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So How Big is Thailand, Anyway?

2/20/2015

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With our next chapter of travel decided with atypical efficiency, we needed only to choose a date for departure and book plane tickets through our favorite travel agency Asian Heritage. Waiting in line at the ATM on our way to pay, we recognized the guy in front of us as soon as he turned around. It was Tobi, the German trekker who we had inadvertently kept pacing with on the Annapurna Circuit. When we had returned to Kathmandu between finishing the trek and beginning Kohncation, we had wandered in to the Asian Heritage office to debrief our experience and Tobi was sitting there on the computer. In that moment, he found out that we had booked through Asian Heritage and we learned that he had previously worked as an intern for the same company. We had gone out to dinner together that evening, but had not kept in touch after that.

Over a month later, simply another chance meeting would have been a noteworthy coincidence in and of itself, but we soon discovered there was almost a disconcerting amount of overlap of our plans. Tobi was also heading to Thailand on a flight he booked through Asian Heritage! We quickly realized that if we all flew together, he could help us with our luggage woes. The airline allowed 30 kilos of free luggage per person, but each kilo over the limit would supposedly be subject to a ridiculously steep overweight charge. With our bicycles included in the 30 kilos, we knew we were well beyond our free allotment. Since Tobi was not even planning on checking a bag, he kindly agreed to carry one our unwieldy duffel bags to Bangkok for us. I guess there are some people in the world that you are simply meant to cross paths with, especially when traveling.

With one logistical challenge taken care of, we turned our attention to figuring out how to box our bikes. Up until now, we had always had the luxury of our wedge-shaped AirCaddy boxes that required almost no disassembly of the bicycles and offered a high level of protection. Sadly, we had to ditch them in Beijing when we began this open-ended journey seven months prior. It was an all day process with its fair share of stressful moments, but for better or worse, we packed them in to standard bike boxes purchased from a local bike shop.

On the morning of Friday the 13th, we three arrived to the airport only to find out that our flight had been cancelled without explanation. Our agent Nilam had warned us of this, saying that Nepal Airlines was the cheapest, but "sometimes the plane does not fly," so it is better if our travel plans were flexible. We had no specific schedule, but Tobi was attending a friend's wedding that weekend, so it was with great relief that we were easily rebooked on a Thai Airlines flight that same afternoon. They did not even bat an eye when our luggage totaled 93 kilos at check in.

My bicycle fared well, but it looked like someone had used Matt's box for a punching bag with a gaping hole in one side. We examined the bike as best we could in the airport, but it was not until we were on the road a few days later that we noticed his rear rack was decently bent. Leaving customs, we found a representative for the hotel we had booked near the airport. When simply trying to clarify the situation of putting our bicycles on their free shuttle service, she began angrily yelling at us, which made us not understand what she was saying even more. The shuttle driver demanded the equivalent of $10 to put our bicycle boxes in the minivan shuttle while simultaneously gesturing that there was no room. We refused to pay and a stand-off began. Once the four other passengers had taken their seats in the front of the van, we simply ignored the existence of the unhelpful driver and I crawled in to the back, folded down the last two rows of seats, and a miracle happened: we easily slid the two bicycle boxes into the van! It's true that Matt and I were a bit squished without proper seats for the ten minute ride, but we were the only ones ever inconvenienced by our horrible request. Not exactly the welcome we were expecting to the self-declared "Land of Smiles."

We clumsily reassembled our bicycles the next morning, then brought a bag of gear we would not need for the next few of weeks of travel to the front desk to put into luggage storage. The receptionist informed us that there would be a $1.50 per day charge and no long term discount was offered. After always storing our luggage for free in Nepal, this seemed absurd and so our excitement to travel a bit lighter than usual was extinguished as we reluctantly repacked our long underwear, down jackets, two-pound guidebook for China, and other odds and ends into our panniers.

We managed to depart mid-afternoon with the plan to "deal with Bangkok later" by heading in its opposite direction from the airport. We would follow the coast eastward, head inland to loop back to Bangkok, then go south down what we had dubbed "the peninsula" to meet up with my sister and her boyfriend. The Lonely Planet guidebook mentions that the Eastern Seaboard is the most industrialized region of Thailand, so we knew we would feel right at home after our route through China. On our first day back in the saddle, we went from zero to 60 miles in six hours flat. Although it was just along a busy, noisy, fume-filled, multi-lane highway, it felt exhilarating just to be pushing the pedals fully-loaded again. Besides, I couldn't think of a more romantic way to spend Valentine's Day, could you? (On a side note, my dear husband calls it Valentime's, which is cute, but also supports my suspicion that he really is a five-year-old trapped in a forty-year-old's body.)

The process of departing Nepal brought to light all of the connections we had made to people and place, yet we recognized that we had not been valuing the potential of each day. We had begun to see our surroundings through the lazy eyes of familiarity. There is nothing like suddenly being immersed in a drastically different place to help in the battle against long term travel ambivalence. At the same time, Thailand has enough of a pan-Asian vibe that we were not feeling much in the way of culture-shock (apart from all of the rude staff at the hotel). Rather, we were dealing with some serious climate-shock having just come from winter in the Himalaya.

Fortunately, along with sea-level temperatures comes pretty flat terrain, which was a key factor in our ability to cover any amount of distance during those first few days. We still have not broken the bad habit of leisurely mornings and departing in the height of the day's heat, but this also results in us riding through the cooler late afternoon and even cooler evening hours, often arriving to our targeted town in the dark.

