Sunday, November 26, 2006


I don't know whether this is something to be proud or ashamed of, but I can now cross "getting lost in the oldest rainforest in the world" off my life's "to-do" list. The feat was achieved a few days ago during my visit to Malaysia's Taman Negara national park, which boasts virgin jungle 130 million years old.

The first adventure was getting to the park. After a 3 hour bus ride from Kuala Lumpur, I hopped on a narrow wooden boat for another 2-3 hour trip up the river. The boatride was very exciting and quite comfortable, complete with a wooden roof to block the sun, nice cushy seats to lay down in, and a quick outboard motor on the back of the boat. On the river banks, enormous trees loomed on both sides. At one point when looking to the side of the river I saw something that looked like a branch sticking out of the water. When I realized that it was moving, it took me a second to realize that it was not a branch but actually an ENORMOUS python, at least 6 feet long, swimming up the river. I really couldn't believe my eyes, but there was no doubting what it was as we passed the slithering body making waves behind the head, which stuck out of the water like a submarine periscope. After that, I was looking more closely, and within a few minutes saw two more snakes right after each other, but neither as big as the first. We continued further and further into the jungle until reaching a small town at the junction of 2 rivers. The town was most unique for its various "floating restaurants" which sat by the side of the river like barges, connected to the mainland by precarious footbridges. I was delighted to find a hotel room for only 10 Ringit (less than $3U.S.) In the end, it didn't matter that the mosquite net was broken and had no A.C.--even though the walls didn't all reach quite to the ceiling, the mosquitos never bothered me, and the nights were pleasantly cool, a respite from the crushing humidity during the days.

My first afternoon, I set off on a short hike up to the top of a nearby hill and was rewarded by a wonderfull panoramic view of the surrounding rainforest. I planned a longer hike for the following day, complete with a visit to a nearby cave inhabited by bats. I had dinner with 2 spanish guys I met while watching a group of wild boars roaming through the camp (there were also monkeys that begged for handouts), and planned to meet up with them the next morning.

In the morning, after meeting up with 2 British girls and a Russian guy, we walked to the 'canopy walk' a series of cable suspension bridges connecting from treetop to treetop high over the ground. The bridges were wobbly and had a posted limit of 1 person every 10 meters, but after my bungee jump in Nepal I'm less fazed by heights. Again, the views were quite impressive, with some great closeups of the foliage. It was a great view of all the different layers of the forest.

We decided to continue to another nearby hilltop, but within the next half-hour, my companions began to abandon the group and turn back one at a time. By the time we reached the top an hour later, it was just Emma, my new friend from England, and I. We both agreed that despite the difficulty--including being COMPLETELY drenched in sweat (it was like we'd walked through a shower with our clothes on)-- the hike had been well worth it.

In the afternoon, Emma and I headed the opposite direction towards the 'bat caves' a few km south from the village (our companions again declined to join us in favor of resting). As we were leaving, clouds continued to roll in, and within half an hour it started to rain, then a few minutes later it REALLY started to rain. Walking through a rainforest in the middle of a rainstorm will stand up as one of those moments I'll always remember in life, and getting soaked didn't matter since as I already mentioned we were drenched to begin with. As we trekked through puddles, the path became a riverbed. We were just arriving to the cave when the rain finally let up.

After donning our headlamps, we entered the cave, following the rope to guide the way. Water from the storm was flowing down in, and the rocks were extremely slippery, so we proceeded carefully and slowly. After a few minutes we saw the first bats, hanging from the ceiling peacefully. Our lights and voiced apparently disturbed them, because a number of them began flying around the cavern. Undaunted, we continued further, only to find more bats inside each tunnel. The day kept on becoming more and more amazing, despite the unpleasant smell of bat feces. While walking, Emma had asked if she was the least girly girl I had ever met, and by the time we climbed out of the cave, covered in dirt and bat poop, I told her that she held the new record.

On the way back we watched the last sunlight hit the treetop canopy high overhead, and by the time we got back to camp it was completely dark. Fortunately we had our lights and were prepared for the night hike, which was another unique and beautiful new experience in this extraordinary place. Emma and I smiled, knowing that only a small proportion of the visitors to the park were brave and lucky enough to experience the things that we had seen that day.

