Wednesday, 2nd May
“The Long Road to Qomolangma,
8844.43m (aka Mount Everest)”
Several months of planning and further numerous months of
anticipation had finally culminated in a dream come true for Kerryn and I. We
had spent about a week in Tibet, “the rooftop of the world”, acclimatising to
the dizzying altitude by moving slowly westwards from the unsuspectedly modern
capital, Lhasa.
On the eve before our final accent to Mount Everest basecamp
the excitement between the two of us was palpable and sleep became a secondary after-thought.
We were greeted with a bone-chilling morning, as we piled on the myriad of
clothing layers. Breakfast was a blur and before we knew it, we were packed and
hurtling towards the most famous mountain in the world. Only slowed by the
numerous Chinese checkpoints, we climbed a high mountain pass from 4200m to
over 5200m.
A swath of traditional prayer flags draped over the road,
leaving just enough room for a single vehicle. But what lay just beyond this
colourful gateway was truly awe inspiring. A cloudless day presenting pristine
blue skies bequeathed the perfect backdrop for our first ever glimpse of Mount
Everest from the ground (on a side note, we have already been fortunate to view
the majestic mountain from the air.) The peak of Everest barely, yet visibly
eclipses its sister mountains in a breath-taking panorama like no other.
The journey down into the rocky valleys below closer
resembled a lunar landscape than the gateway to the greatest mountain in the
world. Rounded rock-laden hills dove down into wide, stony riverbed valleys.
Small rural communities of Tibetan villages manage to subsist on the barren
wasteland with little more than a few mountain sheep, goats and yaks.
Cultivating the land must prove a most strenuous and ill-rewarding endeavour,
but they make do. The smiles from these locals and the friendly hand waves from
all the children we passed just goes to show that little is more.
We zoomed passed the Rongbuk monastery, the highest in the
world and hastily moved towards Basecamp. Upon reaching the perhaps inappropriately named “basecamp” (it was no more than a
cluster of Tibetan tents selling local jewellery and other such souvenirs) we
changed vehicles into a Chinese government bus. This bus would then take us
closer still. The imposing peak of Mount Everest loomed ever more impressive on
approach. The bus pulled up only a few kilometres from basecamp yet we once
again had to present our passports and visas to the Chinese officials. With the
final portion of bureaucracy now out the way, we were left to foot climb a
small hill for the most spectacular view yet, so magnificent was the view that
it literally took our breathe away.
Let me point out that the air at such extreme elevation is
significantly thinner that even the most simple of physical exertions left us
gasping. Climbing a single flight of stairs is enough to render one
incapacitated for a substantial period and sleep felt like a nightmare,
suffocation would follow a desperate to counter the lethargy experienced to a
reduced oxygen atmosphere.
On our return to our overnight accommodation, just a few
kilometres back down the valley, we encountered a quaint yet externally
dilapidated Buddhist temple. Upon ascension, we discovered a dimly lit room
adorned with a hundred or so yak-butter lamps that provided welcoming warmth.
The room had a tiny opening in the doorway with a few unsteady rocks forming a
ladder. This lead to a tiny cavern deep within rocky hillside. The cave has
been used for hundreds of years as a secluded meditation sanctuary for Buddhist
monks, spending months and sometimes even years hidden from humanity.
After a long day of extraordinary wonderment, the group
retired to the Everest View Hotel for an early night, for the following morning
a sunrise over the massive monolith beckoned. The overnight chill of a balmy
-15 degrees did little to dampen the spirits as the western face of Mount
Everest became illuminated by the golden morning rays of first light. The herd
of yaks camping at our hotel doorstep seemed unfazed by the sheer presence of
the peak emerging overhead.
A glorious experience that will not soon fade from the mind
was blessed with unsurpassed conditions and as much as we wanted to linger, the
show must go on.
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Trekking through Nepal- April 16, 2012
It was a grueling challenge; our bodies ached from top to toe, though our nine day trek through Nepal showed us the real heart and soul of this breathtakingly beautiful, truly unique country. From the bottom of the valleys, trekking across swinging bridges over raging rivers to walking amongst the clouds at the highest peaks, Deep and I experienced it all.
On our first day of trekking we walked through a village called the Australian Camp. We do not know why it is called this and the locals unfortunately had no idea either. Luckily for us unexperienced trekkers, we only walked two-and-a-half hours to our overnight guesthouse in Pothana. By the looks on our faces and the deep breathing, I’m sure our porter (who resembled a pack horse with all our luggage) thought he would spare us the suffering, for at least a few days.
When we woke the next day at 5.30am may I say, the crisp snow-capped Himalayas lay before us and continued to guide us throughout the day to our next overnight stop. By day three the easy trekking ceased and the steep climb up the mountainside became the norm. Despite the steep climb, the picturesque surroundings were breathtaking. We walked along the riverbank, waterfalls cascading around us and as always the snow-capped mountains before us, looming overhead, leading the way. When we arrived at our overnight spot on day three we were told there was literally no room at the inn and after three-and-a-half hours of trekking, we had to ascend 400 vertical metres up to the village of Chomrong, a village which sat on the edge of the Himalayas.
On our fourth day of trekking we started heading downhill, though quickly went back to our steep climb. One of our favourite parts of the trekking experience was the local children and families we encountered along the way, who welcomed us into their villages and only asking for the occasional chocolate offering. We also had the occasional four legged guide who Deep would always name and encourage to follow us. Another habit of Deep’s during our trek was that with every bridge we crossed, he had to wave his trekking stick in the air and recite the line from Lord of the Rings, “You Shall Not Pass.”