At least one popsicle per day was essential to keeping the heat stroke at bay. One time, we passed by one of the 7,000+ aggressively air-conditioned 7-Elevens in the country (I looked it up after seeing one on literally every corner of every city we passed through and found that Thailand is tied with South Korea for third most 7-Elevens. For comparison, the entire U.S, ranked second after Japan, has only one-thousand more than Thailand). Only a few moments later, we took a somewhat urgent break at a bus stop shelter, which sadly has no popsicles. Just then, a guy rode up on a beat-up pink cruiser bike with a bundle of clothes for sale strapped to the front rack and a styrofoam cooler of life-saving popsicles on the back! We passed on the clothes, wishing we weren't wearing any anyway, but took him up on the cooling treats.

Having spent a week riding through "the real Thailand" with an extra day spent exploring the cities of Si Racha and Chanthaburi, our bodies and minds were just feeling settled in to cycle touring again. So of course that meant it was time to shake up the routine with a bit of island hopping. In fact, we had ceased to describe our journey as a cycle tour, preferring "bicycle-based travel" instead, when we hit only 2,000 miles on the bikeometer and realized that we had spent more time off the bicycle than on it!

About that same time, it dawned on us just how illogical our plan to head east was knowing that we would soon need to be in the south. Spontaneity is great until you develop hindsight. In our haste to get to Thailand and get moving somewhere, we hadn't really bothered to research the feasibility of our route. We just went for it. At roughly the same size as France, Thailand was far bigger than we had imagined and we were even impressing ourselves with the slowness of our pace. There would be no time to loop back to Bangkok by bicycle, much less cycling south for a sisterly reunion. This realization was a bit of a downer, but we would deal with the consequences when the time came. In the meanwhile, we were antsy to get to our first legit vacation-worthy destination: the tropical island of Koh Chang.

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The Conclusion of Kohncation

2/4/2015

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PictureThere is only one word to describe the village of Astam: idyllic.
We departed from the Lumbini Buddha Garden hotel with thick fog limiting visibility, our goodbye from the Terai, I suppose. It was not until we began our ascent through Nepal's middle hills that we rose above it and could see the winding road before us. We had an early lunch in the town of Tansen, where the streets rival the steepness of the steepest in San Francisco. A little way down the road, we were stopped at a police checkpoint. We watched through the car windows as our driver handed over his papers and the police chief stuck them at the bottom of the pile, and was then ignored for a long time. We came up with all sorts of scenarios about how much trouble he must be in and why. After waiting somewhat patiently for almost an hour, we were suddenly on our way again. As it turns out, our vehicle did not have the proper license plates for transporting tourists. The fine was a nominal $10, but the delay arose from the police not having the proper version of a paper ticket to issue and having to ride a motorbike somewhere far away to bring back the correct form! Oh, Nepal...

A couple of hours later, the car began lurching and sputtering, giving Ramas just enough time to pull over to a relatively wide spot after a hairpin turn. A quick assessment revealed that this was a classic out-of-gas situation, but why it had happened in the first place made less sense. Ramas hoofed it back to the town that we had fortunately passed only a few kilometers before--without stopping for gas--and we pieced it together. For whatever reason, he did not have any money with him, having asked us to front the police ticket fee and then asking again for money to buy gas. He was hoping to make it to Pokhara before filling up, but perhaps due to the engine leaking some gas the day before, subsequently fixed with a string, it was lower than expected. He returned with a gas canister and the car started right up. (We later learned that our travel agency had given him sufficient cash funds before departure, but he somehow forgot it at home. Regardless, we were easily reimbursed for the ticket and gas!)

As we eventually approached Pokhara, I began eyeing the sinking sun. We had only one night to stay at the Peace Dragon Lodge up on the ridge line overlooking Phewa Lake with an imposing panorama of peaks beyond it. To arrive in the dark would defeat the entire point, which was why I was so insistent we got a much earlier start than I ever imagined would be necessary. It looked like we were going to be okay until Ramas drove right past the road leading up to the World Peace Pagoda, despite me telling him that our hotel was up there. Wondering if there was another approach to the ridge line, I waited until it was clear that he was taking us in to town before inquiring again. Rather than taking my word for it, he wanted to call the hotel, so I dug up the reservation, but of course the phone number on it did not work. I finally convinced him that his instructions to take us to Lakeside were a mistake and that I was sure the hotel was up on the ridge line. I do understand why he was hesitant; only certain vehicles are licensed to take tourists to sightseeing locations in the Pokhara area and our hotel drop-off point was the parking lot of one of those attractions. We had had enough trouble with that already that day!

It was still daylight as we unloaded the car, but the golden hues indicated that sunset was imminent and we were not at the hotel yet. We still had hundreds of stairs to climb! Kindly, a cafe owner, who had the correct phone number, rang the hotel and they sent down two strapping young men for the luggage. I raced ahead with the remainder and Matt cracked the whip behind Esther and Mike. They would see this sunset if it was the last thing they did! Once at the Peace Dragon Lodge, we forced them up three more staircases without pause. If they had not already been breathless, the view they were hit with from the rooftop terrace would have definitely made them so.  The mountains were the clearest we had ever seen them, bathed in subtle yet gorgeous sunset colors that were reflected on the lake. Perhaps because it was literally an all-day uphill battle to arrive at this moment just in the nick of time, it felt that much more valuable.

We rose for sunrise as well, beautiful of course, but not nearly as stunning as the sunset the evening before. Phew! After breakfast, we climbed up to the World Peace Pagoda that can be seen from Pokhara and learned a little bit about the movement to build these monuments across the globe. Then we enjoyed the rarity of a leisurely morning until our sanctioned transport arrived to take us to the Annapurna Eco-Village in the village of Astam, tucked away in the foothills at the base of the grand peaks looming over the region. It was a pleasant surprise to get stuck behind a small street parade promoting organic agriculture as we left Pokhara.

