Hi All,

Well, we made it – which is more than can be said about my luggage, which is at this moment somewhere between Cork and India… presumed holidaying in Santa Ponza. After a long journey, which involved a delayed flight from Abu Dhabi to Delhi (Abu Dhabi airport is an experience!), due to loose chickens in the cabin. That, at least, is what I was expecting! The leg from UAE to India was an interesting one. The flight left over an hour late, and (compared to the luxury of the London – Abu Dhabi leg) was cramped and full. I was expecting flying chickens in the cabin, and to look out and see a fakir lying on a bed of nails on the wing. There was a number of heated exchanges as the cabin crew warned a number of passengers that there was no smoking on the flight! But, 24 hours after leaving our homes in Cork, we arrived at Indira Ghandi Airport.

So we waited for our luggage, and waited, and after a while Pat’s arrived… but mine had other ideas. So forms were filled out and assurances made that my baggage would be plucked from from it’s pool-side seat and brought to India tout suite!

So India. The first thing, on leaving the airport building, was the assault of people plying their wares and trying to be your designated driver. I had read my guide book and had steeled myself for this, as well as knowing to go to the police run taxi stand. So we went there, told the man where we were going and he made us a docket and told us our taxi number. Now, finding that taxi was going to be a challenge!! After much banter with prospective drivers we found our man and loaded our (well Pat’s!) luggage in. The taxi (and I use the word loosely, as it was more of an unnatural hybrid of bicycle, rickshaw and what may have once been a motor vehicle) proceeded to whisk us to New Delhi. Driving (or being a passenger in a car) in India is certainly an experience. Notice of rapid lane changes is indicated by a vague wave of a hand out an open window and then a sharp turn in that direction. There is much beeping of horns and crossing of fingers.

The driver tried one of the usual scams (again, thanks to Lonely Planet for the information!) on us. Bringing you to some ‘tourist office’ saying that he’s lost and needs to ask directions. Pat stayed with the luggage and I ventured in with him. They stuck 100% to the script outlined in the guide book. He asks the man at the desk to ring my accommodation, the man gives the phone to me and the ‘receptionist’ at (what’s supposed to be my hostel) tells us that they’re full. Funnily enough the man behind the desk has just the place for us to stay! Forewarned of this scam, when I got the phone I simply asked the voice at the other end to give the directions to the driver. Handed the phone to the driver, thanked man at desk and walked out. The book said be polite, but firm. Onwards we motored.

The journey to our hostel, through Delhi, was unforgettable. Delhi is a city of just under 14million people, in a country of over a billion. The poverty is epidemic. The broken down houses with carboard ceillings are homes to entire families, entire generations. People eek out an existance, or they starve and die on the streets. Which is what we saw. Bodies are left on the side of the road, sometimes covered from the flies, sometimes not, presumably until they are collected by the local authority. Bodies of the old, the middle aged and the very young. At first I thought they were asleep, but then you see covered bodies next to uncovered – in small piles at the side of the road. It’s difficult to describe the feeling that something like that gives you.

For us Westerners, death is either a very personal thing or a very detached and clinical thing. Personal when it is someone close to us, detached and clinical when we see it on Sky News or CNN. Being presented with it all around you, as the large swollen orange disk of the sun rises majestically into the morning mist, is a very awkward feeling. You want to admire the beauty of the skyscape, yet all around you people are dead and dying. Should you feel guilty noticing the sun rising?

I don’t know, but as members of the so-called sophisticated 1st world, we should certainly feel the guilt of the thousands of people that live and die in abject poverty every day, as we (and I aim this primarily at our governments) sit down to our oppulent dinners, in our safe surroundings, in our first world lives.

One of the US’s newest tactical fighters, the F-22, cost a little over $50 to build, and they are making a couple of hundred of them – just imagine what that money could do here?

Anyhow, enough sanctimonious babble. We made it to our Hostel, which is basic, to say the least, but does the job. I’m getting used to the constant assault by the local insect population, and my repellant seems to be doing it’s job. I’m finding the heat pleasant (it’s about 36 degrees in the sun at the moment). I’m getting used to jumping over the small, black scorpions and large ants that seem to run the ground floor. How’s Pat finding it? I don’t know – he’s fast asleep in the room! We got here at about 7am, sat down and had a coffee and then went to our rooms and got a bit of kip. I managed to crawl out of bed and into the (tepid) shower. Pat still sleep with the Air Conditioning!

But, so far all is good. The delay with my luggage means that we will have time to explore and experience Delhi, which should be an experience indeed.

For now, Alex is out the gap dot com!

Alex

Hi All,

Well, still no sign of my luggage… but we still got a lot done today.

First and foremost we got our Chinese visa, no bother, no hassle. Same day processing… Tibet, here we come!

This morning we employed the serivces of Shandrisikh (spelling is a very rough approximation, and he is hereafter refered to as Yer Man), who, with his tuk-tuk, would show us the sights an sounds of Delhi. Basically he will drive us where we want, when we want, and wait while we do it, all for $10 each! He is a friendly Sikh, who speaks excellent English and knows where EVERYTHING is – which in Delhi is no mean feat, I can assure you.

