Varanasi, India

The city of Varanasi is one of the holiest sites in the Hindu world. The waters that are carried through here along the Ganges River are believed, by the faithful, to posess the ability to wash away a lifetime of sin. They are also the site of innumerable holy cremation ceremonies where bodies are burned and left to float away, forever becoming one with this sacred river.

My guest house, the Hotel Sonmony is situated directly over one of these cremation sites, or burning ghats as they are called. The entire establishment has a stale smokey scent about it, but it is clean, has friendly staff, and is centrally located. At only US$4 a night, I have little to complain about.

This city wakes up early. It's only 5:30am but by the time I reach the banks of the Ganges there are already crowds of people gathered along the concrete steps. Religious devotees preparing for their morning bath.

I gaze out at the still and purple morning sky, momentarily hypnotized. These buildings have stood for hundreds of years, and look as old as they really are. They seem to have grown from the shore, jumbled piles of varying color and architecture. Stacked high against the river their walls flake with brown, yellow, pink, white, and blue paint. Hand drawn murals advertise Pepsi-Cola alongside local restauants and guest houses. Some of the buildings are adorned with columns, others peaked roofs, towers, or turrets. All are built high above the water to minimize flooding during the monsoon season. I hire a boat for a ride along the shore, climb aboard and prepare to be swept away.

And I am. Nothing I've experienced so far in my travels could have prepared me for this hour long boat trip through the heart of the Hindu faith. As we paddle slowly past, I see men jumping up and down in the water over and over, trancelike, stopping only to chant and pray. Women in peacock-bright saris laugh and talk amongst each other while wading up to their hips in muddy brown water. Bells tinkle, drums boom, and buffalo roam.

A holy man painted ash white with long hair piled atop his head swings a flaming gold lantern shaped like a hooded serpant. Children in white and orange robes, their black hair shaved in curious skullcap haircuts, stand in rows and sing along with to a small band of tabla and harmonium. Practicing their morning excercises these children perform a routine which includes tht which I now believe to be the most distinctly Indian excercise of all – laughing.

I'd call it a circus, but that might be misconstrued as condecension, I don't meant it like that. It's just that the whole sight is so bizarre. So, well... foreign to me. This is not a holiday. Not a festival, not a special event. And it's not a show put on for tourists either. This is traditional India, and it is how life unfolds each morning here alongside this river.

As the sun begins to filter through the clouds, brightening an already colorful display, it seems as if the whole city is alive with prayer. Even a cynic like me finds it impossible to not be moved by the spirit of devotion on display all around. There is no irony, no self-concious mugging to any of this. No tongue, no cheek.

An old man with a bald head and thick Groucho Marx eyebrows waddles forward on bowed legs, crouches down and splashes himself with the holy water. He is grinning from ear to ear like a giant child, and so am I. Because so far, I love India.

Annapurna Circuit, Nepal

Anyone who knows me well knows I'm not much of an outdoorsman. For me a long trek lasts a weekend at most, and my idea of camping nearly always involves a car. I'm clumsy. I dropped out of the Boy Scouts to edit my school newspaper and I can barely use a compass, much less read a map. All the same though, I decided that while I was in Nepal I should take advantage of the opportunity to hit the trails. After taking careful stock of the routes available to me, I decided I'd take the longest, most challenging one I could find that didn't involve mountaineering. I decided to tackle the Annapurna Circuit.

The treks in Nepal are world class, and the most popular of all them is the Annapurna Circuit. It takes nearly three weeks to complete, and local guide companies give it a grade of Medium-Hard. It rises to a elevation of 5416 meters at its highest point and provides stunning views of the Annapurna Mountain range from which it derives it's name. The mountain trails that comprise it wind through some of the most diverse landscapes this country has to offer, and it has the added advantage of not requiring days of backtracking to complete. It also introduces hikers to a wide array of the local mountain communities that comprise so much of Nepal's population outside the Kathmandu Valley. On the Annapurna Circuit you are nearly never more than two hours away from a local tea-house, or small village with ample accommodation. The entire trek can be completed without ever having to pitch a tent.