Astam was one of the few places on our Kohncation tour that is not designated as a UNESCO site, but I believe the charming village would be deserving of the title. The team of brothers and their wives running the Annapurna Eco-Village are certainly doing their part to keep village life vibrant and self-sustaining, which we would learn from our hosts is an ever increasing challenge in the face of urban and international migration of primarily young men to take exploitive work in Kathmandu, India, the Middle East, and beyond. With little to no support from the government for basic services, increasing cost of living with limited opportunities to generate income, and technological connectivity creating a dissatisfaction with traditional rural life, the integrity of villages throughout the Himalaya is at risk. With pro-active efforts to strengthen the village's assets, perhaps Astam will become an example of not just adapting to inevitable change, but ending up the better for it.

After enjoying a tasty lunch featuring produce from their own garden, Bishwo
Adhikari, one of the founding brothers, toured us around the property to point out eco-friendly features such as a sand water filtration system, solar panels, and the aforementioned organic garden. All the while, a front-row view of Macchupuchre, Nepal's sacred Fishtail Mountain, competed for our attention. It seemed so close that one could reach out and prick a finger on its pointy double summit.

We then continued down the hill to the local school to which Annapurna Eco-Village lends support. This was particularly exciting for Esther and Mike who spent their entire career as dedicated teachers and school administrators. The younger grades had already been dismissed, so we got to peek into the basic classrooms and meet some of the teachers, as well as play with a couple of youngsters hanging around outside.

A basketball court, of all things, was under construction, and a relatively well-equipped computer lab was the after-school hang out where kids surfed the web and practiced typing using a program. Both of these resources, as well as a library of donated books, are the result of collaborating with international groups for aid. "Government schools," as they are called, are typically the only option in rural villages, yet the inept government can not be relied upon to provide adequate or consistent funds to operate. The success of a school and quality of education falls to resourceful teachers and committed community members to pick up the slack. No doubt, this sounds all too familiar to underserved communities in the United States and around the world, but considering Nepal's government is believed to one of the most corrupt in the world, I would hazard that they take educational injustice to an unfortunate extreme.

It is amazing how quickly the time passes when relaxing in a peaceful place. It seems we were just getting in to the rhythm of greeting the day with sunrise on Macchupuchre, sipping the signature herbal "Eco-tea," taking walks through the village, and playing bagh chal--a Nepalese board game involving tiger and goat pieces.

Before we knew it, it was time to head back to Pokhara, where we had a day of being typical tourists doing what tourists do best in Lakeside: eating! Much to Mike's delight in particular, Pokhara abounds in some decent Western food options that we did not hesitate to indulge in. We did take a break for some "exercise" by taking a hilarious pink paddle boat out on the lake, followed by a nap-inducing happy hour along the sunny lakeshore, as well as the inevitable T-shirt shopping that comes with traveling with Mike. Mid-bargaining session, a minor earthquake shook the shops and many people ran out into the street. We waited for aftershocks, but everything returned to normal. However, the last time we had traveled with Esther and Mike, we had also felt an earthquake. If it happens on the next trip, it will be an official tradition!

We completed our counter-clockwise loop through central Nepal the next day when we returned to Kathmandu, only wishing we had longer than our lunch break to spend at Bandipur en route. The side trip to the historically preserved gem of a town resulted in our arrival to Kathmandu in the thick of rush hour, which was eye-opening as to just how congested the city can get and how there are really no rules of driving conduct whatsoever. Luckily for us, we had Ramas to calmly negotiate the chaos. The next three nights were a treat to spend at the eco-conscious completely plastic-free Kantipur Temple House, serving as a safe haven from the craziness of bustling Kathmandu.

It was a full day of sightseeing the next day when we took a local taxi to neighboring Patan to compare its Durbar Square with those of Kathmandu and Bhaktapur. It was "same, same, but different," to borrow a ubiquitous pan-Asian phrase that appropriately describes our reaction. The compact square had more densely clustered temples, which resulted in a more dramatic effect. We were equally fascinated with the multitudes of plastic jugs lined up behind a barely trickling water spout at an adjacent public tap in use for centuries. Young girls and women must have been waiting for hours for their turn to fill, indicating that many homes lack running water despite being in the center of Nepal's urbanity. After some street wandering that led to a lovely modern-meets-traditional lunch at a boutique hotel, we were ready to move on to Swayambhunath, more commonly known as The Monkey Temple.

Esther and Mike dubbed it Mt. Everest, and there were indeed as many steps as monkeys, which to say there were a lot of both. Conveniently, watching the antics of the urban monkeys provided a good excuse to stop every few steps, as long as you have nothing that resembles food or food packaging in which case you had better run up the stairs before the monkeys attack you. Even without this form of motivation, we successfully made it up to the stupa which was also "same, same, but different" from the one we visited in Boudha three weeks prior. However, the views of the expanse of Kathmandu capped in its own layer of smog were captivating and as always the people-watching was half of the experience.

That evening we invited our trekking guide Dawa to join us for dinner at the Thamel House, which features Newari food with a traditional dance show. He brought his adorable six-year-old son Karma Dorje who added to the entertainment of the evening as well. It was particularly fun for both Dawa and Matt's parents to meet in person since they had seen each other via FaceTime when we were trekking and had a good enough internet connection for a video chat.