Emboldened by the success of the day, I planned an even more ambitious itinerary for the next few days. Having a tent, sleeping bag, and other camping equipment, I decided to spend a night camping in the jungle. I rented a camping stove, bought plenty of food, and mapped out a 30 km loop around a scenic waterfall, which I would complete in 2 days with a night at a campsite half way. It would be great to be out on my own in the wilderness for a night, and after my experience hiking in Nepal it would be a piece of cake!

I set out the next morning, map in hand, complete with the same pack I had lugged for 2 weeks through Himalaya. The backpack made it alot more difficult, and within a few minutes I was even wetter than I had been the day before. Even worse, after my first hour hiking in sandals (my boots were soaked from the day before) I realized that my feet and legs were bloody, covered in leeches. Even though I was wearing socks, they had penetrated through and even managed to make it in between my toes. The bites aren't painful or dangerous, they're just gross and annoying, especially since the leeches use an anti-coagulant when they bite, which makes the bleeding difficult to stop. After picking each one off and cleaning the blood, I put on my wet hiking boots and continued. Nonetheless, the leeches proved determined, and within another hour they had managed to climb over the walls of the boots and up and down my legs. Later, when I took off my shirt and saw bloodspots, I realized that they had even managed to get to my back.

Not to be deterred, I continued on. Consulting my map, I knew I was getting close to the spot where I would cross the river to get to the waterfall. I was walking along when all of a sudden, I realized I had lost the path. I walked to where I thought it should be, only to find it wasn't there. I continued looking for it, and only found myself more lost each time. The jungle, I realized, is 100 times harder to hike in without a path. After more fruitless searching, I decided to head towards the river, which I knew from my map was closeby. Using my compass and making my way slowly, I managed to get to the river after only a few minutes, but realized I had 2 problems. First, I didn't know whether the path was upstream or downstream and, more importantly, I discovered that walking along the banks was virtually impossible in many places, making it impossible to just follow the river back down. I was frustrated and a bit nervous, but would have been much more worried if I didn't know that boats to the waterfall passed every day. I cooked a lunch of noodles by the river as I considered my options. I decided to try to work my way back into the jungle in search of the path, and was just packing up my campstove when I heard the sound of a distant engine, and was relieved to see a boat round the bend a few minutes later. They picked me up and brought me to the falls which, I discoverd, were only a few hundred meters past where I had arrived! It was quite a strange experience to have been lost in the jungle, beginning to get seriously worried one minute, and back surrounded by carefree middle aged tourists casually taking pictures of the waterfall the next.

Soaking wet, tired, and coverd with leech bites, I decided to take the easy way out and hitched a ride back to town with the boats, rather than spending the night in the jungle as originally planned. Nonetheless, I did end up getting more of a jungle experience than I had bargained for.

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"Where are the Petronas Towers???" was my first question. After disembarking my train from Singapore in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, I hopped onto the city's ultra-modern monorail, and asked this question to the first person I saw. The Petronas Towers, opened in 1996 were for a time the largest buildings in the world. Now that an even taller building in Taiwan has been completed, they are the world's second highest, yet remain the tallest Twin Towers in the world. Fortunately, the majority of people in Kuala Lumpur speak english, so a woman pointed out the monorail's window in the direction of the tower; unfortunately it was raining, and I only got an obscured glance at the towers, shrouded in fog.

Luckily the weather cleared up by the next morning, and I headed out walking towards the towers from my hostel first thing in the morning with Daniel, my new Italian friend. Walking through the city, I was completely blown away. I'd barely ever heard of Kuala Lumpur before, but it was an absolutely impressive city. In addition to the monorail, there are futuristic skyscrapers dotted throughout the city. I don't think I've ever seen a skyline as futuristic looking as Kuala Lumpur's. I later learned that most of the buildings were built during the Asian boom years of the early 1990s-- since Asia developed later than the U.S., its buildings are alot newer and, consequently, more modern. It was almost reminiscent of a sci-fi movie, or the Jetsons.

I thought that the Petronas Towers would remind me of the only other Twin Towers I ever saw, but they were actually completely different. While the World Trade Centers were enormous black monoliths, the Petronas towers are based on Islamic designs-- from the Star shape incorporated into their base, to the Islamic shape of the ball in their antenae. The buildings are also fairly colorful, and have a unique shape, including the 41st story sky-bridge connecting the two towers. Unfortunately you can only go as high as the bridge--less than one third of the total height, but at least it was free to do (great for a poor backpacker like me!) The views of the city were quite impressive, and I spent quite a while afterwords just walking around the buildings looking up in awe.