Taking on this trek may have been brazen of me, but I'm not stupid. Which is why I decided to hire a guide through a local company that could lead me safely along the path and help me carry the belongings I'd need with me along the way. My guide, Om, was a twenty-five year old Nepali native with a goofy smile and an endless supply of corny jokes. He sang, screamed, and laughed his way through our long days with a level of energy and enthusiasm I thought only young children could possess. The guys at the trekking company refer to him as “funny,” though I think “crazy” could possibly be more appropriate. Nevertheless his services were invaluable to me. There was no way I could have completed the trek without him, and I am eternally grateful to him for his support and friendship.

What follows are excerpts from the diary I kept during the seventeen days it took us to complete the circuit:

Day 1
Today I awoke early at 5:15am to do my final preparations for the hike. Om met me around six and we took a short taxi ride to the bus station. The bus was local. Small and cramped. It seemed to stop every five minutes so that passengers could jump on and off. Here, as in most countries I've visited one can board a bus merely by waiting alongside the road and flagging it down. Bus terminals and official stops are found only in town centers where along with new passengers, the bus is raided by children selling bottles of water and men peddling cheap flutes, plastic toys, and numerous kinds of snacks.

The bus ride seemed to last forever, but thankfully the scenery was beautiful. The lush vegetation of Nepal comes as a welcome relief after weeks of dull brown landscapes in Egypt and Jordan.

I'm still a little nervous about the hike. Twenty-one days is a long time, and I can only hope I'm fit enough to handle it. Tonight we will be staying at a hotel in the small city of Besi Sahar and leaving for our adventure first thing in the morning.

Day 2
Today we started our hike around 8am. The walk was beautiful. Winding around mountains, past steeply tiered rice fields, and criss-crossing back and forth across the Marsyangdi River. There were several suspension bridges along the way and a few points where we needed to remove our shoes to cross small streams that fed the mighty water mass below.

It was a six hour trek, and thankfully was not that demanding. The change in altitude was not drastic, but most of the uphill climb was towards the end- during the hottest part of the day.

Day 3
Trekking in Nepal during the monsoon season is far from ideal. It started raining late last evening and lasted into mid-day. Much of the trail today was under water from run-off higher up the mountains. It made for slow but steady going. On a positive note however, along with the rain comes an increase in the size and beauty of the many waterfalls that line the valley.

Due to the downpour Om thought it best if we called it an early day and we stopped around 1:30pm in Jagat, a small village that used to function as a toll station back when the salt trade route wound through these hills. Nowadays it seems as if this town's main economy comes from tourism and the farming of corn. You can see this crop being stacked, shucked, and hauled everywhere in town. On arrival corn on the cob was the first thing we were served here. It was delicious and a real treat after two days of rice and dahl.

Day 5
Today we met up early on with a couple of women from California named Tracy and Rita. As much as I enjoy trekking with Om it was nice to have some other people to talk to. We gained 800 meters of elevation today and are now walking in the fog instead of below it.

Om told us today how lucky we are to be doing our trekking now rather than a few years ago. Apparently Maoists soldiers used to stop tourists at gunpoint and charge them a “fee” for using these trails. It was basically robbery, but the government was powerless to stop it.

Now the Maoists are the government, and are too busy ripping off the locals to bother with shaking down tourists. However all along these trails you can still see their hammer and sickle logo spray-painted along with their slogan, “Join the Maoist Revolution!”

Day 6
Another easy day. A short five hours to Lower Pisang hiking our way though thick pine tree forests. The landscape here reminds me a lot of home. On the one hand this is nice, but on the other hand it makes me quite home-sick. If I could choose right now I'd skip India entirely and just head straight to Boston from Nepal. But by purchasing my ticket I've once again locked myself in for the duration. And it's only another few weeks, right?

There are a large number of other trekkers staying here at the the Hotel Maya with us tonight, Along with the Californians we've been joined by three Israeli's named Yael, Ori, and O, as well as an Australian named Charlie. We played rounds of cards and drank steaming cups of milk tea to ward off the cold.