Kohncation was soon coming to a close and we were all feeling a bit worn out, but we pushed through the next day with some Kathmandu street exploring heading toward Durbar Square. By the time we actually reached it, we were on sensory overload and instead opted to take one last form of transport for the trip. Esther had joked about our multi-modal journey: planes, minivans, hiking, horse riding, elephant riding, jeeps, tiny taxis, canoes, bicycles, and a paddle boat. The list would simply not be complete until we added the bicycle rickshaw. With Mike and Esther in one and Matt and me in another, the guys pedaling seemed to be racing until their dude got off and began pushing the rickshaw on the slightest of inclines. Whether Big Mike was actually too much to handle or this was a ploy to get sympathy for charging extra money, I'm not sure. (We were already paying a generous "tourist rate" and our guy ruined any chances of a tip for either of them by unsuccessfully trying to switch the total price we had agreed upon to the price for each rickshaw when it came time to pay.)

The rickshaws dropped us off at the Garden of Dreams, restored with historical accuracy in mind from its glory days during the reign of the Ranas. While we could still hear the horns of traffic blaring on the other side of the wall, the garden felt like we had suddenly stepped into another elegant world of yesteryear, at least for royalty and the elite. Mike and Matt relaxed on cushions spread out on a terraced lawn, I wandered and Esther took it all in from a classic park bench. That evening we celebrated Esther's birthday at an eclectic sort-of-American-sort-of-European themed restaurant. Totally unprompted, the staff put on a recording of the birthday song in English and clapped along while bringing out a dessert on the house. The accuracy of the tradition surprised all of us.

After running a few last minute errands around Thamel the next morning, Mike and Esther squeezed in to one of the more decrepit tiny taxis we had ever seen and we waved goodbye, hoping that they did indeed make it all of the way to the airport. It had been nearly a month of amazing adventures that had gone by so fast while at the same time each day felt so full. We were impressed with how wholeheartedly Esther and Mike took on the challenges of travel in a country very different from our own, whether it was trying spicy food, using squatter toilets with a bucket flush, or say, riding an elephant. Their willingness to try anything we put them up to resulted in a rewarding and enriching experience for all of us. Simply put, we were proud of them.

On the other hand, we had been so focused on living Kohncation in the moment that we had not made any plans for what would happen when it was over. That same afternoon, we settled in to a cafe to begin to figure out our next move. I opened a very timely email from my sister Danielle and read, "Hey...Erik and I are going to be traveling in Thailand in a couple of weeks. Want to join us?" I looked over at Matt and said, "Well, our decision-making process could be very straightforward if we want it to be. My sister is wondering if we can meet up with her in Thailand." Matt was quiet for a little while, then simply said, "Sure, why not?"

I guess we won't be needing those three-month visas for Nepal after all...


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Taking on the Terai

1/27/2015

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Picture
As we deboarded the plane from Bhutan at the Kathmandu airport, Matt and I were still discussing whether we should get the one-month or three-month visa for Nepal. Not knowing our plans once Kohncation would come to an end in a couple of weeks, we figured we would need around two more months to figure out what we wanted to do and then go do it, whether settling in to a volunteer opportunity or cycling to the far east and/or west of the country. Since a one-month visa plus a month extension would cost more than the three-month visa, we reluctantly handed over two crisp Benjamin Franklins and hoped our future decisions would make it worthwhile.

After a typically inefficient visa processing experience, we found Mike and Esther waiting with all of our luggage and piled in to a taxi to nearby Bhaktapur, the City of Devotees. Bhaktapur, Patan, and Kathmandu were three rival kingdoms competing for dominance in the Kathmandu Valley during the reign of the Malla dynasty. Bhaktapur today has the densest collection of temples of the three. It is preserved as a UNESCO World Heritage Site and so is often described as a living museum, having been extensively renovated and restored after a major earthquake in 1934.

Checking in to the adorable Peacock Guesthouse with authentic Newari architecture and woodcarving ornamentation was like staying in our own private museum. Mike and Esther's room came with a carved wooden round window that opened up to watch daily life pass by on Dattatraya Square, as well as door jams low enough for Mike and Matt to bump their heads on.

The remainder of the day and the next were spent wandering between the historically and religiously significant town squares filled with Hindu and Buddhist temples of all different shapes and size. Since Matt and I had also visited Bhaktapur a few months prior when we first rode our bikes into Nepal, I opted to stay back at the hotel and rest from a fatiguing cold I had come down with early on in Bhutan, figuring I had seen it all before.

When they returned a few hours later, Matt showed me photos of processions of locals wearing their best colorful Newari clothes and playing instruments through the cobblestone streets. Apparently this was an auspicious day in the Newari calendar for boys' coming of age ceremonies and celebrations. From the safe distance of a rooftop cafe, they had seen blood squirting above a crowd gathered at a shrine as a water buffalo was sacrificed, then hauled away in pick-up for the family's celebratory feast. Even Potter's Square was filled with rows of pots laid out to dry in the sun; it had been nearly deserted when we had gone there before. And to top it all off, they had successfully located the "Erotic Elephant Temple" where elephants and other animals are depicted in human-style copulation poses. We had searched for it in vain on our previous visit. With the city seeming to be much more alive and vibrant that morning than usual, I regretted my decision to take it easy using an excuse of faulty rationale. It was a biting reminder that there is really no such thing as "seeing it all before." A place is never the same from one day to the next, and it will always hold new discoveries if you approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind.

Having learned my lesson, I rallied for a post-lunch excursion to the Changu Narayan temple, another UNESCO World Heritage Site a few kilometers outside of Bhaktapur. While this was certainly an enjoyable new place to see, there were no parades, sacrifices, or other particularly exciting events to witness, of course!

The next morning we loaded up the Tata Sumo Grande we had rented and met our driver, Ramas, since none of us were equipped with the talent, bravery, or innate understanding of Nepalese driving behavior to dare to do it ourselves. Our driver was immediately put to the test before he even stepped on the gas when a sadhu, or more likely, someone posing as a sadhu, firmly stood in front of the car, holding us hostage until a donation was made. He had been pestering us in a most peculiar way as we were loading up. The gracious owners of the guesthouse had already given him some money and politely requested that he leave us alone, but this only escalated his intensity. Now the owner was not happy about this at all, and basically yanked him out of the way, at which point Ramas peeled out of there in just enough time before the "sadhu" then tried to plaster himself to the side of the car.

