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So Greg and I had made plans to do the Ghorepani-Gandruk loop which takes about 5 days and gives you STUNNING views of Annapurna, Maccapuchare (yikes I am butchering these spellings) and lots more peaks on the ridge. Imagine moving your chair around at lunch so you can have the optimal view of the television show, except you're moving your chair to gawk at ANNAPURNA while drooling and spilling your soup in your lap instead of following something-or-other's love escapades in NYC. Yes, swoon.

Anyway, at one point (Gandruk or Chumrung, as if ANYBODY is going to google that) you can split off and head up to Annapurna Base Camp (~4200 feet) for another 5-6 day adventure or head down. Greg was itching to go to base camp because well, duh, when else are you going to be so close? and almost convinced me to come, but the whole time I had this nagging feeling like I had to be next to a computer or telephone to receive some kind of news. I was worried that it was bad news, maybe something from home. But a phone call to my  mother (while staring at Annapurna out the window, that's right) turned up that I would pretty much miss the climbing training that Harry was giving if I went up, which would make me entirely useless as a climbing instructor volunteer.

Note on climbing instruction: not everybody in the rest of the world has access to an unlimited supply of ATC's and ATC guides if you need a self-braking device, etc. Sounds logical, right? Somehow in my vain planning this simple concept completely eluded me. Here I thought I would be teaching people to belay left and right, and I am still struggling to master the art of belaying with a munter hitch. Adding to the confusion is the fact that the munter is now a half sailor knot and clove hitch is a full sailor knot. So am I doing more learning than teaching? You bet, but I plan on taking a toothbrush or weeder and going to town on cleaning up parts of the rock where weeds are getting in the way of climbing. So yes, usefulness after all!

Anyway, Greg is somewhere in the mountains, with his birthday, my water pump, and a 200 rupee map of the area. My intuition tells me he is just fine, and I'm psyched for the pictures.

I've been having a great time hanging out with the girls and Laura and Harry. All the climbers are so incredibly badass and it's great to continue being part of this great climbing culture that transcends continents. Laura is a volunteer from Germany staying here for a year. The German government is fronting the $$ for her to live here, that is after finding the organization and housing for her, because they want students to take a gap year to volunteer in between high school and college. Does the American government do this?? Where was I when this was going on ?!

The sporadic power outages which sort of follow a schedule but also occur on their own are keeping things interesting. Reading by headlamp is nothing I'm not used to; it's mainly the water situation since Greg has my pump - there is a water filter in the dining hall but it is out when the power is out. Yay more boiled water!

I am skipping my 20 minute jog around the lake this morning to catch up on some correspondence and hopefully have time to stretch. I was supposed to join Laura for a 8 AM yoga class, but woke up about 20 minutes too late to eat, get ready, and then head up. Who knew I had to set an alarm for a 8 AM yoga class when I was in bed falling asleep by 8:50 PM? Blame the jet lag. The 15 minute time difference between India and Nepal is really killing me.

Until next time!

Annapurna is my TV...

...or the story of how I ALMOST went to basecamp.

Now that you have something to look forward to, let me say that I am settled in at the 3 Sisters Lodge for the next month, starting to teach climbing with Harry tomorrow, and have a perfect opportunity to have a phone date with anybody who wants to. So get at me!

Hope everyone is happy, healthy, and well!

Backlog!

Yikes, wrote this up yesterday then the power went out so I saved it on the desktop. Luckily the place opened on time so I can update real quick before we have to leave for our flight in an hour!

I am quite a bit behind so I will try to summarize. Liz, Jessie, and I parted ways in Delhi and I began my travels with Greg. On the 4 AM taxi ride to the IGI Airport, the taxi driver asked me if I "have marriage" or a girlfriend, then told me I was very handsome.

Our taxi driver in Calcutta, on the other hand, got lost at least 17 times on the way to the center of the touristy section of town, demanded a tip, and wouldn't take our 20 rupee bill because it had a small rip in the edge. (We did not figure out until two days later that people in Calcutta don't fancy taking ripped money bills from you.)


The Sudder Street area of Calcutta perhaps involved even more people hassling you to buy something or visit their shop than Pahar Ganj. Nobody told me I had nice hair, though.