Today, we visited the ancient Islamic site of Qutb Minar – a very impressive 12th Century monument in Delhi. Even more impressive is the 79 metre Minar (tower) at the site. This thing has been standing for over 800 years and has survived earthquakes and lightning strikes in that time, with only minor damage.

The tower itself is made from Red Sandstone and marble, and has inscriptions all around it. Also at this site is the famous Iron Pillar. Famous, as it is said that if you can reach your arms around it (in a sort of iron-fetish embrace) you’re every wish will come true. Also, it is very famous for the purity of it’s iron – which over 8 centuries has never rusted. Scientists still don’t know how the people that made this came by such pure iron. And neither do I!

We were also treated to a rare experience. Since Yer Man is of the Sikh religion, he brought us into the famous Gold Temple. We had to shed shoes and socks and don scarves on our heads, wash our feet (is it ’cause I is smelly?) – but it was worth it. The entire complex (yes, this temple is a complex) is made of marble and gold. The ceiling and domed roof is paneled with gold, and basically everything else is marble. From 4am to midnight priests sing hymns and play drums in prayer, and Sikhs wander in and out to pray. Music is an integral part of the Sikh religion, they believe that through music, one can reach enlightenment more easily. The Holy Book is kept in a highly ornate and very beautiful golden shrine, from which the head priest reads. Sikhs are the ones with the turbans and beards – they neither cut their hair nor shave, and they don’t drink. The latter being maddness.

On one side of the temple is the food shelter, where 3 times a day the Sikhs feed anyone and everyone who turns up, regardless of religion, gender, ethnicity or nationality. The food is made by members of the religion who give some free time to it’s preperation, made from donated food, and food bought from donations, and served by any member of the Sikh religion who has time to spare.

On the other side of the temple is a huge bath! About 50 metres in length (has Ireland got it’s 50 metre pool yet?!?) and 20 wide, it is filled by Holy water, and Sikhs come here to bath. The sick come here to be healed, and all in all it’s a very tranquil, peaceful and spiritual place… I’m not going to even comment on the hygiene though!

We also saw the impressive India Gate… Delhis version of the Arc de Triumph, except that it’s red and you can’t climb it or walk under it – you’ll be shot… I promise…

Naturally we met an Irish person today – I was starting this email and she came in and had an Irish accent (ok, the red hair and freckles gave it away too). A pleasant enough girl, other than the fact that she talks constantly, to the point of going blue and someone reminds her to breathe. She is working here… God help them all in India! However, whe works with a guy from Nepal who she is going to bring with her tomorrow night when we meet her for drinks. He shall be plied for much information with much beer. Mmmm… beer….

Well, that’s all for now folks. We saw a lot (no photos for me, as my camera is still sipping Sangria’s with my rucksack and the rest of my belongings by the pool in Santa Ponza) and will see a lot more!

Keep praying for my luggage…

For now, Alex is out the gap dot com.

Alex

PREFACE: My machine went mad – so you get the not error checked version of this! I’m NOT doing it again…
I’d like to start this message (while swotting the Mosquitos and Fly’s away) with a quote from an email I got today. This prayer (at this moment being put to the music of YMCA, by the vilage people, by the Moonies) seems to have worked. All credit must go to Guru Ciaran “Hega” Hegarty for these wise words:

Our Alex, who art in India,
Hallowed be thy name,
Thy luggage come,
Thy bags arrive in Delhi as you need fresh underpants
Give him today his clean new socks, and forgive him his flatulence,
As we forgive those who flatulate against us
And lead him not into Banagher,
‘cos it’s a shithole.
Amen

Wise words indeed…

Well, my luggage arrived. Not that they deemed me worthy enough of informing… I arrived at the airport – negotiated the (Kafka-esque) Indian beaurocracy and was finally told that my bags had arrived and were waiting for me to collect them. Excellent! 2 hours later and 432,152,679 forms later I had them… they were mine. Well tanned from their holiday in Santa Ponza, they were now ready for the rigours of South Asia.

After giving myself repetitive stress syndrome from filling out forms in the airport, we continued on our discovery of Delhi. Today we ventured into Old Delhi. As an aside, the city in India is called Delhi, it is, however, broken down into New Delhi and Old Dehli. New Delhi is, by Indian standards, more modern and oppulent. New Delhi embodies everything a Westerner imagines the capital of India to be.

Travelling from New Delhi one passes by the Delhi Gate, much like the Berlin Wall, it seperates two parts of a city as far apart as New York is from Borrisokane. The sudden transition is like a splash of cold water. Where I had thought that New Dehli was poverty stricken, Old-Delhi proved me wrong. Instantly the meagre splattering of cars vnish, replaced by cow and donkey drawn carts. The level of palpable poverty increases exponentially. It’s like driving from Dubai into downtown Gaza. The buildings look like survivors of a war, and I really don’t want to even try an begin to desribe the quality of life of the citizens of this side of the city.