With that exciting beginning, the rest of the drive to the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Chitwan National Park seemed uneventful and the roads only mildly curvy after Bhutan. We settled in to Hotel Parkside where we were thrilled to learn that we had their top guide Gopal (rhymes with Nepal) of TripAdvisor fame. It wasn't long after a late lunch and settling in that we were off on our first activity of the three-night package. We took a leisurely walk to a sunset viewpoint on the banks of a peaceful river, well, peaceful except for the fifty other tourists there. Noticing that a nearby riverside bar was strangely devoid of the masses, we wandered over and did our sunset wildlife watching over a cold beer. Within the course of happy hour, we spotted an Asian One-horned Rhino, a wild Asian Elephant, Wild Boar, a gharial and a marsh mugger, both species of crocodiles. Gopal's bird expertise became apparent as he rattled off all sorts of avian White-throated, Black-backed, Long-beaked this and thats within seconds of their fleeting flyby.

While that was certainly a nice introduction to Chitwan, we got the full experience the next day from the back of a sweet mellow elephant. We climbed up a set of stairs to load onto a wooden platform on her back, which was quite cozy with the four of us in it. Her elephant trainer and caretaker, called a mahout, essentially rode on her shoulders and we set off through a forested area adjacent to the park. This may not come as a surprise to you, but for some reason it was for me: riding an elephant is a very rockin' experience, literally. We swayed up and down, back and forth, with each lumbering step. With so many other tourist-ridden elephants going out with us, I figured exciting wildlife would be a no-show. Luckily, rhinos seem to tolerate the presence of people much better when they arrive on an elephant, so we got to watch one up close and personal from the safety of our elephant box.

In the late afternoon, we crossed the river by wading across barefoot with pant legs rolled and actually entered the boundary of the park for the first time. Once across the river, we got a thorough briefing about all the animals that might possibly want to attack us, and what we should or should not do, with most scenarios ending with Gopal beating them off with a stick (except in the case of the angered wild elephant in which case we would all be squashed no matter what we did).

On that encouraging note, he then took us to his secret spot where no other guides take their clients for a nature walk, so the only other people we encountered were local women illegally, but blatantly, gathering wood and plant material to carry out of the park and local men passing by on grazing elephants. The most exciting thing we actually saw was a glimpse of Great Hornbills feeding on a fruiting tree before we scared them off, but according to Gopal we also heard a spooked sloth bear crashing through the forest not far from us, and the low grunt of a tiger. When Gopal heard the persistent yelps of Sambar deer, he took off in their direction through the underbrush and not wanting to be left near any grunting tigers, we had no choice but to follow him. As we got closer, his persistence paid off when we caught a backlit fleeting glimpse of a black mass dropping from the crook of a tree and simply vanishing. He swears we snuck up on a leopard that was causing the agitation of the deer. The reflection of the sunset on the river was beautiful as we crossed back into the "safety" of civilization.

Our third day in Chitwan began with a visit to the government-run elephant breeding center where we got the joy of seeing a little Dumbo playfully roaming around and felt the frustration on a slightly older youngster as he repeatedly pulled against the chain on his leg trying to join the little one in its freedom. The reality is that all of the working elephants, whether for tourists to ride or rangers to use in anti-poaching patrols, are chained on their feet when not working, being bathed, or taken in to the forest to feed. Gopal mentioned that some places are working towards an electric fencing system to replace the chains at least. Perhaps because we are not accustomed to thinking of elephants as domesticated animals, it certainly elicited an emotional response to see them restrained in that way. Yet on a daily basis we would see goats, mules, and water buffalo on equally restrictive short tethers without giving it much thought at all. I wonder if it is our cultural bias at work or simply the charisma of a highly intelligent species that we feel a deeper connection to than livestock.

I contemplated the human-elephant relationship here in Chitwan as we transitioned to a dugout canoe river float. Appropriately, we came upon an elephant drinking from the river's edge. Since the opportunity for tourists to bathe elephants in the river is officially closed during the "cold" winter months, Gopal did the next best thing and asked the elephant's mahout if he could give the elephant a bath as we floated by. With a series of simple commands, the elephant submersed itself while the mahout kept his balance standing on just its spine above the water level. Out came the tip of the trunk like a periscope, or more accurately, a snorkel. The mahout then stepped on one side of the elephant, signaling it to roll like a log while he kept pace on top, then they rotated together to the other side. It was such a graceful demonstration we witnessed that it more than made up for not getting to splash around with one for the sake of our own touristic amusement.

In the afternoon, we went on a "jeep safari" that was a bit disappointing since the vehicle was actually a loud diesel pickup truck with bench seating and a tarp pulled down over a metal roof frame. Not exactly the easiest to see out of, so we were either hunching over to peer out of the little gap between the tarp and the seat, or we had to climb out of the back and stand on the dirt road to see any bird that had caught Gopal's eye, such as a crested serpent eagle perched up in a tree. Nonetheless, we added many more species to our growing list of over one hundred birds, a handful of mammals, and a few reptiles.

For our last evening in Chitwan, we attended a performance highlighting the traditional dances of the Tharu, the first people of Nepal's lowland Terai and the dominant culture until malaria was largely eradicated from the region by using DDT in the 1950s. This opened up the Terai for settlement by highland groups without the Tharu's genetic malarial resistance who quickly gobbled up the essential habitat of so many species as jungle was converted to rice paddies. National parks were established to preserve what remained. Of course, this influx of new people and forcible relocation out of the parks shook the foundations of the Tharu way of life, which they have been struggling to preserve ever since. Based on the enthusiasm and talent of the young dancers as they rhythmically clashed sticks together in mock choreographed fights, it seems that at least this aspect of the culture won't be disappearing any time soon.

