Mountains and Moxie

I’m in London, my favorite city that isn’t the one I live in. I arrived this morning and am staying with my aforementioned dear, dear friends Nicola and Tiffany (of my Las Vegas trip). The trip was inspired by the chance for a reunion with my trekking pals, but of course, is also a wonderful excuse for some fun and friendship with these two amazing women who know all my faults and love me not just despite them, but even a bit more for them.

The trip was meant to be over more than a week and to include a swing over to Paris. Because of work and potential work obligations it was shortened to 4 days – I left New York at 10 last night and will arrive back about 10 sunday night.  I spent a lot of energy thinking about whether to just bag the trip, but in the end, I’ll take any chance to get on an airplane and off somewhere fun.

But Tuesday was not a good day for me and that spilled into Wednesday leading up to my departure for the airport. Despite a wonderful lunch with an old, wise friend, who gave me sage advice and a lot of laughs, Tuesday morning and early afternoon were spent running a variety of annoying errands in pouring, somewhat cold rain, and panicking a bit about logistics. I met a friend in the afternoon for a lecture I’d really wanted to attend, but since many others were also interested, we ended up missing out. Tired and cold we stopped for cheese and salami, and I picked up some treats for my London hosts (bourbon and ale pickles for Tiffany; squares of chocolate on sticks to be melted in milk for cocoa for Nicola – I was rewarded with great hugs and “you know us soooo well!” when they were opened). A beer later we headed out again for our second adventure of the night, Indian food and some theater. Outside the restaurant I did what I do. I tripped on nothing and fell – hard – on my knee. The heavy backpack I was carrying pulled me down and, though I’m an old pro at falling, this was a particularly jarring moment. And the emotions came. I don’t think I’ve cried after a fall since I was a child, but cry I did. Sob really. And my fragile emotional state lasted through the show and into the post-event drink thoroughly ruining both my and my (hopefully still) friend’s good time.

On Wednesday, over tired and still emotional, I went through a couple presentations at work, had a long, sad talk with a friend and headed to my salvation – the airport. After a bit of a delay, I was on the overnight flight to London. I slept most of the flight and landed refreshed and excited. The Heathrow Express to Paddington and a short taxi ride to Kilborne and I was embracing Tiffany.

Nicola and Tiffany’s home is simply and elegantly comfortable with a sunny, inviting kitchen, a warm guest room, and a spectacular shower which I very quickly took advantage of. As Tiffany whipped up a delicious squid stew she introduced me to the two newest members of their family, cats Rufus (ginger and very very friendly and curious) and Oscar (tabby – a bit more standoffish, but happy to rub against you). I am very familiar with the rascals as they represent the bulk of N and T’s Facebook photos since their adoption a few months ago. I’ve often said that I purposely don’t post photos of my cat for fear that I’ll be pegged as a crazy cat person. N and T have no such concerns and embrace the title. All seemed right with the world.

During lunch we planned our day. We would head to the Tate Modern, walk along the river and then meet Nicola for cocktails overlooking St. Paul’s (a detail which immediately prompted my rendition of “Feed the Birds.” ) An hour later, I grabbed my coat and bag and waited for Tiffany in the kitchen. The phone rang and after a minute I heard her scamper down the stairs and out the door without a word to me. A moment later she was back, shaking and whimpering slightly. “What happened?” I asked, not exactly sure what her appearance was indicating. “Rufus has been hit by a car. He’s dead.” She replied through tears now coming much faster.

Wait. What? How? No – that didn’t just happen did it. How could that have just happened?

The driver never stopped and a kind neighbor found poor Rufus. Tiffany lovingly brought him into the house and called Nicola, who headed home. Wanting to give them time for their grief, I headed out for a couple of hours visiting Oxford Street and walking a bit of the city. When I got back a red-eyed Nicola gave me a hug and asked my why I’d let the cat out. I froze for a minute, but she laughed and we hugged again.

Rather than sharing their sunshine, I fear I brought them my rain. We had a lovely dinner at home and shared some drinks and laughs and tears. We looked at photos of Rufus – and there are a lot – and talked about his sweet short life.

It was not the day I expected to have nor one that I would have wished on anyone. And Nicola and Tiffany needlessly apologized about the disruption in my holiday. But in a way it really reinforced how much I value these friends as well as my friend from Tuesday night. It is truly a sign of a special relationship when you can cry without inhibition in front of someone. That there will be no judgement, merely support. I hope my friends felt that from me tonight.

Tomorrow is another day and the Tate Modern, as well as getting a full taste of London, is in my sights.

RIP Rufus. I’m so happy I had a chance to meet you.