Ironically, Old Dehli houses the most spectacular ancient monuments here. The Red Fort is a magnificent and vast ancient seat of the old emporers of India. Built in a plethora of styles that incudes Islam, Hindu and Mongol influences, it seems to sum up (in it’s architecture) the diverse religious and social populous of Dehli. It’s an uneasy truce between these different ideologies that, architecturally, is very beautiful. Towering red walls hold within then fantastic marble Muslim Mosques and Indian emperors palaces. Beside this are colonial buildings, build by the British army to house the local garrison. While obviously out of place, they play no less a part in outlining the very diverse history that Red Fort, and indeed Delhi iteself, has to boast about. Thankfully, since my luggage arrived, I had my camera, and I have 35 pictures from there to bore you with.

A short tuk-tuk ride, and a change of film, away was the site of the Ghandi’s burning. I would say cremation, only there seems to be a difference that I don’t quite yet get. This is a very sacred place for all Indians, who are extremely proud of their independence and their country. We decided not to enter the inner sanctum of Ghandi’s final corporal resting place, instead we viewed from the balcony above. To me India seems unique, in that there are many places where religion and caste and background are put to one side for a greater common good, and the site of Ghandi’s burning was a prime example. Mercedes and bicycles stood abandoned at the entrace to the park dedicated to the Ghandi family (they bear a slight resemblance to the Kennedy’s in the family’s influence on India’s history and society). Shoes, be they of the finest Italian leather or of the cheapest Indian rubber, were shed at the entrance to his shrine, and people prayed and gave thanks side my side as equals. I was glad that I could witness this, but at the same time a sense of voyeurism came over me as I took my photo, in true Western tourist style.

After Ghandi’s grave we ventured further South in Old Delhi to Humayun’s Tomb. It seems that many of the famous and splendid monuments in India are tombs of some form (the Taj Mahal being the most famous example). Thanks to the recent hostilities between India and Pakistan, we were afforded the rare comfort of being the two of the very few people there. Unlike us, the Indians regularly visit their own national treasures (I suppose this is due to the religious importance of many of them). We were able to wander around this vast area, dotted with tombs and shrines of spectacular design and work, almost alone. At one point it was like being in an Indiana Jones movie – the grass was overgown and we were exploring the inside of a domed tomb, lit by the rays of the afternoon sun shining through the narrow windows high above.

Tomorrow we leave bright and early for Agra, home of the Taj Mahal and Agra Fort. We have a car booked (not air-conditioned, that was too expensive!) that will collect us bright and early (6:30am) from out hostel and drive us the 210km to Agra, drive us around and then drop us home. After which we shall head straight to No Escape (the pub we found this evening) and enjoy a few social beers. Friday we fly to Nepal!

No Escape was a bar we founf by accident. Not listen in any of our guide books, we stumbled upon it after two interesting tuk-tuk (tonight I renamed them fuk-fuk) rides. From our hostel Pat, Ashling (previously mentioned Irish girl, working here), and myself decide to go for a couple of social pints. All of us have an early start tomorrow, so we headed out after dinner to find DV8. Our first tuk-tuk driver had obviously escaped from the local lunatic asylum, as not only did he try to kill us by playing chicken with buses, he also talked to himself while he drove in this suicidal fashion. We soon ditched him, throwing coins and Rupee notes at him (total value: 2 – 3 euro – we were in his lunatic vehicle for about 30 minutes). We walked for a while and then jumped in another tuk-tuk, who also had no clue. We jumped out at a good time, as we found No Escape.

This was the start of a Twilight Zone type experience. Michael Jackson meets the latest Bollywood hits, meets the most kicking tunes Henry’s ever had to offer! However, the most “Tales of the Unexpected” like event happened when I went to the little boys room. There was a little Indian man outside as I entered, and he came in after me and cleaned the counter a bit (it was a one-bowl, one-urinal, lock the door after you job). I was expecting him to leave so I begun unzipping myself to answer my call of nature. But he didn’t, instead he locked the door and said something in Hindi/Punjabi and stood there. I looked around and asked him if he was going to watched while I pee peed. He smiled and repeated what he said. This was a bit too much (draw you own conclusions – I did!), so I unlocked and opened the door and told him to leave.

Ok, surreal. What was worse was worse was, a beer and a half later (they were big beers – ok!), I was waiting outside previously mentioned loo, when the door opened and out someone came, followed by afore mentioned little Indian man… Again, draw your own conclusions! This is a MAD city!

We booked our flights today and leave Delhi Friday at 11:30am. In one way I’ll be sorry to leave Delhi. It’s daily heat and sunshine, it’s wealth of history and culture. In another way I’m very much looking forward to Nepal. The Himalayas with it’s cool days and cold, cold nights. It’s mountain treks and breathtaking snow capped peaks. It will be much more basic than India, where with some Western money anything is yours.

But it’s the next stage of our adventure, and one which I look forward to with relish. It’s going to be a challenge, one which I’ve never experienced before. In South America we had the buffer of it having vaguely European influence, and retaining that influence. Nepal, and moreso Tibet, are untamed highlands, where the language will be as unfamiliar as the unforgiving Himalayan peaks. Bring it on!

Hopefully (well, maybe not for you!) we’ll be able to locate an Internet Cafe and I can (continue to) bore you with stories of my travels.

Until then, Alex is out the gap dot com.

Alex.

Today was our last full day in India, until we spend a day here before we leave – which is, thankfully, still over 3 weeks away. But what a way to say “Ciao! India!”. We went to Agra, a city a couple of hundred miles west of Delhi – home of the Taj Mahal.