During one last pre-breakfast bird-focused walk where we got a smidge closer to seeing a respectable number of Chitwan's 569+ bird species, I labeled myself an "opportunistic birder." If I have someone knowledgeable and excited about birds pointing them out to me, then I get pretty in to it too. Otherwise, I don't really pursue figuring out the nuances of name. The petite electric blue White-throated Kingfisher would still be my favorite whether I knew its common, genus, and species names or not.

We were back on the road after breakfast and headed to...you guessed it, another UNESCO World Heritage Site! This time it was Lumbini, very close to the border with India, and the source of Nepal's decorative truck slogans declaring "Buddha was born in Nepal!" We rented decrepit single-gear bikes to cruise around the extensive site, aptly described as an "Epcot Center of Buddhist Temples." We started with an understated one representing Sri Lanka, but fortunately they got more exciting from there. The dramatic architecture of Thailand's white marble temple was striking despite being under renovation, Myanmar was a mini version of its golden Hershey kiss-shaped temples depicted in so many promotional photos of the country, and China was a trip down memory lane.

We cycled beyond the rows of national temples paying homage to Buddha to a World Peace Pagoda surrounded by a Sarus Crane Preserve. We didn't spy any cranes from there, but as we walked around the bizarre grounds of the Cambodia temple, we were lucky enough to observe one at close range, at least until a Chinese tourist got too close and scared it off. Having seen the many features of Lumbini honoring Buddha, we finished our day with a visit to the remains of the Maya Devi Temple, where the exact spot of his birth is believed to be. While pedaling around the large complex known as the Lumbini Development Zone all day was enjoyable enough, it was not as developed as the name had led us to expect. Many plots of land stand empty, presumably awaiting countries to build their representative temple there. While the temples themselves were well cared for, the overall area felt unmaintained. Perhaps being quite different than we expected also made it more exciting as we were never sure what we would come across next.

Our time in the Terai was short and our exploration was not thorough, but it was insightful and important to see a new region of Nepal, one that is geographically, climatically, and culturally closer to India than the Himalaya. It gave us a firsthand appreciation of all the forms of diversity that make up this compact country.

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The Creation of Kohncation 2015

1/11/2015

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Our week in Pokhara had three main objectives. They were:

1. To experience the Pokhara Street Festival, held annually in the days leading up to New Year's. This was an enjoyable time to be in Lakeside, when the main road is closed to (most) vehicular traffic, the mostly Nepali attendees mosey down the street, and all of the shops and restaurants take over the sidewalk with temporary stalls. The first few days were not very crowded, so we did the majority of our festival-going then. In fact, we didn't even step out on NYE proper due to dietary tract distress (perhaps induced by some of the previously consumed street food...).

2. To meet up with our friend Debbie and her family who live in a village near Pokhara. We knew Debbie from our time in Breckenridge, just before she left for Nepal, started volunteering, and met her Nepali husband Chandra. Six years later, they have two adorable kids, Luna and Sol. We strolled the Street Festival with them one evening and another afternoon got our first moped ride to Chandra's sister's house for dinner and some more hanging out. It was lovely to reconnect with someone from our past and they have been a great resource for us as we navigate travel in Nepal.

3. To plan "Kohncation 2015"! Matt's parents, Esther and Mike, had been ready to visit us for months before we were able to commit to a date. During our last week of trekking, we gave them the go-ahead on short notice for January. Within 24 hours, they had their plane tickets booked for a Kathmandu arrival in two weeks! Luckily, I love any opportunity to do some focused travel research and planning. Combined with another week spent back in Kathmandu, we had an itinerary put together, hotels booked, and transport arranged for their month-long trip with several hours to spare before meeting them at the airport.

We had strategically decided on a more gentle introduction to Nepal than Kathmandu, especially after they had just survived more than 48 hours of travel time, including an overnight layover in Qatar. So we whisked them an hour and a half away from the airport to Nagarkot, a touristic village for both foreigners and Nepalis to enjoy a panorama of mountain views in more breathable air. The taxi ride alone was an eye-opening experience given that we were leaving the city in Friday rush-hour traffic through impoverished areas on the outskirts. This soon gave way to careening around hairpin turns on a one-and-a-half lane road as we climbed up the steep side of the Kathmandu Valley. What we didn't know at the time was just how gentle of an introduction Nepal's roads were as preparation for Bhutan.

We were warmly welcomed in to the Resort Eco Home by the owner Semanta, which indeed felt like home if you are used to living in your own private upscale trekking lodge. We were the only guests there in the middle of low-season, so the staff was hyper-attentive during our leisurely dinner of gourmet dal bhat with seven different vegetable dishes. It turns out that the delicious fresh-prepared food spoiled Mike for the rest of the trip, as he would often reminisce about "Semanta's cooking" at meals thereafter. We enjoyed a celebratory toast to our family reunion by the fireplace and went to bed early with a wake-up door knock scheduled for sunrise the next morning, if it was clear.

Indeed it was, so we bundled up and walked up to the ridge line temple for mostly unobstructed views of the Himalayas. Sadly, a large hotel is under construction that already scars the viewscape. After breakfast, we walked a few kilometers up to an official viewpoint where the only distractions from the unimpeded stretch of mountains was the formidable brown haze rising up from Kathmandu Valley below and the Saturday crowds of urban Nepalis escaping it. After tracing our entire trekking route between iconic peaks such as Langtang, Ganesh Himal, and Manaslu, for Mike and Esther, the people-watching was equally fascinating. The day ended with equally clear skies that revealed a starry sky of a caliber possible in precious few places in this electrified world.