The highlight of the area was a small shack with a green tarp roof where an old man and a young boy worked diligently preparing food all day. After my pathetic attempts to order food in Hindi (when the main language of the region is actually Bengali) they served up a delicious plate of food for only 10 rupees - how sweet of them not even to try to rip me off. They could have quadrupled the price and I would have thought it was reasonable.



The five day quest to try all the exotic looking street food (sodas, fruit salads, weird ass protein milkshake) surprisingly did not harm my stomach, and it was not until pristine Ramnagar when I got what I termed dysentery. (In reality, it was simply a 24-hour lack of any kind of digestion, coupled with a lack of any kind of pain.) A course of ciphro cleared it right up but I do feel bad for anyone who happened to ask me how I was feeling those three days.

Yes, I did jinx myself, saying that I know I can trek with a stomach virus - I definitely had some eventful rest stops on the first day of our small trek through beautiful Kumaon.

December 1st saw the start of my Month of Meditation (to be followed by other months of meditation.) It's been 6 days now of trying to clear my brain for 15 minutes every morning. I can't say I've become any more focused, but I have been much less frustrated at the moderate lack of focus that I encounter.

Seeing old friends in Ramnagar and making new friends was.. nurturing, spiritual, incredible, beginning of a beautiful lifelong thing!

Now we are in Kathmandu, leaving for Pokhara tomorrow. The process of obtaining my Thai visa will cut into a week of my teaching time in Pokhara, since I will have to go back to KTM. Darn processing times.

A celebration beer is waiting for me due to the fact that I GOT MY FIRST GRAD SCHOOL ACCEPTANCE so more on Nepal later.

Pearl of wisdom for anybody who's made it this far:

You see others as you are, not as they are, more than you think. So set the intention to be at your very best and you will be surprised how good people are to you.

Good night!

Back to Delhi

Had a relatively stress-free journey to Pahar Ganj and settled into a reasonably priced hotel with a clean bathroom, helpful desk staff, and cheap airport taxi service. (What's the catch? Hoping there is none..)

Please note that in order to fit all our bags and all 3 of us into one rickshaw, I was lucky enough to get to ride shotty with the driver, basically half hanging out of the car to avoid being elbowed in the boob every time he made a turn and having the ultimate front-row view of the ridiculousness that is Delhi roads. No, I am not being sarcastic when I say lucky. I freaking love sitting shotty.

Went to a cafe with Liz and Jessie to get my morning cappuchino fix, then we split up while Jessie went to get passport photos and Liz went to use the phone. I just wanted to go to the passport photo place and grab the key from Jessie so I could go back to the room and stretch.....

I get to the passport photo place. Jessie is not there. "Passport photos are 100 rupees, ma'm." "I'm just looking for my friend." "She already left." So I leave the photo place and start walking back to the hotel. Some guy is following me and I am trying to semi nicely explain that I am just looking for my friend while he is trying to show me another place to get passport photos. Then I say no thanks and get asked if I want to do shopping. I say I want nothing, thanks.

Get to the hotel, nobody is there. Attempt to walk around.
"Taxi, ma'm?"
"Do you want to do shopping, ma'm?"
"What do you want?"

I say nothing, thanks.

I duck into a side alley which ends up being a loooong street full of fruit and vegetable stands. Here the vibe is completely different - I do not get offered to buy one thing, it is unusually quiet, peaceful, and orderly for India.

**Keep in mind that quiet, peaceful, and orderly for India still involves dogs on top of banana peels making narrow escapes from rickshaw drivers who are trying to make their own narrow escapes from motorcycle drivers while people with bags of fruit are ducking this way and that and bike riders are backing up into a semi parking spot next to a pile of trash.

But anyway, orderly, peaceful, everyone buying fruit and doing their own thing and I don't even really feel like I'm getting that many stares.

Back on the main drag, making some left turns to get back to the hotel. I stop to look at bags and find one that I really like. Of course the shop owner coughs all over everything in the world when he gets it down but honestly, that barely even phases me at this point. Then someone runs over from across the street and says "ma'm, I have much more bags in my shop, it's just across the street." And the owner of this shop is also like yeah, let's go look at the bags across the street so I think fine, I'll look at more bags. Note that at this point I am in an open spot on the main drag, completely visible and safe. But then...