We left this morning at 6:30am in our hired car (with driver – we would be clinically insane to try and drive on Indian roads themselves!) for the 4 odd hour trip. Our first stop was Akbar’s mausoleum. Akbar was a Mughal ruler of India, and it seems to me that all the most stunning sites of India were built by rulers, for when they died! This site was no exception – expansive gardens, and a symmetry throughout that is typical of all sites dating back to the Moghals. Large, domed red-sandstone buildings built for the sole purpose of housing the tomb of a dead king!

From there we went to Agra Fort, a large impressive fort/palace complex that afforded us a great view down the Yamuna river to the Taj Mahal.

Ah, the Taj Mahal. Pictures do not do it justice, nor do you experience the scale and magnificence of the building from them. Located typically in a symmetrical arrangement with large imposing gates and mosques, the Taj Mahal is a breathtaking site. Serenely beautiful in the afternoon sun, it’s white marble and 4 tall towers quietly exude magnificence and awe inspiring beauty. Built by Emperor Shah Jahan as tomb for his dead wife, whose loss he mourned bitterly.

Locals say that it is the embodiment of true love, however, my new-found cynicism of this means that I think that particular tale a load of rubbish! But the Taj Mahal is certainly a fantastically beautiful building, and we sat there for 10 minutes looking up the gardens at this wonder of the world. Radiating the sun outwards, the Taj Mahal stands in stark contrast to the poverty that surrounds it. However, you forget this, sitting in the wash of it’s beauty and majesty.

Everywhere in Agra you are bomarded by hawkers trying to sell you this and that, in a very overt way. They follow you for ages sticking whatever it is they are trying to sell under your nose – but you have to accept this as part of the culture and the experience of India. Once inside the site that you are visiting they vanish (lying in wait for you at the exit!) and you are left only with the marvel that surrounds you.

What I admire here, is the amount of Indians that come and visit their local sites. There are, thanks to Pakistan and Kashmir, very few Western tourists, but the Indians are at all the monuments in droves. What I also like to see is that there are 2 prices – a very cheap (RP.20: about 25 cents) price for nationals, and a foreigner price, somewhere between $5 and $15. A good policy.

Tomorrow morning we head to the foothills of the Himalayas, where we shall organise our treks and onward journey into Tibet. Stay tuned for more!

Until then, Alex is out the gap dot com.

Alex

Namaste!

Also known as Hello in the English speaking world! Well, we made it here to Nepal! I don’t in the least miss Delhi, although we went out with a bang and had a mighty session the night before we left! We met up with Edwine (a friend from Ireland who is doing voluntary work Bhopal for the next two years – you deserve a medal Edwine!) and 2 friends of hers, and went on the beer, just about making the flight the next morning!

So far Nepal is fantastic! We are staying in a hostel run by a Tibetan family. The room is costing us $8 a night (each), but it’s easily worth is (you can get rooms for $2!) for the roof top garden! It’s one of the higher buildings in the area, so the view over the city and of the mountains that surround Kathmandu in their loving embrace is spectacular!

It’s a manageable city, with most things being within walking distance. Yesterday we strolled around and got ourselves oriented in the city. We’ve met up with 2 Germans (1 male, 1 female – both travelling alone) and a Dutch guy last night, and we’ve formed a small little drinking and sight-seeing group of our own!

Pat has been sick (the usual stomach and bowel problems that affects a perentage of the tourists here) yesterday and today, so I went on the absolute razz with them last night (hooking up with a few Danish girls as well). It was a great laugh – beer, banter and swapping traveling stories. I crawled home at about 2am!

This morning I left Pat in his bed (prescribing him some Immodium before I went!) and met up with Natalie and Tomas for a venture into the Kathmandu valley to the town of Bhaktapur. What a town! We met a lovely Nepali girl called Pratibha who showed us around for a few hours. Bhatkapur is a wonderful town with narrow alleys flanked by tall building, many made from terra cotta, with highly ornate wood carved windows. Every junction has a small Hindu shrine of some sort, to Ganesh mainly, but others to Vishnnu and Brahma. There are many large squares with breathtakingly beautiful temples.

Today is the ninth day of the Dasain festival (the equivalent of Christmas/New Year for us), on which tens of thousands of animals are sacrificed by Hindus in Nepal. I witnessed one lamb being sacrificed at a small alter on a small alley… a unique experience I was delighted to see! Natalie had to turn away – as Roy Keane would say, it’s not her scene!

Wandering around the narrow streets, coming into large temple-filled squares and weaving through the crowds in the many street markets was a memorable experience. The sound of people and animals, the smells (sometimes good, sometimes very bad), the constant stream of new and exotic and wonderful things to look at was a very pleasant assault on the senses. Constantly jumping left or right to the sound of the bell/horn of a bicycle or motorbike, stopping every few minutes to take a photograph of yet another Kodak moment – and there are plenty of those to go around here!