Daniel and I spent the rest of the afternoon checking out the city's other sights, including the Lake Gardens and Chinatown, where we had dinner. In the evening, we found a nice middle eastern bar where we smoked Shisha and chatted with a guy that had survived the Tsunamai in Western Thailand in 2004.

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Friday, November 24, 2006


After picking up my backpack from the turnstyle in the Singaporean airport, walking through the double doors, the first thing I saw was a sign saying "Travis Snow, New Hartford, Connecticut, USA". It was my friend Weijie's mother, who had come to pick me up. (Weijie was still at his army base until later that evening) After months travelling on my own, seeing my name brought a big smile to my face. It's not that I don't meet lots of great people during my travels--I do. But the friends you make travelling are different. You usually only hang out for a few days at most, after which you each go your own seperate ways. I was so excited to actually be visiting an old friend, Weijie, my buddy from my University days at Johns Hopkins. Weijie and I travelled across the U.S. by bicycle together twice, so we've seen alot together. Nonetheless, while we were both "typical" college students 2 years ago, our lives have completely diverged since then. While I've spent my time skiing and travelling, Weijie is fulfilling his national service in the Singaporean army--a mandatory obligation for all males in Singapore-- after which he'll need to spend the next 7 years working for the Singaporean government. I had to squeeze my visit in on the weekend, when he was free from his vigorous military training. Needless to say, I was not surprised that my friend seemed less silly, more serious, than I remember him while biking across the country. Nonetheless, we had a great time seeing Singapore, and we both appreciated the opportunity to relax a bit-- him from the army, and me from nonstop travelling. Our first night was spent taking a food tour of Singapore-- I especially loved the BBQ pork roll as well as the curry puffs. But when I tried Durian, an exotic green fruit shaped like an enormous football--but with spikes like a cactus-- I was less happy. The Singaporeans told me it was an acquired taste. We also passed through Singapore's "red light district", which, being the first red light district I'd ever visited, was quite a shock, especially being in a country with such strict laws that they execute drug trafickers.

The next day we spent a nice relaxing morning at Weijie's house with Weijie's wonderful parents and younger brother. His mom delighted my taste buds with tasty homecooked meals--a welcome treat after eating at cheap restaurants for the past months. After lunch we hopped on the subway and headed downtown. Weijie's family's flat, in a very nice residential community, demonstrates the high level of planning and organization in Singapore. Given the country's small area, all the space is utilized efficiently and shopping centers and public transportation are within easy walking distance. The country is legendary for its cleanness, which I definitely noticed after some of the other places I'd visited.

Our first stop downtown was the "fountain of wealth", the world's largest fountain. We checked out downtown Singapore, including the river, with a great view of the skyline, as well as taking an elevator up the highest building in the city to get a view. The skyscrapers almost made me feel like I was back in New York, it was quite an impressive skyline. We stopped for milkshakes--an old tradition from our days biking together-- they were fabulous!

In the evening, we caught a demonstration of the 'world's greatest knife balancing demonstration" in one of the city's many shopping centers. The highlight was when Weijie volunteered me to go on stage, and I got to somehow hold 2 grown men over my body. Somehow, they balanced the weight in a way that made it relatively easy, and it was fun to get a standing ovation from the crowd.

The second day we checked out the beach near Weijie's house before lunch, and headed back for Weijie to prepare for his busy week ahead. I gave my friend a goodbye hug in the early evening as he headed back to his army barracks, and spent a lovely evening having dinner with his parents and brother in Chinatown.

I really enjoyed my time in Singapore and was glad to have the opportunity to visit. It's quite a unique place. It has a very hight standard of living and lacks the poverty I've seen in other places, although I did see 2 guys sleeping under a bridge, which didn't quite fit in with the rest of the image I got. According to Weijie, everyone has work, and the unemployment is very low. Unfortunately I need to catch a bus so I don't have time to write all my observations...

