Mountains and Moxie

On Monday morning I flew past Mount Everest. Today I sat on the ocean floor. Its been quite a vacation.

Koh Samui is an island off the coast of Thailand on the Gulf side (Phuket, the best known island is on the Indian Ocean side). It is, to an international collection of divers and surf hippies, what Pokhara is to trekkers – a bit of a mecca where some percentage will never leave.

I arrived yesterday and immediately signed up for a massage. It was in a little hut on the beach where they’d lined up 7 mattresses for eager tourists to have their knots worked out. My masseuse was strong. Really, really strong and she had little time for my excuses about why I was so stiff. “I was just trekking in the Himalayas.” “It’s very bad!” was her stern reply.

After a little torture and a lot of relief, she turned her attention to my feet, which are not great on a good day, but after the trek, they were very dry, scaly, and generally gross. “How can you live with this?” she asked as she pumiced the life out of them.

When I was finally shiny and new I found a lounge chair on the beach, ordered a pina colada and set about relaxing. I lasted nearly an hour before getting bored. I swam and ordered another drink before throwing in the towel and going to a walk.

The “main” street of Samui is like any island town – lots of little stores selling pucca shell necklaces and pares. There was of course the collection of Thai tat as well – cheap jewelry (yes, I bought some) and electronics (didn’t buy any. There was a van going up and down the road blasting the theme to Rocky and inviting everyone to the kickboxing  “Fight of the Year” but never actually saying where it was.These was a little shop that gave fish pedicures. You put your feet in a tub of water filled with little fish and they eat away all the dead skin. I toyed with trying it, but I’m not sure there was anything but baby skin left on my feet after the massage.

On my way home I passed a dive shop and casually stopped to look at the fliers outside. Alex, a Brit who’s made the island his home, was on my quickly convincing me that diving would be the perfect end to my vacation, no worries that I’d never done it before.

After a little Facebook support, I signed up. Then headed for bed – it was a 7am pick up.

This morning, at 7am, I joined about 15 others headed to the boat. In what’s been a theme this holiday, I was the only America among many Germans, some Russians, an Israeli, and 4 Irish women celebrating their college graduation.

We met our instructors. German Andy had an elephant face tattoo on one bicep and its ass on the other. Australian Jo chain smoked, had a bleached streak in her hair and made me laugh. I got Andy.

After about three hours of cruising, during which I learned that I was the only beginner and would have to wait until everyone else;s dives were complete and they were eating lunch before I could go in, we reached the first dive site. Then Andy quickly ran through the safety rules. While the initial divers were underway, I donned some snorkeling gear and got a look at the life below. I swam among schools of fish of all shapes and sizes – zebra, bright yellow, soft blue, you name it. And the coral reefs, full of life, were stunning.

Then it was my turn. I’m sure everyone looks silly getting into a wetsuit, but I did, even if everyone else doesn’t. Andy quickly complimented my scissor kicks, though any Waukeela Camp girl who had Stevie Ma’am as a swimming instructor would equally impress him with their “purdy” strokes.

That was the last time he said anything nice to me. My first dip in I got air in my mask. “You have too much hair!” was his only reply. When I told him I was swallowing water, he said, rather unhelpfully,  “I don’t.”  Eventually, I was ready to submerge. I know what’s involved in scuba gear and I’m very comfortable in the water, but when he let the air out of my vest and the weights around my waist took hold, it was disconcerting to say the least.  A couple go’s later, he said “Ok – next time you must do better.” and we rebounded the boat.

As we reached dive site two and as I jumped in to snorkelwhiles the others dove, one of my fins fell off and sunk. Andy’s reply when I told him was “that’s not good.” Yes, I know that part. What do I do? Jo rescued it from the bottom of the sea and off we went. When It was my turn to dive again, I considered skipping it. But I figured I got through the damn trek, this wouldn’t stop me! Andy was gruff and, dare I say, German, about it all, but two tries later, we were sitting on the bottom of the ocean as he tested me in dive skills. Each time I glanced away to check out the fish, he’d wave his hand in my face, point to my eyes and then his, so it was good that I got my sea-life peeping in on the snorkel.