Refreshed and ready to go, we met early at Starbucks for caffeine fortification for the day. We opted out of breakfast, knowing we’d be heading to one of the traditional buffets for lunch, so we just got coffees and yogurt. Eager to start the day right Nicola told them her name was Spartacus and we all waited giggling for our great plan to work out. I even considered pulling out my phone, certain a video of our great wit would go viral.

The woman behind the counter called out “two tall lattes,” not even attempting to pronounce “Spartifus” as the guy taking our orders had written on the cup, and we were crushed.

We rallied and headed to a blackjack table. The dealer that approached us began chatting incessantly and quickly mentioned things like our president not wanting her to keep her gun and we were all worried it would be a long morning. But very quickly Rose’s quicks became charms and we appreciated her slow dealing, patient strategy teachings, and constant teasing. Jill was the biggest beginner of our group, though none of us is particularly experienced, and her knack for getting blackjack annoyed us all. No matter that she couldn’t win a single hand that wasn’t just dumb luck. Nicola, the smartest of our group, at least when it comes to statistics, was frustrated with all of us. Tiffany and I were doomed to 12s and 14s at practically every hand. Rose commented on the string around my wrist and I mentioned that it was tied there by Buddhist monks in Thailand and it would be considered bad luck to remove it before it fell off. How is that luck working out for you? she asked while swiping away another chip I’d lost. Later at lunch, it was cut off with great ceremony.

And what a lunch. The Vegas buffets are legendary, of course, but mostly crap. The Aria had a very expensive, highly rated  buffet touting all you can eat crab legs. They knew nothing of Tiffany when the promoted that. Because of my room snafu we’d been given a $50 credit, so lunch was $15 a person and we made good work of it. Typical of a buffet, some was great, some was not, but between the four of us, we tried it all. Tiffany reckoned she’d eaten probably three whole crabs at the end. Stuffed, we went for a walk around the pool to aid digestion, before heading back to a new table to play a bit more. Out stakes mostly depleted and the dealer not nearly as fun as Rose, we left quickly. (I’m not a particularly superstitious person, but I do think the energy at the table matters and Rose made us enjoy losing).

A nap later, we donned glitter and feathers and gathered in Jill’s room to drink the bottle of Veuve that Nic and Tif had brought me from London duty-free, but that I didn’t want to check back to NYC. Then off to GaGa. The crowd was vibrant and excited. All manner of costume was presented and we couldn’t determine the gender of a rather large percentage of the audience. The concert was as expected – great fun, very high concept, very showy. She channeled Frank-n-Furter a couple of times and told heartfelt stories about being a misfit. What surprised me was that most of the time, she presented herself a smart, interesting woman, not a character. And she is much prettier in person than she photographs. We danced and sang til we were hoarse.

We bid Nicola and Tiffany teary goodbyes after the concert. They left early this morning. Jill and I met for breakfast. I got to the cafe late and apologized saying I had to wash off the glitter. And how well do you think you did at that? she asked with a  twinkle. We decided I’d be better off just buying clothes to match that trying to get it off, I was so caked in it.

I’m packing up my room now and getting ready for a long day of travel. I end where I began – I am so, so lucky to have the friends I have. We laughed and sang for 3 days straight and left loving each other even more than when we arrived. One of the things I really value in friends is the ability to find joy in the moment. And this was a trip of pure joy.

We are planning the next one – it looks like I may have just booked my self for london and Paris in March. In the meantime this was

So.Much.Fun

Yesterday began early. Nicola and Tiffany are still on UK time, I just couldn’t figure out the very high-tech way to turn down the thermostat in my room, so I was dying a bit.

We have determined that only big meals should be consumed at the Aria – the prices are a little to steep for a coffee and croissant – so we headed next door to meet Jill at the Monte Carlo Cafe. By 8:30 our first cocktails of the day had been consumed and we’d plotted out a day of shopping mall hopping and challenged ourselves to a pretty aggressive pub crawl for the afternoon.

A warning to anyone who hasn’t traveled with Brits visiting the US. Everything here seems cheap to them (exchange rates and all), so you will find yourself spending a lot of time shopping. We were actually pretty efficient, and everyone ended up pulling out the credit cards a bit. Tiffany is especially fond of any store bearing her name (though she seems less intrigued by the cheap nail salons than expensive jewelry). We found one of her gleaming meccas and gathered around the glass counters. I found an Elsa Peretti scorpion pendant to try on.  It was in several pieces and fell apart every time I touched it, probably not a save use of what they told me easy $2000, but online looks to be $800. Tiffany was in close contact with a young saleswoman named Princess. As Jill and I wondered through the store, things got more and more animated between Princess and Tiffany. Just as Jill and I were losing our enthusiasm, Tiffany popped over to say, “there’s going to be a slight delay. They have to polish my diamonds.” and with that her winnings necessity had been set.

