Where in the world are Emily and Gideon?

A bit much...

2010-09-16T17:05:00.000-07:00

Did I tell you found a job? Well, I did. I'm now a second and third grade teacher in Fairfax, CA.
I'm just about done with my fourth week of being back in the classroom and I'm still standing. After tonight, though, I can't promise anything. Tonight I am going camping with my students and their parents. I have a sore throat and a headache to boot. Ugh.
Tomorrow morning, we head from the campground to the beach for a day of digging in the sand and playing in the surf.
From there I head up to Sonoma to the restaurant to work. I'm hoping to get a shower in there somewhere for the sake of the restaurant patrons.
Then on Saturday, if I'm still functioning, we go to our friends, Brian & Katie's, wedding.
On Sunday, I will rest. I'm hoping to take at least three naps before lunchtime.

Off I go!

My poor neglected blog

2010-05-18T12:12:00.000-07:00

I’ve been ignoring you, dear blog. Why? Well, I suppose I was a little burned out with your neediness—“tell me a story” every day! And I suppose I was feeling inadequate having returned from exotic world travels back to the in-and-outs of daily life on the Hill. And yes, I was utterly distracted by this ego-stomping job-search (which, much to my chagrin, continues to taunt me).

But you, dear blog, have done nothing to deserve this silent treatment. I’m sorry for neglecting you and I’m back (at least for a little while). So now we’ve got some catching up to do. Here’s a little glimpse of what you’ve been missing over the past month and a half—a little teaser of upcoming blogs. Come back tomorrow and the next day to get the full stories. I will do my best to redeem myself, dear blog.

In early April, we met up with Gideon's family for a Spring ski trip in Colorado. There were a few dramatic moments involving an overturned tanker truck dangling off a cliff above the ski resort. And Gideon's sister, Monica, and I had a few precarious runs through the trees. Good thing we both wear helmets.

Gideon has found a few new projects to keep him busy. His giant garden ought to keep us fed if we don't end up finding jobs out here in California.

We've had many dog visitors, including Buddy, the Beagle, and Vinnie, the territorial Boston Terrier.

And of course, NAPPY has been back for an extended stay at Rosemary's Dog Camp.

He's still trying to make friends with Montana... he's got a lot to learn about girls.

Gideon and I both have been baking up some delights. This is my chocolate peanut butter cake, which no doubt, will make your life complete.

Gideon, Rosemary, and I joined in the wine-tour birthday party of our good buddy, Sam. No surprise, things got a little out of hand. This is us leaving Gloria Ferrer, our FIRST stop of the day...

Here I am teaching My Little Pony (Emily R.) how to appreciate fine wine... a skill I continue to polish here in Sonoma.

So, come on back soon to get the full scoop on our adventures this past month, as well as those yet to come. Summer is shaping up to be full of shananigans.

Now what?

2010-04-06T12:23:00.001-07:00

Here I sit, back in Sonoma, after a month of adventure in Nepal. It’s been almost a week since we traveled back to the States. Unfortunately, the trip home was marred by a gastrointestinal upset I developed the last day in Kathmandu. I won’t go into the details, other than to say it is not fun to be on a long haul flight under the powerful influence of traveler’s diarrhea. Yesterday, I finally visited my doctor in Sonoma to get a punch of antibiotics. I’m still waiting for my miraculous recovery. An old college buddy, Jana, suggested I take a few shots of the hardest liquor I can get my hands on to kill whatever lurks inside my gut. My upset stomach says no, but I’m starting to consider the suggestion more seriously. We’ll see…

So, now Gideon and I find ourselves in a strange, uncomfortable limbo-land. You see, our year of living large is coming to an end. In a few months, we will be dragged kicking and screaming back to the real world—the world where you have to work for a living. Yes, we knew it was coming, but we were able to ignore reality quite effectively, especially when we were so far away in Nepal. Now reality is staring us in the face with its not-so-welcoming raised eyebrows. “So, you need a job, eh? Join the club,” it says.

Our plan is to find jobs and stay here in Sonoma for a few years. Solid plan, huh? Yes, except for that pesky “find jobs” part. Where are they to be found? Where did the jobs go? Hello? Jobs?? Where are you?!

I’m in the market for a teaching position for the 2010-2011 school year. I will teach just about anything, to any age group, and I am certified to do so. All I want is a job somewhere nearby (Sonoma County) that has a bit of pay and health benefits. Not too much to ask for, right? I just want to teach.

Gideon is looking for a law position with a firm or company in the area, preferably with a focus on patent law. He’s casting a wider net as far as location is concerned is looking as far south as Palo Alto. Thus, the rub. I want to stay in Sonoma; Gideon would be satisfied to stay in California. Hmm.

At the moment, with few prospects on the horizon, we find ourselves moping around on the Hill, Mr. and Mrs. Doom-and-Gloom. We suddenly feel oh-so-connected to the U.S. economy, or lack thereof. We are unwilling members of that growing club: the unemployed. It’s an uncomfortable place to be, and we don’t plan on being in this club for the long haul. So, now we will throw ourselves whole-heartedly into the job search… just as soon as we get back from one last little foray to Colorado to ski with Gideon’s family. No sense in rushing back to reality, right?

Recovering in Kathmandu

2010-03-30T09:50:00.000-07:00

*** I've updated the trek blogs--all photos are now posted. Go back and check them out!***

Boy, you’d think I had climbed Everest the way I’ve been milking this recovery effort. Not really; we are feeling just fine here in Kathmandu. It's quiet around the house since Mike, Amy, and Ethan are not here. They are enjoying their first vacation as a family away from Nepal in Hawaii.

Our first day back was the only day we reveled in doing not much at all, except laundry and hanging out with our American trekking friends at a restaurant in town. After that, we’ve been keeping ourselves busy around the house and around the Kathmandu Valley.

On Sunday, we made an excursion to the medieval city of Bhaktapur, about an hour east of Kathmandu. The ride out was long, dusty, and bumpy. At one point, we literally had to wait for a road crew to finish building the road before we could go on. Well, actually, Shree lost patience and drove over the pile of rubble that had been dumped in the middle of the dirt road. We also hit a colossal traffic jam in the very narrow streets of Thimi, about twenty minutes out of Bhaktapur. Apparently, a driver had parked his car in the middle of the narrow throughway in order to take a call on his cell phone. At least he wasn’t driving while talking, huh?

When we finally arrived to Bhaktapur, we hired a guide, Rahju, for a three-hour tour. Rahju, a lifelong resident of the town was a very kind man, and well informed. His compact build and facial features gave him the distinct feel of a Nepali Joe Pesci. Rahju spent three hours touring us around the fantastic Durbar Squares, past countless ancient temples, down quiet, impossibly narrow back streets, and to many artisans’ shops. We got the feeling he was trying to help out his buddies with our visits. We did break down and purchase a few Buddhist thangka paintings at an art school, but we drove a hard bargain (at least in our minds).

Potters' Square

We definitely enjoyed our visit to Bhaktapur. Unfortunately, on the way home from Bhaktapur, I had my first bout of culture shock. I had held out for so long, almost a month, but it finally hit me hard. As I gazed out the car window on the drive home, everything I saw either shocked, depressed, or just plan annoyed me. The filth of the streets, air, dogs, children was shocking. The poverty was overwhelmingly depressing. The spitting, nose-picking, insane driving practices annoyed me to pieces. I was spent and just needed to go home and rest.

But no… we had to stop at Bhat Bhateni on the way home. This Nepali super-store was the last place I wanted to be late in the afternoon. It was crowded and overwhelming. Gideon was set on finding some tools for his chicken coop project as well as groceries for the next few days. Apparently I was being less than cooperative, perhaps even childish (imagine that). Gideon finally had had enough of me and sent me back to the car to wait with Shree. I gladly went, bought Shree and myself ice cream cones on the way out, and recovered in the car.

The rest of the evening was quiet as I avoided thinking about the fact that I was in Krazytown (uh, I mean Kathmandu), and Gideon just plain avoided me (not that I blame him).

The following day, Monday, turned out to be a wonderfully relaxing day. We did not leave the sanctuary of Satya Mahal.

I spent the day in the kitchen with Sunita teaching her some American recipes. We made oatmeal raisin cookies. “I think I will have dreams about these cookies,” Sunita swooned upon trying her first one. We also made French bread and goulash (hamburger macaroni casserole), a good basic American recipe that can be doctored in endless ways. Sunita taught me how to make Nepali milk tea (like chai). She also let me in on the secret that milk tea is an appetite suppressant--definitely a good thing to know!

Gideon spent the day outside with Shree and Kashav (the gardener). They made excellent progress on a chicken coop for Ethan’s pet chickens, Chicky and Chicklet. The birds marched around in the yard all day, observing the progress of the construction of their new digs.

Today we paid a visit to the family of our friend in California, Mangal. We met his beautiful wife, Asha, and his nephew, Maita. Asha made a delicious Nepali lunch for us (with the best chicken I’ve had in Nepal). Maita is a charming trekking guide and we enjoyed sharing our trekking experience with him.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in Thamel, the main touristy shopping area in central Kathmandu. We put on our bargaining hats and bought all kinds of Nepali souvenirs. We got some great deals, as well as some not-so-great deals, but all in all, we were happy with our shopping excursion.

On the way home, Gideon and Shree made a number of stops at hardware stores (more like hardware hole-in-the-walls) to purchase a few more feet of chicken wire and a sheet of corrugated tin for the roof of the chicken coop. Man, shopping for building materials and tools in Kathmandu is an experience in and of itself. There aren’t Home Depots around here, not even an equivalent to Ace Hardware. You just have to drive around until you see what you need in one of the little open storefronts along the narrow side streets. Eventually, their search paid off and we headed home with all the needed supplies for Gideon to finish the chicken coop tomorrow.

By the time we made it home, a great thunderstorm had blown over the city. Poor Shree and Kashav were utterly unprepared to drive home in the storm on their motorcycles. They looked nervous about the prospect, so as the lady of the house, I ordered them to come in and share the pizza dinner Sunita had prepared earlier for us. Okay, I didn’t “order” them to join us, but I strongly encouraged them, perhaps even pleaded a bit. They gave in after a few very close lightening strikes shook the neighborhood. We all ran into the house together before being blown away or struck by lightening.

We had a good time talking and eating, and learning a bit more about Shree and Kashav. After salad and pizza, the rain seemed to peter out. “Can we leave?” Kashav asked. Man, I felt like we had been holding them against their will, force-feeding them. “Yes, you may go,” I replied, a bit taken aback. They thanked us for dinner and rumbled off on their motorcycles. But before they left we invited them for dinner again tomorrow night, since it’s our last night. We’ll see if they stay. :)

By the way, Nima is still in the mountains with his son. He had some things to take care of out there and he's supposed to fly back tomorrow. We hope to see him before we head back to the States!

Day 15 Back to the ‘Du

2010-03-27T09:10:00.001-07:00

We woke to gray, overcast skies… not a hopeful sign for our 7am flight out of Lukla. I was convinced we would be staying in Lukla for at least another day, as countless flights had been cancelled over the past few days due to limited visibility. But Temba insisted that we get ready to go. “You never know,” he said. I was doubtful. We walked the few minutes to the airport where we met up with Temba’s father-in-law. He helped us get checked in and assured us we would be flying out. I still wasn’t convinced.

It took a while for the sky to clear sufficiently, but finally, at 9:30 we boarded our Tara Air flight, along with 12 other passengers, two pilots and one flight attendant. In a matter of moments we were hurtling down the shockingly short, steeply declining runway.

A moment later, we were soaring over the gaping valley, which dropped thousands of feet off the edge of the runway, and were making our way over the mountain tops. A bumpy forty minutes later, we touched down in Kathmandu.

Amy and Mike’s driver, Shree, who had been waiting for us for four hours, was glad to see us and escorted us to our home-away-from-home in Kathmandu, the Satya Mahal. The rest of the day was spent doing nothing… a welcome change of pace for these tired trekkers.

Day 14 The long walk back to Lukla

2010-03-27T09:09:00.000-07:00

After many hugs and well-wishes from our new friends in Namche, Gideon and I set off for Lukla, where we are scheduled to catch the first flight to Kathmandu tomorrow morning. Over the past few days, our new friends had blessed us in the Sherpa fashion with dozens of scarves, each one draped around our necks with a blessing of good luck and safe travels.

Chindi, the two staff girls, Mingma, Ang Chhiki, Tashi, Emily, Buddha Raj, Newang Phinjo, Gideon, Nima

With our scarves and blessings, we started the long walk back to Lukla. Nima accompanied us for the first hour and a half before turning back to Namche where he will stay with his son for another day. Mingma, our porter, accompanied us all the way to Lukla. The poor guy just about had a heart attack when Gideon asked if he could try carrying the heavy duffle bags across a cable suspension bridge. Mingma laughed nervously as Gideon adjusted the carrying straps, porter-style, across his forehead and heaved the 100 lb. load into position. I headed halfway across the bouncing bridge to capture the effort, laughing all the while as Gideon acted as the porter and Mingma spotted him from behind. After reclaiming the bags on the opposite side of the bridge and exclaiming some unknown, highly agitated but amused words with witnessing porters, he walked on, continuing to laugh his nervous laugh for the next ten minutes.

About an hour later, I spotted a man huffing up the trail. What caught my eye was the fact that he was a huge African American guy, the first African American I had seen since coming to Nepal. He was wearing a University of Michigan t-shirt and it looked like he could have been a football player. I was also intrigued by the fact that a man walking backwards in front of him was filming him with a high definition professional camera. I said hello and walked on wondering who he was.

It turns out it my instincts were correct. It was Dhani Jones, an NFL linebacker who has a show on the Travel Channel called Dhani Tackles the Globe. He was trying to tackle Nepal, just like us, I suppose. I wish him luck!

After endless hours of walking, our friend Temba, from Sonoma, met us at a teahouse. He traveled to Nepal with Nima and is visiting his wife and daughter in Lukla. We walked the last hour with Temba and his wife and arrived at her family’s inn in Lukla, the Namaste Lodge, in the late afternoon.

The highlight of the inn was having our own private bathroom, complete with a shower right in our room. After making use of the shower, we spent the evening with new friends and travel bloggers, Dave and Deb. I was totally inspired by this couple who are living the dream, having their world-wide travel adventures funded by advertising on their blog, The Planet D. We shared travel tales and laughed heartily until bedtime. Be sure to check out their site. Deb is the writer and Dave is the photographer—a dynamic duo, to say the least!

Tomorrow, if the weather is clear, we fly back to Kathmandu. I’m hoping we do, only because we are down to our last few rupees and there’s no ATM until Kathmandu!

Day 13 One more hike for good measure

2010-03-27T09:06:00.002-07:00

Today we made our final excursion from Namche to Thamo, a small town to the west of Namche. The good news about our hike is that we had a net elevation gain of zero feet. Thank god! Our guide today was Chindi, as Nima decided to stay back to visit with his mother-in-law. Chindi’s daughter, Tashi, came along, and Mingma, the porter, joined us as well. The walk led us along a relatively level trail through the forest skirting the hills separating Namche and Thamo.

The two-hour walk to Thamo was put to good use when I asked Tashi to teach me some Napali words. I learned a lot, but I’m afraid I was a dim-witted language student, or perhaps Tashi was a hard-nosed, uber-particular teacher! Shouts of “No, no! Not sar, TSAR! Not punch, BAUNCH!” rang through the peaceful hills for over the course of the language lesson.

The highlight of our visit to Thamo was climbing up to the Buddhist monastery. Home to approximately 35 Tibetan nuns, the monastery was recently constructed. The nuns are now busy painting the very intricate, colorful décor of the interior.

Until the monastery is finished (in a few years, most likely), the nuns continue their meditations in the tiny building that has served as their monastery for years. We were invited into the ten-by-twenty foot room for tea with a couple of the nuns. I was touched by this kindness, especially when the younger nun found a tin of popcorn and crackers to share with us. “Shee, shee!”

Our walk home was long, and I ended up crashing for a two-hour nap once we reached Namche. Although today’s hike was not all that difficult, my body is exhausted from the constant exertion of the past few weeks. When I finally woke, we all enjoyed our last evening in Namche huddled around the woodstove, laughing and eating until it was time for bed.

Day 12 Hiking in the clouds

2010-03-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

“How about a little hike today?” asked Nima when we wandered down to the dining room for breakfast. “We’ll go to visit the town of Khunde and see the hospital there. Then we’ll visit the school started by Edmund Hillary in Khumjung. Then we can do lunch at the Everest View Hotel, the highest hotel in the world.”

“Sounds great!” Gideon and I agreed.

We were to leave after breakfast. Nima’s fifteen-year-old son, Newang Phinjo, and Nima’s ten-year-old niece, Tashi, would be joining us. Both had arrived to Namche the previous day, as well as Mingma, Tashi’s fifteen-year-old sister, and their father, Chindi. Chindi, had accompanied the kids from Kathmandu to Namche after they had finished their school exams. They are on holiday for a month.

During breakfast, Gideon checked out the map. “Hmm, I hope Nima didn’t say Khunde. That’s a 1300 foot climb.” I shrugged off this idea; Nima certainly couldn’t mean for us to climb that much on our day off.

