Kids and Kids and Dogs and Dancing – A Fitting Finale!

Ahhhhh.  Is there anything better than that first cup of tea when you get home from a long journey?   It’s 8am on Friday morning and I’ve been traveling since Weds morning (Tuesday morning, if you count the trip back from my volunteer extension visit), so it is VERY nice to be finally home.  ManpanionTM came to pick me up at the airport from my 6am flight from Detroit – he’s now upstairs taking a nap (bless him) so I thought I’d catch you up on what’s been going on since I left you in Pokhara at the end of our hike.

I only finished hiking just over a week ago and already its taken on that vaguely surreal quality that I find often accompanies these truly epic adventures.  That’s one of the reasons I keep this blog is to bring it back from those hazy “WTF – I actually did that?” memories.  As well as this post, I will also go back and update those posts that I didn’t manage to load any pictures for (I’ll also include a few pics taken by my fellow adventurers) AND, if I can figure out how to do it, I’ll stitch together a montage video of little clips taken throughout the trip into a memory reel.  So watch this space for that stuff in the next couple of days.

Anyhoo, the trip back from Pokhara to Kathmandu was uneventful – except the flight was delayed again (in a surprise to precisely no-one).   The pollution was still there (unhealthy AQI) but it wasn’t as crushing as it had been a week prior (down from “hazardous”).  We were in the sister hotel to the one we’d been in before (the Apsara Hotel) and it was a bit nicer than the Thamel Park.  The rooms were a bit bigger, it was less echoey as a whole and the mold growing on the underside of the shower nozzle definitely looked to be of a higher quality.  They were a bit stingy on the old TP though, so I blazed my way through the one tiny roll they gave me in no time (fortunately I still had some supplies left from the trek, so crisis averted).  We had a bit of time before our last scheduled activity as a group that afternoon (a local cooking class), so I ventured out into Kathmandu, braved the mopeds, cars and rickshaw-things and managed to track down an absolutely DELICIOUS burger for lunch.  PROTEIN, BITCHES!!!!  It was soooo good.  I had a choice between chicken and buff, so of course, I opted for the buff (which is buffalo, btw).  Which tastes pretty much exactly like beef.  Which, obvs, is a strict no-no as cows are revered in Hinduism.  I wonder what the buffalos think about that – they get chomped while their bovine brethren are worshipped instead.  Its gotta kinda suck for the buffs.

The cooking class was fun – except it was about 2hrs too long.  It started at 4pm, but didn’t finish until 8pm, by which time pretty much everyone was dying from exhaustion.  We were making 5 different dishes so inherently that’s gonna take some time and maybe there was a bit too much general chatter stretching things out a bit, but it was very sloooooow (it was on Nepali time) so by the end it felt as much an endurance test as it did cooking class.   I did learn a couple of things, though – 1) that the term “masala” simply refers to two (or more) spices being mixed together and 2) if someone gives you Himalayan black peppercorn to try, DO NOT DO IT.  Clamp your mouth shut, make your excuses and leave.  It looks like a peppercorn, but that’s where all similarities end.  I found out later its also referred to as Sichuan pepper and is well known in Chinese, Nepali and Bhutanese food.  Our instructor mentioned it had an unusual taste – but OK, I’m game.  Sure – I’ll try it.

OMG.   While the flavor was initially citrusy and not too bad, that was almost instantly superseded by a tingling, numbing sensation in my mouth and tongue – a deeply unpleasant feeling that just kept going and going and going.  It felt a bit like a mild electric shock and is apparently caused by molecules similar in structure to capsaicin (the compound that gives chilis their burn).  It was unlike anything I’ve ever had in my mouth before (steady) and was just awful.  Mildly panic-inducing, to be honest.  Alison and I kept exchanging “WTF?” type glances – so at least I wasn’t on my own in my discomfort!!  I chugged some water (which helped a bit) and it started to subside after about 6-7 mins, but it really wasn’t a great start to the cooking class (for context, the instructor was giving us a “tour” of all the various spices used in Nepali cuisine).   The best thing about the class was the carrot-based dessert we made – sounded weird but it was surprisingly tasty and one I might actually try at home (though I just realized they haven’t sent us the recipes via email they promised to, so maybe not).