With new and newly polished diamonds in hand, we headed to a cafe in the middle of the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace. Under a sky which when from morning to sunset on a regular rotation, we had our second cocktail of the day.

A bit more shopping, a quick-lunch, and we headed back to the Aria for a quick nap. Earlier in the day we had given our names at Starbucks to ensure we got the right coffee order. Nicola amused herself and us by suggesting false names. We quickly decided that on our next visit one of us would give our name as Spartacus so that when they called out our coffee we could each cry out “I am Spartacus.” Post nap, we decided to give this a try, but in our empty Starbs, with none of us particularly feeling a coffee, we hit the British pub instead.

And then, more than 24 hours after arriving, it was time to gamble. We found a table and put our money down. I like blackjack. You can play for a long time without losing too much. None of us had played in a while and our first deal helped us with  our stay or hit decisions. Quickly she went on a break and an odd-ball named Mary took over. Mary was chatting and quirky, but definitely on our side. We all began winning and the good cheer rolled on. The first dealer, who was certainly nice, but not as charmingly Vegas as Mary, came back and we were all down a bit in our fortunes. Then our foursome was joined by an older man with a mustache, pinky ring, and player’s card. A couple hands later, with all four of us down and our new companion up, we knew it was time to fold em.

Some Thai noodles later, and each of us a bit, but not devastatingly down, we drifted off to bed.

Today holds a a bit more table time, the all-you-can-eat crab leg buffet, and Lady GaGa.

I have a friend who tells me I’m too distracted by anything that sparkles. He even has a name for my distractions – Christmas trees. It was Christmas time when he discovered this habit of mine. All of  Las Vegas is one giant Christmas tree.

My plane landed and I headed to meet Nicola and Tiffany at their gate. “We’re just waiting for one bag” came their text. 30 hours of travel did not put Tiffany in exactly the right frame for my query if she was the bag.

We hopped in a cab with a  driver eager to talk all about the difference between Brits and Americans and headed to the Aria – oh baby what a hotel. Like all of Vegas, the assault on your stimuli happens the minute you walk in the lobby. Lights color and the calls of success or defeat from the casino floor. We were happy.

Nic and Tif stepped up to check in and I was next in the queue. That was the moment they closed check in to upgrade the system, Seriously? We paid a lot of money and its only 7pm. Isn’t’ that a 2am thing? I’d have to wait.

After a couple bad well drinks and good champagne, I was able to check in. My friends are on the 50th floor, said I. Could I be as well. No, came the answer, the 50th floor is filled. How about the 39th floor, that’s just one floor down. I don’t understand a lot about Vegas, but I have a fabulous room on the 39th floor.

After a bit more exploration, our body clocks kicked in and we headed to bed. The Aria hotel is very very high tech. Which is cool, but how the hell do the lights work? the curtains? How can I make the muzak stop? These are important questions when you’re exhausted.

When it was all sorted – though god knows where there’s a wall socket, I drifted to sleep on fabulous linens and awoke to find there’s an all 80s channel on their in-house pandora.

Lets gamble.

I wasn’t sure in until the last-minute whether I was going to go or not. I’ve been to Las Vegas a few times with my grad school best friend and her wife. (It is possible I even crashed the portion of their honeymoon that took place there, though I’m pretty certain I was invited.) I’d met their friend Jillian at the wedding and maybe another time, I’m not sure. Her husband had joined us for one of the Vegas weekends, before, though and I knew I’d like her in the way that I loved Nicola and Tiffany.

I know how lucky I am that I have the friends I have. Like all of us, I feel like my best self with my friends – for me that’s funny and smart and charming and a bit like I’m falling apart at all time. Its a standing joke among so many of my friends that I can’t get through the day without them. I don’t know how to cook; I fall down all the time; I forget my purse and lose my keys; and I can make anything into a song or a story about me. But somehow I do get through the days, and we all laugh about my ineptitude. With some people in my life, it feels disparaging and judgemental, but with Nicola and Tiffany, its alway good-natured teasing layered over what I know is great respect and love. Which is also what I feel for them.

Still, I wasn’t sure if I was going to join them in Las Vegas this time around or not. But within days of their departure, and following a night with a friend for  whom my charms annoyances and which left me shell-shocked and a bit I booked passage. Four days of debauchery in Vegas with Nic and Tif coming in from London, Jillian leaving her husband and kids behind in Maine, and me escaping Brooklyn.

What could go wrong?

This morning dawned and the Facebook posts hit – snow and possible delays in London;  Jillian was on the plane already; my car to the airport hadn’t shown. It was like the beginning of a movie where friends are gathering from all corners of the globe. Those movies generally end in tears or murder, but there are usually a lot of laughs along the way.