We headed out—Nima, Newang, Tashi, (porter) Mingma, Gideon, and I. We hiked straight up. For hours. We all started off strong, but Tashi and I quickly fell to the rear of the group, bonding through our exhaustion and distress, sharing water and taking breaks together.

"Uphill???"

Upon arriving in Khunde, Nima needed to pay a quick visit to his friend Pasang’s mother. She was delighted to see Nima and upon hearing that he had folks with him, she insisted we join her in her home for tea. What a delight to sit with this sweet, generous, talkative woman. She made a great vat of milk tea and “shee, sheed” us until we had all consumed at least four cups each. Although I could not understand most, if any of what she and Nima said, I could tell by her great big smile and animated manner that she was thrilled to have guests. This woman who lives on so little by Western standards had so much to share with all of us and I will fondly remember our visit to her traditional Sherpa home.

From there we paid a visit to the small hospital up the hill. The doctor, a friend of Nima’s, showed us around the facility. It was a tiny clinic, but very important in the region, being the only medical facility available to nearly 6,000 people in the surrounding villages as well as trekkers visiting the region.

At this point, the clouds began to pile up against the Khunde hillside. Soon nearly all visibility was lost.

We worked our way through the mist to the neighboring town of Khumjung to visit the Khumjung High School, established in 1961 by Sir Edmund Hillary. The school was quiet and peaceful, as the students had scattered to their homes in the neighboring villages for their month-long break, but I could easily imagine the energy typically contained within the school grounds.

Our final uphill push for the day was to Everest View Hotel, the Guinness Book of World Record’s highest hotel at 12,729 feet. Set on the top of a hill looking towards Mt. Everest, the view is supposed to be breathtaking. We wouldn’t know since all we could see was the fog that had completely engulfed the place. As we sat in the deserted five-star hotel, eating our lunch, it felt a bit eerie, like the set of an old Hitchcock movie. We did enjoy a fantastic lunch, however, reveling in the fact that there were some variations in the menu compared to what we had been eating for the past twelve days. I had a filet mignon and enjoyed every over-cooked bite.

From Everest View, we followed the downward trail through the thick mist back towards Namche. Tashi was our fearless leader and led us all safely through the spooky haze.

We were just about home to the Shangri La when we were spotted by Jen’s mother-in-law from the porch of her lodge. “Come in for tea!” she ordered. In we went, and more tea we drank. “Do you eat meat?” she asked. I nodded my head dumbly, committing us all to stay for dinner. This Sherpa hospitality is amazing, but honestly, we had just eaten a big lunch an hour earlier at Everest View. Alas, there’s no stopping a Sherpa woman. Soon, we all had plates of gravy-covered buffalo steaks, vegetables, and fries in front of us. We dutifully ate up, thanked her for her kindness and slowly shuffled back to the Shangri La for the night.

Day 11 R&R in Namche Bazar

2010-03-27T09:04:00.001-07:00

Our first full day back in Namche was indeed relaxing. We spent most of the afternoon at the Khumbu Lodge dining room hanging out with our American trekking friends, Ted and Peter, and our Australian friend, Bridget. A great deal of time was spent rehashing the gory details of our trek to Kala Patthur. Thanks to Ted and Peter, most of the rehashing was done in an English accent, in diary form, as if we were old English explorers: “22nd March: Dear Diary, I fear my men will revolt if forced to carry my parquet floor any further… But I cannot bear the thought of leaving it behind. What would I do if gripped by a spontaneous urge to dance a jig and had not my parquet floor on which to dance?” (Apologies to Ted and Peter for my lousy paraphrasing of their hilarious banter.) A good time was had by all until we thoroughly annoyed the other guests and lodge staff with our rowdy carrying on and slunk out to our respective lodges.

Gideon and I headed back to the Shangri La in the late afternoon for a nap. Just as I was nodding off, Buddha Raj came knocking. “Miss, would you like to make momos?” he asked. I had been asking to join in on the momo-making since we had arrived to the Solukumbu area. Momos are the Nepali form of dumplings, pot-stickers, perogies, empanadas, etc.—a basic dough pocket containing whatever yummy goodness you can think to put inside. In Nepal, they are mainly stuffed with spicy meat mixtures, vegetable mixtures, or potato mixtures. “I’ll be right down!” I shouted, and slapped myself awake before heading to the kitchen.

You might think momo-making would be a low-key activity for the evening, but you’d be wrong. It was a spectacle—the evening entertainment for everyone in the family, as well as the lodge staff. Chindi’s wife and lodge matron, Ang Chhiki was my first teacher, showing me the basics for making the meat and vegetable filling, as well as the dough. Gideon was the note-taker, jotting down the recipes as I observed. Once the filling and dough was prepared, it was time to make momos. Rounds of thinly rolled-out dough were cut with the lid of a peanut butter jar. Each round received a dollop of filling and was pinched into the proper momo shape. Easy, right? Not really. The technique was a bit tricky. I watched carefully but the details were eluding me.

Ang Chhiki showing me how it's done

Gideon and Chindi enjoying the show

That’s when Dhowa (?) stepped in. He had been Chindi’s first mate for years in expedition cook tents and is a talented momo-maker indeed. He also happens to be deaf, which means he is quite proficient at non-verbal communication. He got my attention and had me following his lead slowly and carefully until I was churning out momos that met his approval. Eventually Gideon joined in the momo making and showed us all his interpretation of the technique.

Lots of laughter and many, many momos later, we all sat down to enjoy the fruits of our labor. We ate and ate until we thought we would burst. Ang Chhiki continued to bring out steamed momos insisting we have just a few more. “Shee, shee!” she would chide when we put up our hands in resistance—“More, more!” Once she was satisfied that everyone in the room was sufficiently stuffed with momos, she let up and we hobbled up the stairs to bed.

Day Ten--We're coming home baby!

2010-03-21T22:33:00.000-07:00

Today we walked from Tengboche back to Namche. For some reason, Namche feels most like home here.

Before we headed out of Tengboche, we paid a visit to the Buddhist monastery. Gideon and I have been to monasteries before, but there was something quite different about visiting one with Nima. As a Sherpa, he is Buddhist. We were able to watch his rituals in and in some cases emulate them. We were even blessed by the lone monk in the monastery.

Nima with the monks busily rebuilding a mani wall in the background

Our hike back to Namche involved some major downhill sections as well as more uphill climbs, which I was not overly excited about. Fortunately, the weather was warm and clear, and no more down jackets, hats and gloves were required. What a change from the day before! All three of us felt strong again and were able to breathe what felt like full breaths once more. Our smiles and upbeat attitudes had returned as well and we enjoyed conversing almost the whole five hours of our hike.

Yummy Sherpa stew (no Sherpas were harmed in the making of my lunch)

THE BIGGEST load we saw on the entire trek. Check out Gideon's face.

One thing that sticks out about our hike today was the great number of yaks and zupyuks on the trail. All were heavily loaded with expedition gear and supplies heading to Everest base camp. It was warm and dusty on the trail and the poor beasts were hot and tired, some even panting. I thought only dogs panted, but yaks do too. One memorable yak encounter was when we came across a team on a rather narrow part of the trail and one decided to pass another. As the yak tried to pass, the gear got hung up with the other’s and one of the two yaks was almost pushed off the edge of the trail (and down a few thousand feet).

"Yeah, that scared me," Nima said. I'm always surprised to find out when something scares Nima. He seems like such a fearless guy, especially here in his element, but he's not afraid to admit when he's scared, which I admire.

Around 3:15, we arrived in Namche. It was like coming home, especially when we came to the Shangri-La. Chhiki was there to welcome us, as well as Tsering Phinjo (sounds like cheering Pinsu), her five-year-old son, and Buddha Raj, her fifteen-year old godson.

The absolute highlight of our return was the hot shower. It had been a week since our last shower, and we all were offending each other and ourselves with our stinkiness and layers of grime. Never has a shower felt so good!

Day Nine--Back to Tengboche

2010-03-21T22:31:00.000-07:00

Ahh, to have the hardest behind us--what a glorious thing! Nima, Gideon and I were all smiles this morning, although I was still totally worn out and had woken with a fat lower lip for some reason (sunburn, or did Gideon clock me in the mouth in the night?). We had a leisurely morning packing up our bags at the lodge in Lobuche starting our descent to Tengboche at 9:15.

It was a long day, Gideon calculating that we walked nearly ten miles, but it was mostly downhill, and boy, what a difference that makes. Despite the fact that we were going downhill, on average, we were still exerting ourselves at high altitudes. My head pounded for the first half of the day, but lunch of soup and tea helped ease the pain. Gideon and I had the realization that our headaches may be due more to exertion and low blood sugar than altitude, especially considering that a carbohydrate blast seems to cure us of our ills.

Our descent to Tengboche led us down through a wide glacial valley, past the towns of Thokla and Pheriche and then down along the cloudy-blue river to Shomare for lunch.

Lots going on in this photo... click to enlarge.

Gideon and me heading home. Just kidding.

Later in the day we came across a musk deer while walking through a rhododendron forest. This smallish deer is unique because, rather than having antlers, it has long canine fangs, almost like a vampire.

We also spotted a pair of Daufe pheasants, the Nepali national bird, the male of the pair being one of the most colorful and beautiful birds I've seen.

By 5:15, we were at our home for the night, the Tengboche Guest House, happy to be at a warmer, lower altitude.

Day 8--Summit Day

2010-03-21T22:30:00.000-07:00

Morning came too quickly today. I did not sleep well at this altitude, periodically gasping for air and tossing and turning all night. Gideon claims that his poor sleep was due to my snoring. There is no heat in any of the lodges, other than a small wood stove (yak dung stove, actually) in the main dining room, so getting out of a warm sleeping bag and into freezing clothing is tough. Reluctantly, we dragged ourselves out and readied ourselves for the big day.

Despite Nima's warnings that this was going to be the hardest day yet, I found myself energized and excited about the challenge ahead. The three of us were walking by 6:05.

The hike started off pleasantly enough, as we worked our way up through the glacial trough. After an hour or so, we reached the first of many ascents up mountain-sized piles of rocks left behind by passing glaciers. Any upward movement at this altitude was absolutely taxing, and we had hours of marching uphill ahead of us. Despite the brutally strong and cold headwind we arrived in Gorak Shep around 9 am for breakfast. At this point Gideon had his first serious bout of altitude sickness. A throbbing headache, exhaustion, and nausea stopped him in his tracks for over an hour. Fortunately, forcing down some fluids and food and a few Advil got him over the worst of it.

Nima with the tiny village of Gorak Shep in the background

By 10:15 we were back on the trail heading up to Kala Patthar. The scramble up this last 1.5 kilometers was nothing less than torturous. I was so close to crying, blacking out, and quitting that I wondered what I was doing here at all.

But the sight of the peak above me was reminder enough that I was almost to my goal and I would make it. I started a rather strict regimen of taking eight steps, no matter how small, followed by eight breaths of rest. This kept me moving very slowly upward, and kept the stars in my vision and the rhythmic pounding in my head at bay. Gideon, now fully recovered, made it to the top well ahead of me and waved me up the remainder of the way.

Once we all arrived to the summit (18,500 ft!!!), it was picture time. Unfortunately, I was so cold and lightheaded that I spent most of the time up top curled into the fetal position in the crook of a rock, sheltered from the hard wind.

Yes, I'm cuddling with the Frederick Magazine. Gideon's dad sent it to us to take on our trip. We'll submit this photo and the one below for publication. We'll see which one they pick. I think the choice is obvious, don't you?

When Gideon called, I hobbled over to the camera and smiled. Everest smirked in the background, getting a kick out of my misery. I put up a good front for posterity.

Nima and I with a bottle of Hanzell Chardonnay. Yes, the best Sonoma Chard came with us thanks to our pal Jean. Wish you were here with us, Jean!

On the very edge of a tantrum, I put a halt to the group photos and started the descent. I was seriously hurting at this point, with a raging headache. I could hardly breathe and my body was screaming at me to descend, descend, descend! I obeyed and got down off that mountain in haste.

Upon arriving at the lodge at Gorak Shep, I was the one fighting altitude sickness. My head banged like a gong with each heart beat, and I was nauseated beyond belief. I couldn't stomach the idea of eating or drinking anything, but Gideon did the right thing and forced me to eat a bowl of soup, drink a few cups of tea, and eat two granola bars. I was really grossed out by this, but it truly is what must be done to help quell the sickness--that and descending. As soon as I could bear it, we all started the long trek back to Lobuche. The last thing I wanted to do was walk for hours, but even more than that, I did not want to stay the night in Gorak Shep at 16,863 feet.

(Click on the photos to enlarge)

Our Sherpa dog friend who accompanied for a few miles on the hike back to Lobuche... He's wearing Gideon's Virginia Tech hat.

The hike back to Lobuche seemed endless. I really was convinced that I must have slept through hours of the journey up, as I could not remember portions of half the walk back. We arrived back to the lodge around 5:30, completely relieved to be done with this crazy hard day.

As I ate my dinner and rehydrated, I wondered what compelled me to go through with the trek today. Did I need to summit Kala Patthar? No. But I wanted to. I wanted to conquer this challenge. But the truth is, I didn't really understand how much of a challenge it would be. It turned out to be the most physically demanding day of my life. I was thankful to have it over with when I dragged my tired bones to bed.

Day 7--From Dingboche to Lobuche

2010-03-21T22:29:00.001-07:00

Today we hiked from Dingboche to Lobuche, gaining about 2400 feet in elevation.

The first portion of our hike led us through an alpine meadow occupied by hairy mountain yaks grazing on the sparse winter grass. I don't know why, but I find the yaks charming. These big hairy beasts seem to be able to wander about anywhere they want, unless of course, they are engaged in porting goods. Most have bells hanging around their necks, letting you know they're ahead on the trail. Some even have tassel earrings, which I really dig. It is evident that yaks have provided for the local people in many ways. Besides providing milk, cheese, and meat, the yaks are used to carry heavy loads from town to town. Their dung is even useful as fuel for the wood stove, particularly in the high altitudes where there are no trees. Recently, they have become popular for carrying the hundreds of containers to Base Camp for the expeditions.

After lunch, the trail started ascending rapidly. We hiked up, up, up. Unfortunately, my secret weapon, the iPod ran out of charge due to the cold, so I was forced to sing to myself (Crash Test Dummies was stuck in my head for some reason). When I got tired of that, I began singing "Om Mani Peme Om", a Buddhist mantra that I've heard many times in Kathmandu and here in the Himalayas. I found it to be quite soothing and powerful. After a while I made up my own mantras to encourage my continued trekking up the hill. "My body is strong and able and my breath will sustain me." Over and over I repeated this to myself, effectively pushing myself to the top.

One portion of the afternoon hike took us past stone memorials erected for climbers lost on Everest over the years. Gideon and I sought out the memorial for Scott Fisher, a highly experienced expedition leader lost on Mt. Everest in 1996. He was Nima's very good friend and boss. Nima had to walk through the area quickly. "It's too sad," he explained quietly.

The remaining of the hike was a steady ascent through ancient glacier fields against a stiff wind. We arrived to Lobuche totally beat. After refueling on tea, Nima lead Gideon, me, and two American friends we met along the way on a short acclimatization hike to the Italian Pyramid, an environmental research center. Nima worked at the research station for a number of years, coordinating supplies for the center. It was a bit strange to stumble upon this Louvre-like glass pyramid tucked in between high Himalayan peaks and glaciers. Unfortunately, no one was at the center when we visited, so we weren't able to look inside, but I found the outhouse and was most impressed with the clean facility. (There is a definite scale of cleanliness among Himalayan outhouses, and this one got a 10 in my book.)

Upon returning to the Sherpa Lodge, we relaxed with our American buddies in the dining room, swapping trekking tales, mainly about bathroom experiences, and playing cards. After loading up with liquids and carbs, we went to bed early in anticipation of the early start tomorrow—summit day!

Day 6--Dingboche

2010-03-21T22:28:00.001-07:00

Today was a day for acclimatization here in Dingboche. Our bodies are definitely starting to feel the effects of the high altitude. The air is only about 60% of that at sea level, so you become out of breath (to the point of blacking out!) when performing the simplest tasks (like going to the bathroom), and the heart is continuously racing to transport what little oxygen that is available. Taking a day to allow our bodies to calm down and adjust is very important. But, that does not mean that we sat around the stove in the lodge shooting the breeze with the Sherpas and other trekkers. We hiked, and I mean hiked. The idea was to gain additional altitude and then return to Dingboche for the night. Going up in altitude and descending for the night is one trick to help the body acclimatize more quickly. I was tired when I woke up this morning, so the plan to hike for three hours was a bit off-putting to me.

Yup, the walls in our room were wallpapered with astro-turf. Hehehe...

Unfortunately, what was touted to be a three-hour walk to the next town turned into a five-hour affair. We walked out of town and into an expanse of rock extending gradually uphill along what was once the path of a glacier.

Don't be fooled by our smiles... we weren't having fun.

It was hard going trampling over rocks of all sizes. At this altitude, I felt like I was walking through waist-high water at times, huffing and puffing, trying to get a full breath. For every ten to twenty steps, we had to stop for a breather. We were not climbing any big hills either. Our goal was the tiny town of Chhukhung where we would eat lunch at the lodge of Nima's friend. Wandering higher and higher and getting more and more winded, we were ecstatic to spot a roof in the distance. That's got to be the place!