The village we're staying in tonight is especially beautiful. A number of old grey wooden houses are interspersed among the usual array of gaily colored wood hotels. Most all of the buildings here have the same corrugated metal roofs that are so common on homes in third world countries. To the north of town we can see the beautiful sight of Upper Pisang, an equally old collection of grey and blue buildings sitting atop a high hill covered in red buckwheat flowers. Prayer flags flutter from the tops of the roofs and crowning the village is a white and gold monastery with a pagoda style roof top. I can't believe how lucky I am to be doing this.

Day 7
Today we made it as far as Manang, a village that sits at 3540 meters above sea level. We will spend two nights here acclimatizing to the high altitude before we head up and across the pass.

Sometimes it's hard to believe we are at such high altitude. It's not like Kinabalu where you're climbing a mountain and you see the world dropping away quickly below you. Here the gains are more subtle and there are always higher peaks around you to make you forget how far up you really are.

The trail for the most part is wide and there are few points of actual danger along the way. The hardest part really is the endurance aspect. Day after day of pressing on despite bad weather, wet clothes, and occasional home-sickness. The worst of it will be over soon, but there are still many days of switchbacks and elevation gains ahead.

Day 9
Today we reached 4000 meters. It was a short walk, but the beginning was steep and my breathing is getting heavy and shallow. The path has become quite rocky and at times slightly narrower. The sky is clearing up and much of the day we had an excellent view of the mountains.

We've been joined on our journey by an old friend of Om's named Mukti and a young New Zealander named Kyle. But as we've gained members, we've lost some as well. Our Israeli friends have taken ill, and along with that they've fallen behind. I hope they catch up with us as it would be a shame not to see them again, but we have to keep going. They have a local porter with them so there is no reason for us to worry for their safety.

Around 1pm or so we reached Yak Kharka. There was a large field of yaks nearby. White, back, brown, and mixed colors. We watched them eat grass, fight, dig holes, and try to impress possible mates, They are strange Muppet-like creatures with their long matted hair and shaggy trails. There was even a white and brown spotted baby one that looked like an overgrown sheep dog.

Day 10
It was a short day today, but the last hour was the hardest part yet. We gained a total of 907 meters today, 475 meters of which was done in the last hour. We are staying the night at High Base Camp just up from Thorung Phedi. It's cold up here at 4925 meters.

I notice I have a slight headache developing and I can tell I'm more easily irritable. I don't think I'm developing altitude sickness, but I can tell that the height we're at is effecting me.

Day 11
Up and over the pass. Our day started early. We woke up at 5am, breakfast at 5:30, and we hit the trail by 6am. It took us a good two and a half hours to reach the highest point of 5416 meters. Rita was pretty sick on the way up, and my headache got worse. But once we reached the top it was all smiles and group photographs in front of the hundreds of flapping prayer flags that adorn the summit.

Just as we were throwing our bags on to leave, a goat herder came marching up the path shooing along his large and lively flock. One particularly rebellious goat strayed momentarily up a hill and was reprimanded with a swift stone thrown at his side!

It was extremely cold and windy at the summit so we began our decent reasonably quick. It didn't take long for the path to change to a steep, precarious, and unstable rocky, downward slope.

The first part looked to be a no-man's land. Nothing in sight except dull brown hills and a slippery path of sharp stones. The snow-capped peaks slipped away behind a mass of clouds and the only sound besides the harsh winds was the jovial singing of our group's three guides.

After an eternity of going down, the harsh brown environment have way to mossy hills, and the stone path was occasionally broken up by grassy plateaus. My right knee began to ache fiercely, smarting with each step. Around 1:30pm we reached Muktinath a small village that seems like a metropolis after the solitary tea houses of the last few days. With internet, guest houses, and even a counterfeit 7-11, Muktinath has all the comforts a weary traveller could hope for, or at least all one could expect.

Day 12
We woke up around 7am this morning and made a pre-breakfast hike up to the monastery in Muktinath. There was a Hindu temple there as well as a Buddhist one. Before entering the Hindu temple one must splash themselves on the head with water that pours out from a long series of bird head fountains. Only Nepali and Indians are allowed inside the temple so us westerners waited outside while our guides said their prayers.