Because I’d booked so late, I was routed to Philadelphia, then Las Vegas. My layover in Philly would allow me time for a couple of work calls, some emails, and to buy tickets for a show with a  very short sales window. So when the texts from US Air started hitting about the various delays, I was worried about not just reaching my final destination, but my layover plans as well.

When the flight was cancelled, I was panicked. How would I get there?

Turns out, easily. This is a shout out to US Air who got me on a flight leaving 9 minutes later than my original flight and getting me to Vegas only 2 minutes later than I was scheduled to arrive. Well done US Air. And really, people, the poor counter folks who are trying to reschedule you had nothing to do with the mechanical problem that necessitated our change in plans. Leave them alone!

But US Air, one small quibble. You know how I hate a tiny plane. This one my Buddha Air flight to Mount Everest seem luxurious. And I could have done without the frat boys in the row ahead of me alternately talking about which bar in the French Quarter to hit (they were New Orleans bound) and their mock trial preparation.

Charlotte is a pretty good place for a layover. I love an airport – not so much flying, but I love an airport. And Airport food. Again, not eating it really, just experiencing in. Weirdly, airports are a good model for local food, if only for local fast food. There aren’t many McDonald’s, though there’s always a Starbuck’s. I ate a mediocre (and that’s generous) lunch at Carolina BBQ and was ready for the next leg.

My flight to Vegas has been friendly and fun. Rhonda, next to me has recalled me with stories of her 7 children, abusive marriages, and hope in Jesus (who is apparently traveling with us). On my other side is a quiet man who has teared up a few times. Behind me is a sweet Southern woman with over-processed blond hair and heavily mascara-ed eyes and who loves my very insensible shoes (red Tod’s with a 3 inch stacked heel. They’re fab). I really enjoy her, though I think we both know we shouldn’t talk about who we voted for last November. Next to her is a air force sergeant who has seriously attracted the attention of our trying-to-appear-younger-than-she-obviously-is flight attendant. I”m not sure of the book he’s reading, but the chapter headings all relate to “hot girls”.

Again I am reminded that I love the people you encounter as you head out there in the world as much as any other part of travel.

Ouplane is nearing descent time and I want to get a quick nap in before I go whole hog with my teammates on this adventure.

Vegas baby!

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. By a lot. It is 100% about being with the people you love and letting them know that you love them. I like to think I’m good at that anyway, but I’m not always. None of us are.

So, I would like to take this moment to thank you all, old friends and new, for sharing my journey with me and supporting me. I’ve loved doing this blog (and don’t worry – I know I still need to add photos), and I’m going to renew it with hopefully a lot more travel and, beginning December 1, a monthly wrap up of my cultural adventures. November’s will include visits to the Metropolitan Opera and the Museum, downtown avant garde (Sxip Shirey here I come), some emotional off-broadway, a monologue, a farce, and the mighty Messiah.

But that come’s later. Right now is about my gratitude to you. Every step I’ve made this year, happy or hard, has been made better because of you, my dear, dear friends and family.

I am leaving this evening to see my fabulous step-mother in Old Saybrook, CT and then headed to Maine tomorrow to join my aunt and uncle and many cousins for good cheer, some competitive family football, and late night music-making.

I wish you all peace and happiness in this holiday season and for the coming year.

THANK YOU!

I am really good at living in New York and figured it was ok to move when I did because I’d done everything there was to do in this city.  I lived on nothing and as part of the 1%; I had been mugged, ridden the Cyclone, and dated celebrities; I’d eaten in the best restaurants in the city, the cheapest ones, and ones of every ethnicity imaginable; I survived garbage and taxi strikes, a blackout, and a terrorist attack. So I thought I was ok, I’d embraced the city and experienced all it has to offer.

Today I did something I’d never done before. I walked over the Manhattan Bridge. I know that’s silly, and really the Brooklyn Bridge walk is so far superior, but I’d never done it and it’s just confirms this City always has something new to offer.

I lived a perfect New York day today. I did early morning yoga in Prospect Park (my downward dog needs a lot of work); visited my favorite purveyors – the Park Slope Coop (where I reinstated my membership), the Grand Army Plaza Farmers Market,and, best of all, Sahadis.

Then I walked through Brooklyn, past my beloved BAM, and Juniors, over the bridge to my remarkably inconveniently parked car (can’t wait to release myself from car-ownership. It’ll happen soon), lunched with a friend on the upper west side, followed by tea and a potential work meeting.

When the rather famous  and somewhat intimidating woman with whom I was meeting heard my tale of woe of having trouble getting help for some heavy lifting, she immediately put down her cup and said, we can talk business over dinner. Lets go move furniture! And we did.

I LOVE NEW YORK

! 