As we got closer to our goal, we felt more and more relieved. Finally we approached the building that we thought to be the restaurant only to find that it was a rundown and locked up house. Ugh. Wrong place. "It's got to be just over those rocks," Nima said. I had a bad feeling about that. No sign of civilization could be seen in the distance, only large piles of rocks.

About this time, Nima recognized a Sherpa walking down the trail. He chatted with his old friend for a bit who informed him that the lodge we were looking for was only twenty more minutes up the hill. Hmm... I've heard that one before. Of course, twenty minutes for a Sherpa equates to at least forty minutes for most other people. I was so worn out at this point that it took all that was in me to keep walking and not huff off down the hill back in the direction of Dingboche.

When at last we came to one more high rock piles, I stopped. Gideon went on a reconnaissance mission to see what lay on the other side of the rock pile. He hiked up and gave us the thumbs up. We had arrived to Chhukhung! By the time I flopped down on the bench in the restaurant I had a whopper of a headache and no smile left in me. We had climbed 1250 feet and were now at 15,518 feet.

We recharged with soup and fried rice and many cups of hot lemon tea. Nima chatted with his friend, the inn keeper, our Sonoma friend Jen's sister-in-law.

As they chatted I watched dark, ominous clouds move into the high valley, completely obscuring all views of the mountains. Snow was in the air, just in time for our hike back to Dingboche. Man, at this point I just wanted to be in sitting in front of the hot stove in Dingboche wrapped in a blanket, playing a round of cards.

Fortunately, our pace down the hill was much faster than our trek up. We made it back to the lodge in an hour and a half. With raging headaches, Gideon and I sat down in the dining room with a big bag of M&Ms and a large thermos of tea. The hot fluid and the sugar helped calm our throbbing heads and soon we felt back to normal.

We spent the evening around the wood stove with our friends from last night, Luc the eccentric Belgium, Bhim, his extra-tall Sherpa guide, the innkeeper and the crew of laughing teen-aged porters. We played cards and told stories until bedtime. As an added bonus, I washed my hair in a big bowl of warm water and dried it in front of the stove. I feel like a new person now that my hair is less greasy than the fried noodles.

My hope is that this somewhat torturous day will ease the next leg of our journey to Luboche tomorrow.

Day 5--Tengboche to Dingboche

2010-03-21T22:27:00.001-07:00

Today we walked from Tengboche to Dingboche (two towns that sound exactly the same to our American ears). Thankfully, it was a somewhat easier day with about five hours of walking.

When we woke, it was about 28 degrees in our little bedroom and perhaps 24 degrees outside. It took about thirty minutes of mental encouragement to get out of my sleeping bag and into my frozen hiking clothes.

Fortunately, the temperature jumped up about 20 degrees once the sun reached over the mountains. Earlier, Gideon had gone out to capture some shots of the clear morning light on the surrounding peaks. Mt. Everest is getting bigger all the time.

The morning view of Everest (the peak on the left, mostly hidden)

Mingma preparing the bags

Our cozy little room, Number 17

The Tengboche Guest House

Yaks beating us to the trail

Our walk this morning was muddy and icy, once again. Our hiking poles are definitely coming in handy; I walk with one in each hand, and they support me like two friends by my side.

Nima with Ama Dablam

Mani walls, built with prayer-inscribed stones line portions of the trail

Stupas, another frequent site along the trail

We stopped in the little town of Shomare (13,156 ft.) for lunch. It was here that I realized that the altitude is starting to take its toll. We were breathing heavily and were tired. Nima and I both stretched out on benches at the little restaurant and caught a few zzz's while waiting for our fried noodles. The idea of another few hours of serious hiking ahead was a bit daunting. To add to this, my gastrointestinal system is starting to revolt. Perhaps the fried carbohydrate goodness is starting to take its toll. This is not a fun development on the trail, especially since we are now above the tree line... I'll stop there.

Lucky for us, we made it to Dingboche in good time, 30 minutes faster than anticipated. Now we sit at 14,468 feet in the restaurant lounge of the Sonam Friendship Lodge and Restaurant, owned by Nima's wife's cousin.

We are drinking endless cups of milk tea and laughing with a Sherpa friend, Bhim, and an eccentric Belgian who we've been running into often along the trail. He's training to climb Everest. If his boisterous energy is any indication, I think he just may make it some day. Nima is giving us all a lesson on how to use Yak droppings to heat a home. It's burning in the stove right now, warming us in this snowy little town, and for that we are all grateful.

Day 4--Namche to Tengboche

2010-03-21T22:26:00.001-07:00

No sooner did I post the first three days of blogs at the little Internet cafe in Namche that a thunder storm/snow storm rumbled over the village knocking out the Internet. I was lucky to get something posted at all, I suppose.

After dinner at the Khumbu Lodge with Nima's friends, we headed off to bed not sure what the next morning would hold. The snow threatened to keep us in Namche for another day.

The town was blanketed in snow when we woke, but not enough snow to cancel the next leg of our journey from Namche to Tengboche. We decided to leave a little later than originally planned, to give the snow some time to melt. Nima also got a call from Chindi in Kathmandu saying that Chindi’s mother (Nima's mother-in-law) was hitching a ride to Namche on a helicopter that was heading in to pick up an ill trekker. Nima's 73-year-old mother-in-law had been in Kathmandu for four months or so recuperating from illness and was ready to come back to her home in Namche. After breakfast, we hiked up to the helipad on the far side of town arriving just in time to watch the helicopter soar in through the jagged mountains and land in Namche. We greeted Nima's mother-in-law and walked with her down to the Shangri-La.

I'd be concerned too if I was sandwiched between two giants.

Finally, around 10:30 we donned our daypacks and headed out of town. The hike from Namche to Tengboche started off very slippery and wet due to the snow. We had to watch our steps carefully so as not to slip and fall off the trail.

Spinning the prayer wheels before heading off on our journey

Yaks... a cute hazard on the trail

Fried noodle lunch break

The first few hours were relatively easy with some downhill sections and some flat portions, hugging the mountain. Walking along the cliff trail gave us a sensation of flying through the Himalayas, as the hillside plummeted several thousand feet down to the river below. After lunch, we were faced with a two-hour climb right up a mountainside to Tengboche. It was intense for all of us, but fortunately for me, I had my secret weapon--the iPod. Once again Nepali pop music powered me up the trail. I made it to Tengboche in good time and waited for Gideon and Nima to arrive before heading to the Tengboche Guest House.

We made it to Tengboche!

Nima and the lodge keeper, another friend

Tengboche and the Tengboche monastery

We were completely worn out and perhaps a bit dehydrated. We gulped down some tea and noodle soup before heading to our rooms for a hard nap.

It was important to wake up for some dinner to avoid altitude sickness, so we dragged our tired bodies out of our snuggly sleeping bags and hobbled into the restaurant for a meal. A large trekking group of about twenty people were already hanging out playing games after dinner. Walking into an enclosed space chock-full of stinky, dirty trekkers was an assault to my delicate sensibilities, to put it mildly. I lost my appetite, but forced myself to eat some soup and momos. Gideon was fortunate enough to have a stuffed nosed, so he was not so offended by our odiferous company.

With our eyelids heavy, we wandered to our cold little room to rest up for tomorrow's trek. It was a cold night, indeed, out on top of this windy mountaintop, but sleep came quickly.

Day 3--Namche Bazar

2010-03-14T06:46:00.000-07:00

The view of Namche Bazar and Nupla and Kongde peaks from our bedroom window, all for $3 a night!

Today was a day of acclimatizing and rest in Namche Bazar, not that we lounged around all day. In the morning we hiked to a visitor center on the top of the hill above Namche where we took in an astounding 360-degree view of the Himalayas. Mt. Everest and Lhotse loomed in the distance snagging storm clouds in the vicinity. The visitor center had an impressive display featuring the Everest region and the Sherpa people. Being a museum junkie, I enjoyed exploring the exhibits. The Sherpa mannequins were particularly eye-catching.

From the visitor center we stopped at a hotel complex called Sherwi Khangba, housing a lodge, restaurant, campground, Buddhist stupa, a recreated traditional Sherpa home, and a photo collection. Walking into the Sherpa home was like stepping back in time. It reminded me of Old Bedford Village, a collection of colonial homes in Western Pennsylvania I used to visit with my family.

Traditional Sherpa home at Sherwi Khangba cultural museum

Inside the home... Nima has a thing for touching museum artifacts

Then he makes me do it...

Again and again.

Every family has a sacred room like this in their home

On our way out, past the drying yak dung

Next we went into the lodge to see the photo gallery. The highlight of the photo collection was the Sherpa wall of fame, featuring a comprehensive collection of photos of Sherpas who had summitted Mt. Everest since the first summit by Tenzing Norgay and Sir Edmund Hillary in 1953. Nima pointed out a great number of friends and acquaintances on the wall, including Pasang Temba, whom I recognized as a friend we had met on the first day of the trek.

We had tea with this guy yesterday!

The big cheese Sherpas, with Tenzing Norgay Sherpa the biggest cheese of them all!

On our way back to town we stopped to visit the village school, which was a total treat for me. We had run into one of the teachers earlier in the day, and being a friend of Nima’s, she had invited us to stop by. It is a small but well-kept campus with possibly the best mountain view on earth. Though we tried to be unobtrusive, the younger children were excited to see visitors. My little pal Tsering, who drew my portrait last night, was especially tickled to see us.

Namche School

Interesting tidbit: What we call the star of David is a symbol for education in Nepal. Additionally, what we recognize as the swastika is a symbol of good luck here. I sure do like that better.

Tsering Wangyal spots us...

And alerts his friends!

We ran into Ang Chhiki bringing lunch to her son, Tsering Phinjo

Another highlight of the day was taking a hot shower, the first since Kathmandu. Ahh… to be fresh and clean—what a luxury!

At lunch we met many more friends of Nima, including the mother and mother-in-law of Jen, a friend from Meritage. In addition to milk tea, she brought bottles of wine, scotch, and soda, as well as dozens of eggs as a welcome gift for Nima. Gideon and I got a kick out of the forceful hospitality around here. It smacks of American “Southern Hospitality”—eat, eat, eat, more, more, more!

Jen's mother-in-law

A friend of Nima & Mingma, and Jen's mother

Now it is time to be treated to another dinner, this time at Khumbu Lodge, the home of little Tsering, and his father Pemba, an old friend of Nima.

Day 2 The climb to Namche Bazar

2010-03-14T06:44:00.000-07:00

The first surprise of the day was the startling view outside our room. When we had arrived to the guesthouse last night, the clouds had already rolled in for the evening. We had no idea how high the mountains were just outside our window.

After dressing and packing our bags, we headed downstairs for a delicious breakfast of oat porridge (the best I've ever had), eggs and toast, as well as milk tea and coffee. A little carb-loading was necessary for the hike that awaited us today. One of the dangers of trekking at these altitudes is AMS, Acute Mountain Sickness, or altitude sickness. Gideon and I both have had bouts of altitude sickness in back the States, Gideon while in Yosemite, me in Colorado, and it is no fun. One way to avoid AMS is to drink lots of fluids and to eat a high-carbohydrate diet. No problem! Bring on the noodles, cookies, oatmeal, and granola bars!

Domai, sister of Mingma (Nima's wife)

After breakfast, we strapped on our daypacks and hit the trail. The first part of the hike led us through a few small villages and over more suspension bridges until we reached the entrance of Sagarmatha National Park. We showed our trekking permits and park entrance ticket, obtained back in Kathmandu with Chindi, and entered the park. The most challenging stretch of trail awaited. Up, up, up we went, gaining nearly 2300 feet in altitude, taking us to 11,200 feet. The hike was intense, but the sky was blue and the sun was warm. It was perfect hiking weather.

This is one of Gideon's famous timed photographs where he sets the camera on a rock, pushes the delayed-release shutter, and hurtles over rocks and boulders to get into the photo. Unfortunately, this time he tripped on a rock, twisting his ankle, thus the pained expression. (Click to make it larger.)

Ahh, that's a bit better.

Sagarmatha National Park entrance gate

It was around this time that Nima called to me. "Emily, I have some music for you to listen to," he explained. I thought maybe he had a sudden urge to serenade me. I wasn't going to argue—he sings and whistles all the time. I was a bit surprised when Nima got out his iPhone. He set it to shuffle and handed me the headphones. Nepali pop music became my hiking companion for the rest of the trek. And what an amazing difference it made for me. The rhythm of the music allowed me to find a rhythm in my steps and in my breathing. Before long I was in a Nepali hiking trance, trekking steadily like yak up the steep, rocky trail. Now, I have to admit, my daypack was very light today, as Nima had insisted on carrying the laptop, the heaviest part of my load, as well as a few water bottles. I had to remind myself of this when I'd take breaks and wait for Gideon and Nima to catch up.

Just around the time we needed a pick-me-up, we were greeted by Chindi's fifteen-year-old godson, Buddha Raj. He was sent to meet us along the trail by Chindi's wife. He brought a backpack of cold Cokes, water, and cookies. Bearing treats like this, he was instantly my new best friend, even more so since he insisted on carrying my daypack for the remainder of the hike.

Nima and Buddha Raj

Around lunchtime, we decided to check in at Meritage. Nima got out his cell phone and called the restaurant back in Sonoma. "Hello, I'd like an order of pasta with prawns," he teased. We passed around the phone and got to speak with Rosemary and Emily (MLP). What a fun treat! Even in this modern age of technology, we were impressed that we were able to chat with our folks back in California as if they were just a mile or so down the trail.

A bit further along the trail, we got our first glimpse of Mt. Everest off in the distance. It was excellent to know that we were peeking through the valley at the top of the world, but it was a bit surprising how relatively small it looked from this vantage point compared to the peaks looming so high right overhead. Another thirty minutes up the trail, we got a better view of Everest (a.k.a. Chumalungma—Sherpa for Mother Earth), but it was still far away. It made me realize that we have a lot of trekking ahead of us...

Our first glimpse of the highest peak in the world, from a distance

Around two in the afternoon, we arrived in Namche Bazar, the largest Sherpa village along the trail. It's a relatively wealthy mountain town catering to the trekkers with many restaurants and lodges. The buildings are set in a horseshoe shape on terraced steps lining the mountainside. Just beyond the town the earth drops off a few thousand feet to the river gorge below. On the other side of the gorge sheer cliffs rise all the way to Khongde Peak.

The Shangri La Guest House and Restaurant

We made our way to Shangri La Guest House and Restaurant, Chindi and his wife Chhiki’s cozy lodge. We were welcomed with a hearty lunch of noodle soup, followed by yak steak, rice, fresh greens, and crunchy little dried minnows. I was so hungry that I ate up without a thought to the dozens of fish eyes staring at me.
After our meal, Gideon and I headed to our room for a nap. I guess the hike had tuckered us out; we conked out for an hour and a half. Buddha Raj came to check our pulses (just kidding) and to tell us to meet Nima for a walk. We were surprised that during our nap the clouds had rolled in and completely obscured the mountain views.

We spent the next few hours wandering through the town, heading to the higher terraces to gain a bit more altitude before coming back down to for the night. This is another important preventative measure against altitude sickness. In our wanderings we encountered many more Nima fans, including the mayor of the town. We took tea at Khumbu Lodge with friends of Nima. I became fast friends with the four-year-old son of Pemba, the owner of the lodge. It took a good fifteen minutes for me to get the little guy's name, but eventually I was able to pronounce Tsering Wengyal Sherpa to his satisfaction. As my reward, he drew my portrait.

Click on the photo to enlarge. Can you see my ponytail, earrings, and headband in the photo? How about my fluffy torso and my strong hiking legs? Nice!

After our visit at Khumbu, we made our way back through some light hail to the Shangri-La for dinner. More noodles for me, followed by tea, tea, and more tea.

And now my bed calls. Goodnight!

Day 1 From Lukla to Chhumowa

2010-03-14T06:41:00.000-07:00

Today started very early with the alarm clock ringing at 4:30. Shree arrived on his motorcycle a moment later and within fifteen minutes we were on our way to pick up Nima. Once Nima was ready, we headed off to the Kathmandu airport to catch our 6:15 flight to Lukla, the starting point of our Himalayan trek.

We arrived at the airport before the doors were unlocked and the lights were turned on. Within minutes a long queue of trekkers had gathered, anxious to board their planes to start their journeys. One young woman was getting rather nervous that the airport was not yet open. A few experienced trekkers firmly reminded her that we were in Nepal, not the States... the airport would open when it was good and ready, and the planes would leave when they wanted to, not when they were scheduled to leave. "Let it go," they encouraged.

Before long, we boarded our Tara Air flight. The plane, a twin otter (a small two engine plane), held two pilots, one flight attendant, and eighteen passengers. It was a bit like flying in a noisy sardine can. Prior to take off, the flight attendant passed out hard candy and cotton. I couldn't quite understand the cotton at first. Fortunately, I realized it was to stuff in my ears to muffle the sound and grabbed a small handful.

I was expecting to be pretty wound up about the flight. I had made the mistake of Googling Lukla airport and watched some scary youtube videos of flights flying in and out of this tiny airport tucked into the high mountains of the Himalayas. As it turned out, the flight was smooth and fast. I really didn't have enough time to get all worked up. Additionally, I was so distracted by my first glimpse of the mighty Himalayas that I forgot to be afraid.

