Shit happens.
Since it has been 2/3 of a year, you may want to back up and re-read chapters 1, 2, and 3 to refresh yourselves with the story and to reignite that desire to find out, just how is that chocolate cake prepared?
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The next day was reserved for rest and acclimatizing, so we stayed a second day in Namche. If you go too high, too fast, you risk getting altitude sickness, so trekkers and mountain climbers will often spend two days here in this village while on their way to the higher parts of Nepal.
After breakfast that morning we took a short walk up a trail to a clearing where we had high hopes of, weather cooperating, catching a glimpse of Mt. Everest. It was cloudy, so we killed some time by wandering through a little museum that showcased the history of mountaineering in the Himalaya. Kamal, our porter, hadn’t joined us that morning since he wouldn't have to pack our stuff anywhere, and Chris and Michelle had gone off to be by themselves, which left Kalyan, Katherine and me to hang out happily on our own. We sat on the grassy hillside and shot the breeze while waiting for Queen Everest to reveal herself.
Soon the three of us were bored. We’d been waiting patiently for the clouds to part for, like, hours. So I handed my camera to Kalyan and told him to take my picture. “This is what my face will look like when I actually DO see Mt. Everest!”
Then I laughed at my own joke.
Our patience did eventually pay off and the clouds parted just enough to snap a few quick photos of the mountain in all her glory. Here it is…
Wait for it…
We made our way back down into the village and parted ways. Katherine and I headed to the cyber café where I banged out an email as fast as my fingers would go to Clarissa, giving as many details as I could recall about how the trek had gone up to that point, including Michelle’s lack of bra the day before. “So every time I looked at her I got an eyeful of nipple.” I even added. I emailed home, then did a quick scan of Facebook. The higher in the mountains you trek, the more you pay for Internet, so I worked fast.
We all met back at the lodge for lunch. I only picked at mine. At this point, the altitude was causing my digestion to move along at a snail’s pace, and it was all I could do to choke down a few bites of my meal. I always feel guilty whenever I am in a poor country and I let food go to waste. Really, I don’t like waste no matter where I am or what it is. But as much as I tried, I just couldn’t stomach it.
Katherine and I left to explore more of the village. Namche has lots of little stone pathways and nooks and crannies and we didn’t want to leave any bit of it unexplored. We tried to find the Namche weekend market. It was something I’d read about in Doctor on Everest, and by the way the author described it I knew I’d have to see it for myself. The problem was, we couldn’t find it.
As I leaned over a table closely inspecting some beautiful beaded necklaces I jumped when Katherine call out “Hey!” I was so focused it startled me. I spun around to see Kalyan and Kamal standing behind us…holding hands. Now, I have written about this before, about how it is totally common in some Asian cultures to see men showing affection to one another in public, but for some reason Katherine and I were totally caught off guard seeing our guide and our porter showing PDA. They must have read our faces because they instantly snatched their hands apart and laughed awkwardly. And I think I said something stupid and inappropriate, like “Whoa…mmm…that’s cozy.”
“We’re going to the market”, said Kalyan, re-directing our attention.
“Can we come too?” I asked, inviting us along. “We’ve been looking for it.”
We followed them to the edge of town, to the tip of the horseshoe, if you will, to a busy gathering of villagers socializing and laughing and exchanging fistfuls of rupees for chickens and spices and potatoes. The place bustled like a anthill clinging to a mountainside.
Look at this brave, young vendor.
Do you suppose the rent for his space is the highest or lowest of all the stalls at the market? The highest, for the amazing view of the entire universe, or the lowest, for risk of a shortened lifespan? He seems confident, though, clearly protected by a fortress of San Miguel beer, an impenetrable barrier keeping him from an early and accidental death.
We took some group pictures, and Kalyan and Kamal took the opportunity to make fun of their affection for one another.
As we finished up meandering about the market, Kalyan invited us along to go have some tea. “Do you want to go where just the locals go?” he asked. Of course we wanted to go where just the locals go. So we made our way inside of a building and up a steep, narrow, dark staircase into a tiny, dark, family owned restaurant with only about 4 tables. We sipped sweet milk tea and chatted. There was a soccer game on TV. Katherine and I (especially Katherine, being from the UK and all) wanted to see if the royal wedding was being broadcast, so Kalyan flipped through the channels. No luck.
The conversation turned to Chris and Michelle. Kalyan told us that Michelle had complained to him that morning that her hotel (remember, she chose a different hotel over the one he had reserved for us) was “really noisy”. I asked him, “What the hell does she expect you to do, wave your magic wand?” He just laughed.
We squeezed in for some pictures, then made our way back to the lodge to plan a meeting time for dinner.
I ate dal bhat that evening and when I finished I took advantage of the daylight that was left to go buy some souvenirs for my kids. I remember fighting waves of homesickness and trying to suppress the chronic lump in my throat. I went back to the cyber café and checked back in at home.
Before bed, I wrote in my journal: After I checked my email I went back to the lodge to hang out with Katherine and Kalyan and some of his local friends. Michelle’s name came up again. He said that in 10 years of guiding no one has ever rejected that hotel. We talked fairly late into the night. Then he got us water for the next day, extra blankets, and I joked, “While you’re at it, could you do something about the snoring man in the room next door?” Kalyan also told us that he had gone to Michelle’s room to check on her and when Chris found out, he told Kalyan (Kalyan imitates Chris’ Romanian accent in a confrontational tone), “You didn’t need to go to her room. I already told you she was fine!”
Katherine and I headed off to bed, in hopes of a good night’s sleep in preparation of our trek to Khumjung the next morning.
