annual Tibetan pilgrimage to Bodhgaya.  The temple marking the place of enlightenment was brimming with Tibetan monks.  It was only them, and us.  We sat cross legged in the temple, drowning in their chants: an exhilirating experience.

Afterwards we had breakfast in a makeshift tent restaurant with half a dozen Tibetan monks.  We had Tibetan tea with them– frankly it tasted like crap (tea with salty bad milk) but it was a memorable experience.  I drank it all; Yano left 3/4 of it: wuss.  We tried to order similar food to them, and they laughed.  But it’s ok, because they were watching violent martial arts movies, and one of them was wearing Crocs.

Tomorrow night we leave for the Himalayas to freeze our behinds off and hopefully see a few of the tallest peaks of the world.  Mount Everest might be visible.

Oh yeah, virtually all the pictures have been uploaded.  We’re usually a day behind the posts.

Ta-ta, I have Tibetans looking over my shoulder at the internet cafe.  Surreal…

Merry Christmas y’all.