From Bhaktapur we hired a taxi to take us to a remote ridge top village called Changu Narayan. This village is true, rural Nepal – chickens, goats, dogs and children wander freely around it, as the adults prepared for tonights festivities. We climbed up through the village to see it’s temple, which is the oldest in Nepal. What was really magical about Changu Narayan is the view it affords of the Kathmandu valley below. It was about 5pm and the sun was setting and on the valley floor below you could see the lights of Kathmandu and Bhatkapur, but more beautiful were the small pockets of light from the small villages and fires lit by farmers and shepards.

The taxi journey from Bhaktapur to Changu Narayan, and from Changu Narayan back to Kathmandu was like something from the twilight zone! It was a 1973 (we asked!) Datsun Sunny Delux, which I’m sure in 1973 was a top of the line car, but in 2002 it’s showing it’s age. The springs in the seats were useless and every bump of the dirt track to Changu Narayan was felt intimately! Our driver asked us if we liked music – which we all said we did, so he puts in a tape and out blares the Vengaboys! Twilight Zone moment – in a 30 year old car, listening to the Venga boys, winding up a dirt path to the top of a valley side, sharp drops on unbarriered road side, in Nepal! We came upon a convoy of Tata trucks and had a run in with the last one (they seem to have imported driving teachers from Delhi). The truck drove on but our driver stopped the car to survey the damage. We all got out to see nothing but a scratch and dent on the right rear wing… hardly noticeable among the thousands of others that decorated his car! He, however, looked as if the sky had falled on his head. I firmly believe that had he been Muslim he would have called a Fatwa upon that truck driver! Surreal to say the least.

We are more than likely leaving for Tibet on Tuesday, where we will spend a few days in Lhasa before hiring a land cruiser to drive us down through the Tibetal Plateau to the start of our Everest Base Camp trek (which we are doing from the Tibetan side). On the way we will (hopefully!) be stopping at Shigatse and Gyantse, which are home to some wonderful Buddhist temples and forts.

From Base Camp we hope to be able to hire another land cruiser to get us to Kathmandu, or else try and hitch a lift… it’s quite a walk! We will acclimatise in Lhasa, which is 3,800 metres (12,464 feet) above sea level, which is good – considering that our Base Camp trek brings us all the way up to 5,200 metres (17,056 feet)! I can’t wait… the journey from Base Camp back to Kathmandu is meant to be spectacular also. Yeah, baby, yeah!

Until the next time, Alex is out the gap dot com!

Alex

Hi All!

For the last few days we’ve been trekking near the Langtang Himalayas. They say that the Himalayas are the roof of the world, and to extend the metaphor, we were trekking in the attic.

We set off on Tuesday morning bright and early by Land Rover (well, the local equivalent of!) to our start off point. A bumpy couple of hours later we donned our (large and heavy!) rucksacks and headed off. Our guide, Tej, was a very pleasant man from the mountains in an unpronouncable (never mind my trying to spell it!) region in northern Nepal.

Day one was a very, very difficult slog upwards, and upwards, and upwards. 6 hours of neverending ascending trails, and even worse, steps. After the first hour my backpack felt as if it were full of bricks, instead of minimal clothing (other than 2 big jumpers!), my sleeping bag, anti creepy-crawly net (no mosquitos over 1500 metres!), thermals, wash kit and emergency kit I’d packed. I’d love to wax lyrical about the fantastic flaura and fauna, scenic views and enchanting villages we passed through, but to be honest, all I can describe in much detail was the view of my boot hitting the dusty ground in a regular fashion. Head down and keep climbing, and climbing, and climbing…. I went through 5 litres of water on that climb, and did I need every cubic millimetre of it!

We reached our lodge at about 6pm, just as the sun was setting, the large black void of the Himalayan peaks looming over us. Our room in the lodge was spartan to say the least – 2 beds and a barn door with a padlock on it. We huddled around a table in the “dining room”, greedily devouring our dal bhaat (local Nepali dish made with rice and lentils). We talked and played cards with our guide and a couple of locals for a while, before retiring to our suite for the night. Arrange net over sleeping bag, evict rather large millipede from room, brush teeth, swallow malaria tablets, collapse into a coma-like sleep.

Despite my tongue-in-cheek description of our lodge, it was worth it the next morning. The local rooster woke us up at 5:30am and I crawled out of bed and out the door (no need to put clothes on, I was wearing everything I had packed… it get’s a wee bit chilly at night up high!) to a breathtaking panorama of the Himalayas, with the sun just about leap over the craggy peaks into it’s home in the sky. The beams of light were cutting through the dewy air like searchlights, and the first arc of the sun broke above the mountains like a large, orange diamond ring.

We stood there watching in awe, a few trekkers alone on the roof of our lodge, the only sounds being the whirring of cameras, the rooster doing an encore and the bleating of a few early-rising goats. Slowly, as the sun rose higher, peaks to the left and right began to glint as the ice on the top reflected the first, bright beams of the dawn sun. It was a truly magical and serene experience.

The going that day was much easier – we had reached our highest point and from here on in (with a few exceptions) we were on a downhill route. The trail we followed may once have been a popular one among trekkers, but due to “the problem” (as the locals call it) we walked it alone. The recently finished wet season had washed many parts of the cliff-side trail away, which meant that at times we were scrambling over it’s broken remains. We passed through many small villages (or settlements as my map calls them), little children often running up to us with welcomes of “Hallo” or “Namaste”. How the people in these remote collection of homes manage to etch out an existence in these remote parts of Nepal amazes me – they have a few cows, goats, chickens and some terraces planted with corn, millet and sometimes rice.