A couple of sadhu (Hindu holy men) from India were sitting near the temple with red dots and long dreadlocks passing back and forth a hash pipe within sight of two police. Hash is illegal in Nepal but apparently this law does not apply to the holy men for whom smoking the drug is part of their religion.

After breakfast we set out on our trek which was a short two and a half hours. Around ninety minutes into it at a literal fork in the road we split off from Rita and Tracy as they headed to Jomsom to fly the rest of the way back to Pokhara. We'd been traveling together for over a week and I was quite sad to see them go. We all shook hands and waved goodbye, then set off in our respective directions.

Day 14
Today was a long day but we made excellent progress. Eight hours from Larjung to Tatopani. We met back up with the Israeli's along the way. They were in better health than when we had last seen them and told us that they had gotten so sick that they had to take horses across the pass. They were headed the same way as us, but they were in a jeep when we first saw them. Later on in the afternoon we met up with them on foot to finish the days journey.

We have been hiking full days since leaving Kagbeni and are running ahead of schedule. Therefore we will be spending two nights in Tatopani so we can relax and regain our strength. There is a hot spring here where for the equivalent of fifty-cents we can sit and soak ourselves for as long as we like in warm medicinal waters. My calves are still aching from the decent down the pass, but thankfully my knee has long since stopped hurting.

This town has so many amenities I almost feel like I'm in civilization again. Prices are significantly lower here and I can afford simple luxuries like laundry service and Coca-Cola. I am thankful for the rest day tomorrow as the last two days of the hike will be long and taxing. But at last the end is in sight.

Day 16
Today was the day we'd all been dreading. Long, arduous hours of steep and steady climbing. It feels somewhat defeating after coming down all that way the last few days to be going back up. We gained nearly 1700 meters today putting us back at the 2860 meter mark. Our guides had predicted it would take us eight hours to make the climb, but we all pushed hard and made it in six.

In Ghorepani we were treated by the hottest shower any of us has had in weeks. I can't explain to you just how refreshing it felt.

Day 17
We woke up at 4:00am this morning to head up to Poon Hill to see what was supposed to be the best view of the mountains on our entire trip. When we started our ascent, it was still dark and the sky was so clear that you could see the stars. After thirty minutes walking the sun began to rise and the air above us was thick with clouds. Besides the occasional mountain top poking through the mist there would be no view from the top of Poon Hill for our group.

Once we realized this we all pretty much decided it was pointless to continue on to the top and headed back to down to Ghorepani to have breakfast together before our last day of hiking.

After we left the village behind us it was all downhill from there. Literally. Thousands upon thousands of steep narrow steps. I took my time, alternating which leg I was leading with and sidestepping down in the hopes of not straining my knee any further. Many folks do this trek in reverse up to Muktinath, and I do not envy them. The way we took down would be a horrible way to go up. Not to mention the fact that they miss the most beautiful parts of the trek which I believe were nearly all on the other side of the pass.

It was strange to ascend as we did, passing back into the same climate we'd left behind so long ago in the first days of our journey. Towards the end we saw the reappearance of the multitude of dragon flies that I remember so clearly from that first days walk.

We all became elated as we ticked off the final few milestones. One hour remaining. Thirty minutes. Twenty minutes. Ten. But it seemed that fate was stacked against our celebration as mere minutes from the end a thunderstorm erupted along with a heavy miserable rain. Then, at our appointed meeting place, where our van was to be waiting to take us to our final destination of Pokhara, one of us was missing.

Ori, one our Israeli friends had forged ahead of the pack and managed to make a wrong turn along the way. We waited a half hour for him in the hopes that he would wise up and turn around, or ask for directions. Then we raced around in our taxi to see if he had popped out somewhere further on up the road. Then, just as we were about to give up hope and leave him behind, he pulled up in front of us on the back of a policeman's motorcycle.