And so I’m home. Sort of. I don’t move into my new place until the 15th, but its time to get back to real life. I’m going to spend the next couple days putting my city clothes back on (I’m scheduled for a color/wax/polish this afternoon) and re-adjusting to the traffic going the right direction, ubiquitous Starbucks, and talk of baseball.

Thank you so much for coming along with me on this adventure.

Where should we go next?

I’ve told you all about them, but I haven’t yet really told you about them. So here goes.

Fiona likes to laugh a lot. She is always smiling about something and if there isn’t something funny happening, she’ll bring up something funny from earlier in the day and laugh at that. She is an inspiration in so many ways. She’s had a number of careers and complete turns in the road. She recently began guiding wilderness tours in Africa because she “couldn’t think of any reason not to.” She was also the cougar of our clan – always quick to point out the hot, young Nepalis – and our best beer drinker.

Anna exudes joy. She is happy and in love and you feel it when you’re around her. She is in the process of planning her wedding and one of the more surreal conversations I’ve had in my life was about canapés while we were struggling around a boulder. She loves pink and cute and is full of life and energy. You can’t not smile around her.

Adam also makes you smile constantly. Or, more accurately, laugh. Is is always quick with a quip or joke, often at his own expense, and would  always jump in with a little levity during our tough moments. He is responsible for my absolute funniest moment on the trek (and it wasn’t when his pants split in public.) It will be a very long time before I can hear the word cockpit without giggling furiously.

Alyson is soft-spoken and kind. She is quick to lend what she has – her flashlight illuminated my way the entire 17 days and she filled everyone’s water with powdered flavoring (except mine, but that’s only because I have issues). She remembers everything. An off-hand comment early in the trip would lead to a full conversation later on, when something reminded her of it. She is goodness and love.

Gary was our team captain in many ways. A postman in the UK, he is considering joining the army reserves and has all the leadership skills that would make him a natural success. He rallied Nepali children where ever we went with games and gifts and was quick to jump into any activity even when we begged him not to (his dancing rhythm leaves a lot to be desired).

Strong, silent Martin was quite quiet at first, but his still waters hid great depth. He was always the first to reach out a hand to help and pulled more that one of us out of the Seti River or over boulder.  He dismantled our lamps in Bandipur after Emma and I tried unsuccessfully to find a way to turn them off for about 15 minutes and then only gave us an amused smile when we admitted we’d easily found the switches in the morning light. He’s quietly deadly at Uno and was the leeches favorite among us. Martin also gets bonus points for being a twin!

Jamal was the youngest of our group, and was our energizer bunny. He ran up and down the mountain, never slowing. He never stopped moving and he never stopped talking, mostly about his passions – American politics, the Middle East, and football (which is soccer to my compatriots, but I was not allowed to call it that on the trip). Jamal was also quick to help and support. We always knew we were getting close to our destinations on Team Pauly Pauly when we could hear Jamal in the distance. It was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard (sorry BSO-ers).

And finally, Emma. I know I’ve talked a lot about her, but I shall go on a bit more. 20 years younger than me, Emma took care of me the entire trip – sharing packing tips, lending me everything from shampoo to garbage bags, and talking me through the tough times. She also wouldn’t let me get away with anything. She mocked my story telling, my iPad movie and music collection, and my ineptitude with my camera. She was also horrified with my beer pouring technique.  A perfect trek sister.

I already miss them all so much. I repeat, how did I get so lucky that I was able to share this amazing experience with these amazing people?

I haven’t been avoiding writing about this because it was so traumatic or anything, more just because I don’t know where to begin or how to articulate it all.

As I’ve mentioned, the monsoon season lasted into September, it usually ends in August, and this caused us to have to restructure the trip, with rafting and the jungle coming before the trek. By the time we got to Pokhara to kick off we were very bonded as a group, so that was a good thing. It poured the night before we left. torrential buckets of rain. In our pre-trek meeting, Chitra told us that the rain had flooded parts of the route and caused a number of landslides and that we may have to adjust the route based on this.

The next morning, we were apprehensive, but excited. We rose early, got our last showers in, and were ready to board the bus, which was already filled with Nepali men, from their late teens into their 50s. This, we were told, was our trek crew. There were more than 20 of them to take care of the nine of us. We piled in as a couple guys got on the roof and one hung on to the open door on the side, and jam jam – off we went.

The bus meandered through Pokhara for a while. People opening their shops or just on the street gave us knowing looks. Kids chased the bus waving at us. I think a bus full of Western faces headed up to the hills is not an unfamiliar sight in this town.

As we left Pokhara the bus started to climb a steep, narrow, winding road. Anyone who’s driven the Hana Highway in Maui has a rough idea of what the road was like, but you should picture that unpaved and even steeper and narrower. Occasionally, there would be a banging from the roof or the guy on the side would have to jump out to steer us around an unusually large hole in the road (most of them we just drove through). As we neared corners, the driver would lean on the horn warning anyone on the other side that we were coming around.