The scenery was spectacular. Lush rolling mountains cowering in the shadow of the mighty snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas made for breathtakingly beautiful views. What I found the most surprising was the very loud calls, I would even go as far as to call them screams, of the grasshoppers. As we passed through more dense brush the grasshoppers whistle-like calls were almost deafening… a very high pitched whistle that pierced through your skull. Another thing was the spiders – everywhere were large webs built by impressivly large arachnids, bloated from the easy capture of the numerous flying insects.

As the trail led us further and further lower Pat began to develop extremely painful blisters on the sole of his right foot. After 8 hours of walking (and a couple hobbling in Pats case!) we made it to our lodge. Again, food and bed. Another early rise to once again witness sunrise over the Himalayas, and a first glimpse of a (faw-away) Everest. Pat was unable to complete the trek so hired a 4×4 to bring him to our end point. He took the bags and myself and Tej hit the trail at 8am. A few hours later we met up with Pat (sitting comfortably in a little restaurant with a cup of coffee!). We hopped back into the Land Rover that was waiting to take us back to Kathmandu, and before you could say “Mick McCarthy is a muppet”, I was standing under a tepid shower for my first proper wash in 3 days!

Saturday we head to Tibet. A 5 days overland trip in a 4×4, crossing over the Himalayan border between Nepal and Tibet, stopping off at Shigatse and Gyantse, with their ancient Buddhist monastries and forts. Lhasa then awaits us, and I look forward to that with a little trepidation. Just how much has the Chinese occupation (now in it’s 50th year) changed the Tibetan culture? Time will tell, and so will I when I find out.

Until then, Alex is out the gap dot com.

Alex

Hi All!

I’m writing this message to you wearing every article of clothing I packed, typing on a Chinese keyboard, in Gyantse, Tibet.

We left Kathmandu on Saturday morning, all geared up for our adventure trip to Tibet. 5 days overland bringing us to Lhasa, the capital of Tibet and the, now unoccupied, seat of the Dalai Lama’s. We met our bus and our 12 travelling companions and set off to the border. 5 hours later we made it. The route was as beautiful as it was treacherous. High rolling mountain passes, which our (lacking in suspension) bus navigated at it’s top speed of 35kph… which is fast enough when one looks out the window and sees nothing but a sheer drop below.

Once we passed through the Nepali border we crossed the Friendship bridge, where the smiling and easy going faces of the Nepali border police were exchanged with the stern faces of small Chinese army officers in their oversized green uniforms. We had to pick out our nationality from a book full of flags for (what we thought) was the border crossing. It was not to be. We were then heralded into the back of a truck and transported the 9km roller coater joy ride to the “real” border. That was another interesting, life flashing before my eyes, experience. Many parts of the “road” had been washed away during the rainy season and what was left was only the smallest of paths… which the driver of our cattle truck took at break neck speed. We eventually reached the Chinese border crossing and without too much difficulty crossed into Tibet.

Our first night was spent in Zanghmu, a true Chinese border town, totally devoid of any Tibetan culture, and filled with brothels and karaoke bars for the local army camp. A cold, sleepless night was spend there sernaded by poorly sung karaoke and barking dogs. The next morning saw a complete lack of tepid water and I’m not going to mention the toilet facilities.

We left Zanghmu and started our spectacular climb over the Himalayas. The setting was stunning, high snow-capped peaks bearing down on us at every narrow u-turn. We spent that night in a shack in Tingri, at an elevation close to or over 17,000ft. We ate in a smoke filled room with local Tibetans and went to our rooms to sleep after much talk and merriment. Some of our group were suffering badly from altitude sickness, and went to bed early looking decidedly pale. The night in Tingri is one I will never forget. It was so cold, that despite all my cold weather gear, my feet could still have featured highly as a prop in Santa’s grotto. The bed was hard, our room had a roof of canvas and the dogs barked for the whole night. At times (especially when natured called…. oh the humanity of it all) I even wished for Zanghmu.

At breakfast the next morning we learned that 2 of our group would not be continuing the journey with us, the altitude had got the better of them. Also, a few of our Italian friends were also suffering but would continue… despite their fancy designer gear and Mediteranean good-looks they battled on… fair play! Thankfully, neither of us were in any way affected… Men of Aran!

Mondays journey brought us over passes as high as 5,220metres and the view that they afforded us of the Himalayas was spectacular. All around were mountains, capped with pure white snow. What was as spectacular was the sky, such a deep blue that it was magnetic, I found my eyes constantly drawn to it – such a rich and vibrant colour. Onwards to the Tibetan plateau below… but not too far below! At 3,900 metres, many people are still suffering from the altitude.

We spend last night in Shigatse, the second biggest town in Tibet and the ancient home of the Panchen Lama (No.2 to El Boss, Senor Dalai!). Unfortunately, the current Panchen Lama (the 11th) is under house arrest in Beijing, and is the youngest political prisoner in the world. Shigatse is an interesting town, with some spectacular temples. However, it pales in comparison to Gyantse.