The landing was smooth and impressive on the ridiculously short runway. As we stepped off the plane, my first observation was that it was really cold! I had definitely gotten used to the warm spring temperatures in Kathmandu. After watching a few planes land and take off, we collected our bags and wandered into the village of Lukla. Immediately Nima was greeting friends and family members. We've come to the conclusion that Nima is a cousin of nearly half the population of Nepal.

Temba's in-laws at Namaste Lodge, Lukla

We enjoyed Nepali milk tea (like Chai) and a hearty breakfast of toast and eggs at the restaurant of our Sonoma friend Temba's father-in-law. With our bellies full, we head off on day one of our trek. Fortunately our giant duffle bags were whisked away by a porter. Ten dollars a day is money well spent to have a much lighter load for the next few weeks. Mingma, our porter is a handsome, quiet twenty-year old. And he must be made of steel to have the strength to carry all of our bags through the terrain ahead. We are more than happy to support him financially in exchange for his physical support.

It took a while to get out of Lukla... there were many more folks who were excited to see Nima. One friend had already prepared another meal for us. We felt bad to turn it down, but we were totally full from our breakfast finished only moments earlier.

So, how can I put into words the grandeur of our hike today? As we walked from village to village, following the path of the bluest river I've ever seen, I found myself shaking my head in pure awe. How did I get so lucky to be wandering through this Shangri-La? The scenery, the villages, the beautiful Nepali people would have been far more than I could have hoped for today. But to be with Nima, our friend, and to share the joy of him reconnecting with old friends and so many family members added a depth to this experience that I had not expected. We must have had a dozen cups of tea today with Nima's people along the trail, which makes Gideon and me very happy, the tea-aholics that we have become.

We had a good many laughs at the number of people who had met or had heard stories of Rosemary (my sister, also known as Polly). Nima would greet a friend or family member, converse for a moment, introducing Gideon and me. He'd explain that I was Rosemary's sister and inevitably there would be laughs of recognition, nodding of heads, and "Ahh! Rosemary!" followed by a litany of Nepali recollections of the infamous Rosemary.

After a few hours of walking, we stopped for lunch in the town of Phakding. Of course, we ate at a restaurant, Tashi Taki, belonging to dear old friends of Nima. Across the street from Tashi Taki, is the Everest Guest House, the lodge and restaurant once run by Nima and his wife, Mingma. That was a treat to see. The location was divine and I got the feeling that Nima enjoyed his time there very much.

We continued along the path for another few hours, sharing the trail with countless porters carrying startlingly heavy loads to towns up the way. There were also a fair number of foreign trekkers, many young children walking home from school, and many Zopyak, yak-like animals that aren't exactly yaks (I don't quite understand the distinction yet).

We crossed a number of cable suspension bridges, some more than 150 meters long. I was tempted to freak out on the first one as it bounced under my feet and swayed in the wind. I could see right through the bottom of the bridge to the raging blue river below. I quickly talked myself out of a breakdown and concentrated on walking straight ahead with a calm smile on my face. That technique did the trick and served me well on the rest of the bridges we encountered throughout the day.

Around four in the afternoon, we arrived Chhumowa (Chew-mo), our destination for the night. Here we were welcomed warmly by Nima's sister-in-law, Domai (Domay) and her fluffy white dog, Sweetie.

We are staying at her lodge for the night and are now chowing down on fried noodles and warming ourselves by the wood stove. I know we will sleep hard tonight... we better; our hike tomorrow will take us up a lot higher than our hike today.

Now, I'll sign off, enjoy my noodles and chat with the other guests who have just stumbled into the lodge.

A trekking we will go!

2010-03-11T08:17:00.000-08:00

We're packed up and ready to head out on our two-week trek to Mt. Everest base camp. I'm about to head to bed; wake up call is at 4:35am in order to catch our early-morning flight to Lukla. The plan is to walk from Lukla to Phakding or a bit farther tomorrow. We'll stay at an inn owned by one of Nima's many cousins. The following day we walk to Namche Bazar, the largest little town along the trail. I am lugging our laptop along and I will be blogging my way to base camp and back. I'll upload entries as often as I am able to depending on Internet access, electricity availablity, etc. Until then, namaste!

Nima's here!

2010-03-11T01:17:00.000-08:00

Our good friend and soon-to-be trekking guide, Nima, has arrived safely to Kathmandu from Sonoma. His plane got in yesterday afternoon and we paid him a visit at his home soon thereafter. The poor guy had been traveling for nearly two days and was very tired, but he had much to do. He had brought with him four giant duffel bags full of packages for family and friends in Kathmandu from Nepali friends in Sonoma. He had to arrange pick-ups for all of the goodies. I told him it was a good thing that he had tasks to occupy him for the afternoon so he wouldn't fall asleep too early and exacerbate the jet lag.

It was quite surreal to see Nima, our Sonoma pal here in Kathmandu. I'm sure it was even stranger for him to see his American friends here. Between phone calls, we shared tea followed by noodle soup.

"Would you like some chili with your soup?" Nima asked.
"None for me, thanks," I said. I don't need to go rocking my gastrointestinal boat just before a two-week trek.
"Bring it on," Gideon said.
I was expecting Nima and Gideon to sprinkle a few dried chili flakes on their soup; so I was surprised when a plate of actual hot peppers were brought to the table. Gideon nibbled a bit off the end of one. "It's not hot at all. In fact, it's kind of sweet," he said. So I grabbed a pepper and took a bite. Oh. My. Goodness. Gideon was very much mistaken. Apparently, he did not get any of the seeds on his bite. I most certainly did. My eyes welled up with tears and my entire mouth and throat burned relentlessly for ten minutes.
"Dang! What were you talking about?" I asked Gideon. "That's wicked hot stuff!"
"Hmm, maybe mine was just mild," he surmised.
"Take another bite. With seeds this time," I ordered. He did. I watched as Gideon's eyes reddened and teared up, and his face blushed with heat. He tried to feign indifference to the heat until he could no longer contain himself and had to let out a yelp. We both begged for a drink and greedily gulped down glasses of Fanta to cool our tongues.
Meanwhile, Nima munched away on his pepper, squinting his eyes and shaking his head, but seemed to enjoy the painful experience.

After our meal, we headed up to the roof of Nima's house to take in the view. While we were hanging out, Nima's younger brother, whom he had not seen in over ten years, arrived to greet him. As is customary in Nepal, Nima was draped with a colorful scarf, as were we, his guests. It was such a welcoming gesture; perhaps I'll take that custom home with me and warmly welcome my visitors with a scarf.

Today I met up with Nima again, leaving Gideon at home to work on a patent project. Nima and I had a good time wandering the busy streets of Thamel, the touristy business district that once, and still does to some extent, attract all sorts of Western hippies. Nima bought Gideon and me some mittens for the trek, as well as Nepali tea at a friend's restaurant, and lunch at yet another restaurant. I had to let him pay for everything because I left all my money zipped in the pockets of the pants I'd worn yesterday. I guess I've always been a bit irresponsible about money... Thanks Nima--I'll pay you back!

One of the highlights of my afternoon with Nima was seeing how many friends he ran into as we wandered about. He was like the popular prodigal son. I had to laugh when he waved at an old friend zooming down the narrow street on his motorcycle. "How on earth did you recognize him?" I asked Nima. You could barely see an inch of the man's face; he wore a helmet, sunglasses and a facemask. Nima somehow spotted him and the two of them had a few moments to catch up.

At one point Nima explained to me that Nepalis could tell that he was a Nepali visiting from America. "How can they tell?" I asked.
"Oh, probably by the way I speak," Nima explained. This flummoxed me. Nima is Nepali and he speaks Nepalese. It became clear to me what he meant while he conversed over lunch with Chindi, Nima's brother-in-law, and a good friend of Nima's family, a doctor, who's name I have forgotten at the moment. I noticed that Nima's Nepalese is sprinkled with random English words. He sounds a bit like this: Blah blah blah summertime blah blah blah blah my restaurant blah blah Rosemary blah blah blah sister blah blah. I pointed out this observation to Nima and he laughingly agreed.

After a delicious lunch, Shree picked me up and took me home to pack up for the trek. We leave at 5:30 tomorrow morning and I’m ready!

A soundscape of Dhumbhari Chowk—Our neighborhood

2010-03-10T01:38:00.000-08:00

Gideon and I are taking it easy today. No major excursions, beside a short walk through the neighborhood. As I sit in the family room with the doors open to the outside, preparing to catch up on the blog, it strikes me how raucous this little corner of Kathmandu really is.

Here’s what is ringing in my ears at this moment.
·    A crow hanging out in a tree in the yard, cawing like there’s no tomorrow, as well as countless other birds chirping in the background
·    Car horns and motorcycle horns beeping just to let everyone know, “I’m coming around the corner, down the street, past your house, to my gate. Open up!”
·    The back-up electrical generator buzzing away, providing electricity to the house while the load-shedding black out of the afternoon is in effect
·    A plane overhead, nearing the airport
·    A man wandering down the street yelling; it seems he is selling brooms and baskets loaded up on his bicycle
·    Slippers tapping against the hardwood floor as Sunita and Bama, the new housekeeper, bustle around the house
·    Barking, howling, growling, yipping dogs throughout the neighborhood
·    A tractor of some sort rumbling down the street
·    Feng Shui, one of the four family cats, purring contentedly on the couch next to me
·    Quiet Nepali conversation between Sunita and Bama
·    The clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen below... dinner is in the making
·    A car engine revving… who knows why?
·    Someone yelling from the construction site next door… it doesn’t sound good
·    The sound of children—school’s out
·    Hammering on a wall somewhere in the house
·    The beep of the family car (I can recognize it now)… Ethan’s home from school! Everyone get ready!
·    Gertie, the family dog, whining with excitement, being shooed out the door by Sunita
·    Metal dragging and clanking somewhere nearby… what is that? Ah, that’s actually the old school push lawn mower busy in the yard below. It seems Ethan has taken over for Keshav (Kay-sab), the gardener. A fine after-school activity, if you ask me.

Beautiful Bodhnath

2010-03-09T09:02:00.000-08:00

Ahh, Bodhnath. This Buddhist stupa is perhaps my new favorite spot in Kathmandu. I will remember this enormous circular plaza as a rainbow of radiant colors. When we arrived to Bodhnath on Sunday afternoon, the sky was a cloudless, crisp blue, enhancing the multicolored stupa even more. The bright white dome of the stupa was set like an overturned rice bowl in the center of the plaza. Above it, the thirteen golden layers of the stupa extended skyward. Rainbow colored prayer flags stretched out in all directions from the top of the golden spire, adding to the festive feel. All around the base, pilgrims circulated beneath the eyes of the Buddha, spinning the prayer wheels as they went along. All sorts of shops lined the circle, offering everything from postcards and souvenirs to butter lamps, ceremonial horns, and singing meditation bowls.

The village of Boudha is considered “Little Tibet” here in Kathmandu. The area is inhabited mainly by Tibetan refugees who fled their country in 1959, when the Chinese took over. The dress and look of the Tibetan people is unique, even to a Westerner.

While we were exploring the plaza, we witnessed some sort of Nepali newscast featuring what I can only assume were local beauty queens. I guess that sort of thing is universal—everyone loves a pretty face.

After circumnavigating the stupa, stopping to play with the pigeons and shop, we were able to climb up to the base of the whitewashed dome for a great view of the plaza below and the stupa above. There’s nothing quite like those big Buddha eyes watching you from all directions. This is a place I hope to visit again before it’s time to go.

Pashupatinath--A lesson in life and death

2010-03-08T09:53:00.000-08:00

Our first stop on Sunday was the Hindu temple and grounds along the holy Bagmati River. Pashupatinath is where the dead are brought for cremation within 24 hours of death. Bodies are brought to the cremation ghats, stone platforms along the river, and are placed atop pylons of wood. After a ceremony with family members, the recently deceased are cremated right there along the riverbank. After cremation, the ashes are swept into the river below.

Ethan taking it all in... a big task for a six year old

The Bagmati River is startlingly polluted, which really confounds me. I can’t understand how such a holy place can be so very neglected in this way. Like the Ganges River in India, some people partake in ritual cleansing in the river, particularly the holy men and women, the Sadhus, who live as hermits in the surrounding caves. No matter how much I think about this, I cannot understand how it can be this way.

The Holy Sadhus

Tika powders used in Hindu blessings

I have never witnessed death in this way. To watch the cremation of bodies up and down the river, to breath in the thick smoke that hangs in the air, to watch the constant swirl of activity in this place was so unlike any funeral I’ve ever attended in America. At first I felt shocked, saddened, awkward, even sickened by the sights around me. It all seemed so matter-of-fact: a loved one dies; they are immediately brought to the river in the company of their family and cremated in front of everyone and anyone to see. The ashes are brushed into the river and everyone moves along. It didn’t seem right to me at first. Shouldn’t death be more tragic? The arrangements more planned out somehow? That’s not how it is here.

I’ve slowly come to appreciate what I witnessed at Pashupatinath. Here in Nepal, and along the Bagmati River, death is a part of life. It is not a tragic, scary mystery, as it often seems to be in America. It is another step in the circle of life. In fact, I recognize this acceptance of death all around me in this city. Life is absolutely at risk just walking or driving around here, but people are out and about, living their life, and are not constantly worrying about the threat of death. In America, we have so many laws, rules, and regulations designed to keep us safe and to keep death as far away as possible. Here death is all around, and in my opinion, it seems everyone here knows it and lives alongside it without fear. It’s a relatively new idea for me, but I’m starting to see how refreshing it can be to set fear aside and just live the life I’m given.

The home for the elderly, situated right next to the Bagmati River and Pashupatinath.

Patiently awaiting death...

Patan Durbar Square

2010-03-08T06:45:00.000-08:00

Saturday afternoon was spent exploring the Durbar Square of Patan with Mike, Amy and Ethan. Although it’s situated in the southern Kathmandu metropolitan area, Patan used to be its own fiercely independent city-state. The Durbar Square is a stunning collection of Newari temples and palaces built in the 14th through 18th centuries. Understandably, it is a protected UNESCO World Heritage site. Although most of the temples are Hindu in nature, Buddhist stupas abound, as is true with many sights in Nepal.

When Shree dropped us off at the Durbar Square, my jaw literally dropped. I was struck dumb by the sheer grandeur of the scene before me. Fortunately, no one was in a hurry and we spent the next few hours leisurely wandering through the square and on through the narrow streets and alleyways of the neighborhoods north of the square.

Playing slinky on the temple steps

Naughty Nepal... some VERY interesting details in this carving... hmmm

An unusual site...an unsmiling Nepali

Fetching the water at the Durbar fountain

Lots going on in this family photo...

We also had some time to bargain for souvenirs. I had become quite skillful at bargaining while we were in China a few years back, so I was ready to try my hand at it again. I spotted a bright blue mask of Ganesha, the Hindu god of success resembling an elephant. There is no accounting for taste, and I was inexplicably drawn to it. A bargaining session ensued between the salesman and me. I was able to work the price down from 2500 rupees ($33) to 500 rupees ($7). It took time, as all serious bargaining does, and I was quite pleased with myself in the end. “You very clever,” the salesman told me. That’s right…

When I caught up with the group, I showed them my hard-earned prize. It was hailed with peals of laughter. Mike asked how much I paid for it and I told him 500 rupees.
“What? Five hundred rupees?!?!” he laughed in utter exasperation.
“Yes. How much would you have paid for it?” I asked, as my ego starting to deflate.
“No more than 100 rupees, if I ever wanted a tacky blue elephant head to add to my collection.”
Well, I did not let Mike’s teasing get me down; I liked my souvenir. But I did realize that I had been had. My bargaining skills need some serious brushing up, apparently. There will be time for that, no doubt.

Ganesha covered with tika powder

"Peace! Now give us some rupees!"

Ethan making more doggy friends

Hindu shrines can be found in the strangest places

Patan Durbar Square parking lot

Now this is what is meant by a hole-in-the-wall restaurant

One skinny house

A meeting of the minds

Ethan and the lion, a powerful combination

Kopan Monastery and Babur Mahal Revisted

2010-03-07T08:25:00.000-08:00

This weekend has been absolutely jam-packed with unforgettable sightseeing with Mike, Amy, and Ethan. I was so exhausted last night after a long day of sensory overload that I could not write a blog entry. I love writing this blog, but each entry takes at least an hour to prepare, including the writing, editing, and photo editing. So, please forgive me for slacking off last night. Fortunately, I have tonight and tomorrow morning to get caught up. And man, oh man, do I have some amazing things to share with you.

On Saturday morning, Shree, the family driver, drove Amy, Ethan, Gideon, and me through the winding back streets of Kathmandu, up into the hills to Kopan Monastery. This Buddhist monastery is perched on a high hilltop, effectively distancing it from the hustle and bustle of the crowded city below. It is peaceful and breezy, an ideal place for reflection and meditation. The monastery is home to Buddhist monks ranging in age from six or seven years old to eighty or more years old. It also serves as a Buddhist retreat center for visitors from around the globe.