By day five we were walking in the clouds, the air temperature dropping dramatically. As we walked to our overnight village of Banthanti, we were surprised by the beautiful lush jungle which surrounded us. I’m sorry to use this analogy (it’s the only thing I can think of), but the moss covered landscape resembled a scene from the Twilight movies as thick fog engulfed us. This setting was something we did not expect to see on our travels through Nepal. When we arrived at Banthanti, the rain rolled in. This was a common occurrence on our trek. By around 2pm each day a thunderstorm would roll in and we would sit in our guesthouse watching the rain fall over the mountainside, sipping on hot chocolate and chai.
On day six we reached the town of Ghorepani, which offered spectacular views of the Himalayas. We took the time to unwind here for two days before making our way back down the mountainside on day eight. This was an extremely challenging day for us as we woke at 4.30am to see the sunrise over the mountains, before descending 3000 steps to the riverside town of Hile, our final overnight destination.
A few days to recover and we are now off to the Royal Chitwan National Park to play with baby elephants, walk with rhinos and canoe down the river while crocs sun themselves on the bank. We will update our blog in a few days.
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Tuesday, March 20th
Agra-vated Adventure
Dubbed as an architectural masterpiece and one of the great wonders of the world, the Taj Mahal is nestled on a quaint bend in the Jamuna River at the heart of the dynamic city of Agra. To be fair, the hordes of tourists only go to Agra to gaze upon the stunning marble colossus that is said to change its very colour as the sun scurries across the hot Indian sky. Early morning viewers will note tones of soft pink at sunrise, which transforms into a majestic white during the height of the day. Evening appears to transmute the ‘Taj’ into glowing golden behemoth, a truly stunning sight that we witnessed from the comfort of our luxurious hotel rooftop only a couple of kilometres away. Only a lucky few are afforded the rare opportunity to behold the stunning silver sheen that is only evident under a clear night when the moon is at its fullest. The chameleon Taj Mahal gains this exceptional characteristic thanks to specific type of semi-translucent marble used by Shah Jahan, the Taj’s builder.
It is because of the sheer beauty and scale of the Taj Mahal that Kerryn and I decided to indulge ourselves in a night’s stay in a resplendent five-star hotel, the ITC Mughal, afterall we’d been “roughing it” in guesthouses, overnight trains and buses for the last month! Let me just say that brief stay did not disappoint, as the experience was well harmonised with the grandeur experienced at the Taj the following day.
Everything from the amazingly soft mattress and pillows, normal Indian bedding is better suited for building medieval forts than providing comfortable sleeping surfaces, to the delicious cocktails served at the lavish bar oozed with enticing draw. We certainly felt like a Maharaja and Maharani of yester-year with our every desire catered to at a pecuniary outlay deemed unattainable in the western world.
As Kerryn sunk into her afternoon hibernation, I felt the imperious urge to explore all that utter opulence represented. My wanderings brought me upon a spa, the largest in Asia they tell me, as well as a bird sanctuary, pristine swimming pools and lots of immaculately dressed guards that looked like they were time-shifted from the Mughal era.
Upon my return, I discovered that Kerryn was in the process of dressing like a princess for a night of royal proportions. I too decided to don my best and finest evening attire, a rather limited selection was to be found within the depths of my backpack. With much haste, we raced up to the hotel terrace to gaze upon the glowing Taj as the sun dripped its last golden rays.
As gold drifted into purple, Kerryn and I migrated to the luxurious lounge bar for a couple of delicious cocktails before dinner. We relocated downstairs into a fine dining restaurant and placed our order for a couple of glasses of Jacobs Creek, a roast pork for Kerryn and a grilled meat platter for myself. It was a welcome treat to be able (read, trust) the meat at a restaurant and we were not to be disappointed. A delectable sumptuous meal capped off the most lavish of days.
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Kochi, Kerala’s capital is a tourist mecca for international travellers, keen to indulge in a little spice of Indian life though still having some of the creature comforts found back at home.
This unique fishing town is nestled between the Arabian Sea and the Keralan backwaters, with Chinese fishing nets lining the foreshore in Fort Kochin. The surprising aspect of this place is the cultural appetite it offers to visiting tourists with modern art gallery cafes, antique stores, restaurants and trendy roof top bars you would expect to find back home.
The locals have blended western culture with touches of Indian traditions, combining the perfect cocktail to lure thousands of tourists each year. This is a place where locals have thought hard to design and create a travel destination which allows an easy transition for tourists to delve into Indian life.
After a week of travelling around the hill top towns of Munnar and Kumily, Kochin was a little cultural treat for us, as we spent our days walking through art galleries, listening to local beats while I flicked through the latest addition of Marie Claire in a trendy downtown restaurant.
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| Oy's Cafe and Homestay in Fort Kochi |
On one spectrum of the scale, Kochin still has the small town touches with local fishermen pulling in their daily catch, laying the fish on a nearby road, as mothers and their children pick up dinner. A group of young men run from the main road to the foreshore, clambering over each other to see a cruise liner come into port. Despite the western influence, they seem to be unaffected by its presence.
But I do wonder what these people think of the permanent footprint tourists have left on their town, both cultural and architecturally. They do appear to be unfazed in anyway, it’s as if they go about their daily duties and allows us travellers to become voyeurs. There seems to always be a welcoming smile given to travellers, which to be honest isn’t something I have seen often during my short travels. I guess as long as the western influence doesn’t take over this city, I’m sure it will continue to thrive in coming years.