Back on the boat, we headed back to Samui in silence. At one point the boat stalled for a seemingly ling time. We sat and looked at the water not talking and I began to think of one of our more annoying trail games.  “Would you rather be stuck in the beautiful ocean on a clear day, but with humorless strangers or be in a terrifying storm in a fragile tent on the side of a mountain, with a bunch of jolly souls who make you laugh?” I miss my trail friends!

I’ve never really thought of myself as the “go big or go home” type, but my first time back mountain hiking since I was a teenager, I did in the Himalayas. My first scuba dive was in the Gulf of Thailand. And many of you know that my first experience with mediation was at a 10 day silent retreat. I was terrible at all of them in varying degrees, but I’d do each o them again. I’m thinking my problem with running isn’t that I don’t want to train for the next 5k, it’s that I’m not thinking about the marathon!

Tomorrow I begin an epic journey back to NY. I’ll be home on Saturday, which leaves just enough time to shower, launder, and get ready to go to San Francisco. I can’t wait!

I have arrived at my final stop before returning to the US on Saturday – Samui Island, Thailand.  I was greeted with a cold, delicious papaya juice, my  bungalow looks out over the pool, but is shaded by palm trees. and my massage begins in an hour – in a hut on the beach.

I’ll write more later, but now, must indulge in relaxation!

New York to Kathmandu was a big culture shock. New York to Bangkok is as well, I imagine. But Kathmandu to Bangkok is enough to make one’s head explode. There are real similarities – the traffic is crazy and the traffic rules seem pretty undefined if they exist at all; the streets are filled with vendors; children try to sell you things or ask for money; and some aspects of the hotel are confusing. But they are also a study in contrasts. Where Kathmandu was crumbling, Bangkok is a neon city; Kathmandu exuded safety and a karma culture, Bangkok has signs everywhere warning of pickpockets; I couldn’t figure out the lights in my hotel room because they are so high-tech – in Kathmandu, I couldn’t figure them out, because of the frequent power cuts.

I met Seree, who asksd me to call him Mai, in the morning and we headed by train and water taxi to see the Royal Palace, the Emerald Buddha, the Reclining Buddha, and another temple. Each was more stunning than the last – although I was less than pleased that to really experience the last of them one had to climb 18 stories. Which I did. Very reluctantly. There were novice monks in their saffron robes, all under 16, and true believers on pilgrimages alongside tourists like me.

After having our fill of Buddhas, we headed to Chinatown, which was like every other Chinatown – bustling and loud with vendors selling all manner of unfamiliar foods. Mai bought us a fruit the name of which I never got. It was already sliced so I don’t even know what it looked like whole. The meat was color of mango and tasted like a stringy banana, but was really good. IT was past 1 and we both were hungry. He asked what I’d like and I said Thai noodles of some sort. “I know just the place,” came his replay. And a short monorail ride later we were at a food court in a shopping mall. But oh, the noodles. Chicken seemed the lest questionable (I couldn’t go for the boiled blood or port entail soups). It was super spicy, but so flavorful and filling. I sucked down a bottle of water to cool myself off as Mai disappeared. He came back with a bowl of shaved ice over lychee, pineapple, pomegranate, and sweet corn is a light syrup. It was a Thai take on an Italian Ice and the perfect end to the spicy meal.

After lunch and a couple more Buddhas, it was back to the hotel to shower and change before heading out to a special dinner theater evening that Mai had arranged for me. Siam Niramat is the Thai equivalent of going to a Medieval Castle or the Renaissance Faire, but it was great. Dinner was a Thai buffet in a brightly lit conference room. The guides were meant to sit on the sides as their clients ate, but I convinced Mai to eat with me (I couldn’t get him to let me buy him a beer, but I had one and it tasted great). After dinner we toured a replica of an ancient Thai village (suddenly we’re in Old Sturbridge), where I was given a blessing and a white string bracelet which I’m pretty sure will spell bad luck for me if I take it off.