The four of us had a very peaceful morning exploring the grounds of the monastery, admiring the hilltop views of the city, watching the monkeys and birds, reading the inspiring quotes posted on the walls, and observing the antics of the playful young monks.

From Kopan, we made our way back to town and met up with Mike at the U.S. embassy club and commissary. After some American-style grocery shopping, we all headed to one of the family’s favorite lunch spots, Che Caroline, a French restaurant located in Babur Mahal Revisted.

Babur Mahal Revisted is a fabulously restored series of outbuildings that once served the Rana Palace (the Ranas ruled Nepal from 1846 to 1951). It’s a ritzy little respite from the ruckus that is Kathmandu. Wandering through the narrow walkways and cozy courtyards transported me back to the time of Casablanca and old school expat society life. It was a surreal spot, so different from the Kathmandu that I’ve gotten a bit used to this past week.

We enjoyed an excellent lunch before heading over to Patan Durbar Square… coming up next.

Searching for Chindi in Kathmandu

2010-03-07T07:30:00.001-08:00

In preparation for our upcoming trek, Nima, our Sherpa friend from Sonoma and our trek leader, asked us to meet up with his brother-in-law, Chindi, who lives in Kathmandu. Chindi is helping to make the trekking arrangements, including reserving our flights to Lukla and helping to secure our trekking permits.

Before we left California, Nima gave us Chindi’s cell phone number and the general location of his home. Unlike Western cities, Kathmandu does not utilize addresses. Don’t even ask me how this works. I have no idea how people get mail, find one another, or locate businesses. It’s just the way it is and it seems to work for the folks in Kathmandu, but it’s got me totally flummoxed. According to Nima, Chindi lives in the Naxal neighborhood in Kathmandu, right by Mike’s Breakfast, a popular Western-style restaurant.

I’ve been putting off calling Chindi, mainly because I was feeling shy about cold-calling a stranger in Kathmandu. I wasn’t certain if he spoke English all that well, and I felt nervous about calling him. But today I plucked up my courage and called his cell phone number. Here’s how the conversation went:

Me: Hello, may I speak to Chindi Purpa Sherpa?
Someone: Hello? Hello?
Me: Hello?
Someone: Hello? Hello? Hello?
Me: Hello! Chindi?
Someone: Hello? Hello?
Me (finally realizing the phone was being passed around to someone who spoke English): Yes, hello! Is Chindi there?
Someone: No, no, he is not here.
Me: Is this Chindi’s cell phone?
Someone: Yes. He forgot to take it with him today.
Me: Oh, well, can you tell him Nima’s friend Emily called?
Someone: Yes, yes.
Me: And that I’d like to meet with him tomorrow at Mike’s Breakfast.
Someone: Yes, yes.
Me: At 9 o’clock in the morning.
Someone: Yes, yes.
Me (starting to doubt that yes really indicated complete understanding of my message): When is Chindi coming home today?
Someone: Oh, maybe 3 o’clock.
Me: Okay, I’ll call him back. Thanks. Goodbye!
Someone: Yes, yes. Goodbye!

Later in the afternoon, I called Chindi back a number of times but was unable to get through to him.

While we were out and about, Gideon and I decided to check out Mike’s Breakfast (which serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner, by the way). After a few drinks and French fries, we decided to try to find Chindi. He lived right by Mike’s Breakfast, right? How hard could it be? We started by asking the staff at Mike’s Breakfast if they knew Chindi Purpa Sherpa who lives nearby. No one recognized his name and I wondered if we were being silly to even ask, recalling folks who upon finding out I went to Virginia Tech would ask, “Did you know so-and-so? I think they went to Tech when you went there.” I would always scoff at the question, wanting to point out the fact that there were about 26,000 other students at Virginia Tech at the time I was there. The chances of me knowing your buddy are ridiculously slim.

But I digress…

So, we asked folks at Mike’s if they knew Chindi. No one did, but one man said, “Oh, well, some Sherpas live around the corner there.” He knew this only because there were prayer flags on the roofs of some of the home—a sign that Sherpa people lived within. The man pointed the way and we headed down the street.

We spotted a building with prayer flags on the roof and I asked some folks hanging out in a small Internet café on the ground floor if they knew Chindi Purpa Sherpa. They kind of laughed and said no. We walked to another building topped with prayer flags, and again, I asked a man if he knew Chindi Purpa Sherpa. I had very little hope that he would, but he surprised me by saying, “Chindi? Yes, he lives upstairs here.” Yes!!! He called up to Chindi, and in a few moments, Chindi came down to greet us. Gideon and I could not believe we had actually tracked down this complete stranger in the uber-crowded city of Kathmandu. Chindi couldn’t believe we had found him either. Perhaps Gideon and I should become private investigators or bounty hunters when we come home.

Chindi invited us up to his family’s flat for tea. We met his beautiful mother, who couldn’t figure out what in the world two Americans were doing in her dining room. We ended up having a lovely visit with Chindi (who spoke excellent English, by the way), discussing all matter of things including his family, trekking, Nepal, Tibet, China, and more. And we made arrangements to meet on Tuesday to visit the Office of Tourism with him to purchase our trekking permits.

In a few days, we’ll see if Nima is impressed with our trekking abilities; but I’m certain when he hears this story, he’ll be impressed with our tracking abilities.

A day with tour guide Ethan

2010-03-05T03:24:00.000-08:00

Today was Ethan's day to show us his two favorite places in Kathmandu--the zoo, and the bookstore. I was thrilled at this plan because those are always two of my favorite places to visit in any city. Of course, I knew the zoo would be a very different experience than I was used to, and indeed it was. Here is the sign at the entrance of the zoo, followed by its English translation.

Unlike an American zoo, the only thing separating you from most of the animals is a chain-link face. If you were foolish enough to stick you hands through the chain, you would most likely suffer a fate like the poor boy in the warning sign above. Take a look at the photo below. It's kind of difficult to tell, but the leopard we were observing was no more than an arm's length away from us. It was quite agitated at the moment as well due to the Siamang monkeys howling in the cage next door.

The tigers were by far the largest tigers Gideon and I had ever seen. They were in a sunken pit which made me feel a little better about watching them from such close range.

Kathmandu is a highly polluted place, and the zoo was no different. However, there was evidence of an environmental initiative to clean up the zoo and care for the animals' environments. Besides the new ban on plastic bags in the zoo, there were also many signs depicting everyday ways to conserve water.

Here were some other signs that captured the feeling of the Kathmandu zoo.

The hippos are always a favorite for us... there's something about them that remind us of Josie, our Boxer. Maybe it's the eyes, or that big, bulbous snout.

As with most zoos on a school day, it was packed with visiting school groups. In Kathmandu, most children wear uniforms. Other than that, there's very little difference between school kids here and school kids in the states, especially concerning the thrill of being on a field trip for the day.

The highlight of our visit to the zoo was meeting the Asian elephant who was out for her morning walk. Ethan and I handed her a few rupees for the opportunity to pet her rough trunk. She deftly accepted our offering with the finger-like end of her trunk. After visiting with the crowd, the elephant wandered over to the lake in the middle of the zoo for her bath and play time. She had a ball splashing around in the water and finding things to play with and balance on her head. It was clear that this was her time to enjoy herself after performing for the crowds on land.

Playing hide and seek with the kids

One other thing caught my eye at the zoo. There was a rickety old collection of amusement rides for kids. They didn't seem to be in working order, but I have a feeling they were. Fortunately, Ethan didn't seem too interested in trying them out. Good choice.

The Kathmandu zoo was an experience that reflected my take on Kathmandu perfectly. The creatures of the zoo, like the people of Kathmandu are absolutely beautiful. The environment was run-down, dirty, and not adequate for the animals, like the city of Kathmandu. But all in all, it was a most wonderful experience, absolutely unique and unforgettable, just like this city.

Our next stop on the Ethan highlight tour of the 'Du was Pilgrims books, the Kathmandu equivalent to Borders. Pilgrims was a multi-level collection of books and gifts. It was rather dark inside, like a moody old bookshop, due to the afternoon power-outage. My favorite section was the self-help section. So many helpful titles... I could have spent the entire afternoon there.

Thanks for a great tour Ethan. I think you have a future in the tourist industry, and that's coming from someone who knows!

My kind of doctor visit

2010-03-04T18:13:00.000-08:00

I knew it was going to happen. I was long overdue for a cold, and there’s nothing like 32 hours of traveling, plus highly polluted city air to push my immune system over the edge. A headache, congested sinuses, and an overall drained achy feel had me stuck at home all day yesterday. But today I decided to take action against this assault to my system.

At the suggestion (via Facebook) of Aunt Debbie, Amy’s mother, I decided to visit a local Ayurvedic doctor here in Kathmandu. Aunt Debbie made a habit of visiting the Ayurvedic healing center when she visited back in the fall. My understanding was that the treatment would involve a healing full-body massage, and would cost what I would normally hand over for a co-pay for a doctor visit in the U.S. (approximately $20-$30). And it would very likely speed up my recovery from my cold.

Off I went to the Ayurveda Health Home. After a brief consultation with Dr.Rishi Ram Koirala, it was decided that I would benefit from a 90-minute full-body healing massage, followed by a 30-minute facial massage, supplemented by an herbal steam treatment of my face. I couldn’t agree more.

My therapist, Pernilla, spent over two hours massaging my aching body, stimulating various pressure points and effectively unblocking my clogged up lymphatic system. My sinuses opened up and I started breathing through my nose again. My body was reduced to a pile of putty on the table.

After the treatment, Dr. Koirala met with me again to determine the next steps of treatment. He asked various questions about how I was feeling after the first treatment. I suppose the treatment mellowed my brain just as much as my body, because after a while, the doctor stopped asking questions and said, “You’re too relaxed to talk now. We’ll talk when you come back again.” I had to laugh when I reflected on how dopey I must have been during the conversation. But, not to worry, I told him; I will most definitely be back. I have found my doctor in Kathmandu!

Birthday time in Kathmandu

2010-03-04T18:06:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Ethan turned six years old. In his short time on the planet, Ethan has lived in Maryland, India, and now, Nepal. He is a special little guy and he is living the kind of adventurous life most folks only dream of.

Unfortunately, Ethan’s big day was slightly less than perfect because he too came down with a bug. When he arrived home from school, he was so wiped out that he stayed in the car while Shree washed it. When he did come into the house, he went straight to his bed, barely noticing the birthday balloons and banners Neesha had decorated the house with.

Instead of going out to dinner at Ethan’s favorite restaurant in Kathmandu (a Japanese sushi place, I think), Mike picked up some Pizza Hut pizzas. We celebrated at home by candlelight since the power was cycling on and off throughout the city—a fact of life in Kathmandu. Fortunately, the children’s Motrin had kicked in a bit and Ethan was able to work up enough steam to eat dinner and birthday cake, as well as open his many gifts from his parents as well as those sent by adoring family members back in the States.

I wonder what Ethan will be like twenty years from now, after a childhood spent all over the world. He definitely channels Dennis the Menace right now, but I have a feeling he is going to grow up to be the kind of person who will make friends and feel at home anywhere.

Swayambhunath, A.K.A. The Monkey Temple

2010-03-03T03:58:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we made our first foray into the city to visit Swayambhunath, a Buddhist temple set high upon a hilltop in Kathmandu.

I was told there would be monkeys at the temple, but other than that, I had no idea what to expect. The first thing that caught my eye were three huge, golden Buddhist statues sitting at the base of the hill. As we wound our way up the hill, past shrines and prayerful pilgrims, we were struck by the sight of thousands of prayer flags waving in the blue sky above. The iconic Tibetan flags were strung from trees to temples to statues, filling the sky with a rainbow of colors.

Shree dropped us off about halfway up the hill and after paying 200 rupees a piece for admission (approximately $3.00 each), we started working our way towards the top of the hill. The hill is covered with every manner of statue, temple, stupa, and stone sculpture, each more colorful and detailed than the last. I was surprised to learn that the religious iconography on the hill is actually a combination of Buddhist and Hindu symbols, reflecting the diverse views of the people of Kathmandu.

As we neared the top, the place took on the feel of a hilltop village, complete with shops, schools, restaurants, and squares, not to mention many peddlers, visitors and pilgrims. We spent some time admiring the Nepali handiwork for sale along the way, taking mental notes of items we would barter for on a later occasion. At this point, I lost Gideon to a shopkeeper intent on showing him meditation bowls and Nepali rugs. I didn’t see where he went, so I continued on to the top of the hill.

Oh, what a sight. The crowning jewel of the temple complex is the Swayambhunath stupa, a gleaming white dome representing the earth, topped with a thirteen-tiered structure of golden rings, symbolizing mans’ ascension to nirvana. All around the base of the stupa are intricately carved prayer wheels that pilgrims spin on their way around the stupa. Fluttering all around are the colorful prayer flags carrying prayers to the heavens, through the incense-laden air.

And of course, there are the rhesus macaque monkeys climbing all over the stupa and wandering the grounds of the complex. Like most western tourists, Gideon and I were absolutely tickled by these lively creatures. We got a kick out of their brazen attitudes, munching on food offerings left by pilgrims, chasing each other across the prayer wheels, making themselves right at home in the nooks and crannies of the stupa and surrounding structures.

I wasn’t afraid of the monkeys, but after chatting with Sunita about our visit, I realized maybe I should have been. She told me the story of a visit to the Swayambhunath with a friend and her friend’s mother when she was a child. She had brought a handful of peas to feed the monkeys. When she tossed a pea at a monkey, it landed squarely in the monkey’s nose, becoming lodged in its nostril. Sunita was shocked, as was the monkey who let out a screech alerting the other monkeys of the assault. A troop of monkeys came running to her aid, and turned on the mother of Sunita’s friend, grabbing and tearing at her sari and scaring the dickens out of Sunita and her friend, not to mention the poor mother who the monkeys blamed for the incident.

Fortunately, we did not have any monkey incidents, but I will probably give them a wider berth on our next visit.

Welcome to the ‘Du!

2010-03-02T23:23:00.000-08:00

We’ve made it to Kathmandu and are starting to settle in at the Satya Mahal, our home away from home for the next few weeks.

One of the main reasons we decided to travel to Nepal was to visit Gideon’s cousin, Amy, her husband, Mike, and their six-year-old son, Ethan, who moved to Kathmandu in June of 2009. Mike is in the U.S. military and is serving as the Chief of the Office of Defense Cooperation at the U.S. Embassy in Nepal. Amy also works at the embassy as the American Citizens Services Assistant. Ethan is an active kindergartner (primary 1) at the International School in Kathmandu.

We are staying with the Rembolds at their home, Satya Mahal, a beautiful house with a large yard full of flowering trees. The yard is perfect for Ethan to run off excess energy, along with Gertie, the family dog who was adopted by the family a few years back when they were stationed in India. Ethan’s pet chickens, Chicklet and Chicky, enjoy getting some fresh air in the yard as well. The house is also shared with the four family cats, Taboo, Fangy, Henry, and Sebastian.

Satya Mahal

Ethan, Chicky and Chicklet

Gertie

Wrangling the wild things

Gideon seeking out the highest point of the house... some things never change.

The view from the roof gives a better feel for the neighborhood...

Today we met the staff of Satya Mahal. Neesha is the house cleaner and Ethan’s sitter. She is a beautiful, smiling woman who immediately made us feel welcomed. A real treat was meeting her six-month-old daughter, Sophie, who comes along with her to the house. It was love at first sight when I met the little darling this morning.

Sunita prepares the meals for the family. She is the embodiment of hospitality and warmth. Sunita treated Gideon and me to our first Nepali meal for lunch today consisting of daal bhaat, a lentil and bean soup served over rice, as well as a delicious mushroom curry. I have to admit, I feel a great sense of relief knowing that we will be eating well here in Nepal. (We had a hard time with the food when we were in China five years ago. We ended up eating MacDonald’s and KFC most days. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case in Nepal.)

We met Shree, the driver, last night at the airport but spent more time with him today as we drove around town. This man has skills, as does anyone who drives in Kathmandu. I expected the traffic situation to be a bit wild in Nepal, but, oh baby, I really was not prepared for the utter lack of traffic laws in this city. I will expand on this in a future post; but for now let me just say, I am oh-so-grateful for Shree. He knows how to navigate through the mad streets of Kathmandu and I am quite comfortable being his passenger.

(More photos of Mike and Amy and our new friends to come.)

And we’re off… for real this time

2010-03-01T22:46:00.000-08:00

After our false start the night before, Gideon and I were rearing to go by the time our actual departure time neared. We arrived at the airport, once again, thanks to our good friends, Brian and Katie. After saying goodbye, we worked our way to the Cathay Pacific check-in counter and handed over our passports. Here’s a brief synopsis of the conversation that followed:

Me: We’re heading to Kathmandu. Tonight.
Clerk: Yes, well, we’ve overbooked the flight tonight. We’d like to offer each of you $400 cash and an upgrade to business class if you change your flight to tomorrow night.
Me: Uh. Wow. Gideon? (A brief consultation ensued between the two of us concluding that that’s a lot of money and business class is worth even more than the cash.) Let’s do it.
Clerk: Okay, thank you very much. Please fill out these forms and we’ll get you rebooked. Oh, wait a minute; I’m not sure if there is flight to Kathmandu tomorrow.
Me: Yeah, let’s check on that.
Clerk: Oops. No flight to Kathmandu tomorrow. You’ll fly tonight.