Gyantse, they say, is the Tibetan town which shows the least Chinese presence… although I debate that. It does, however, have some phenomonal Buddhist temples and a the ruins of a, once magificent, Tibetan fort. This fort rests on a huge outcropping of rock, which presides over this town. After a steep, and breathless, climb to the top, the view it affords over it’s city and the surrounding mountains is something else. The dusty Tibetan plains stretch to the base of the lofty mountains in a stark contrast of barren and flat, to tall and snow-capped.

Tibet is dusty, and every evening you come to where you are resting your head covered in a film of it’s red dust and your mouth dry from inhaling it. Tonight was our first shower, hot thankfully, in 4 days… and I can’t describe the way every taunt and abused muscle in my body released a collective sigh of thanks as the first drops of hot water rolled down my back. It’s the small things that make the difference… hopefully tonight will be karaoke free and that all the local canines temporarily loose their voices. Time will tell, and so will I!

Until then, Alex is out the gap dot com.

Alex

PS: Local Garda just sat next to me… thus the hasty ending!

Hey Folks,

Well, we’ve managed to find a net cafe with a fantastically quick connection… I’m surrounded by young Tibetans gaming online and I’m sorely tempted to frig this email and join them! But my beer is in front of me, it’s 19:00 and we’re not meeting the rest of the gang for dinner until 20:30, so I’ll continue! Please forgive any typos, as it’s bloody freezing and my hands are blue!

Before I start my story proper, I want to tell you of a lovely little incident that happened to us earlier on. We were in the Johkang Temple in Lhasa (John, we’re going to check that Nunnery tomorrow, thanks for the heads up… I’m reminded of a line from Bolt’s A Man for All Seasons: Woman, get thee to a nunnery…. don’t mind my babbling, the lack of oxygen is going to my head!). Anyhow, we were in the Johkang – one of the holiest temples to Tibetan Buddhists, as important to them as Mecca is to Muslims. As we wandered around this beautifully etherical temple, mingling with Tibetans walking around the main temple chanting their mantras and spinning the prayer wheels (everything done in a clockwise fashion, as is the Buddhist way), our ears filled with the mesmerising music made by the monks beating their drums and chanting Mantras from their prayer books. At the end of each Mantra 2 young monks would blow into their huge curved horns, which produced the most hauntingly beautiful sound. We stood therew for what seemed like hours, spell bound by this music.

When we eventually roused ourselves from our trances we explored more of the temple, and visited the magical inner temple, with it’s multitude of candles and huge golden Buddha’s, the smell of the burning incence in our nostrils. We explored this fantastically mystical place with the sound of the music and chanting in our ears. Finally, we managed to pull ourselves away and returned to the courtyard, with it’s monks playing their hypnotic music. Pat had bought a book of photographs of Tibet, which a small group of local girls found fascinating. They gestured at it and Pat unwrapped it and gave it to them to look at. What heppened next was like something from a fairy tale. They looked at the cover and each of them touched it to their heads before opening it, because the cover was a spectacular photo of the Potala (now vacant home of the Dalai Lama). As they turned each page their looks of wonderment increased as much as the broad smiles on their dark, weatherbeaten, yet still handsome, faces. For us it was a book of beautiful pictures, for them it was a rare view of their homeland, which their parents/grandparents tell them about, but (due to travel restrictions imposed by you know who) they can only dream of seeing. We stood there watching them as more and more Tibetans crowded round the book to see it’s images, as if it were the living Buddha. It was a remarkably poignant scene, considering the political situation in Chinese-annexed Tibet, and in some way we felt as if we had brought a small ray of light into (what must be) a very dark life here for them now.

That really has been the highlight of Lhasa, and indeed Tibet for me. While outside of the towns the panoramic scenery is breathtaking, I have a constantly bitter taste in my mouth when I’m in Tibet’s urban areas. Don’t get me wrong, the temples and monastaries we have visted, and I’m sure those we will visit tomorrow, are without equal in their serene, holy and beautiful way – but Tibetan life, culture, society and ethos has been trodden on and trampled on by army issue boots for too long. Lhasa is like any other Chinese town (Adrienne, a Belgian we have hooked up with has been there and atests to this): big advertising hoardings, gaudy bright Neon and Sodium lights on every shop, hotel, brothel (of which there is an 8km stretch containing nothing but) and f**king karaoke bar. I don’t like it. It’s like the remaining temples and monastaries and pockets of Tibetan way are small islands, slowly being flooded out of existence by the Chinese way of life. I’m glad that we return to Kathmandu on Saturday morning, and not staying on longer as we had previously planned.

Tommorow we visit the Potala and nearby Sera monastery, before wandering some more around Lhasa on our own. We have been fortunate in that our guide respects/realises that we have no interest nor inclination in being hand led around – instead he gets us to the out-lying places, gives us a return time and drops us back to Lhasa for us to explore alone, unguided and without any pro-Sino spin. I have a feeling that the Potala will leave as much as a hollow, bitter feeling in me that Lhasa has so far – but then, only time will tell, and so will I.

Until then, Alex is out the gap dot com.

