Hiking from Ghoda Tabela to Syabru Besi felt like a welcome, downhill reprieve. We were trying to kill a three day effort in two, but the goal of a private shower, a warm room, a varied menu, and jeep ride back to the capital made the extra output sweetly justifiable. The trek down was long, but uneventful: no near death missteps into the unknown and irrecoverable.
We did see wild marijuana growing beside the trail, which Norsang said was everywhere and used during certain celebrations. Trafficking is a crime, but these little one inch Spring beginners threatened no one.
One never knows whom one might encounter at the end of the earth, or the end of time? At the last little vill where we stopped for lunch, there was an American family, parents about my age with a son and daughter-in-law, about 30ish. After dealing with personal matters and the luncheon menu, the elder asked me, "Where are you from"
"I live in Northern California, Bay Area," I responded, always proud to boast my geographical (current and historical) identity.
"What part?" he asked, seeming interested.
"East Bay, just over the hill from Berkeley," I responded.
"What part?" he continued to carve away at my geo/bio/econo/prof/ography.
"I live out in Contra Costa County, Walnut Creek/Pleasant Hill," I said.
"Oh," he said, "I have clients in Walnut Creek." I assumed he was an attorney of some sort.
"We live in Oakland, just off Claremont," his charming spouse chimed in.
"Oh, really," I said. "I just finished working in Oakland (and Berkeley) for the last thirty-five years," I responded. "I have been working at Alta Bates Summit Hospital since 1995, and before that I was at the Field Office of the US Dept of Energy, which was located in Oakland, for the seventeen years preceding that!"
"We live very close to Pill Hill, and I have seen and heard of so many changes at Summit Hospital," the wife commiserated.
I went on to describe the merger of Alta Bates with Sutter Health, then the merger of Summit with Alta Bates...the problems with the economy, healthcare in America, Protected Healthcare Information, which was costing the industry millions of dollars, etc., etc.
We all agreed that everything was a mess, and that is why we were here in the beautiful Himalaya. The father had also opted out of Kyangin Ri the previous morning, and was not feeling the least depleted about it. I decided that his approach would be mine, and I enjoyed the rest of the hike down all the more.
Never got their names, and will never see them again, but I found them on the other side of the planet. Neighbors....
As we descended we were near the river...
Blogger does not do videos well. If the above works, I will be grateful. As we approached Syabru Besi we saw more teamsters with their small pack horses loaded going up, and unloaded coming back down. Once in Syabru Besi, we saw several on the street.
And, that was that. A good meal, a good night's sleep, and we boarded a crowded public jeep the next day for a six hour drive back to Kathmandu. It will take me a while to process the ten days into something cohesive enough to put on paper. The resilience and compassion of the mountain people; the camaraderie of the western (and eastern) tourists when encountering each other, more closely here than at any time in either's homeland; the majesty and absolute control the earth has over the lowly air breathing animals traversing its rocky uplifts and lush and wooded curves. I will study these photos and my memories and once inspired, will draft an attempt at description.
Next stop: Kathmandu, on the way home...
We did see wild marijuana growing beside the trail, which Norsang said was everywhere and used during certain celebrations. Trafficking is a crime, but these little one inch Spring beginners threatened no one.
One never knows whom one might encounter at the end of the earth, or the end of time? At the last little vill where we stopped for lunch, there was an American family, parents about my age with a son and daughter-in-law, about 30ish. After dealing with personal matters and the luncheon menu, the elder asked me, "Where are you from"
"I live in Northern California, Bay Area," I responded, always proud to boast my geographical (current and historical) identity.
"What part?" he asked, seeming interested.
"East Bay, just over the hill from Berkeley," I responded.
"What part?" he continued to carve away at my geo/bio/econo/prof/ography.
"I live out in Contra Costa County, Walnut Creek/Pleasant Hill," I said.
"Oh," he said, "I have clients in Walnut Creek." I assumed he was an attorney of some sort.
"We live in Oakland, just off Claremont," his charming spouse chimed in.
"Oh, really," I said. "I just finished working in Oakland (and Berkeley) for the last thirty-five years," I responded. "I have been working at Alta Bates Summit Hospital since 1995, and before that I was at the Field Office of the US Dept of Energy, which was located in Oakland, for the seventeen years preceding that!"
"We live very close to Pill Hill, and I have seen and heard of so many changes at Summit Hospital," the wife commiserated.
I went on to describe the merger of Alta Bates with Sutter Health, then the merger of Summit with Alta Bates...the problems with the economy, healthcare in America, Protected Healthcare Information, which was costing the industry millions of dollars, etc., etc.
We all agreed that everything was a mess, and that is why we were here in the beautiful Himalaya. The father had also opted out of Kyangin Ri the previous morning, and was not feeling the least depleted about it. I decided that his approach would be mine, and I enjoyed the rest of the hike down all the more.
Never got their names, and will never see them again, but I found them on the other side of the planet. Neighbors....
As we descended we were near the river...
Blogger does not do videos well. If the above works, I will be grateful. As we approached Syabru Besi we saw more teamsters with their small pack horses loaded going up, and unloaded coming back down. Once in Syabru Besi, we saw several on the street.
 |
| See the pink honeycomb attached to the rock... |
And, that was that. A good meal, a good night's sleep, and we boarded a crowded public jeep the next day for a six hour drive back to Kathmandu. It will take me a while to process the ten days into something cohesive enough to put on paper. The resilience and compassion of the mountain people; the camaraderie of the western (and eastern) tourists when encountering each other, more closely here than at any time in either's homeland; the majesty and absolute control the earth has over the lowly air breathing animals traversing its rocky uplifts and lush and wooded curves. I will study these photos and my memories and once inspired, will draft an attempt at description.
Next stop: Kathmandu, on the way home...
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