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Thursday, November 16, 2006


I always seem to have alot to say my first day in a new country. I've actually been in Thailand for close to a week but since today was the first day I spent in Bangkok, in a way it feels like I just got here. When I got on the plane back in Katmandu, I had no plans for my arrival-- since this trip was put together last minute, the idea is that I'd plan as I go, but didn't have a chance to do any research on Thailand while I was trekking in Nepal. To further complicate matters, I only had 6 days here before flying down to visit Weijie in Singapore. Weijie is one of my best friends from college at Hopkins. I really wanted to visit him while I was here but, since he's currently completing his service in the Singaporean army (as all males have to do) he only has weekends free so I had to work around his schedule, which made my arrival a bit complicated-- I didn't want to spent 6 days in Bangkok, but didn't think it was long enough to go anywhere too far. When I was on the plane, the American couple sitting next to me on the plane suggested Chiang Mai, a city in the northern mountains near the border with Myanmar. I'd never heard of it but it sounded cool. My alternative was to head to Khao San road, what Lonely Planet describes as the "tourist ghetto" of Bangkok. Every big international city has one, I'd just come from Thamel, the Nepalese equivalent in Katmandu, so I knew what to expect--not being able to walk more than 10 seconds without someone trying to sell you something or rip you off, among other things. I wasn't in the mood for more of that, so on a whim I took a taxi from the airport directly to a bus station to see if I could catch a nightbus to Chiang Mai. I was in luck and got a ticket for the 10 hour ride, and within 2 hours of touching down in the country I found myself sweating on a hot, chaotic bus platform, watching buses coming and going and wondering whether this had really been such a good idea. After the long and slow trip, including a somewhat surreal rest stop where I stumbled off the bus in the middle of the night, half asleep, to eat some weird rice porridge and use the bathroom, I arrived in Chiang Mai having no idea what to expect. Fortunately, I met a representative from a hotel at the busstop who offered me a cheap room which turned out to be just what I was looking for. The hotel also offered treks through the mountains, and had a 33 day trip leaving the next day--they were cheap and looked good, so I decided to sign up, having nothing better planned. For the remainder of the day I rented a motorbike and explored Chiang Mai and the surrounding mountains--It was tons of fun, and the power and exhilaration of zipping in and out of traffic at up to 100km per hour gave me a new found confidence after the initial worry of my arrival. I checked out a really beautiful Buddhist temple which had a spectacular view of the city and surroundings.

The next day we left on our trekking tour, which was supposedly going to a "non-touristic area" (the irony of the fact that bringing us there was, by definition, turning it into a tourist area didn't escape me, but I tried not to have any expectations). The first few kilometers of sweating through the jungle made me think--I've just been walking for the last 2 weeks straight, why did I sign up for 3 more days? But it turned out to be a really fun trip, quite a bit easier than what I'd done in Nepal, but still real trekking. We swam in a beautiful waterfall the first afternoon, and I was delighted to eat my first genuine Thai food for dinner--the curry, spicy pork, and stir fried vegetables were exquisite. After dinner, we indulged on beer and cheap Thai wine, a celebration I hadn't done much of in Nepal. On the second day, in addition to trekking we got to do an elephant ride through the jungle, which I really enjoyed (not least because we had to share and I somehow ended up being placed right in between the 2 cute 21-year old Canadian twins on the trek--it was random, I swear!) On the second night children from the village we were staying in came and did a little choreographed dance for us by the campfire--it seemed a bit hokey but was fun for everyone. The third day we did a bamboo rafting trip down the river. The ride wasn't that spectacular, I was just happy to have another opportunity to get to use my waterproof case for my digital camera. After heading back to Chiang Mai, we went out on the town to celebrate. Memories of the night are sketchy.

The following morning, I decided to take a day just to chill out and relax. I realized that in my determination to do as much as possible in my travels, I've been moving almost every day, so I spent the day lounging in cafes, wasting time on the internet, and reading. I had a reservation for another all-night bus back to Bangkok, so I left at 6:30. One notable experience happened as I was leaving my hotel-- as I was saying goodbye and thanking the owners, the wife gave me a cold bottle of water to take on the bus. This small gesture really touched me--that she had thought of this way to make my trip more pleasant without expecting anything in return. As a traveller, trying to pinch every penny and not get ripped off, I sometimes forget that people can be generous and kind. If you're ever in Chiang Mai, Thailand, go stay at the Five Star Guest House!

