Trek Chapter 3: Namche Bazaar

Trekking the Himalaya: Where accessorizing means a headlamp, makeup means tinted lipbalm, and dressing up means your least dirty outfit.

To Namche Bazaar

We headed out and began what would be the hardest day of the entire trek. The trail made it’s way uphill, almost continually, for seven hours. It was really, really tough. I’d remember “slow and steady wins the race.” Or sometimes I’d hear Dory from Finding Nemo and sing in my mind, “Just keep swimming! Just keep swimming!” Kalyan had instructed us to breathe in through our mouths and out through our noses and find a pace we could hold. I found a steady rhythm I could maintain. Again he allowed us to each go at our own pace, given none of us got too far ahead or too far behind. At one of the breaks Kalyan told me I was very strong and “I give you good marks.” A compliment from our guide! Now I had a reputation to maintain.

I had to keep reminding myself to look up every once in a while and enjoy the view. You are always going either downhill or uphill. Since you are never on even ground, and there were never ending piles of yak poop along the trail, I got into the habit of watching the ground in front of my feet. Because I used trekking poles and had a backpack, being a little hunched over and looking down became a natural position for my body, for both safety and comfort. But I’d realize long stretches would go by and so I’d pause for a moment and take it all in.


A great deal of the path ran along a deep gorge, which meant usually the inside of the trail was a cliff going strait up and the outside of the trail jetted so far down you could not hear the river. I was in the middle of a dry pine tree forest, dotted with wild rhododendron trees in full bloom. “The national flower of Nepal!” said Kalyan.

Yak trains would lumber up the trail. I’d hear them coming by the bells they wore on their necks. When you heard the clang! clang! you had only a few moments to scramble out of the way, because they moved surprisingly fast. Trekkers always yield for animals and always stay to the inside of the trail, lest the yak nudge thee off the mountainside. I was always nervous when these mammoth beasts passed by. For one, the trail is never that wide, two, they are big and scary, three, they have even bigger loads strapped to their backs, and four, they have long, curved, pointed scary horns that slope away from the sides of their heads and twist outwards. I always pictured myself being pinned to the cliff wall by the horn of a swaying yak.


We stopped for lunch, and I ordered Dal Bhat, the same as the day before. Dal Bhat translates directly to lentils and rice. It is eaten twice a day by the Nepalese. Did you hear me? The same meal. Twice a day. Everyday. It’s kind of reminds me of say, you know, any given Friday night in America and the wife says to her husband, “It’s Friday! Let’s go out for pizza!“ and the husband says, “No, hon, I already had pizza today. I went out with the guys at lunch.“ and the wife wouldn’t dream of torturing her husband with the same meal twice in one day, twice in a row no less! And the thought of doing that everyday- unbearable! So she suggests something else, like Thai food, and soon they are shoving spring rolls and cashew chicken into their mouths, happy to have averted disaster.

If you’ve read Little Princes (which I HIGHLY recommend) you will already understand that dal bhat is as much a part of Nepal as Mt. Everest. I am surprised they don’t have a picture of the dish printed on their currency, right beside their beloved mountain that graces every note and coin. When in Nepal, do as the Nepalese (right?), so I tried to eat as much dal bhat as I could. I always ate it at least once a day, and I really did enjoy it. It is either served very basic, with only the rice and lentils, or quite elaborate, also being served with any combination of curried chicken, sautéed spinach, yogurt, pickled vegetables, sliced carrots, cucumbers or radishes.


As I sipped on my sweet milk tea, I journaled: Just entered Sagamatha National Park. Michelle isn’t wearing a bra today so we all get to enjoy the view. She told Katherine that’s what European women do. Funny, Katherine is also European, but she still manages to keep her boobs bound nicely in place. Energy is pretty good. Diamox is working. No headache, just not much appetite…can still manage to eat, though.

Namche Bazaar would be our destination that day. The last two hours before reaching the village were grueling. I remember Kaylan saying “Oh, Namche’s just over that ridge line!” and I glanced up to see what looked like an entirely separate mountain. I continued on, step after slow step. I’d take breaks and chat with anyone near me who looked willing since there's always somebody going by on those trekking routes. I mostly found that whenever I’d start talking to someone I’d assume was American, they were almost always ended up being Canadian. I've concluded Americans don't venture out much beyond Mexico or Hawaii. I really didn’t meet many of us at all. Whenever I met any British people along the trail, I’d say “But you’re going to miss the royal wedding!” and they’d say, “Yes. Exactly.”

After gaining 3000 feet in altitude, we finally we made it into Namche. Even if I live to be 100 I may never see anything that will amaze me this much, and did you know I’ve seen the Mona Lisa? It’s a terraced, horseshoe shaped village that has the look of an amphitheater carved into the mountainside. This photo was actually taken the following day, above the village.