A few of the more nervous in my group looked down at the steep drop to the river and the abysmal condition of the road and proclaimed “we’re gonna die!” I figure the driver didn’t want to die anymore than we did, so that would keep up safe. “Yes, but he’s a Buddhist. He thinks his next life will be even better than this one. You’re an atheist,” came the response to my logic.

We didn’t die and after a couple stops to let traffic pass and those of us who needed one to have a “wild wee” we arrived at our kick off stop. The porters loaded our bags, tents, cooking supplies (including fresh eggs), and miscellaneous needs into baskets which they carried on their backs with a tie around their foreheads. Impressive doesn’t begin to cover it. Especially since at least half of them wore nothing more than flip flop.

We met KB, KT, and Mali (I could be way off in spelling), Chit’s assistants on the trek and we started to walk. I actually fell behind KB at first, with Martin behind me. I know this was an unwise spot, but the trail was narrow and there was no place to move to a more sensible spot in the parade. KB had a nice steady slow pace. I tend to walk like I run – too fast at first and I burn out quickly.

We walked for a while on a gradual incline which was so pleasant that for a little while I wondered what I was worried about. Then we veered off our original route and moved steeply upward. And I fell back in line. it was a long steep up marked by slippery muddy paths and fallen rocks. KB stopped after about an hour and conferred with Chit and the others. Chit told us there was a very dangerous spot coming up and we’d have to go one by one. We walked for a bit more spreading out based on our speed. As I caught up to those in front of me they were waiting at a turn in the path,  Eventually those behind me joined us as well. One by one we turned the corner, not knowing what was there. Nothing was there! The path ended and there was another path about 6 feet above us, but seemingly no way to get from where I was to where the others who’d come before me were. Chit and Mali were at the top reaching down and yelling directions “put your right foot there, left there.” They basically pulled me oner the ridge with their bare hands.

Once up above, we set off again. The original path was meant to follow the river bank before gradually heading upwards. This path was, as Chit had warned us “up up up.” It was also barely a path, with large rocks blocking the way, a steep drop down to the river and treacherously slick surfaces. We’d only been walking for a couple hours and I was over it. We spread out again and I found myself alone in the middle. It was a scary place to be as one false step could send you tumbling down with nothing to break the fall but boulders. Soon Mali joined me and we walked together for several more hours. Me stopping regularly to  catch my breath or reach out for some help over a particularly complicated passage; Mali politely waiting saying, “ok, go slow.” There were others behind me, so that made me feel somewhat better.

Eventually, the stream became visible below us and on a flat rock I saw a couple dozen people eating and relaxing, their feet in the water. Finally we had reached our group. We went past them and I figured we were just finding a safe route down. When we kept going I grabbed Mali, pointed at the group and tried to communicate that that was where I needed to be. “No, No” he said. “They are not us.” I was sure they were us. I could even identify my friends among them, but Mali kept going.

Periodically as we walked one of our porters would trot past us, heavy basket on their back, not breaking a sweat. Nepali men an dome would come from one direction or the other, always offering a Namaste, sometime offering something to buy, a soft drink, beer, and even cigarettes. I’m sure I looked like I needed something, but a cigarette was not it.

After about six hours of walking, we came to a small village where I found my companions sitting on a rock drinking lemonade. They cheered my arrival and gave me some refreshment. Soon the last of our walkers joined us as well. We all regaled each other with stories of our moments on the walk and geared up for our afternoon walk. Anna had spoken to a group of about thirty women (they were the ones on the rock by the stream) who were on a charity trek to raise money for multiple myeloma, the disease that claimed my mother. Even as I type this, it makes me teary knowing she was somehow there with me on that first hard day.

After lunch Chitra let us know that since we got a late start and were slow in our trek due to the change of route, that we wouldn’t be doing the afternoon trek, rather we’d find a camp spot in town. A little maneuvering later and we were in a small schoolyard where student were quickly dismantling a volleyball net to make room for our tents. One of the porters who was especially quick had gone on to the second site, so not all the mattresses would be there til late. We drank coffee and played cards by candlelight in a school room until it was time for bed.

The next morning we were greeted by curious school children and surprisingly limber muscles. No one was in pain.

We headed to our next destination, which would be about a 5 or 6 hour climb up about 5000 stone steps. I knew about the steps and had been dreading them for weeks. But I was still expecting actual steps. Instead we got a serious of rocks of varying depths and heights that we had to get up. I took my place in Team Pauly Pauly (slowly slowly in Nepali). We went up up up. It was a long haul and we stopped frequently. KT was assigned to our little group and was endlessly patient and encouraging. We started goal setting, which became a theme for the trek. We’ll go to that rock, that curve, that tree. The distances became shorter and the recovery time longer, but we made it, only about an hour behind the fastest walkers. At the site, we had lunch and had the option to walk down to another village about an hour away. I, along with a couple others, passed on the village tour and hit my tent while the faster trekkers took off.