After another long, tiring voyage filled with frequent stops (which for some reason they insisted turning the lights on every time, preventing any real sleep), I arrived at Khao San road in Bangkok in the early morning. I found a cheap hotel and tried to sleep for a bit, but soon got restless and went for breakfast. I spent the day exploring Bangkok without really making much of an itinerary. From Khao San road, a man offered me a Tuk-Tuk tour (a miniature half taxi-half motorbike) for 20 Baht (about 50 cents U.S.). I knew immediately that it was a scam--I'd even read about it in my Lonely Planet, but I couldn't figure out how they intended to rip me off. Not having anything better to do, and more from curiosity, I decided to give it a try--I couldn't believe they were going to rob me in broad daylight, and I figured I could always leave if I didn't like it. I found out that the money came from bringing me to a tailor shop which somehow gave the driver free gasoline--they had told me this beforehand. I told them I wasn't interested in a new suit and went back to my tuk-tuk. After dropping me off at the next site, a giant 45 meter Buddha statue, my driver said he'd wait for me to return. When I got back to the place he had left me, I wasn't surprised to find that he wasn't there. But I hadn't paid him, and got to 2 rides for free already, so I didn't particularly care. I made my way over to the river and took a commuter ferry towards China town-- it was a great ride, mixed with locals, tourists, and a bunch of Buddhist monks (as is the entire city), and had an outstanding view of the city skyline. Walking around Chinatown, I felt I almost could have been back on Canal Street in New York City! From there, I hopped a legitamate cab over to Siam Square, the trendy shopping center of the city. I'd eaten bacon and eggs for breakfast, so I continued the comfort food trend with a late lunch at McDonalds. I really HATE shopping, but realized that I felt more comfortable walking around the mall--it was the most American like environment I'd been in in months--so I wasn't in any hurry to leave (another reason for this feeling was the knowledge that as soon as I left the air-conditioned mall I'd be hit by the humid heat of Bangkok!) So, I decided to see a movie and bought a ticket for the new Bond flick. It was pretty decent, and a nice diversion for a few hours. After that, I wandered around the different levels of the shopping center, looking through different store windows and trying to postpone the state of perpetual perspiration I would face as soon as I left. Since I'd already had 2 fast food meals, I decided to make it an even 3 and had KFC for dinner (I knew McDonalds were everywhere, but have been surprised to also find KFCs all over the world). Afterwords I headed back to my hotel and tried to get some sleep, which proved to be quite difficult in the heat and humidity which lasted throughout the night, desite the noisy ceiling fan.

Thursday, November 09, 2006


"In other days, I understood mountains differently, seeing in them something that abides. Even when approached respectfully (to challenge peaks as mountaineers do is another matter) they appalled me with their "permanence", with that awful and irrefutable rock-ness that seemed to int intensify my sense of my own transience. Perhaps this dread of transcience explains our greed for the few gobbets of raw experience in modern life, why vioence is libidinous, why lust devours us, why soldiers choose not to forget their days of horror: we cling to such extreme moments, in which we seem to die, yet are reborn. In sexual abandon as in danger we are impelled, however briefly, into that vital present in which we do not stand apart from life, we are life, our being fills us; in ectasy with another being, loneliness falls away into eternity. But in other days, such union was attainable through simple awe."

Perhaps this quote from "The Snow Leopard" helps me undertand my unexplained fascination with the mountains. While my father and grandfather always loved the sea, I have always been drawn as far from sea-level as possible. I'll never forget my excitement the first time I laid eyes on the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, having reached them from a bicycle across the Great Plains of the United States, tears in my eyes. Since then, I have lived and travelled in the Rockies as well as the Andes Mountains in South America. It was with great excitement that I arrived in the Himalaya, the highest mountains in the world (Nepal itself has 8 of the 10 highest mountains in the world).
After 2 nights in Katmandu, I headed to Besisahare to begin trekking the Annapurna Circuit, a 200+ km, 2 week loop around the Annapurna Himalaya massif, including the 8th highest mountain in the world (Annapurna 1, 26,300 feet, 8091 meters).

The trek started only a few hundred meters above sea-level, and the first several days were hiking through hot, sub-tropical forests. We passed hillsides of terraced rice-paddies and other agriculture, and even saw monkeys. The trail ascended the deep Marsyangdi River valley, so most of the views were of the surrounding low hillsides. Nonetheless, our first night's stop allowed for a distant view of the distant snow-covered "Kang Guru" peak, which at just under 7,000 meters, was the highest mountain I had ever seen up to then (although not by much-- Argentina's Aconcagua, the highest mountain in the Western Hemisphere, which I had seen back in September while skiing in the Andes, is less than 50 m lower). It looked so close, yet after examining the map I realized that we would spend the next several days walking through valleys approaching it.