By late morning the next day, we had checked in to the lovely Rokpa hotel in Boudha, which generates income for the important social work of the Rokpa Foundation. Our minivan taxi did some crazy maneuvering through the narrow alleyways, including shooing fruit carts out of their established territory, to deliver us to this peaceful haven hidden away among craziness. We braved the streets long enough to get to Boudha's main attraction, the Bodnath stupa.

Bodnath is the largest stupa in Asia and a captivating structure to behold. We joined the ever-morphing revolution of worshippers circling the stupa clockwise and spinning rows of prayer wheels below the watchful eyes of Buddha on all four sides of the spire. We popped in to a thangka painting school and observed some students in action, at least as much action as one can see in a few minutes of work on a meticulously detailed creation that takes at least one month to complete. In one of several Buddhist monasteries surrounding the stupa, we were given a tour by a resident monk who beautifully explained the Wheel of Life, a commonly displayed in monasteries as well as the commercial thangka shops.

Boudha is the epicenter of Tibetan culture in Nepal, with many Tibetan refugees and immigrants settling there since the Chinese occupation of Tibet. In keeping with its character, we ate dinner at a simple and traditional Tibetan restaurant called Double Dorje. Esther and Mike got their first taste of momos and my personal favorite, thenthuk, similar to a chicken noodle soup with lots of fresh veggies. Mike was feeling culinarily adventurous and followed my lead of ordering tongba, hot millet beer, but the Viking-sized "stein" it was served in was a bit much, so I had to finish the job.

Besides simply catching up with Esther and Mike, it was fun to see Nepal through their fresh eyes as they shared first impressions and reacted with surprise to things that had ceased to stand out to us after three months in the country. It was a wake up call as to just how complacent we had gotten about careful observation and soaking up the details of daily life here. With just three full days to get a taste of Nepal, the next day we returned to the airport to fly to a place where we would all have fresh eyes: Druk Yul, Land of the Thunder Dragon.

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Hiking Helambu and Gorgeous Gosainkunda

10/27/2014

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Casey created this in honor of her Grandpa Ivan who was very proud of his Norwegian heritage!
Trekking Days 1-9 
Highest elevation: 15,120 ft (4,610 m) 
Lowest elevation: 4,790 ft (1,460 m)


The taxi dropped us off in the late morning at the trailhead in Sundarjial, a community on the outskirts of Kathmandu. In keeping with typical Casey and Matt tradition, our lightweight packs were stuffed to the brim and it was barely manageable to pick them up and put them on our backs. We had been up late the night before, configuring and reconfiguring all the pieces in order to force everything to fit. Among the weight and space culprits was a 16-foot long Hilleberg tent, perfect for cycle-touring but perhaps not so logical for this endeavor. We also got a little over-ambitious at the supermarket, and stubbornly refused to leave any of our goodies behind, thus cramming Snickers and granola bars into any unfilled niche of carrying capacity. 

Our first day was spent crossing Shivapuri National Park, and by crossing I really mean ascending continual stairs through small villages and lushly foliated forest. We gained 700 meters (2,300 feet) and were rewarded with our first clear panorama of peaks at sunset just as we reached our stopping point of Chisapani. We randomly chose one of several lodges in the town, a multistory concrete building painted bubble gum pink with electricity, wifi, private bathrooms, and hot showers. (The hot shower was a bit ironic since chisopani means "cold water" in Nepali.) This "teahouse" was no different than a cheap hotel in Kathmandu and certainly not what we were expecting. Then again, we were not yet that far from the city either.

Despite committing to a thorough stretching routine the night before, the next morning my lower back was so tight that I headed down the trail hunched over like a very old woman. It took a good hour or so before I could hike all the way upright. Additionally, I self-diagnosed a tight IT band causing some significant pain in my left knee, likely irritated by the oversized steps we climbed for hours the day before. The only relief was to avoid bending my left leg by taking the steep downs with my left foot always leading and my right matching it one step at a time and leaning on the trekking pole I promptly borrowed from Matt's pair. This obviously made for slow going, but our cardiovascular system would not have allowed much of a faster pace anyway.

By the end of our second day, we were exhausted and every muscle from head to toe was sore. We had also both developed raw patches of skin on our lower backs from a bad combination of sweaty clothes and rough fabric on our as-of-yet-un-field-tested packs. It was clear that our bodies were in shock from the sudden onset of physical demands upon it. This was not terribly surprising since, with the exception of a few days of cycling in Nepal, we had not been significantly active for over a month! We had spent eight days off the bicycle in China, prior to a ten-day tour in Tibet, followed by almost two weeks of hanging out in Kathmandu. A solo American man, also with a large pack, passed us as we were resting on the side of the trail and astutely commented, "It hurts the worst for the first five days or so, then it isn't so bad...The Germans will give you a hard time about your big pack. I guess it's an American characteristic that we can't part with our things."

Well, at least it didn't take a full five days to physically settle in to our two-month trek. Our second day was a long push through forest and fog to a nice establishment called the Thodong Lama Hotel, complete with a wind-powered prayer wheel and Buddhist motifs of the eight auspicious signs on the walls. The third day was a short one; after just a couple of hours hiking in questionable weather and feeling quite low-energy, we stopped at a lodge that offered us a room with an amazing mountain view. 

That half of a rest day proved to be our turning point. Starting out on sunny day four, our packs somehow felt miraculously lighter, even as we were hiking uphill for a total of 4,000 feet. Once we were physically recovered, we had the mental energy to transition from a perspective of simply surviving the trek to loving the challenge of it. The worst of our ailments were behind us, except each of our pinky toes had transformed into one continuous blister covering all sides. It would take a full two weeks before they were replaced with thimble-like protective callouses instead. 