And with that, he printed our boarding passes, took our luggage off our hands and we headed to the gate. Within the hour we were on the plane and on our way to the other side of the globe.

The first leg of the flight was a daunting fourteen-hour trip to Hong Kong. Thanks to my friend Emily’s last minute suggestion to take Valerian root to help me sleep on the plane, I did get at least eight hours of sleep. That made a huge difference in my ansty-ness level—that, and the On-Demand personal television set on the seatback in front of me. When we arrived in Hong Kong, I was stiff and sore, but not stir-crazy.

Our eleven-hour layover in Hong Kong turned out to be a very pleasant surprise. We decided to book a no-brainer bus tour of the city upon our arrival, just to pass the time and get out of the airport. It turned out to be a great decision—an inexpensive whirlwind tour of a beautiful city. Hong Kong has an undeniable San Francisco feel, with its bay and bridges, and the city areas felt a lot like San Francisco’s China town… go figure.

Willie, our tour guide, was a sweet older man who took great pride in sharing his city. We made stops at the Lantau bridge overlook followed by Hong Kong’s Avenue of the Stars. From there, we took an old school ferryboat across the bay and wound our way through the narrow streets to visit a lively Buddhist temple. Willie also took pride in his love for Elvis, singing a heartfelt rendition of “Love Me Tender” to his captive audience on the tour bus.

Me vs. Bruce Lee... now this could be interesting

Dried meat market

The enduring temple

Seeking blessings

Burning spirals of incense

Before heading back to the airport, we took in some Dim Sum and soup. Oh, did that bring back some memories from our time in Beijing! There’s nothing quite like a chicken foot in the soup to make an American stop gorging on lunch.

From there, it was back to the airport for leg two of the journey to Kathmandu. This time the flight was only about six hours, including a quick stop in Dhaka, Bangladesh.
Upon our arrival in Kathmandu, we found we were unprepared. We did not have our visas, but we were told to purchase them upon arrival. What we didn’t know was that we needed photos for the visas. Of course, there was an industrious Nepali available to take our photos for a small fee. Too bad that small fee meant we didn’t have enough U.S dollars for the visa fee. Fortunately, Gideon had a few Hong Kong dollars left over and was able to exchange them for Nepali rupees. Seventy-three U.S. dollars and 560 rupees later we were able to purchase our visas and head out to collect our luggage and find our ride.

Ahh, the sweet sound of a familiar voice shouting our names above the crowd! Gideon’s cousin Amy was there to meet us, along with her driver, Shree. Thank goodness the traveling was over and we could turn ourselves over to the care of others for a bit.

What we did instead of flying to Nepal

2010-02-27T19:03:00.000-08:00

By the time we woke this morning, the hilarity of the situation had completely worn off. Grumpy disappointment had set in. Not much talking was going on, and I’m sure Gideon and I both were mentally going over who was to blame for last night’s blunder. I quickly realized blame was futile—there was nothing to do but try to enjoy the day and try to be thankful that we weren’t folded like pretzels in airplane seats at the moment… that will come soon enough, and we’ll have endless hours to endure.

By late morning, we headed out for the day. Stop one was the coffee bar for me. I got my cup of Joe, and jumped back in the truck (Brian’s truck, which we were borrowing for the day), fully expecting Gideon to have come up with a plan and to whisk me off on a fun adventure. He obviously had expected that I would come up with an exciting idea of how to spend the day. We sat in the parking lot mumbling under our breaths at each other for a few minutes, trying to make the other do the thinking. Finally, we stopped our pouting long enough to decide to head to Muir Woods, just a twenty minute drive toward the coast. Off we went.

The grumpy twins stumbled about in the woods trying to resist the calming effect of Nature. I succumbed, and started enjoying myself, marveling at the mighty Coast Redwoods and the small delights of the forest as well.

Gideon took a bit longer to thaw out. A visit to Muir Beach did the trick for him; water tends to have that effect on him. We watched surfers riding the winter waves, the little kids dodging the flowing surf at their toes, and the dogs running willy-nilly on one of the only leash-free beaches in the area.

A ranger on the beach informed us that there was a tsunami watch in effect for the area due to the recent earthquake in Chile. That was enough motivation for me to beat it to the Muir overlook in the hills above the beach. Despite having my rather dressy traveling shoes on, I hoofed it up to the top without stopping. There I could enjoy the view without stressing about a rogue wave (which never came, by the way).

We ended up having a lovely day. The fresh air and exercise will be sorely missed during our 32 hours of travel to Kathmandu, but we got out there today and took advantage of it while we could.

Tonight we head back to the airport for another go of it. Now, let me go recheck the flight information one more time…

And we’re off… not

2010-02-27T09:36:00.000-08:00

There’s nothing like the rush of arriving at the international terminal of the airport after the last minute running around prior to departure. When you arrive at the airport, that’s it; everything that's going to be packed is packed; the adventure is all there is before you; there’s no turning back.

Unless, of course, you arrive at the airport on the wrong day.

Here’s how the conversation went with the man at the Cathay Pacific check in counter at 10pm last night.

Me (handing over our passports): Hello. We’re heading to Kathmandu.
Him: Okay, let me look. (Long pause as he is typing away on his keyboard.) Hmm. I have no record of you.
Me (smiling and thinking of Tiffany, our travel agent): Oh. Gideon?
Him: Let me look again. Do you have any confirmation papers?
Me: Gideon??
Him: What is your itinerary?
Me: San Francisco to Hong Kong to Dakar to Kathmandu.
Him: Ahh, yes, there you are. You leave this time tomorrow night.
Me (bursting into laughter after consciously deciding to see the humor in this): Oh! Well! Isn't that something? Sorry about that! My bad!

And off we went to hail a cab to take us back to our friends, Brian and Katie’s house for the night.

You know, I’ve been watching the Olympics a lot over the past few weeks. I particularly like watching speed skating. But nothing is more annoying than a false start, don’t you think? That’s really taken on a whole new meaning to me and Gideon.

So, we've got another day to putz around here in the good ole U.S. of A. Tonight, by golly, we will be on a plane heading somewhere... hopefully to Nepal.

Congratulations Gideon!

2010-02-25T22:00:00.000-08:00

Hallelujah and thank the Lord. Gideon is done with the California Bar.

Day after day, since Christmas, the poor boy has been cooped up in the cabin studying all sorts of legalese. Yes, he’d bust out from time to time and climb a tree or take the dogs for a W-A-L-K, but for the most part his nose was stuck in a Barbri book and his fingers were banging out practice essays on the computer.

Sometimes he’d get so fed up he’d throw himself onto the couch from across the room, or the dog bed, with or without Josie there. Sometimes he’d put on his running shoes and let the pack of dogs chase him down the road to the firehouse and back. Sometimes he’d practice putting his long curly locks in a ponytail… this didn’t really kick in until the past week or so.

But for the past three days, he’s gone to Oakland and spent full days sitting for the exam along with hundreds of other poor saps. It’s been a long three days and his brain is pretty much fried, but he is done, and I'm seriously proud of him. I don't think I could have done what he just did, at least not without crying like a baby and poking pencils in my eyes everyday.

Now he can start packing for Nepal!

Two days ‘til take off... and I'm driving myself crazy

2010-02-24T22:22:00.000-08:00

Two days from now Gideon and I will be at the airport preparing to board our Cathay Pacific flight to Kathmandu.

I’m pretty much as ready as I’m going to be. I’m sure I will unpack and repack my luggage four or five more times before we head to the airport on Friday evening, but I don’t think I’ll be adding or subtracting much more from my accumulation of travel necessities.

I really dislike the generalized feeling of anxiety I wrestle with the few days before a big trip. I feel like I’m in a holding pattern. I can’t stick to my regular routine. I can’t wear certain clothes because they are packed or will be packed. I can’t totally relax. Oh, and then there are those pesky passport dreams. Always the same thing—I show up at the airport without my passport, or worse, not even realizing I needed a passport in the first place. I’m left behind, all the big plans ruined.

In an effort to quell my angst, I tend to shop. I stalk the aisles of Target, CVS, R.E.I., Borders, Marshalls—anyplace will do, really—to see if some all-important travel necessity catches my eye. There’s usually something… anti-bacterial wet wipes, slippers for the plane, small gifts for folks we’ll meet in Nepal, energy bars for the trek, a few more pairs of socks. But really, is it necessary? I admit, many of the purchases I’ve made probably won’t even be used in Nepal, but for some reason, feeling prepared for just about anything calms me down.

The fact is, I am ready to get on with it. It’s time to travel and I won’t rest until I’m on that plane and poking through my carefully packed carry-on bag deciding what snack to eat first, or what book to read first. Until then, I’ll be flitting around like a busy bee, accomplishing nothing of great importance.

I should know you

2010-02-23T18:26:00.000-08:00

Since I was six or seven years old there has been a mysterious family lurking in the wings of my life. From time to time, I heard stories about these people, mostly of times long past. I knew some of their names; I had a vague idea where they lived; but I knew no details about their lives and I never met them or even seen photos of most of them.

This family is my step-mother, Sharan’s family; more specifically, her mother, sister, and her sister’s family.

I suppose every family has its rifts. There are things that happen that cause people to go separate ways, or to limit contact with one another. But a complete severance of ties between two sisters who were as close as twins for the first part of their lives is more than I have ever been able to comprehend. The thought of being cut off from one of my own sisters hurts to think about. The idea of being cut off from my mother is not something I can even allow myself to consider.

There are reasons why Sharan is not connected with her mother and sister. As an adult, I can now respect that. Over the years, I’ve poked and prodded into the stories of Sharan’s life. I’ve asked endless questions, and Sharan has given me thoughtful, heartfelt answers. But I’ve always been left with a feeling of unease, emptiness, and deep sadness about this other family that was once Sharan’s family. I’ve Googled these family members. I’ve imagined tracking them down in California. I’ve had long mediation sessions with them in my mind, trying to bridge the gap and reunite these strangers with my step-mom.

Recently, one of the grown children of Sharan’s sister contacted Sharan and Polly through Facebook. Earlier this week, Polly and I spent an hour pouring over the photos of the newly “friended” daughter, Amy. It was like peeking in the window of an enchanting stranger’s home. We stared intently at each photo—individual shots and family shots, gasping, laughing, pausing, imagining what it would have been like to be a part of these people’s lives.

Do they wonder about me? Do they regret that they don’t know me or my brother, Brad, or Polly? Do they miss Sharan? Do they wonder about my dad, Sharan’s husband of over twenty-five years? Do they feel as sad about this as I sometimes do?

Today I was picking up some groceries at Trader Joe’s in San Rafael. I had heard from Sharan’s youngest sister, my dear friend Katharina, that two of the kids worked there. In fact, a few months ago, I had stopped there with Katharina and we ran into the son, Anthony. Katharina had made contact with him a few years ago and introduced me to him. It was a highly unexpected moment and I was so shocked to meet the young man that I found myself shaking afterward. I’ve thought about him every time I’ve driven past Trader Joe’s since that day. And I also thought about his little sister, a recent high school graduate, who works there as well but was not there the day I met Anthony.

This afternoon, I asked the guy at the check out if Maddy was working today. He said yes, and pointed towards the produce section. After paying for my groceries, I grabbed my bags and headed the direction he indicated, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of her—if I could somehow recognize her. The first girl I saw was her. I knew it had to be. She was tall, like many in Sharan’s family. She was beautiful with long brown hair and striking golden-green eyes. I gathered my courage and walked up to her. “Hi, I wanted to introduce myself,” I said, without hesitation. “I’m Emily. Your mom and my step-mom are sisters.”

“Oh, wow. Hi,” she said, with a warm smile and recognition of the strangeness of the moment.

We chatted for a bit. I would venture to say that we connected, looking into each other’s eyes trying figure out why we hadn’t met before this day.

“Is your step-mom still back East?” she asked.

“Yeah, she’s still in Virginia.”

“I haven’t met her,” she reminded me. I don’t know why, but this little reminder made me want to cry. How is it that this beautiful girl who shares blood with Sharan could not know her? How could she have missed out on the force of love and generosity that I know as Sharan? How could that be? I felt deeply sad for Maddy. But I also feel sad for Sharan. Sharan has never met this young lady, although I know she so badly wants to. She hasn’t seen her stunning eyes. She doesn’t know what makes her niece tick. She hasn’t been able to send her gifts and take her out for adventures when she comes to town. She doesn’t know her.

I guess everyone has their reasons for making certain decisions in life. I guess there will always be disagreements that make us crazy with one another. But I wish these decisions could be reconsidered. I wish people could move on from things that have happened over a quarter of a century ago. I wish forgiveness were a button I could push. Life is a short, precious, uncertain journey and I hope one day it is a journey that my family can share with this mysterious family in California.

When Nappy comes to town

2010-02-21T11:58:00.000-08:00

What is it about Nappy, the Great Dane, that I love ever so much? He's huge and ungainly. He takes liberties with the food left on the counters. He takes up the entire couch and cries when you try to push him off. He runs around like a drunken horse. Oh, but he is 100% sweet and loving. His childlike energy is contagious. And he makes me laugh nonstop with his over-sized antics. Just looking at his giant head cracks me up.

Nappy comes to stay with us on the Hill every six weeks or so when his people go out of town. Josie and the other dogs are used to him, but they don't necessarily look forward to his visits, at least at first. Nappy is like a five-year-old in a linebacker's body, and it takes the girls a day or two to adjust to his oafish ways.

Here's what happened when Nappy showed up last week.

Josie was doing her evening thing... just chillin'.

Nappy showed up and greeted his BFF, Gideon.

Oh, Josie, look who's here to see you!

Say it ain't so. Lord help me.

JOSIE!!!!!!!! It's me, Nappy!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What did I ever do to deserve this?

Oh, a lot, Josie, a lot. Pay back's a b****, huh?

Packing Light

2010-02-20T16:35:00.000-08:00

I’m one of those folks who need a good solid week or more to pack for any serious venture, particularly a trip overseas, especially to a non-European country. The earlier I start packing, the more I can weed down what I take. My mantra, as always, is “Pack light!” No need to be burdened by needless stuff, right? How great would it be to effortlessly sling my pack on my back without flipping over backwards and flopping around like an overturned turtle?

I started packing for Nepal last week by organizing my clothes. Well, shoot, I thought, I need some more trekking pants. Oh, and some long underwear. And I could really use a better down jacket. And a semi-dressy outfit for going out on the town in Kathmandu. Which means I'll need shoes other than hiking boots. And more socks, underwear, long sleeve t-shirts, and blah, blah, blah. The next day I went out and spent all the money I had earned hosting at Meritage on clothing stuff that I “needed” for the trip.

Then I started considering the non-clothing items I should take, like a good light-weight paperback book, or two, or three, or four. Eek! I always struggle with this one. I need to take a variety of books because I never can be sure what I will feel like reading at any given moment. I need choice! I can’t be stuck without a good book! I can just hear Gideon harrumphing about my reading habit now. Stop rolling your eyes man. I gathered a fantasy book (Wicked), another kind of fantasy book (Outlander), a book on philosophy (Sophie’s World), and my favorite spiritual book (The Places that Scare You). This last book sounds like it might be about climbing Mt. Everest, but it’s not, so I also packed a guide to Nepal, which includes information about trekking. I also picked up a handy little guide to the customs and etiquette of Nepal.

Okay, now for medicine and toiletry stuff. Keep it simple, right? A trip to CVS and seventy-five dollars later, I might be semi-prepared to live at camp three on the side of Everest for a season. A little icy-hot, ibuprofen, wet wipes, Sudafed, Imodium, SPF 50 sunscreen, Band-Aids and Neosporin, prescriptions, lozenges, Gatorade packets, lip balm, Airborne, and such will be most helpful, I’m sure.

Finally, that brings me to that dangerous, ever-expanding category: "other stuff". The camera, computer, chargers/adapters, tripod, and other technological gear; hiking poles, hiking boots, water bottles, day packs; hats, gloves, scarves; zip lock bags, stuff sacks; card games; headlamps and batteries; toilet paper and tissues. Oh, the list could go on and on, and I’m quite certain it will. Feel free to tell me what essentials I’m forgetting or what I may want to reconsider.

So, back to that “packing light” thing… it was a good thought, but who can really do this when you’re going to Nepal? Okay, I guess Nima Sherpa, our friend and trekking guide probably knows how to pack light. But for the rest of us, I’m starting to understand why porters are a given along the trails in Nepal. I think I’ll be supporting the local Nepalese economy by embracing the custom as well.

Dogs behaving badly... or, dog owners behaving badly

2010-02-19T14:07:00.000-08:00

(FYI... I tried to post this blog last night, but the fog was so thick on the Hill that the Internet took the night off.)

Oh the places we will go… if only we would go. Polly and I have created a Northern California excursion list a mile long, and, well, let me just say we’ve got about .95 miles to go. This is not because we are lazy or unwilling; it’s because there’s just so much to see and do around here. Plus, it’s winter, and around here that means RAIN, which is just makes a Hill person want to hole up in the snugly cabin.

Today we actually got to check an excursion off the list. Polly and I took the dogs, Shelby, Montana, and Josie, along with the two dogs we are dog-sitting, Nappy, the Great Dane, and Buddy, the Beagle, to “The Reservoir”. I also took the humongous camera, which might as well count as a medium-sized dog.