Finally it was time for the show. Mai left me to go in alone and after bags were checked all cameras were confiscated. The show was a journey through Thailand’s provinces and history. It was a spectacle that would make the Met green with envy, but it was ultimately kind of dull. On stage there were at least 75 dancers, a river deep enough for the actors to dive into, flying women complete with pointy gold headpieces; and flesh eating demons. I couldn’t not think of the scene in King and I when they stage Small House of Uncle Thomas. It was all overblown and  overdone and all I wanted to do was go beck to the hotel. It did end well with an elephant parading through the center aisle, candle boats for the audience to float in the onstage river and best of all (take note Boston Pops peeps) a confetti cannon. I do love a confetti cannon!

I leave for Koh Samui early tomorrow morning for two days by myself on a beach. I haven’t been alone in nearly a month and its either going to be great or awful, but I can’t wait!

MAybe I’ll even find it in me to actually write about the trek while I’m there.

I saw Mount Everest today. With my own, slightly teary, eyes! It was from the window of a plane, but I saw it!

Buddha Air runs a mountain flight around Mount Everest. Its about an hour and flies along the entire range, turns round and flies back. even though we were both taking international flights in the afternoon, Emma and I decided it would be worth it to see if we could catch an early mountain flight since the timing didn’t work out for us to see the mountain any other way and really, we were so close it would be a shame to leave without getting to spot it. Fiona joined us and Chitra arranged for a 6:30 flight for us.

We got the airport about 6 and, true to our experience the day before, Buddha Air and domestic travel in Nepal is a little bit disorganized. We were approached on arrival by two men wearing id tags. They took our passports and paperwork and came back with seat assignments for us. When we took our boarding passes and passports back they harassed us for a tip. Once inside the gates, we again went through several rounds of ids, queued up in the “Ladies” line for our pat downs and waited for our flight. My flight to Bangkok was leaving at 1:30, so in my head, I needed to get on the 6:30 am flight by 8 at the latest or I’d have to bail. As the clocked ticked towards 8, I turned to tell Fiona and Emma that I was out, just as they called our plane.

It was another super small plane, with passengers seated in window seats only. There was a man seated directly behind Emma (who was across from me) who spent most of the flight yelling to his companions, jumping out of his seat to take their photos (and sometimes ours), and generally causing a ruckus. It threaded to make a tense morning even worse, especially as we were headed out only days after the Everest flight crash. But everything changed as the mountains came into view. The flight attendants went up and down the aisle id-ing the various peaks for us and bringing folks one by one into the cockpit. Emma’s timing was perfect and she saw Everest as we approached it. Fiona and I went up later, but still got breathtaking views. As Everest came into view it was the absolute fulfillment of a dream for me. There it was! It was only slightly higher than the surrounding mountains, but it was there, and unmistakable.

After we landed Chit picked us up and brought us back to the hotel for breakfast to to finish packing. He was raised in a small village near Everest and has been to base camp several times, so he was unimpressed with our enthusiasm about it.

The international terminal is much more organized and Emma and I made it though check-in, grabbed a coffee and lingered til my flight was boarding. She has been an invaluable friend on this trip and I’ll miss her company (i’m missing it now, alone in Bangkok).

On board, I was once again in my least favorite location, a window seat in coach. This time next to a couple Nepali men with an unmistakable odor. There were seats available in the middle of the plane and just as I was preparing to ask if I could move, one of them asked me where I was from. This led to a flight long conversation and they were GREAT! They both worked in television and radio production in Kathmandu and were on their way to   Bangkok for a conference. They had both lived in the US and had a lot to say about our politics and the parts of the country they like and don’t (hated Atlanta, loved San Francisco. Hoping Obama wins a second term). They asked me about my experiences and laughed politely at the stories of my ineptitude in navigating Nepali traffic and haggling.