No one wanted to hear about his adventure that involved him going the wrong way, getting on a bus, and finally eliciting help from the police. We all just wanted clean clothes, hot showers, and soft beds. The hour and a half long ride back to Pokhara was unpleasantly grim. But by the time we all met up later on that night, Ori was forgiven and everyone was elated to be at last be finished.

We ate steaks and drank cold beers. Laughed about each others struggles along the way and patted ourselves on the back perhaps a little bit too hard. But what can I say, we were finished and it felt really, really good. If you'd asked me two years, or even two months ago if I would do a thing like this, I'd surely have told you “No.” But I did. And I'd do it again. Just don't expect me to be doing it again anytime soon.

Impressions of Nepal

The tiny hatchback taxi cab I'm sitting in lurches forward and comes to a jarring halt, narrowly missing a sputtering motorbike. When it starts again it doesn't so much drive as it creeps forward on well worn shocks through the throngs of pedestrians, motorcars, stray cows, and bicycle rickshaws that clog the back alley streets of Kathmandu.

Staring out the window at the chaos of the Saturday morning market I am suitably overwhelmed. String beans, cauliflower, and other produce are spread out on colorful blankets while female vendors in traditional saris haggle with prospective buyers. Wandering salesman hawk Tiger Balm, offer shoe repair, and attempt to unload heaping piles of cheap knock-off watches. Hindu holy men known as sadhu, offer blessings and place red markings on foreheads to represent the mystical third-eye.

A man in a broad straw hat and denim blue shirt squeezes deftly through the crowds carrying on his back a long stick from which are suspended wicker scales heavy with heads of lettuce that manage somehow not to roll off. A rickshaw passes by headed the other direction down the allegedly two lane street, it's passenger seat piled high with red meat festering under the hot September sun.

The nation of Nepal often finds itself overshadowed by it's larger neighbors India and China (or dare I say Tibet?), however it has been making headlines lately. First with the election of the formally guerrilla Maoist party, and then most recently with the banishment of their King and the dissolving of their long-standing monarchy. But walking the city streets of the capitol one would hardly know that this country has seen so much recent political drama. Compared to past years that saw rioting in the streets of Kathmandu, these days things seem downright calm. Well, as calm as things ever get in a poor, densely populated third world capital.

And Nepal is unfortunately poor. Recent statistics show that nearly one-third of the country lives below the poverty line, and the country has the third highest infant mortality rate in the world. Government spending on health and human services here is predictably low, and outside of the Kathmandu Valley jobs are few and far between.

Approximately 24 million people call the nation of Nepal their home. The majority religion here is Hindu, which accounts for the way that cows roam the streets here with such absolute authority, but it's not the only faith practiced. The secondary religion is Buddhism, whose importance here is rapidly increasing due to the influx of refugees crossing over from Tibet. The people of Nepal are very proud of their legacy of religious tolerance, and are quick to tell visitors that they have never engaged in a war over religious ideology. Many of the shrines here are sacred to followers of both Hinduism and Buddhism alike, and the devout can be seen practicing their rituals in these spots side by side without conflict.

Though Nepal is a small nation, it has much to offer for budget traveler. In the 1960's Kathmandu became one of the favored spots along the so called “hippie trail” that wound through Asia, and the vast tourist infrastructure that was built to accommodate these hash-heads is still in place. The district of Thamel in Kathmandu has a collection of restaurants, guesthouses, and hustlers that is only rivaled by Bangkok's Khosan Road, and one can live comfortably here on a mere US$20 a day.

The Kathmandu Valley area alone is filled with a bevy of cultural attractions, from the Monkey Temple of Swayambhunath to the magical architecture of Patan. A week alone can be filled wandering the streets here and and taking in the sites.

But Nepal isn't all chaotic streets and serene temples. For most travelers the real lure of this nation is it's vast outdoors, most specifically the mountains of the Himalaya. This is the place where two mighty tectonic plates met and have been giving rise to some of the most beautiful scenery in the world for millions of years. It is the home of the Annapurna mountain range, and the mighty Mt. Everest. The trekking here is without a doubt some of the greatest in the world, and is also some of the most affordable.