After the class, we made our way back to the hotel and started to say our goodbyes.  People were going to be leaving on various flights at various times, starting with Kerry that evening.  I think I mentioned in a previous post how great this group has been – so it was a bit sad to say farewell to everyone, but I’m pretty sure our paths will cross again in the future (there’s already talk of a reunion Dolomites hiking trip in June 2027!).  The next morning, by the time I went downstairs for breakfast, only Lindsey (who is a hiking ninja badass, btw – having thru-hiked both the Pacific Coast Trail and the Appalachian Trail!) was remaining so I had the chance to say goodbye to her before Amanda and I headed off for our volunteer extension visit, visiting a children’s school and hostel in the tiny rural village of Batase.  This is the home village of two of our guides, Alicia and Mila, so it was a wonderful opportunity to leave behind the chaos of Kathmandu and the tourist trappings of ABC and instead immerse ourselves in how the locals live and work.

To get to the village, we first had to survive 4hrs of the most INSANE “roads” I think I’ve ever traveled on – and I’ve been on some dirt tracks in my time!! (looking at you, Costa Rica).  They were BONKERS!  It started to get progressively more bouncy the further out from Kathmandu we got and, after about an hour, it was full on mud, rocks, potholes and anxiety-inducing hairpin bends and sheer drops off to one side as we wound up and down vertiginous mountain ridges!  Obviously for our driver, this was No Big Deal as he drives this road every single day -and it reminded me of Bhutan where the drivers clearly understand the dimension of their vehicles to the nearest inch, so they know they are not going to slide off the edge of the road, as they merrily reverse out of the way to avoid a giant truck.   In the end, you just gave in and accepted whatever fate came your way – and, of course, it was completely fine, if arse-numbing.  Alicia and Mila were traveling with us and somehow both of them managed to snooze on the way there – their napping skills would give ManpanionTM’s a run for his money!

So for a bit of background.  The company that we did our trek with, Take On Nepal, is a founder of the hostel and school that we would be visiting – started by the company owner, a Nepalese man and his wife (based in New Zealand).  (for more info, click here https://www.f-hc.org/). There is no free schooling in Nepal provided by the government, so parents have to pay for their children’s school. If you can’t pay, you don’t get an education.  Fortunately, private initiatives like this one go some way to filling this gap as this hostel provides education, housing and food for children whose parents cannot afford it – or for kids who have lost either one or both of their parents.  On our first visit to the school to meet the kids (27 children from age 4 through 14), each of them got up and introduced themselves in English with their name, age and, for some, details about their situation.  It was heartbreaking to hear some of them introduce themselves in a very matter of fact way and say “my parents are dead” or “my mother is dead and my father could not afford to keep me” or “my mother is dead and my father has mental health issues”.  Not an ounce of self-pity or “poor me”.  Just the facts, delivered with a huge smile and a sense of pride that they were getting to practice their English for their visitors.  Humbling AF.  There were a few kids that had brothers and sisters in the school, so it was very sweet to watch them care for and look out for each other.  The youngest child was only 4 and he was a little charmer.  He clearly had everyone wrapped around his little finger – he even managed to melt my cold, dead “I don’t really like kids” heart.  I know, right???

I had brought some socks and underwear for donation – the instructions we’d received were “children’s clothing, socks and underwear” – which I’d interpreted as “socks and underwear”.  So I’d gone to Costco and spend a couple hundred dollars on every size of underwear and socks, mens and ladies, they had available.  I didn’t see any stuff specifically for kids – but thought I had the brief (as it were) covered.   Had I thought a bit more about it, maybe I would have put 2 and 2 together and realized that the ask was for kid’s socks and underwear – but I didn’t – and as the duffel bag full of the donated items I’d brought was unpacked before my eyes and 27 pairs of excited eyes of the kids, I just felt awful.  Clearly at least a third of the stuff I’d brought was going to be way too big for even the oldest kid – and as Alicia parceled out the stuff that did just about fit, handing a pair of socks and a pair of underwear to each child, I just felt sad.  They were so damned excited to just get one freaking pair of socks, it made my heart break again.  And I was also pissed because it felt like an opportunity missed to have brought more stuff that would actually have been useful, all because of some ambiguous directions.  Honestly, I also just felt embarrassed as well – along the lines of “I went to Nepal and all you got me was a pair of knickers that don’t fit” bad.   That then led to worrying about “white person savior complex” and whether I was falling into that mentality (“if only I had brought more socks, I could save them all”)- and then I worried about worrying too much and maybe I should just chill the eff out.  When I looked at the kids, I didn’t see any disappointment, or judgment or resentment or anger about the underwhelming gifts I’d brought.   I saw openness, curiosity, warmth and giant smiles.  The kids were simply excited we were here, coming to visit them.  The gifts were secondary.   I think the only person in that room having a quiet existential crisis was me.