I asked if they trekked. They both said no, though one had been to Everest base camp several times and the other, who grew up near Pokhara, had a three day walk to his village every time he returned for a visit.

In Bangkok I was greeted by Seree, my guide for the next couple days. He dropped me at hotel and warned me that if I went out to head to the left not the right, as the bars to the right were where men went to have drinks and buy companionship.  I decided to venture left and walked a few blocks throughout he bustling streets. There was all manner of food for sale and rows of stalls selling everything from make-up to sex toys to knock off hand-bags to viagra pills. After passing the stall selling guns, I decided to head back to the hotel and do my exploring in tomorrow’s daylight.

I finally got used to the chaos of Kathmandu. The energy here is very different. Now its time to sleep, there are Buddhas to see tomorrow.

Well waking up after our night out in Pokhara was a little hard, but not as bad as we all thought it would be. Emma and I ate breakfast early (Gary and Alyson joined us at the end of our meal). After breakfast we took one last wonder down to the lake then went for a coffee in one of the cafes over looking the main street and headed back to meet our group for our flight back to Kathmandu.

We were taking a short flight from Pokhara to Kathmandu, only about 30 minutes. Chitra warned us that there were protests going on at the airport over discussions to turn it into an international destination. As we headed that way, frighteningly close to our fight time, we ran into protest traffic. Crawling along we passed a raised platform with a row of women sitting cross-legged beneath  sign announcing a “relay hunger strike.” I’m not sure what a relay hunger strike is, but I’m thinking they take turns not eating. This is probably the only hunger strike I can get down with, but also seems a bit inefficient to make a point.

I have no idea how they could turn that airport into an international one. It was tiny and chaotic. We were pointed in a bunch of different ways to get through security. Our bags were scanned over and over, and finally we had to line up, women in one line, men in another, for a hand pat down. Once we were at Gate 1 (and as far as any of us could tell the only gate in the airport, we awaited our Buddha air flight. Two hours after we were due to fly, we began boarding the tiny plane. Some of the more nervous flyers among us were white knuckled during the short trip, but we landed safely after flying home at an altitude lower then the one to which we’d just climbed.

Most of our group headed out for a chinese lunch and some shopping in Thamil Square, one of the main shopping districts. Emma and I headed to the nearby Raddison, choosing instead to sneak into their rooftop pool lounge for a cocktail and sunset over the city.

We all gathered at the hotel for a final dinner, email and Facebook exchanges, and a lot of hugs. Fiona will be in Kathmandu for a few more days, Emma and I ware leaving the next afternoon, but everyone else was in the morning.

What a great trip!

Though there were a couple beers here and there (none for me), for the most part we were a sober group on our trek, as it should be. We joked about how good the drinks would be when we finally completed the trek. And oh, how good they were.

First order of business though was a shower. Emma and I cleverly grabbed a couple Everest beers from the bar before heading to our room. We collapsed on our beds for a while barely able to move. Eventually we each made it into our first shower in a week and only our second hot shower in the two weeks we’d been here. It was amazing – and a bit scary to see how much dirt I’d collected along the way. I could only see for a minute though, since, my shower turn came just as Kathmandu experienced one of its many power cuts. I thought about waiting til it was over but I just carried on in the dark. I really needed to get clean.

As we started feeling human again, we decided to take a walk through town and very quickly met up with a clean-shaven and fresh-smelling Martin who joined us for a stroll through town. Pokhara is really a unique town. The main street is littered with trek shops and international themed bars and restaurants – German Bakery, Chinese Delight, Hamburgers, etc. People from all over the world converge in Pokhara coming to the beginning or from the end of a trek. Some folks also exuded a sort of hippie  “I came here for a trek and found my spiritual home, so I never left” feeling.  We wondered down to the lakeside and walked along it for a while before heading back to the hotel to meet the rest of our group for our trek celebration dinner. Chit had told us we would celebrate at the Himalayan Encounters office with a traditional Napali meal cooked by Harry, our trek chef, and joined by our assistant guides KB, KT, and Mali. Then we might have some disco dancing.