The not-so-patient pack, ready to go on a W-A-L-K

Two sturdy women and five dogs and a giant camera… no problem, right? It would have been no problem if it weren’t muddy as all get-out; and if we could have gotten away with letting the dogs roam off-lead. We tried letting the dogs loose for a while.

Things were going well until we realized we were missing Montana and Josie. We saw them take off ahead of us over the hill. Montana wouldn’t really alarm anyone with her demure ways; but that Josie is another story.
Polly and I were sure we would spot them once we crested the hill, but no, they were nowhere in sight. We turned around and checked out the scene behind us, and somehow, Montana and Josie had looped around and were about a quarter mile behind us harassing a Basset Hound and his owners. Apparently, Josie had wanted to show off the giant stick she had found.

There was some waving of arms and some not-so-happy body language being displayed by the Basset Hound’s owners. We waved back and shouted at our wayward pups. Eventually they barreled back up the hill to meet us.

We laughed the harassment off and continued on our merry way. About fifteen minutes later, we came across another park visitor who proceeded to give us a hard time about our pack of wild, off-leash canines. She explained that they had barreled down the hill at her. I didn’t really think that she was talking about our crazy mutts until she specified that one of the dogs almost knocked her over with the giant stick it was carrying. Damn it Josie! There ain’t nothing subtle about you, dog!

So, we succumbed to the rules and to the safety concerns of the other park visitors and clamped the leashes on the pack. The good thing was that at that point, they were all so tuckered out they could only half-heartedly pull us along the remainder of the walk.

Montana and Shelby coming back to get leashed up... the only good girls in the pack.

It’s a good thing we have so many other places to visit here in Northern California; I’m pretty sure we’ve been blacklisted from the Reservoir for a solid few months.

A crane beating a hasty retreat from the wild dogs

Surprise!!!!

2010-02-17T22:07:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite couples here in Sonoma are Emily and Oz Rebeldo. Emily works at Meritage with Polly; she trained me to host last weekend. She’s the one they call My Little Pony, which is especially helpful when we are both at the restaurant. Emily is an absolute hoot and I’m really excited to have her as a new friend.

Oz is as cool as his name sounds. Everyone loves Oz, so it’s no surprise that everyone wanted to celebrate is thirtieth birthday with him. So, My Little Pony planned a surprise party for him. It was held at Sam and Kristen’s house—my other favorite couple in Sonoma.

Here are some shots from the party. I’m pretty darn sure we got him good. Happy birthday Oz!

Surprise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For me?

Yup, for you!

Oz: Wow!

Emily: Thank god that worked... I need a drink.

The Party Girls getting their party on: Polly, Emily, My Little Pony, Sam, and Kristen

Hostess with the Mostess

2010-02-15T21:23:00.000-08:00

That's me, the hostess with the mostess!

On Saturday, Polly and the rest of crew at Meritage threw me in the deep end of the restaurant shouting, "Host, woman! Host!" I hosted with everything I had. Although it was my first time working in a restaurant, I did pretty well under the tutelage of the other Emily (who we call My Little Pony). I was ordered back to the front lines for Valentine's dinner. Other than canceling a few reservations accidentally and trying to get a nice man with a service dog kicked out of the restaurant, it went off without a hitch. I think it may become a semi-regular gig.

I felt pretty bad about the man with the service dog. The dog was a little white Maltese, not a lab or Sheppard or some other dog like that. I just thought he was some eccentric trying to treat his dog to a fancy meal (which I can totally understand, but as hostess it threw me for a loop). I sicced Carlo, owner of the restaurant, on him. Carlo went over to investigate, recognized the man immediately, and explained that the Maltese was a service dog. Doh. I smiled and chatted up the man after that, trying to smooth things over.

Here's the funny thing... the next day I stopped by Whole Foods to grab a quick lunch before starting my Valentine's Day shift. Guess who was sitting outside soaking in the warm California sun. Yup, the man and the Maltese. We both waved like we were old friends, and I hurried inside. After downing my salad, I was heading out when I heard "Hello there!" There he was with the dog in a cart. We ended up shooting the breeze for a good fifteen minutes. His name is Wayne and the dog is Carmenita (or something cute like that). He's a relative newcomer to Sonoma, originally from Oakland, CA, and he was totally delightful. I think we will be good friends, and I think he's a generous man to overlook my hostess-foul on Saturday night. As for Carmenita, she gave me the stink eye the whole time I was chatting with Wayne; I’m hoping she forgives me soon.

P.S. I realize that by not writing yesterday, I blew my goal of writing every day for a month straight. The truth is, when I got home last night the Internet was down again. The other truth is that I was so damned worn out after hostessing that I wouldn't have written even if the Internet was working. There you have it. But I'm back to it, and I promise, there will be pictures tomorrow.

Figure this one out...

2010-02-13T15:46:00.000-08:00

I'm a big, big fan of Meritage, the restaurant in Sonoma where Polly works. I stop by often for gourmet goodness and a laugh with friends. My typical behavior at the restaurant usually ends up looking something like this. I'm not proud.

So, don't you think it's funny that I got a call today asking me to come down and be the Hostess this evening?

I think it's pretty hysterical!

Off I go!

Doh. Brain freeze.

2010-02-12T12:09:00.000-08:00

I've feared this moment. I don't have anything to write about today. My mind is a pile of uninspired sludge. I'm tired. I want a latte. And I'm at the library again because the Internet is still nonfunctional up on the Hill. Boo.

So, help me out. What do you want me to write about? Any burning questions you've been dying to ask me? Here's your chance. It's not like I'm all that interesting, but I can make stuff up if necessary.

I used to play a game with my friends in college. We would throw a random topic out there and someone would have to immediately launch into a true story related to the suggest topic. I learned a lot about my friends that way. Anything goes... I'll get you started.

Tapas
Thanksgiving
French men
Spies
Cathedrals
Antibiotics
Clogging
The circus
Scabs (Polly just told me a whopper of a scab story, and I mean a whopper!)
Fires
Beijing

You get the idea. And yes, I could tell you true stories about each of the topics listed above.
Now give me some fresh ideas. I'll tell you some whoppers.
Thank you kindly for dealing with my funk... this too shall pass.

Kicked back to the dark ages

2010-02-11T13:39:00.000-08:00

Ugh. I had a feeling this day would come. The Internet is broken. Gideon has been back up the tree twice already trying to fix the connection. No luck... so, no Internet for a while. No Gmail or Facebook, no streaming Netflix, no Internet radio, no Skyping, no nothing. Back to the days of being disconnected Hill People.

So, I've packed up and headed down the hill to the public library to make use of their free Wifi.

I actually have a lot to work on down here, including applying for jobs, researching small-business start-ups, learning about Nepal, finishing my book for book club this evening, not to mention writing my blog-of-the-day. I'm not complaining. I know I've got a cushy existence at the moment and I am reveling in it. But from time to time, there are things I'm supposed to work on.

You'd think the library would be the perfect place for working. It's quiet, it has big work tables, it's comfortable. But, man, for me, it is the most distracting place in the world. You see, I have a thing for books. I love to read them, of course, but maybe even more than that, I just love knowing what kind of books I COULD read if I wanted to. So, as I sit at my big library table and try to get things done, I find my gaze wandering to the book titles surrounding me in this little U-shaped cove. Pretty much all of these books call to me. They want me to pick them up, check out their pretty covers, read the synopsis on the back, flip through the pages, and just be with them for a bit. And I really want to be there for them, rather than checking things off my to do list.

Here is just a small sampling of books, right in this little nook, that I want to take a closer look at right now:

Let's Talk Turkey (I don't think this is a book about turkeys, although that would be intriguing. I think it's about language--it's between books called Slang and the NTC Dictionary of American and Colloquial Expressions.)

Earth Science Demystified (The science teacher in me is longing to take a look. I bet there are some good photos of rocks and stuff.)

Chasing Spring (This one made me think of you poor saps on the East Coast buried in snow. Ha!)

The Joys of Yiddish (This made me think of my friend Lisa, who played Yente in our high school production of “Fiddler on the Roof”. I think the two of us could probably sit on our tuches and kvetsh all day long just for fun, even now.)

Weird Nature (Again, I bet there are some great pictures in that one.)

The Book of U.S. Postal Exams (Just kidding. I don't really want to read this one at all. But it is really there, right in front of me. Who would want to read that anyway?)

The Secret Life of Lobsters (I really loved The Secret Life of Bees... Could this be the sequel?)

The Promise of Sleep (Maybe this book would have some suggestions on how to stop dreaming so vividly every single night that I wake up exhausted.)

The Sonoma Diet (Who knew Sonoma had its own diet? Oh yeah, it's probably red wine, white wine, and champagne. Duh.)

Men are Stupid and They Like Big Boobs (I saw Joan Rivers at the Air and Space Museum a few years ago and have been wondering about her ever since. This is her new book and I bet it's pretty darn funny.)

That's just a small taste of the distraction I have to deal with here at the library. So many wonderful books right here and all free! Heaven help me!

Okay, enough of this mishegas… back to work for me. Wish me luck. Oy vey… I need it.

Gideon is getting old

2010-02-10T19:34:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Gideon’s birthday. He turned 32 years old—don’t let him tell you otherwise. He’s been known to try and convince himself and others that he is 28 years old no matter how many birthdays go by.
I can give him a hard time about this all I want, rubbing it in, saying, “No, Honey, you are no longer in your twenties, you are in your thirties. And you are now 32. You are getting old.” Unfortunately, he will forever have the snappy comeback: “No matter how old I am, you will always be older.” Grrr. Polly put it nicely yesterday when she said, “It sounds so much better now that Gideon is 32. It makes you seem like much less of a cougar.” What?! I’m 33 people! So, I’m a bit older than my husband, but really, when you look at me, do you think “cougar”? I think not.

No matter. We had a fun day celebrating Gideon’s agedness, starting off with a fancy breakfast of Croque Madame (kind of a French take on Eggs Benedict). Gideon loves big, hearty, fatty breakfasts with a passion, so I try hard to make him breakfast this one day a year. Fortunately, I had Polly around to help me this year so breakfast was served well before noon.

In the evening, we tried out a restaurant in Santa Rosa called Starks, known for its fantastic happy hour. Yesterday’s post is evidence of the good time had by all.

After filling up on fried goodness at Starks, we came home for cake and ice cream. Our friends Lisa and Ella came over to celebrate with us. Ella brought her princess outfit, sparkly shoes, and her tea set. I think she was trying to impress Gideon. And I think her plan worked; Gideon was impressed. He shared many cups of tea with Ella before it was time for cake.

After singing to the birthday boy, we ate giant slabs of homemade carrot cake. I didn’t think Ella would be a carrot cake kind of girl. When I told her what kind of cake I made for Gideon, her response was, “CARROT cake??? Mommy, they’re having CAAAAARROT CAKE”, complete with rolling of eyes and a deep sigh, as in “Mommy, what kind of birthday party did you bring me to? Geez.” But when it came time to try it, Ella gave it a shot, probably because she saw Gideon loving it and she wanted to impress him again. After much noshing, she stopped abruptly and looked up at me with bright eyes and a big smile and proclaimed, “Emily, I like your cake!” Yes, I think she melted my heart.

No cake for dogs, Shelby. Especially fat ones.

We topped off the evening with a rousing game of Mexican Train, one of our favorite games around here. We let Gideon win on his birthday. I did my part by earning my all-time worst single round score of 131 points, which in this game, is about as much damage as one can do in a single round. Anything for you, Gideon.

My tiles, none of which could be played... NOT a good sign.

A VERY disappointing turn of events (check out my score). Ugh.

I think I speak for all of us when I say we hope you have a wonderful year, Gideon! Happy Birthday!
Now, get back to work.

A bunch of attention-hungry fools

2010-02-09T23:49:00.000-08:00

This is what happens when a bunch of show-offs go out to dinner...

We keep it together for a bit. We smile and act somewhat normal.

Eventually, someone always makes a grab for the spotlight.

It's all about me!!!

No. It's all about me!!!!!

No, no, no! It's all about me!!!!

Someone's got to set these fools straight.

It's all about ME!!!!!!!

I'm glad we've got that straightened out.

There's a man up in that thar tree

2010-02-08T23:41:00.000-08:00

Bless his heart, that hubby of mine is so darn sick of studying for the California Bar that he'll do just about anything to put space between himself and his Bar review materials. And I mean anything. He's recently taken to climbing trees. I'm not talking the apple tree variety, or even a healthy oak tree. No, he's been making frequent climbs to the very tippy-top of a 125 feet pine tree up here on the Hill. No joke.

Why does he do it? Why not just play a game of solitaire, or hunt for some more chanterelles? Well, the boy has always liked a physical challenge; add to that a love of technology; and to that, a lack of said technological access on the Hill; and you've got a good excuse to escape studying and start hauling all kinds of antenna up the tallest tree around to equip the cabin and Polly & Aaron's house with high speed Internet, and... wait for it... local television!

Yes, Gideon's first forays up the tree were for the purpose of getting us connected to the World Wide Web in a way that would keep us from pulling out all of our hair, as dial-up is known to do. A few weeks ago is when it all started. Gideon had built a 30 foot tower out in the field, on which was connected an Internet antenna. We were connected! It worked well until the rains set in, which made the signal fail as it tried to fight its way through wet leaves and fog. It was clear to Gideon that the antenna needed a clear line of sight to the other antenna on Sonoma Mountain, across the valley. He started mumbling about climbing a tree. I just tuned out his crazy talk until one day, not too long after, Polly came to the door with a panicky look on her face.
"Emily, I don't want to sound too much like my mother here," she gulped, "but I'm not too comfortable with what Gideon is doing out there." Yes, Gideon was setting up ladders preparing for his ascent up the pine tree next to the house. Keep in mind it was raining.
"Polly," I responded, barely looking up from my book, "I just can't be involved in this. If something happens, well, we've had a good go of it." I've learned that it is an absolute waste of energy to fret over Gideon's daredevil antics, so I no longer go there. Poor Polly. She just kind of shivered and walked back outside.

To make a long story not quite so long, Gideon has made it up and down the tree a number of times to install and adjust the Internet antenna. We now have a high-functioning, reliable Internet connection and everyone is beside themselves. During his climbs, Gideon wears his climbing harness and ties in, or so he's told me--I never actually watched him climb until today.

Today he assembled a giant, old school television antenna in the living room of the cabin. It was so big that it freaked out poor Josie and she had to go outside to calm herself down.
"So, what are you hoping to get from this antenna?" I asked.
"PBS," Gideon replied.
"Hmm. I was kind of hoping for a bit more than that," I said.
"I'm keeping my expectations low," he explained. He harnessed up and dragged the antenna out to the base of the tree.

Being that I wasn't exactly busy, I decided to go out and document the craziness for you. Here's a little glimpse of today's ascent.

My man, on a mission...

I decided to climb onto the roof to get closer to the action. Nice view up here...

There's our little Home Sweet Home. It's even cuter from here!

My climbing gear... crocs and velor pants from outerspace.

Did I forget to mention that Gideon climbs with a saw in one hand? It comes in handy for sawing down weak branches. I think it's just another procrastination technique.

Getting ready to pull up the antenna.

The monster antenna... for PBS viewers like me.

Up it goes... towards its new home in the sky.

He's made it to the top. Seriously... can you see him? He's waving.

Mission accomplished! And yes, we now have PBS, and a few other local channels as an added bonus. Good job Gideon!

Now, get back to work.

It's happening... I'm becoming an American

2010-02-07T20:16:00.000-08:00

I've never liked football. In fact, I've pretty much always avoided the sport. I've always wondered why I was so different than all of my friends, especially being that I am from Pittsburgh, one of the most football crazy towns in the United States. I'll go so far as to say I've felt downright un-American at times.

Today we were invited to our friends, Brian and Katie's house, to watch the Superbowl. I've done this before, but I go simply for the food and camaraderie, and maybe the commercials. I had particularly low expectations for tonight's game, especially since the Steelers were taking a break this year. (I actually watched a few minutes of the Superbowl last year, placed a bet and won $9.00! Pure lucky break.) Tonight I came prepared with my stash of card games and a book in case football fatigue struck. I was actually pretty excited to play a few hands of Five Crowns.

Here's where my story gets strange. For no apparent reason, I actually watched the whole game. I know! Really strange behavior on my part. And, not only did I watch the game, but I kind of, sort of, understood it. This is MAJOR! A first for me! All of the sudden I feel a little more American. I watched an entire game of football... and I'm considering doing it again sometime.

So, when do these games start up again?

Things I’m Learning About Nepal

2010-02-06T16:59:00.000-08:00

As you may know, Gideon and I are planning a month-long trip to Nepal. We leave at the end of this month and stay until the end of March. This trip to Nepal seems to be ordained. Gideon’s cousin Amy, her husband, Mike, and their son, Ethan, moved to Nepal from Maryland this past June. Mike is working for the State Department in Kathmandu, or something along those lines. Of course, when we caught wind of their plan to live in Nepal for a few years, we knew we’d do all we could to get over there for a visit. Additionally, we have met a number of Nepalese folk right here in Sonoma, California. The majority of the staff at Meritage, Polly’s restaurant, are from Nepal. Polly’s co-manager, Nima, has become a good friend and he is heading back to Nepal for a visit with family and friends in March as well. Being a Sherpa, he has offered to lead us on a trek to Mt. Everest base camp. Let me repeat that; we will be trekking to BASE CAMP. We are NOT climbing Everest. I just wanted to make sure we get that straight. So, not only do we find ourselves with a number of unlikely connections in Nepal, but we also happen to have the time to go during this break from our work-a-day life. As soon as Gideon takes the California Bar, we are off to Kathmandu.