Arrival here for me marks a bittersweet moment in my travels. I am now alone as Amanda has gone back to Boston to spend some time with her family. I will need to readjust to the liberating, but often lonely experience of traveling solo. I only hope I can remember how.

Petra, Jordan

It is a hot, dry day, but the high canyon that surrounds me provides much needed shade, and with it relief from the sun. Light plays off the tops of the sandstone walls revealing red, brown, and white rock, richly layered like strips of fatty bacon. Against the left wall is a channel deeply carved into the rock that once served as an ancient water conduit. I round a corner finding a bright flood of light against a far wall where the canyon opens up into a wider path. Against this wall, no, on this wall, part of it, are the pillars and peaked rooftops of a structure so ancient that it pre-dates the Bible...

There is still much debate among historians about when the city of Petra was first established, and in fact no method has yet been found to determine it's exact age. What is known however is that the settlement was built by the Nabataeans before the time of Christ. These desert dwellers chose this site for their capital both because of it's position along the Middle East caravan trade route, and for it's ease of defense since it could only be approached via narrow canyon routes.

The settlement reached peak importance around the first century, eventually falling under Roman rule (like just about everything else back then). In the year 363 AD, the city was ravaged by a powerful earthquake that destroyed many of the buildings and ruined the complex series of dams and water channels that made life here in the hot desert climate possible. After this Petra was largely abandoned. It became a tourist attraction after western explorers were introduced to it in the early 1800's, and today enjoys status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Petra is the number one tourist attraction in the Kingdom of Jordan, and is arguably the single most impressive archaeological site in the entire Middle East.

The structure of Al Khazneh (the Treasury) reveals itself to visitors slowly, a dramatic crescendo to the 2km long walk through the sandstone canyon known as the Siq. This is an ancient city planners equivalent to shock and awe. The enormous structure is carved deep into the coloured cliff side impressing all who stand before it to ponder the ingenuity of it's architects.

Al Khazneh is a well known iconic image. It's exterior was used as the set for the resting place of the Holy Grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and photograph's of it have been featured in countless coffee table books. But like the temples of Angkor, Petra is more than just a single monument- it is a city of them. Connected in this case by a footpath that climbs along cliff sides and across desert plains. Visitors spend their days here absorbed in a total package of atmosphere. The mystery of these tombs and temples coupled with the beauty of the surrounding landscape create an experience that is not just archaeological, but geological as well. Exploring this site is very literally, a walk in the park.

The people of Jordan also make Petra worth a visit. Unlike their Egyptian neighbors, the Jordanians are friendly, welcoming, and make visiting their country comparatively hassle-free. I struck up a conversation with a merchant on the site, enquiring about the cost a book he sold. He quoted me a fair price, and made no moves to try to force me into the sale. When I said I'd think about it, he smiled and told me he'd be there all day and that if I decided I wanted to make a purchase I could come back later. Though this may seem unremarkable, after enduring five weeks of aggressive Egyptian salesman I was honestly taken aback by this simple, polite interaction.

It takes at least one long, full day to explore the bulk of this site, and there is extensive walking and climbing involved. But perseverance is rewarded if one completes the climb to the Monastery and the rock cut tombs that have been dubbed “the High Places.” It takes around two hours from the entrance to reach this point but the Monastery itself is the largest and one of the most impressive of all of Petra's structures. It looks as if it was built by giants. While there we were treated to an impromptu folk concert by a local Arab who had climbed all the way up the path to play his oud and take advantage of the natural acoustics inside this mammoth structure.

There are also dramatic views from the high cliff sides near the Monastery where one can sit under tents and sip an ice cold drink or smoke apple flavored tobacco from a sheesha pipe, enjoy pleasant conversation with locals, or just get lost while staring across the vast expanse of Jordan's rocky desert.

By the end of the day we were thirsty and tired, our energy sapped away by the long hike and intense heat. The sun had begun to set as we made our decent and the early evening was mercifully cool. There were few tourists still around, and by this time even the merchants had abandoned their posts. As we made our way back, I paused for one last look at the Treasury building, once again impressed by its enduring classic design. They just don't build them like this anymore.