The HE offices are lovely with backyard spaces for private dinners. We passed another group clearly finishing there trek celebration and found our table in the back. The dinner was wonderful and highlighted by dal bat, a lentil dish which the porters ate every night on the the and we never got. It was delicious. Our guides actually served us rather than joined us, which was a bit disappointing. After dinner the table was moved and KB hung a small disco light on the wall. He and some other guides acted as djs playing loud disco music. The other group joined us and we learned they’d just returned from an Everest base camp trek. Eventually Gary and Adam led the charge and we were all up dancing. The Everest group hung back for a while as we pulled in our guides and Harry and the Everest crew to dance with us.

It all came crashing to an end about an hour later when there was a power cut and we all started singing Bohemian Rhapsody. Chit suggested a few bars in the area and we headed out to Bar Amsterdam. Along the way we came across three Nepali guys on a stoop with a guitar. Adam stuck up a conversation and eventually convinced them to play for us. The Nepali holding the guitar started playing Hey Jude and within seconds our groups was all joyfully singing along. A few rounds of Nah, nah na, nananaaaa, Hey Jude later the Everest guys wondered by. I said ” oh you just missed a great sing along!” “No we didn’t” came the reply “we heard it three blocks away.”  OK – so they’re way more hardcore trekkers than we, but way less fun!

Amsterdam had a sing out from promising “Great Music. Good Covers.” We settled into a table, ordered a round of beer and assessed the scene. The bar was like so, so many before it for me. A small stage for the local band, a pool table in the corner, sports on tv, and a weird guy sitting alone at the  end of the bar. But the crowd was all in trekking gear or gauzy skirts and were all ages and nationalities. The band came out and began the “good covers.” Some ACDC, U2, and Adele later we were all lagging a bit. The turning point came when they started playing Tom Petty’s Free Falling, a song we’d just been talking about. We decided we’d all stand at the chorus and stand we did. And sing we did. A couple more rounds of beer and we were all up dancing, even Martin and Emma, neither of whom would normally be seen dancing in a bar. We sang and danced and took a few breaks to catch up on our beers and talk about the ideal mate, silly jokes, and our trip to the mountain tops. Suddenly we’d changed from a group of strangers traveling together to a group of friends out for a night in the pub.

But it turns out that after seven days of intensive exercise paired with altitude and not great sleep, beer goes to your head pretty quickly. After the band retired for the evening and we made an attempt to take over the stage and perform in their stead, it was suggested that we go home in the most karma-appropiate way. One of the bartenders approached Adam as he tried to play the drum set with a couple of water bottles and said, “maybe you come back tomorrow.”

And with that, we headed home. Happy and drunk and celebrating the end of our trek like so many before us had, but still in a way that was completely our own.

We trudged back into Pokhara as the walking wounded. We are battered and bruised, limping, and very, very dirty. But we’ve done it. The past seven days have been the hardest physically and emotionally of my life. And will likely be the most satisfying, but it’s too soon to tell.

The Annapurna National Park is a lower level trek and is deemed moderate, with some parts demanding. Everything is relative, of course, and being able to run three miles without stopping or scrambling the Ice Glen in the Berkshires really isn’t proper training for the Himalayas.

My breaking point came on day four, our first down day after ascending into the clouds. I thought it would be my easiest, but it was my day for tears. We all had rough days. There were leeches, giant bugs, water buffalo in the camp (and at one point a stampede of them around the toilet tent which I was occupying at the time), and a monsoon which we weathered in a fragile tent on the mountainside.  We shared moments of great joy, loads of laughs, and a few low points. Twice on the trek we heard about others like us who had suffered – on our first day there was an avalanche that killed 11 and on our sixth day a plane headed to Everest with trekkers crashed killing all aboard.

Every day I did something I cannot believe was possible for me. I am filled with emotion from the trip.