In preparation for our upcoming adventure, I have been reading the Lonely Planet Guide to Nepal. Here’s a list of a few interesting things I’ve learned so far:

1.    Nepal is a diverse country populated by a number of ethnic groups. Sherpas are a well-known ethnic group from the mountains of eastern and central Nepal. Tamangs are another large ethnic group in Nepal. Despite what you may think, most mountain porters in Nepal are Tamang; Sherpas “focus mostly on high-altitude expedition work”.
2.    According to the latest census (2001) Nepalis are about 81% Hindu, 11% Buddhist, 4% Muslim, and 4% other religions.
3.    It’s considered bad luck to start a trek on a Tuesday or to return on a Saturday. Got that, Nima?
4.    “If you are given a wrong direction or told a place is much nearer than it turns out to be, it may through fear of disappointing you.” Hmm… I’ll keep that in mind when Nima tells us it’s only a few miles to the next town.
5.    I may be treated to jan-la (raw steak with the skin still attached), ti-syah (fried spinal bone marrow), or swan-puka (“lung filled through the windpipe with spicy batter and then boiled, sliced, and fried”). I will give bizarre food guy, Andrew Zimmern, a run for his money. Or maybe not.
6.    And here is the last little tidbit of the day. This one really got my attention. The video below shows planes taking off and landing in Lukla, Nepal. Gideon and I will be flying from Kathmandu to Lukla where we will start our trek. The video has made me think that maybe I should stop researching. Sometimes knowledge is a scary thing. At least they have a sense of humor about things…

Jon finds us again

2010-02-05T19:20:00.000-08:00

We have this good friend, Jon. He's really good at finding us where ever we go. We move over and over again, and he keeps showing up, looking for a good time. Well, we like him a lot, so we always invite him to stay awhile, and we show him around our new stomping grounds. Jon showed up in Sonoma a few days ago, so off we went to some more wineries.

St. Francis Winery is a few miles up the road and has perhaps one of the more beautiful settings and tasting rooms. I discovered their "Wild Oak" series and stocked up on their Syrah, Merlot and Cab. Jon discovered their crisp Sauvignon Blanc and realized that he liked white wine after all.

Next we headed to Healdsburg, a pristine wine growing region just north of us. Healdsburg has a fascinating history that involves my step-family, but that is a tale for another day. In Healdsburg, we visited Quivira, a winery and vineyard that is dedicated to sustainability and green practices. What a cool place! And what great wine. I picked up some fantastic Zinfindels and a Grenache.

Check out the cool gardens they have around the tasting room. We were impressed with the garden's psychedelic colors even in the dead of winter.

They also had pigs.

They had on their funky winter coats too.

After our Quivera, we checked out the oh-so-quaint town of Healdsburg, stopping at Powell's Candy Store for some incredible gelato, just before heading back to Sonoma for another outrageously yummy dinner at Meritage. As always, it was great to see our buddy Jon. We know a good time is guaranteed whenever he shows up. And we know he'll keep showing up, and that's what we love about him.

Let's talk about ice cream!

2010-02-04T21:58:00.000-08:00

Yes, I thought that might get your attention.

Gideon and I are on a serious mission. We are researching ice cream shops. And chocolate candy shops. And cupcake shops. And all shops yummy and sweet.

Today we had the opportunity to stop at a famous ice cream shop in Berkeley, California, called Ici. Ici is French for "here". I thought that was a strange name at first, but the reason for the name is that all of the sweets and ice creams are made daily, there at the store. They specialize in making unique ice cream flavors with fresh, all local ingredients. Here's run down of some of the flavors they had waiting for me today: coconut rum, honey lavender, Meyer lemon mint, cinnamon pecan, chocolate caramel, champagne grapefruit, mango passionfruit sorbet, blood orange, and a few more I can't remember. All I have to say was that it was a real challenge to choose only two flavors. I chose chocolate caramel and honey lavender; both were out of this world, crazy good. I wanted to cry and sing, it was so yummy! And I think I did cry when it was all gone.

Look how cute Ici is.

I know you smirked when you read that we are "researching" ice cream shops. Well, it's true, we really are because we are kicking around the idea of opening our own ice cream and sweet shop some day. It's a big idea right now, but one we are seriously considering.

So, here's where I need YOUR input. Tell me your thoughts on ice cream and sweets. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? What are some unique flavors you've heard of or tried? Do you prefer ice cream or gelato? What do you look for in a ice cream or sweets shop? What's your most memorable ice cream shop experience? Tell me your deepest feelings, hopes and desires about ice cream. For your feedback I will give you as many free ice cream cones as you could ever want when we open our own shop one of these days. :)

P.S. Here's a link to Ici's website: http://www.ici-icecream.com/index.html

All in a day's walk

2010-02-03T10:26:00.000-08:00

One of our favorite things to do up here on the Hill is to go hiking through the woods. Usually these walks are initiated by Gideon who gathers the dogs, looks them in their puppy eyes and says, "Who. Wants. To. GO ON A WALK?!" The dogs are whipped into an instant and utter frenzy. They start jumping on top of each other, biting each other, whining and barking, as they try to claw their way out the front door. It's highly entertaining for us humans.

Off we go, either up the hill to the lookout points, with views to the San Francisco Bay on a clear day, or down the hill to "The Ranch", where Aaron grew up and where his Aunt Jeanette and Uncle Teddy still live.

Yesterday, we decided to go towards the Ranch. Polly joined us as well since she had the day off. One great thing about going to the Ranch is that we can pick up fresh, organic, cage-free eggs gathered from the dozens of Ranch hens. They are yummy and colorful.

Gideon also fills his pockets with Meyer lemons picked from the trees by the one of the Ranch houses. They smell so amazing--unlike anything you'd smell at the grocery store. And they look just plain lovely too.

Another bonus of the Ranch walk is that it takes us past some of Gideon's best Chanterelle mushroom spots. Being that it's been pretty rainy lately, we had a feeling that we might have some luck, but no one expected that Gideon would find the mother load of Chanterelles. Check these babies out!

Now excuse me while I go eat my Chanterelle omelet.

Me and my big ideas

2010-02-02T12:04:00.000-08:00

I just had a thought and instead of sitting and thinking about it for a day or two, I'm just going to go with it.

Here's my idea: I am going to write a blog entry EVERY SINGLE DAY this month, just as a challenge to myself. Just to see if I can do it. And because that's what real bloggers do--they write every day, right? Instead of reasoning the feasibility or wisdom of the idea, I'm just going to put it out there for the world to see. I'm catering to my impulsive self and I may be slapping myself for it this time next week. Lucky for me, I had this idea on the first day of February, which just so happens to be the shortest month of the year. Lucky break.

So, what does this mean for you, dear reader? Let me break it down to you:
1. My entries may not be as polished as I like them to be. There might be more typos... eeeek... than I, or any of us are comfortable with.
2. My entries will probably be shorter. Hush. I heard that sigh of relief.
3. I will shamelessly use photos to take up space and create quick entries if necessary. But I'll make them fun.
4. I might have to get, um, serious, from time to time. I might not be so fun and lighthearted, because, brace yourself, I am not fun and lighthearted every single day. Just ask my darling husband.
5. I may get desperate for encouragement. A comment on my blog sends me over the moon and will keep me writing to get more ego strokes. I'm even kicking around the idea of sending baked goods to some randomly selected commenters... I make some mean baked goods too.

So, there you have it. And looky here... I already have two days down!

So I think I can dance!

2010-02-01T13:27:00.000-08:00

I was not one of those sweet little girls who took jazz/tap/ballet growing up. Alright, I take that back. There was that time when I was in kindergarten. Mom enrolled me in ballet. My only memories of that experience involve the end-of-the-year ballet recital. It involved a yellow tutu, gold sequins, a missing head piece, and bright yellow ballet slippers that were SUPPOSED to be GOLD--shiny, shimmery, metallic gold. Not dandelion yellow, Mom and Dad. And that missing headpiece... well, the yellow Kleenex Mom bobby-pinned to my head was a nice try.
Oh, and then there was that time when I was 16 and decided to sign up for jazz and ballet along with my little sisters, Rebecca and Myra, who were 9 and 7 at the time. Apparently there were no "beginners" classes for 5'9" sixteen year olds. So, yes, I was put in the same class as my wee sisters. There was nothing pretty about that. Just imagine the recital--me, being the tallest dancer in the class, smack-dab in the middle of the stage, surrounded by little munchkins in matching costumes. It was horrifying. Maybe that's why I can still remember most of the dance we performed--a little trauma will do that to you.
That leads me to my time in musical theater. I could sing; I could act; but everyone knew I needed individual, intensive instruction to figure out the dance steps. My M.O. was to distract the audience with inane facial expressions during dance numbers.
Dancing with friends at dance clubs earned me my own special space on the dance floor. Not the kind of "Wow, who's that hot dancing chick?" space; it was more like "Wow. Let's give her some space so no one gets hurt" kind of space. I also earned the nickname "Uma", because apparently I channeled Uma Thurman's moves from Pulp Fiction or something. I don't think that was a good thing.
One last dancing memory involves my stint with Franklin Footlight Theatre in New Hampshire. When I got it into my head to audition for their production of "Chicago", I was filled with dread, knowing that the show would be dance-intensive. I knew I could not blow the audition by letting my nerves get the best of me. I here and now admit to smuggling a small flask of vodka into the audition and shooting it down fifteen minutes before the dance audition. It did the trick and I was cast in Chicago, and I danced my arse off throughout the entire production.
Despite my lack of talent, my adult dancing experiences have always filled me with joy. When I dance, I am transported to my own private world. Good dance music flows through me, and no matter how my body interprets the beats, my mind and spirit FEEL IT.
This leads me to my new favorite dance thing in life: ZUMBA. Have you heard of it? Have you tried it? It's the latest, greatest exercise fad to sweep gyms across America. Zumba is a Latin/World music dance class that happens to work your body like no other cardio workout I know of. "Ditch the workout, join the party!" is the official tag line of Zumba. I first heard of Zumba through my sister, Rebecca, who has absolutely raved about it for the past year. When I discovered that my gym here in Sonoma holds three weekly Zumba classes, I decided to give it a whirl. Well, I am smitten--with the class and with my instructor, Lauren, quite possibly the most incredible dancer I have ever seen. I am that girl who still requires a bit more space than the average participant, and I am the girl that has the exuberant, partially spaced out Cheshire Cat grin on her face through the entire class. But Zumba (and Lauren) have finally proved something to me: I CAN dance! And I LOVE it!
Here's a funny aside to add to my reputation of being "that girl" in Zumba. Last week, Polly delivered a full meal from her restaurant to me IN CLASS. She had told me earlier in the day that she would meet me after class to give me food to take home to the boys. She was early, so she decided to drop the bag of food off for me. She peeked in the door of the classroom, made eye contact with me as I danced in the far corner of the room, and set a huge brown bag right by the door. Of course, no one near the door knew who Polly was or what she was doing, or for that matter what was in the bag. It was suspicious behavior to say the least and there were murmurs: "What's in the bag that? Is it a bomb?" In no less than 30 second, the entire classroom was absolutely overwhelmed by the aroma of gnocchi with white wine mushroom sauce, olive tapenade, and homemade bread. "It's worse than a bomb!" screamed Lauren, the instructor, "It's dinner!" The roomful of 45 Zumba-ers instantly lost all concentration, started dripping drool and running into each other. "Oh, that," I sheepishly eked, "Sorry about that. That's just my dinner," as I whisked the bag out to the front desk. Yeah, I'm that girl. The girl who gets dinner delivered to her at Zumba. Nice.
Here are some very blurry shots from a special Zumba Winterfest event I attended on my own a few days ago. I only had my little point and shoot camera with me, but I hope the shots give you a little feel for the fun I am having with my latest dance craze.

Lauren--Zumba instructor extraordinaire

Everybody ZUMBA!

Me in the center

Lauren leading a crowd of little kids on stage, leading a crowd of big kids on the floor below

Girls' Weekend Sonoma Style

2010-01-31T22:05:00.000-08:00

About a month ago I caught wind (via Facebook, of course) of a girls’ weekend in the making involving some good high school friends from Pittsburgh coming out to San Francisco. Of course, having no pride or concern for others’ personal space or plans, I promptly invited myself along, being that I’m now just up the road in Sonoma. “Come on up to Wine Country for the weekend,” I suggested. And they did, and what a weekend it was!

Katie, Kathleen, and Nancy showed up on the Hill in Kathleen’s fancy car on Saturday afternoon. After pointing at each other and laughing and hugging (“Oh my god, it’s Emily Belo!” “It’s Kathleen Weng!!!!” “And Nancy!!!! And Katie!!!!!!! I haven’t seen you in, like, 15 years!!!”), we got down to the serious business of a girls’ weekend—gabbing, drinking, laughing, gabbing, drinking, crying, laughing, drinking, and so on.

The first order of business was hitting some Sonoma wineries. Gideon, being the gent that he is, volunteered to be the designated driver for our wine tour. He brought his California Bar materials along with him and spent the entire day driving us around in our little Honda, putting up with four cackling girls, and being cordoned to the car to study in winery parking lots. Yea Gideon!!! Glad we could help you with your studies!

Stop one was Matanzas Creek Winery. My darling sister, Polly (aka Rosemary), joined us at the winery and had arranged for a special tasting with tasting room manager, Chris. Upon our arrival, we were greeted like royalty and whisked into a private tasting room. Check it out!

Chris treated us to an hour and a half private tasting of splendid Matanzas Creek wines. He had the not-so-challenging job of breaking Katie out of her boxed wine habit. He was the picture of grace putting up with five rambunctious, wine-guzzling women. He did a magnificent job, and without a doubt will be hearing from me again when other guests come to town (hint, hint, come visit me). I left with the Matanzas Creek Cabernet and Sauvignon Blanc, two outstanding wines.

Next up was the two-for-one tasting room of Ty Caton and Muscardini wines, where again we were treated to fantastic Sonoma wines and stellar treatment by tasting room diva, Jennifer, and the wine makers themselves, Ty Caton and Michael Muscardini. I am a big fan of Ty Caton’s Malbec and Cabernet, and of Michael Muscardini’s Syrahs. Try them out if you can find them!

Here’s a funny aside: Ty Caton happens to be one of the lone men who attends the Cardio Jam aerobics class with me at Park Point Fitness club. I couldn’t help bringing this up to him at his tasting room, much to his chagrin. But, lo and behold, he couldn’t help busting into a few Cardio Jam moves with me. I love it!

By the time we rolled into the Mayo tasting room at 5:30, our teeth were stained purple and our walks were more than a little bit crooked. But Miss Courtney, of the Mayo family, a friend and Pittsburgh native, heard we were coming and welcomed us with open arms. We proceeded to close down the joint, and probably scared off the last customers with our antics. But we left with some fantastic Zinfindel, Port, and Chardonnay.

From Mayo, Gideon escorted us to Polly’s restaurant, Meritage Martini and Oyster Bar, for dinner. Of course, my sister had arranged a most amazing evening for us, with a special wine and food pairing menu designed just for us.

Polly, Nima, Sunny, Saul, and Carlo, the owner, all treated us like the superstars we thought we were at that point. The food was phenomenal and the drinks were over the top. Here’s a little sampling of the ruckus we created at Meritage. I’m sure we made Polly proud.

After a S-L-O-W morning recovering on the Hill, Gideon led us on a hike and taught us about the various mushrooms he’s been finding in the woods around here. It was a good cleansing dose of fresh air for us; unfortunately, my friends all took turns falling down and getting hurt on the walk. It could have been the mud on the trails, but more likely it was the lingering effect of the day before. Just kidding ladies—I hope you are fully recovered at this point… from everything.

After lunch, I taught the girls how to play Mexican Train, the new domino fad that has taken over all branches of my family (thanks Duke and Tracee!). Maybe I didn’t explain the rules clearly, as Nancy blew us all away with her score of 241 points! That would be great if it the high score won, Nancy.

We wrapped up our weekend at Kathleen’s condo in Berkley where we amused ourselves with more food and wine. We also enjoyed dog tricks and shockingly appropriate Tarot readings, thanks to Madame Kathleen.

Oh ladies, thank you for a most fantastic, unforgettable weekend. I haven’t laughed so hard for a long time. What I loved most was getting to know each of you again as adults—each of you unique, strong, loving women. It felt good to laugh about old times, consult with you about the present, and plan for our future girls’ weekends. Cheers to you! And thanks for letting me crash your party!

P.S. Thanks for sending photos, ladies!
P.S.S. So, I was wondering why I was the only one with horribly wine-stained teeth. Apparently, Nancy had a ShamWow in her purse that she used to clean off her teeth. I think she must have shared her trick with Kathleen and Katie and they're all probably still laughing at my purple teeth now.