My guide's name was Dinesh. We was a friendly, shy, 22 year old Nepali of Indian descent. His english was mediocre, but good enough to communicate the basics. Nonetheless, I soon discovered that asking any sort of complex question was usually more trouble than it was worth. I liked him, though, and could tell that he truly wanted to please me.

One of the things which surprised me in the first few days was how well made the path was. It even had extraordinary cable suspension bridges crossing the river every 5-10 km, some spanning over 100 meters. I was also surprised with the lack of wilderness on the trek-- I had expected the Himalaya to be much less populated, but the trail was complete with lodge/restaurants all along the way. At first I was disappointed, thinking that all of this was made especially for the tourists. But soon I realized that, while there were lots of us, foreigners were still the minority, as this region has been inhabited for millenia, serving as a trade route between Tibet, Nepal, and India to the south. The well worn trail and bridges were the Nepali version of an interstate highway--but instead of 18-wheelers, there were enormous mule-trains, averaging at least 25 animals each (I estimate I saw well over 1000 mules over the course of the trek--while interesting at first, they became quite annoying, not only because their crap and urine covered the trail, but also because they were not particularly cautious about running into you with their heavy loads).

The guesthouses we slept in were quite comfortable and enjoyable (after I got used to the idea that this wasn't going to be a trip into the wilderness). Most of them had electricity and hot (or at least lukewarm) showers. They are the present extension of the ancient teahouses which served travellers and traders in older times (and still serve them today for that matter) and are an interesting combination of old and new modern influences. For example, while the menus would always have traditional Nepali "Dhal Bhaat" (rice with lentils and vegetable curry, very delicious), they would also have Nepali attempts at international food such as pizza, lasagna, tacos and, of course, Yak burgers and steaks!

After 3 or 4 days of gradual ascent, we left the subtropical climate into cooler, more temperate areas. There were forests of pine as well as oak and other broad leaved trees which, in the late October fall climate, were changing colors. The foliage, as well as locally grown apples, reminded me of back home in New England, where fall is also in full force.

At that point, the mountains, which previously would only be glimpsed sporadically over the valley walls, were beginning to appear much closer. By the time we were in Pisang by the 5th day, we were right at the foot of Annapurna II. I even saw a small distant avalanche as I was walking by-- at first, I thought I saw a cloud, but then realized since there were no other clouds on the mountain, and it was moving slowly down, it was actually snow. The sheer wall was just stunning, and I loved how the colors changed with the position of the sun throughout the day. As much as I attempted to photograph it, I ultimately concluded no matter how hard I tried, it would be impossible to do justice to the scene in a photograph. Everything is just to big--what comes out as a white triangle on the screen doesn't begin to capture the magnificience of the mountain. Even with the highest resolution photo, it is impossible to capture the fine detail and contrast of the sky, clouds, snow, and stone.

The longer I spent in Nepal, the more I realized that it is simply impossible to describe the features of a "typical" Nepali, as their is great diversity among the people here. Nepal is a tiny country squeezed between the two giants of India and China (since Tibet has been annexed, that is). The people, as well as their culture, consists of mixed influences from both places. Some Nepalis (like Dinesh) appear more Indian, while others (especially in the North near the border with Tibet) are more Asiatic in their appearance (I'm not sure if that's the right term to use). As we trekked further north, near the border with Tibet, the Tibetan influence grew stronger.

After 5 days, I was surprised and concerned when Dinesh told me that he had pain when he urinated. I asked him about what was wrong, and his symptoms strongly suggested a urinary tract infection, not serious in and of itself, but potentially complicated considering our location, schedule, and the fact that we were headed higher up and further away from civilization. Fortunately, our destination for that day was Manang, where they had a medical clinic as well as an airstrip, with several flights in and out per week. After seeing the doctor (the rate for foreigners was $30U.S., while for Nepalis it was less than $1.50!), who confirmed my diagnosis, Dinesh was prescribed antibiotics, which would clear up the infection in a few days. Unfortunately, his condition worsened in the night, and he woke me up in intense pain to ask if I had any painkillers, which I arranged for him to receive from two French nurses who were staying in the same lodge, and he was able to sleep through the night. The following morning, after some convincing from me to not continue on, Dinesh headed back down on his own. The infection would hopefully clear up with the antibiotics, and he could take a flight out in an emergency. He had also been in contact with his boss at the trekking agency in Katmandu. Fortunately, part of the money I had paid for the trek went to buy insurance for the guide.