But now I’ve showered and am drinking a beer with Emma, toasting our accomplishments.  We are all off to a celebration with our guides and porters where there no doubt will be hugs and cheers all around. Tomorrow we fly back to Kathmandu, the next day Emma, Fiona, and I take a quick flight to Everest and then I am off to Bangkok. I will update you all on the details of the trek in the next day or so. For now, I”m off to join my new friends!

I miss you all!

We’re off! YIKES!

We’ve cast the movie version of our trip. As with every movie about my life, I shall be played by Sandra Bullock. The rest of our cast is as follows:

Emma: Jennifer Laurence

Jamal: Jack Black

Gary: Steve Coogan

Alyson: Drew Barrymore

Adam: Seth Rogan

Anna: Kate Winslet

Fiona: Susan Sarandan

Martin: Billy Baldwin

Chitra: Dov Patel

It’ll be a great film and hopefully a comedy rather than a drama (we’ll let you know in a week).

I still can’t get the photos smaller, but I’ve put some up on Facebook in a hopefully public album: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151058520803590.429825.661083589&type=1&notif_t=photo_album_comment

After a late night of Uno with the gang, the 6am wake-up knock at the door was very unwelcome! Emma and I were not among the early morning birdwatchers, but they had us down anyway.

We came to life, packed up and joined the group around 8. The birdwatchers saw lots of crocs and a few more deer, in addition to a lot of birds, but I’m not sorry I missed it. As has become our morning custom, we compared our malaria pill dreams, and off we went headed to Pokhara, our last stop before hitting the trail.

The drive was an easy 5 hours, with a quick stop along the way for a loo break and a snack. We were once again driving the narrow highway high in the mountains. The trucks coming towards us were all painted with bright colors and designs as well as Buddha eyes and names like “Heart Break,” “Speed Control,” or “Road Kill.” Most frequently we saw Titanic trucks with a painting of the doomed ship on the side.

The road was dotted with small shacks from which people sold food for travelers, tiny houses, and cows, goats, and dogs. There were children playing in nearly every yard. One group had even constructed a ping-pong table with some cinder blocks and bricks for the net, others were bathing in the waterfalls.

We arrived in Pokhara around 1:30, and Chitra gave us the list of things we needed to pick up for the trek. Pokhara is a very tourist friendly “city.” It is the kick-off point for all Annapurna trekkers. We’ve seen more international folks here than even in Kathmandu. The streets are crowded with trekking shops selling North Face gear for a fraction of the price (I’m not sure if its real or not, but I do have a new jacket and duffel).  We all picked up walking sticks that I’m excited to own – it makes me feel like a real hiker.

We met at about 5:30 and Chitra filled us in on tomorrow’s activity. Because of the monsoon, the trail we were meant to take has been pretty washed out. It may be repaired by tomorrow morning, but likely we will take another route. One Chitra described as “up, up, up.” Tomorrow and the next day will be the two hardest and longest of our trip and they’ve gotten worse because of the rains.  But its only two days and by now we’ve bonded enough as a group that  they’ll forgive me my inability to keep up (we all actually think we will be slowest – well, everyone except Martin, who we all know will be fastest). Appropriately scared, we all retired to our rooms to pack for the trail. My new duffel will stay in Pokhara filled with all I don’t need on the road including my computer, credit cards, and passport. I am bringing an insurance card with me – you all know how clumsy I am.

We’re off at 6:30 tomorrow morning (about 9:15 Saturday night eastern time). I’ll be out of touch for the next seven days, but eager to let you know how it goes. Please send me lots of good lung capacity vibes.