After a while, I had to use our toilet tent. I was literally a tent constructed around a hole one of the porters had dug in the ground. There was a pile of fresh dirt near by to cover anything that went in the hole and a bag for paper. My squat muscles have gotten pretty strong over the last couple weeks and I was in position when I heard rumbling A lot of rumbling. As I popped out of the tent, a dozen water buffalo were directly alongside my and across the field chased by a small Nepali boy wielding a stick. Anna’s head was out of her tent as well and she was laughing merrily.

We convened in the dining tent waiting for our friends to return and playing Uno, which was a nightly ritual for the trip. KB and Fiona joined us. KB left to get tea ready just as the rain started. from inside the tent we could hear it getting stronger and stronger. We had a couple small candles going and talked of going back to the tents for flashlights, but kept thinking the rain would taper off. Just as we began to worry about the hikers, we heard a rustling outside the tent and in they burst. Wet and a bit drunk (apparently the local wine, to which they were treated, is very strong).

We sat together for a while in the dim candle light with the tent getting increasingly battered by the rain and wind. We’d already had a couple encounters with the area leeches and since the rain brought them out, we would frequently “leech check” our boots and legs. The tent was held into the ground by metal rods and after one corner pulled loose, we began to get silly out of fear and adrenaline. We had heard about the avalanche the day before and after two days of the treacherous climb , we were beginning to realize that it wasn’t just a state park we’d come to. Even the most moderate of the Himalayan trails are more dangerous than most of the hiking in the US or UK. After a very tense hour or so, KB returned with tea and we had something to focus on besides our nerves.

The rain slowed and Jamal ran out to get his rain jacket. He barged back in shortly there after saying, “you’ve all been bitten (by leeches). Take your shoes off and come with me NOW!” I didn’t take my shoes off, but we all ran with him into a stone building where a Nepali family sat on mats in the corner. We were, I’m pretty sure, in their bedroom. Peeling off our shoes and socks, we found we were all clear of leeches except for Jamal, who did run out barefoot. He had several bites, but a little salt later and he was cleared. Our porters set up a table and we ate dinner in the house, the family watching us from the corner. Chitra brought in all 20 + of our porters and guides to introduce them and tell us where they were from. Each greeted us with Namaste, their names, and home towns. English skills ranged from basically nonexistent to very good. Then we introduced ourselves with Namaste Miro naam Kathleen Ho. (my name is Kathleen). I can’t say enough about the porters, and I will repeat many times over how amazing they were. We came to know some of them a bit, especially the card sharks who’d join us for our nightly games. As we headed for the tent, one of the younger men with good English asked Emma a few questions about herself and became known throughout our group as “Emma’s Boyfriend” which she was not so happy about, but made me smile.

The next morning we headed out for what was projected to be our hardest day. I couldn’t imagine anything harder than the last two, but there we were. Chitra prepped us with the familiar, “we go up up up.” We were headed to our highest camp site, above the clouds in an area known as Tara Top. From there were were promised breathtaking views. But the climb would be elick doe to the storm and we were likely to encounter more leeched, even those that could fall from the trees. I wasn’t so worried about them until I found out they could get in my increasingly dirty hair!

I liked day three’s climb a lot. It was hard as could be and we implemented our goal system, but it was a beautiful walk punctuated by frequent water falls and, for Team Pauly Pauly, spa breaks. We would stop at a small pool or waterfall, dip our hands and heads in and revitalize. There were some tough crossings and the last hour or so to Tara Top was exhausting, but as we ascended up above the clouds, it was magnificent.

The promised view wasn’t there so much at night, but by sunrise, it was spectacular. We saw the entire Annapurna range and got to know several of the snow-capped peaks well, especially Fishtail, which was a constant companion on the trek. We had our morning coffee and got changed for the day. As I was inspecting my sweaty t-shirt from the day before to see if I might get a couple days use out of it, I noticed a distinct red stain on the back. I had bled, a lot. Emma checked my back and there it was. A leech bite. It seems to have gotten under my backpack, had its fill of me and fallen off. I never knew it was there. And with that I’d joined a club with many of our team as members already.

Chitra warned us that as we went “down down down” it would be hard on our muscles and joints. I didn’t care. I was very ready for a down day. I pointed in one direction and asked if we were going that way and Chir said, “no, it’s too hard, too steep.” When we were ready to head out, we got word that landslides had once again blocked our original route and we would have to use the too steep one.