Alex

Hi All,

Well, we’re back in Kathmandu – having flown back from Lhasa on Saturday. The flight was quite spectacular, flying over the Himalayas and passing very close to the mighty Mount. Everest. Tibet from above is a stunning sight, the barren brown landscape with it’s high rolling ‘hills’ quickly changes before your eyes into a panorama of high, snow capped mountains, many sporting the similar black rock of Everest.

Getting air-bound was no easy matter though! We woke at 5am, in order to be on our bus to the airport (conveniently located an hour and a half away from Lhasa city) in plenty of time. We arrived to the airport at 7:30am only to find it dark and closed. Interestingly, our tickets said to check in 2 hours before the scheduled flight time, which we did. So we waited outside the dark and dreary airport in the freezing cold watching the sun rise and watching the airport staff arrive on bicycles. I still have not got used to the sight of Chinese Army personel arriving everywhere on old high-Nellies! Our flight was dutifully delayed, in the true spirit of Chairman Mao ZeDong. But eventually we arrived back to the great city of Kathmandu, Nepal. I love this place!

However, yesterday (Sunday) we were informed that the Maoists had called a general strike for today (ie they force people, under the threat of violence, to not go to work) and that all foreigners were advised to stay in their hotels. Just to hammer home the point to us, and to all Nepalis (to stay away from work), a few bombs were exploded around Kathmandu, a couple quiet close to where we are staying. Thankfully no one was killed or seriously hurt, and my afternoon reading session on the roof remained, on the whole, unaffected!

Walking the streets of Kathmandu last night we could feel the build up of anxiety and tension. Where once there was the odd policeman and woman on the beat with their large sticks, there was now a large military presence, brandishing an impressivly varied and multi-national array of weapons – from Russian/Chinese AK-47s, to American M-16s. The military decorated in full battle dress, eye’s surveying the streets around them, fingers nervously hovering over the triggers of their weapons.

Today was a very surreal experience. Usually, I would go up onto the roof and suck in a great lungfull of the Kathmandu atmoshere. A city teeming with life. The sounds of people trading on the streets, the never ending honking of horns, the thick, eye-stinging polluted soup that passes for air, the haze that hangs over the city obscuring the view of the white-capped mountains…. all this was absent. Instead an unnatural silence hung over the city, the atmosphere I had come to know and love replaced by a palpable tension.

Our, normally deserted, roof-top paradise above the city was soon filling up with the dozen or so other residents at our hotel. Everyone that came up spent the first few minutes gazing out over the city below, coming to grips with the sensation, the sensation of a, usually pulsating, city in forced hibernation.

But it’s evening now, and other than the odd demnonstration passing on the street beside us, and what sounded ominously like gun-fire every now and again, for us the day passed without major drama. We have not yet heard any reports of further bomb blasts in the city, but we don’t intend to stray too far from our hotel this evening. Just as far as our local around the corner and up the street!

Till the next time, Alex is out the gap dot com!

Alex

“And whether we shall meet again I know not.
Therefore our everlasting farewell take:
…
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;
If not, why then, this parting was well made.”

Shakespeare seems to have a quote for all occassions!

Well, we’ve started our slow, sad journey home. It began today with our flight to Delhi from Kathmandu. Tomorrow it’s the long flight from Delhi to Cork, with the one advantage of a stop over in Bahrain and it’s (so I’m told) exquisite Duty Free… oh, credit card a maxed thou shalt be (again)!

Parting Nepal was such sweet, sweet sorrow – but I know that I’ll be back. We spent last night having a couple of quiet drinks with Dutch Rob and German Frank, most of it spent in silence as we watched life in Kathmandu proceed in it’s magnetically chaotic fashion below the terrace of the bar we were in. Each of us lost in his own thoughts, contemplating the travels just past and reliving scenes. It’s amazing – we were talking about it last night, visiting India for the first time 4 weeks ago seems like an eternity in the past, and we were just recounting to the lads some of the things we had seen and done, yet while in Nepal, it was all forgotten. The photo’s (of which there are 396) shall jog the old grey matter, I’m sure!

The past 4 weeks have been amazing – the things that we’ve seen and done, the people, the experiences… the stories! Neither of us really wants to go home – we could both equally just keep on travelling. Onwards to South East Asia: Cambodia with Ankor Wat, Vietnam with the Ho Chi Minh trail…. the list goes on. From there to the Pacific Islands of Easter Island and the Galapagos and back into South America. I’ve planned the journey in my head a thousand times!

Well, there isn’t much more to be said. We’re well and truely on th voyage home. Back in Delhi with it’s 30-odd degree heat and constant haze and hawkers. There are enough sighs between the two of us to keep a spoilt child in action for a decade. This years travels surpassed last years adventure. We’ve already began preliminary discussions about next year – although, I’m still fighting for climbing Kilimanjaro… but it’s a big, big planet we live on.

Suitably melancholy, I’ll leave you with this quote from one of the best Sci-Fi movies ever made:

“I’ve seen things that you people wouldn’t believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
I’ve seen C-beams glittering near the Tenhauser Gates.
All of these moments will be lost in time,
Like tears in rain.
Time to die.”

For the next day or two, Alex is still out the gap dot com.

Alex