****Also – I’ve managed to get the photos onto this computer. If someone can tell me how to make the photo size smaller on a mac, I’ll upload photos into all the posts when I get back.****

After a long wait in Chtiwan, first in the blazing sun, later in an alley with some shade, our van arrived to take us to the jungle. One of the things that we’ve all quickly gotten used to here is that nothing ever goes exactly according to schedule. Landslides and student uprisings aside, there are always issues that slow down activities – cows blocking the road, bad traffic, power outages, and more.
Eventually Chitra hired a van from town and they came to bring us to our lodge. Our boat crew remained waiting for the original bus, which would bring them and the bags we’d left behind in Bandipur.
Chitwan itself is a bustling city with shops and drivers that reminded us all of Kathmandu. It was crowded and loud, with bars and souvenir shops lining the streets. None of us had expected the city and we were all nervous that our diea of the jungle paradise was off.
After making our way though the city traffic, we winded into a more remote area marked by a decaying statue of a tiger. slowly we found ourselves in a village whose roads were also lined with small shops, but felt far more rural. Oncoming traffic changed from the brightly colored trucks we’d grown accustomed to, to elephants loaded down with goods.
We pulled into our jungle lodge and all sighed happily. Small bungalows lined pathways circling a main office and a bar. A big sign announced free wifi (the only reason I’m catching up on email).
We sat down for a lunch of water buffalo steak and a fantastic ginger lentil soup, we learned our schedule for the next couple days. No one really listened beyond, you need to be back here in an hour. All we could think of was a hot shower and getting our now really stinky clothes to the laundry service.
After taking care of those things, we re-grouped and headed out (in oxcarts) for a tour of Chitwan’s village.The local community has lived in the area for hundreds of years and developed immunity to malaria. They raise goats and chickens, and make elephant dung paper products to sell to tourists. We visited a tiny museum devoted to the community to learn a bit more. As we left, we were asked to sign up for their email mailing list – a bizarrely modern twist on the day. Outside, we joined a group of Nepali children playing tag. Many rounds later, we headed back to the lodge for a traditional dance performance, dinner, and another night of card and good natured teasing.
This morning we had our much anticipated elephant safari. After a very early breakfast we headed out to meet our elephants. The nine of us took three elephants, three on each. We climbed up a platform and onto the elephant from the back. Once we were all loaded on our elephant drive tapped Lady (our elephant) on the ears with his feet and we were off.
For a couple hours we sauntered through long grasses and muddy streams. We saw several deer and beautiful birds, but alas no rhinos or tigers. Our three elephants followed different paths and we were only periodically able to see our companions through the bushes. After a long period of peering into the woods we heard a sitar and Hindi singing. We all turned expectantly in the direction it came and the drive of Alyson, Gary, and Martin’s elephant answering his cell phone.
After the ride and a break to feel the elephants, we came back to the hotel for a brief break before heading out to the elephant bathing center. This was my least favorite thing so far. The elephants were in the river and tourists could sit on their back. The elephant handler would call some commands and the beast would spray water from its trunk drenching the tourist. It felt created for us, and disrespectful.
After lunch, we headed out once more for a walking tour of the jungle. Before we left the jungle guide filled us in on the safety rules should we encounter rhino, sloth bears, elephants, tigers, or leopards. “Wait!” shouted Adam, “lets go through those again – slowly.” For a rhino you run in a zigzag until you find a tree to hide behind. For a sloth bear we gather in a group and make a large noise, for an elephant just run, and for the wild cats – stare them down. And off we went.
First we took a rickety canoe ride in croc infested waters. It was short, but quite terrifying. Then we walked for more than an hour over a long, muddy path. None of us had expected the trail to be as hard or as slippery. Jamal took his flip flops off and navigated the path barefoot. I, not unsurprisingly, was the first to land on my bottom, and Fiona collected our first leech. The trail ended at an elephant breeding facility which was marked by a billboard depicting copulating elephants. We learned a bit about the face of Indian elephants and headed back for more showers and dinner.
I helped myself to a bit of Emma’s shampoo and conditioner (my all in one bar is great, but limited). All night I haven’t been able to stop touching my hair. Its clean!
Surprisingly to me, Chitwan is not a place I’d come back to, although I’m thrilled to be here now. I love the elephants in the street, but the entire place feels a bit to built for the visitors than other parts of the country. Tomorrow we are off to Pohkera, a town which caters to trekker heading out for Annapurna. Then of course, we do what I’ve been dreading all along – begin our trek!