Both the school and the hostel (where we were staying) were basic – but very clean, a welcome change from the moldy teahouses we’d just spent the last week in.  Amanda and I had our own rooms and the bed was super comfy (I like a firm bed!) and perfect for napping, as it turned out!  We thought we were going to be set to work on chores etc while we were there – but for our whole visit, Alicia did not let us do anything!  We were her guests and so she did not allow us to help with any cooking or cleaning – which left plenty of time for afternoon siestas.  The school and hostel are in the village of Batase – so tiny it took a while to find it on Google maps.  The village is very spread out, with lots of little homesteads sprinkled all over the mountain range, either along the ridges or carved out into the hillsides, peppered with terraces and farmland.  We were shown round the various farm enclosures – next to our hostel was an area where they were keeping goats – including some 2 week old kids who were adorable!!  What with the other type of kids, clearly this volunteer visit was designed to get me out of my comfort zone! (my disdain and lack of enthusiasm for goats has also been well documented in previous blog posts).  Along with their schooling (they have a library and access to the internet, courtesy of a nearby cell tower), the children are assigned various chores – either based in the school or out in the farmland, helping to work the land.  Due to the climate, crops can be grown all year round – wheat, potatoes, rice, corn, tomatoes – even marijuana! (which is not legal to smoke and, interestingly, is used to treat diarrhea in livestock!)  On the morning we were leaving, we saw a half dozen of the older girls out in the fields, harvesting bushels of golden wheat with their scythes and giant baskets.

But it was just a short visit so the next day, after getting up early to watch the sunrise from Shooting Star Hill, we folded ourselves back into the Washing Machine on Wheels to bounce our way back to Kathmandu.  This time, one of the roads that had previously been closed had reopened, so it only took us 3 hours to get back to the city.  We were staying back at the Thamel Park Hotel for just one night before heading to the airport the next morning – and it was a bit strange to be back where the whole adventure had started, almost 3 weeks before.  We had the rest of the day to ourselves, so I did a bit of souvenir shopping (cashmere scarves are the thing to buy here) as well as found somewhere to have a salad, as I was in dire need of some *ahem* roughage.  At 7am the next morning, Alicia and Dinesh met us for the last time to take us to the airport – and then that was it.  Our Nepali adventure was finally drawing to a close.  Amanda and I were on the same flight from Kathmandu to Doha – but then our travel schedules diverged, so I said my farewells before boarding.  Amanda had been a great travel buddy – and I was so impressed (and a little envious) with how easily she threw herself into every single experience with zero fear and maximum openness.  I’d observed myself becoming a little more introverted when faced with situations I wasn’t inherently comfortable with (so. many. kids) – so it was good for me to see how other people approached the same set of circumstances and learn from it.

Of COURSE, the flight was over an hour delayed leaving Kathmandu – which stressed me out a bit as my connection from Doha to Istanbul was just under 2 hours.  The cabin crew assured me that the ground staff was aware of my tight connection – but I’d been told the same thing before on that delayed Turkish Airlines flight and had still found myself caning it at top speed through Istanbul airport to make my connection to Poland.  However, Qatar Airlines absolutely came through for me.  I was the first off the plane, legged it off the jet bridge – and was met by an immaculate looking member of the Qatar Airlines ground staff and a golf cart – who then proceeded to whisk me through the airport and deposit me directly at my connection gate to Istanbul.   I even had time for a pre-flight beverage as I settled into my seat. Even better?  My bags also made it!  Qatar Airlines for the win!!!