We made our way into a lodge where Kalyan and I were the first ones in, so he rounded me up some tea, then left to go square away the rooms. Quite a bit of time passed, and I wondered what happened to everybody. Eventually Katherine came in and told me Chris and Michelle had asked Kalyan to take them to a different lodge, because Michelle wanted a room with a private bathroom and shower. Mind you, the lodge Kalyan had lined up for us also had a bathroom and a shower, but they were just a jaunt down the hall from the rooms. Actually, it was quicker for me to reach that shower from my guestroom than for me to reach the shower in my bedroom in my own home.

Chris and Michelle later joined Katherine and I at the table. Michelle looked like death from the hard climb. “Don’t worry guys,” they informed us in an arrogant tone. “We got a room for you, too.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” I told them. “I didn’t even expect to have a shower at all, so one down the hall will work just fine. Furthermore, I think it’s very disrespectful to Kalyan to snub the rooms he’s arranged for us. I'll be fine where I'm at."

Eventually Kalyan joined back up with us we ordered dinner. The way it works in those trekking lodges is that there is no wait staff. The guides take the orders from their groups, then turns them in with a decided mealtime. Then the group meets back up in the dining hall and voila! The food is ready. Here is Kalyan taking our orders.


As we were deciding what to order, Chris and Michelle were being so rude to him, going through the menu asking ridiculous questions and bossing him around, like (I am not making this up) “Go ask the kitchen how the chocolate cake is prepared.” I was so embarrassed.

We headed off to our respective quarters: Kalyan and Kamal to the guides’ and porters’ areas, Katherine and I to the original lodge, and Chris and Michelle to their handpicked hotel. We had a few hours to rest and recover before dinner.

After getting settling into our room (we’d be spending two nights here to acclimatize, so we set up home a little more than at the other lodges) Katherine and I went and wandered around town. I quickly discovered it’s a pretty fun place to hang out, with a maze of little cobblestone walkways, unique markets, cozy bakeries and countless tiny shops filled with yak wool knitted hats and knockoff North Face coats. It was here, though, at 11,300 feet, that I really started to feel the altitude.


At higher altitudes, there is less atmospheric pressure. That means there are less oxygen molecules floating around any given volume of space. Less pressure means less oxygen entering your lungs with each breath. Your body responds by increasing respiration in order to get as much oxygen into your bloodstream as possible. Simultaneously, your body begins to rapidly create more oxygen carrying red blood cells. This process leaves you out of breath and exhausted.

What’s strange is, I couldn‘t match my brain to my body. Coming back to the lodge for dinner, Katherine and I made our way back up the path and came to a section where we had to climb up a few gradual steps . Something my brain saw as no problem, but about half way up (like, five steps) I had to stop for several seconds because I couldn’t complete the task all at once. We stood there, breathing hard and laughing at ourselves.


I actually did a double-take when I saw Michelle entering the dining area ahead of us. She could barely stand upright, and Chris had to help her walk. At the table she was in a foul mood. She was hating it there and wanted everyone know it. Michelle had admitted to us the night before that she hadn’t worked out in almost ten years, and she didn’t even know what the term trekking meant. “I looked it up online. It said walking. I didn’t know I’d have to be climbing up hills.” Here we were, in the tallest mountains in the world, and Michelle had no idea we’d be going uphill. She should have read the information packet. The last time I checked, there weren’t elevators up there.

Brace yourself. I am about to get really mean.

Better yet, while she was Googling trekking, it would have been advantageous for her to have narrowed down her search a bit and typed in, more specifically, trekking the Himalaya. Then she may have discovered that she’d be staying in unheated lodges, using some of the worst bathrooms she’ll encounter anywhere, crossing scary suspension bridges that bounce with each step and become terribly slippery in the rain, and would probably come across bugs in her food. She may have read that, pondered it for a couple seconds, and possibly came to the conclusion this isn’t for me. But she didn’t do that. She did nothing to prepare, and now she was miserable. If I had a small amount of sympathy for her the first day, I had no sympathy for her the second day. She felt completely entitled to be awful to everyone.

We met for dinner and after bringing us our food, Kalyan left us to eat on our own. When the meals came, Chris took one tiny bite of his pizza and pushed it away. “Too doughy.” They both sat there, mad. “Seems like such a waste.” Katherine chimed in. I wanted to high-five her. British and very proper, Katherine rarely said a square word. “It’s only a waste for them,” said Chris, and with disregard he waved it away. I sat there, FUMING. I am sure I had actual steam pouring out of my ears. Here we were, in a region of the world where everything we saw around us- every nail, every sink, every can of coke- was trekked in on a porter’s back or a yak’s back, in a third-world country where kids go hungry, but heaven forbid Chris doesn’t like his pizza.

I quickly ate my meal (or what of it I could stomach, sitting across from World's Two Most Self-Righteous People). I clicked on my head lamp and headed outside into dark night. I walked in the direction of the lodge and was ready to hit the sack. I saw Kalyan heading towards me from the opposite direction. I met him half way.
“They are making me crazy with how they are treating you.” I told him, finally addressing the issue.
“It’s ok. I have lots of demanding clients.” he reassured me cheerfully.
“No…it’s not ok. It’s never ok to treat someone like that.”
“Jessica…" He pauses. "...Not everyone is nice.”