Nonetheless, I did feel a bit guilty about leaving him on his own. I was quite confident for myself, however, as I knew that with such a well marked path and so many other hikers, it would be virtually impossible to get lost, and would not be alone if I ran into problems.

Continuing up from Manang, I crossed above the treeline as I approached Thorung La Pass, and the weather continued to get colder. On the morning I crossed the pass, it was icy cold, completely quiet, and stunningly beautiful as I ascended up the slope on my own. I was thrilled to see a group of Blue Sheep (Bharal), the ancient cross between a goat and sheep described in Peter Matthieson's "The Snow Leopard", cross my path (Like Matthieson, I was eluded by the Snow Leopard itself). I climbed for 3 hours before reaching the summit at 5,400 meters (17,769 feet!), the second highest I've ever been. There was snow and ice all around and, despite the bitter cold, I stayed on top for almost an hour.

It took 9 days to reach the pass, but only 5 to descend on the other side. I was able to cover much more ground because it was downhill (the exception was going from Tatopani to Ghorepani, where in 7 hours of virtually straight climbing, I climbed almost a vertical mile back up!) I visited several Buddhist temples along the way, and also Muktinah, a holy site for both Hindus and Buddhists. Every year, thousands of Hindu pilgrims come to see the flames created by natural gas there. Going out, I descended the Kali Gandaki river, which flows down from Tibet, through Mustang, and ultimately across the Ganges Plains of India into the Indian Ocean. The gorge it creates is supposedly the deepest in the world, and is quite dramatic. Along the way, it passes right by Dhaulagiri--the world's 6th largest peak!

After 14 days of hard trekking I reached Naya Pul 2 days earlier than planned. The last 2 hours into Pokhara was by bus, which felt like cheating, but was alot of fun because I got to sit on the roof and see the incredible view of the lake as we descended the steep precarious mountain roads into the city.
The next day in Pokhara, I had an excellent time renting a motorbike and zooming around the surrounding region. Not as fast or powerful as a fully motorcycle, it's quite a step up from the bike I'm used to, and was plenty fast enough for me to have a great time weaving in and out of traffic on the left hand side of the road.

The following day I headed back to Katmandu bright and early, arriving after 7 hours in the afternoon. After checking into a hotel, I looked into bungy jumping at the Last Resort, which is supposedly the world's highest (although I've discovered it's a more complicated and controversial call than I had realized). Nonetheless I celebrated my successful completion of the hike with a trip out there yesterday. It was quite intimidating to stand on the edge of the platform, looking 160 meters down, relying on nothing more than an oversized rubber band to save you. I realized that bungee jumping--jumping off a bridge-- is a completely irrational act. That's why I didn't think about it when I jumped, and just quietly dropped into the air. It was quite a long free fall--about 3-4 seconds, giving you enough time to overcome the initial panic of the fall, and actually perceive, even think about, the fact that you are in the air, falling rapidly towards the earth. It was a pretty extraordinary experience, and I'm glad I did it (despite being very expensive)--nonetheless, I'll still take skiing in the long run.

As much as I enjoyed my time here in Nepal, it also made me wonder about the impact I had here-- overall, was it good or bad? The Nepalis I spoke with were all grateful of the tourism which gives them jobs. Moreover, I think it's paternalistic, in a sense, to talk about "ruining" local culture by coming here. Yes, the influence foreigners have here certainly changes things, but many if not most of the changes are brought about and embraced by local people. In my experience, most "villagers" don't necessarily choose that lifestyle, and would gladly change their way of life if they could (one example was the "100 rupee lama" (Buddhist monk) I met after hiking up the mountain from Manang to his cliffside dwelling. After paying 100 rupees for a blessing, he tried to sell me a bead necklace for about $8--I thought that was pretty symbolic) After all, our ancestors all lived in villages at some point in history before joining to form more complex societies). Nonetheless, unless you choose to just ignore the poverty here, it's quite awkward, to say the least. I couldn't help feel strange yesterday when, walking back up the gorge to the resort after the bungee jump, the path passed through a village where, what I just spent for about 4 seconds is several months of income.

I'm flying out in a few hours to Bangkok, and am really looking forward to visiting my good friend Weijie next weekend in Singapore. I'd right more, but I need to head to the airport so I don't miss my flight!