Oh how I hated down down down. The path was practically vertical with more stone steps, loose rocks and slippery mud everywhere. As everyone who knows me knows, I rarely go more than a couple days without falling down and I was certain I would turn my ankle during this climb. It was unrelenting. At one point Fiona looked at me and said “are you suffering” I managed to nod and hold back the tears til she turned away from me (though she knew they were coming).  I managed to regain my composure by the time we reached our lunch spot. Everyone’s legs were jelly and none of us were sure that if we sat down we’d be able to get up again. Chit pointed out our camp for the night, far off on the horizon. It looked impossible, but off we went. Chit stayed with Team Pauly Pauly but ran a bit ahead. As we came around a corner we found him sitting on a fence. Apparently this was meant to be our camp site for the night, but no one was there. We walked further looking at each other and wondering if Chit was putting up on or if he really didn’t know where everyone was. We finally found them and I could feel myself wavering between despair and relief. If at any point going back was any easier than going on, I would have quit the trek, but it didn’t work that way.

I had to do a birthday greeting call that night, the last connection to the US my phone would allow. I retired to my tent as the rest of the group were entertained by villagers. I knew I should join them, but the day had really depleted me.

Emma came back and we did our nightly ritual of talking through our hikes and pumping each other up for the next day. This was my favorite part of every day and in all honesty I don’t think I could have made it through without her. Or if I did, I wouldn’t have been as happy. We became so close during this trip that I feel a bit like my best friend has moved away even though I only knew her a couple weeks.

I bounced back by the morning of day 5, another up up up day. It was actually my favorite day of the trek. It was a short hike (only about 5 1/2 hours) to our camp site and we’d be staying there for two nights. I should mention at thus point that none of us could walk very well. Everyone’s muscles were screaming. I rolled over and swore at one point in the night. Emma asked if I was ok and I said my legs hurt. About a hold an hour later, she rolled over and I heard the same four letter word out of her mouth.

But still, it was a great hike and soon our legs were working properly for up. THe fast climbers made it in what KB called “local time.” Team Pauly Pauly came in in the time that was estimated for the fast walkers. We all felt like it was a victory.

Still, once we stopped moving and sat down, the muscles began aching. We looked like the MInistry of Funny Walks as we made our way across the camp site.

The following day was an optional hike day. Four trekkers took off to a nearby peak, five of us remained in camp. We spent a little time in our tents rubbing Tiger Balm on our muscles, then grouped for Uno. We planned on a short hike at some point to get some blood flowing but it never happened.

During our after lunch game of Uno, Adam and Fiona, who had their phones at the table, began to get text messages. Lots of them. Ping, ping, ping. “Please tell me you’re ok!” was the general urgent message. After a little back and forth, we learned that a flight to Lukla at Everest, carrying a team of trekkers, many British had crashed. Though it was only about 7am in the UK, their friends were waking up to the news. We all called our loved ones to let them know wa were ok and Anna came up with the quite brilliant idea of Facebook postings. We each asked our loved one to post a message on our page letting everyone who might be concerned know that we were ok. It wouldn’t reach everyone, but it was a good way to get the message out.

As the climbers returned to camp, we shared the sad news and suggested they get in touch with their families. It put a damper on what could have been a lovely day, and was again a reminder of the dangers of the place we’d chose to visit. Emma and I sat in the tent for a while, pep-talking each other into a good place and we joined the others for the last evening of camping. Just one more down down down and we could get a shower and a beer!

The next morning we set off. I still hated down down down, but this one came with a great reward. Eventually, the steep steps changed to a gradual road and even the stream and after only about four hours of trekking we reached the lunch spot. I joined Emma and Gary on the blanket, still quite afraid to sit for fear that the after lunch trek would be too hard when Gary pointed to a dilapidated bus and said “that’s our bus.” “That’s our bus?” I asked incredulously. “Yup – the trek is over.” And then my tears came again. I’d trekked in the Himalayas. I did it. We all did it! “You rock!” Emma said high-fiving me. “We all do”

We took some photos with the amazing, amazing trek team who always had the tents waiting for us, brought us coffee in bed every morning, fed us delicious, nutritious trail food, and were ruthless card players, and we headed home.

I can’t believe I did it and I’m so proud, despite my many struggles. Emma was an invaluable partner and friend thoughout, but all my trail friends, especially Team Pauly Pauly, made it the experience of a lifetime. I don’t know what I did in my past life to end up with this amazing group of people, but I am so indebted to them all. The trek was staggeringly hard. We all had bad days and we all struggled, but no one ever said an unkind word to one another. We all believed in each other so much and together we conquered the trail. I never felt anything but belief and support from my partners on this journey and I hope they never felt anything but that from me. I have eight new Facebook friends now and with friends with whom I shared an experience so profound that even if our paths never cross again, we will remember each other for life.