THE STORE OWNER HAS THE NERVE TO OPEN A DOOR TO A PRIVATE STAIRCASE AND BECKON ME UP THE STAIRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do I really look like I have ONE TOTAL BRAIN CELL and I am going to follow you up a sketchy staircase to "look at bags?"

At this point I keep walking down the street, lividly fantasizing of punching coughing creeper man in the teeth.

And the comments continue.. hello how are you? where are you from? I like your hair! Do you want a rickshaw? Do you want an ATM? Come to my shop!

By the time I made my third loop around the block looking for my friends, though, I think I was emanating enough "I-will-punch-you-in-the-teeth-right-now" vibes that the constant nagging somewhat died down.

Yeah India!!!!!

Manali is...

I am really having issues producing semi-coherent sentences right now, perhaps due to the Kingfisher Strong I was downing while waiting for dinner. We did a gorgeous waterfall hike today, had lunch in someone's apple orchard, saw ridiculous looking vintage ski clothing, and now I am more or less procrastinating leaving this Internet cafe to begin the walk back to the hotel in the brutal cold.  But once we are home, there will be fire and friends and beer. And more untangling of the yarn. Good night!

Songs from a Distance

Is a poetry book by Bhuchung D. Sonam, a Tibetan writer living in Dharamshala, that I happened to pick up and flip through at the Commonground Cafe while Liz and I were waiting for our meal at the same time as he was having dinner and doing a book signing with an Australian tour group one table over. The book was meant to find its way to me - half of it is what I feel about life and the other half is what I should learn about life. And yes, I got a free signed copy.

Check out www.tibetwrites.org or http://www.rangzen.net/author/bhuchungdsonam/ to learn more!

Now we are in Manali, back in the mountains, staying in a rest house with a sun deck from paradise. The nights are chilly and the views and stars rival those of the Dharma valley - of course, it is more built up though, complete with road. The leaves are changing and it's crisp, very satisfying.

I have been nursing a slight sleeping-on-a-bus hangover for most of the day, been relatively sluggish and spent a lot of it stretching and untangling my yarn. Apparently, Liz and mine's sleeping pill and motion sickness medicine induced state of unconsciousness on the bus led to some ridiculous looking cuddling positions. I can't really tell you much about the bus ride except a delicious plate of rice and dal at 9 pm, waking up to duct tape a window shut that kept sliding open, then suddenly being ushered into a hotel in dark Manali at 3 AM.

Anyway, today is sluggishness and hanging out with the couples staying at our hotel, promising them that we will party tonight and questioning if I can hold out.  A lady at a guesthouse was wonderful to let me borrow an Agatha Christie novel for the night, even though the policy is usually no removing books from that guesthouse's library (it's a different hotel from the one where we are staying.) So tonight will most likely consists of cuddling with my book along with all the warm clothing I own. Yeah late-fall high elevation. Good night!

Independent Travel

Most vivid memory:

Hearing the Muslim call to prayer in the middle of a country club in Delhi near the bus station, that we may or may not have snuck into through a gap in the fence, sitting on the grass with a very special recreational apple near a more or less abandoned mysterious temple. The music was coming through so clear and surreal amidst the grass in this completely surreal place, an oasis in the middle of the bustling city where the city noise was almost completely blocked off by the barrier of the trees. Trash was virtually non-existent which is practically impossible in Delhi, trust me. Instead there was a clean lawn to relax on, birds and trees, old buildings to explore, and eucre to be played.

Other impressions? In Mukteshwar we flew. Went paragliding. I felt like I could see the whole world. Bought two sweaters at the same shop where I found my gem of a sweater last year. Saw dear old friends. Had my first one-on-one encounter with a threatening dog that involved scrambling to find and throw three rocks while getting out of the territory that dog was protecting. Collapsed into a giggling fit with Manoj's friends while attempting to wring my towel out over the fire. Took a nine hour bus to Delhi. Haggled with rickshaw drivers and hotel owners at midnight. Got on a "VOLVO" tourist bus to go to McLeod Ganj after being very sketchily driven there from the main bus station and tricked into taking the (SWELTERING) AC bus for an extra 100 rupees. Took sleeping pill on said bus at 7:30 PM and spent the good portion of the rest of the ride passed out. Arrived in an awesome town at 5 AM, two cups of espresso and five hours later we have found a hotel, found our friends, explored, and my graduate school applications are one small step closer to being completely done.

Namaste!