When we finally made it above tree line, we were rewarded with an amazing sunset from a crowded teahouse perched on a ridge line, while the temperature also plummeted. On day five we were not so lucky. After a tough day of "Nepali flat," meaning continually hiking straight up or straight down yet staying at the same average elevation, we stopped at the uniquely named Dawababy Redpanda Hotel. The clouds never lifted to reveal the mountain view, so the friendly owners with no less than nine children watching our every move became the entertainment of the evening.

First they piled in to one end of the wood stove warmed dining room to observe all the guests eating their dinners, then the tourists sat around while the family ate Nepal's national dish of dal bhat, which at a minimum includes a mound of rice, lentil soup, and seasonal vegetable curry that seems to always includes potatoes. It may also come with a papad, a crispy peppery very thin bread, and the whole dish is traditionally eaten with the right hand. The best part about dal bhat is that second and third helpings are freely offered, unlike other menu items, so it is a super healthy way to get filled up at the end of a calorie intensive day. The few nights we ordered other things like pasta or soup, we spent more money and went to bed still hungry. Each lodge prepares the veggie curry and lentil soup a bit differently, so having it every night is not unbearably repetitive. If we were Nepali, we would eat it for lunch and dinner daily.

From the Dawababy in Phedi, we made an exception to our no alarm clock rule and got an earlier start for our first major pass. We were still the last trekkers to leave to the lodge at 7:45am, but almost two hours earlier than we had been. Heading up, we were being chased by clouds rolling up the valley. We feared they would beat us to the top, but we could not go any faster. We made it in time to enjoy clear views and relaxed with our lunch of veggie momos near a cairn draped in prayer flags marking the summit. Nearing the top of the 15,000 foot Larabina pass, we began hiking on a packed snow trail, which continued down the much snowier other side. We were early enough in the day that we did not punch through the snow, but late enough that the treacherous slick crust had softened enough to allow some grip. We passed by several of the 108 holy lakes in the Gosainkunda area, 108 being an auspicious number in Buddhism and Hinduism. The snow-covered landscape made the blues of the lakes even more dramatic.

We reached the lakeshore of the main lake, where thousands of pilgrims converge each summer to bathe and complete a kora around it. Shiva, one of three main Hindu deities, once stirred the ocean in search of Amrit, the water of eternal life, but instead churned up a threatening poison. He then drank it in an act of protection, thus spurring him to strike his trident into the earth at Gosainkinda where pure cold water spilled forth and cleansed him of the ill effects of the poison. 

We were quite taken with the beauty of the place and charmed by the friendly young couple managing the Lakeview Lodge. Being the coldest place on our trek thus far at around 14,000 feet, everyone cozied up in the dining room for the evening, only venturing out for photos of pink peaks over the lake at sunset. We decided to stay an extra day, heading up the hill behind the lodge for a viewpoint of the mountain ranges on the other side. We made the ridge line just before clouds rose up the valley, entirely obscuring the vista. Back down at the lake, we completed the kora just as the wind picked up and tiny spits of hail stung our faces. By the time lunch had warmed us up inside the lodge, the weather had done a 180 from the sunny morning, including some startling claps of thunder. We kept tabs on the status of the snowstorm from our window perch by the fireplace while reading the afternoon away.

The next morning had clear skies again, but with a small accumulation of snow and frozen water lines from the spring across the hillside. We bundled up, but with our standard leisurely departure, it was pretty warm by the time we left and we promptly peeled layers off. We descended from a winter wonderland into a stunted high-altitude forest being pelted by hail, and continued down to a dense moss-covered forest where the canopy sheltered us from rain. The village of Sing Gompa at 10,000 feet felt a world away from where we started that morning, not only because of the comparatively warm and lush environment, but also due to the presence of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, a nak (female yak) cheese production center, and a private bathroom with a western toilet and a solar shower (sadly quite cold due to the cloudy weather) at the Yak and Nak Hotel!

Leaving Sing Gompa, we took the wrong trail out of town, albeit with some suspicion at the rapid descent. Just as we were about turn around and face the big climb back, Matt pointed out a large bird sitting in a pine tree. I looked over and said, "Yeah, it looks like a monkey...Wait! It is a monkey!" Our wrong turn resulted in our first langur monkey sighting of the trek. They had beautiful light grey coats with round black faces and some of the longest tails I have ever seen, even for monkeys. These are the things that inevitably happen when you don't have a guide. 

In contrast, once we finally got going on the right trail, we met a tremendous group of French trekkers that, combined with all of their porters and guides, seemed to take up the length of the trail they were covering that day. We were grateful that we were going in opposite directions. 

By early afternoon, we had reached Thulo Syabru, a popular stop among trekkers for its internet access. Here I found out that my ninety-year old Grandpa Ivan had passed away just a few hours earlier. Had we not taken the wrong trail that morning, I would have checked email before my dad sent the news of my grandfather's passing, and we would have kept going down the trail. Instead, we stopped for the day and I was able to talk with my parents and my grandma, took some time to reflect and honor the life of my grandpa, and found comfort in a pot of real organic coffee at one of more than twenty-five hotels sprawled along a steep ridge line. While I will of course miss my grandpa dearly, he died in peace surrounded by all of his children after a return of cancer and entering hospice, so the event was not unexpected. After connecting with the larger world for a little while, we were ready to transition to our next section of the trek: Langtang Valley. 
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    Casey and Matt 

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You pass through places and places pass through you, but you carry 'em with you on the souls of your travellin' shoes. --The Be Good Tanyas