The Stunning Adventures

Gallery: Kathmandu

thestunnings — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 19:32:00 GMT

The Capital City of Nepal

From Shaves with Massages to Samosas and Sacrifices

thestunnings — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 20:38:00 GMT

After all of our blood, sweat, and blisters on our trek, and cruising into town on top of a local bus, we arrived in Pokhara. We were all lusting for a hot shower, and a delicious meal. We satiated ourselves on piping hot sizzling steaks and glasses of cold beer. We were in heaven. The five of us spent 6 relaxing days meandering around the streets of Pokhara. We made a little trek up to the top of a nearby hill and checked out the World Peace Pagoda, where the views of the lake below, with the towering Himalayas behind, were incredible.
One Pokhara high-light that cannot be missed, would be the shave and massage...oh yes, massage for an unsuspecting Greg. The group ate some momos at a little local canteen, Pete headed off to have a shower, and the Pols plus the Stunnings had all decided that it would be really fun to go watch Greg get a shave (he was looking quite rugged after the trek) from one of the little local shops in town. We stopped at the first little place, where there were two boys hanging out. The older one, who turned out to be 15 sat Greg in a chair and told him it would be 50 rupees for a cut and a shave. That's a little less than a dollar. Great deal! So the rest of us had a ball, snapping photos and playing around with some of the little local rascals messing around in the street. Shave--leaving behind a very nice, very thick, Magnum PI mustache. Done. Then some balm comes out and a face massage starts to ensue. That of course seemed completely normal. Then a shoulder massage begins. Greg leans forward and gets into it, but asks "This massage is still a part of the 50 rupees, right?", "Oh yes, sir, oh yes." The massaging eases its way down his arms then down to his lower back, then the shirt gets rolled up and massage oil comes out of a nearby drawer. It is sprinkled all over Greg's back. Elizabeth says, "Boy oh boy, he had no idea he was going to get all this. Greg you must be in heaven!" But at the same time, she's getting a kick out of Greg's bare torso being massaged by this young Nepalese boy for any and all passers-by to see. Greg again says, "This is still included in the 50 rupees, right?" Again, "Of course sir, of course." Dorothy and Peter were long gone by now, and Pete had already came and went on his way into town after his shower. It's been about 45 minutes. Another young man had been hanging out in the shop chattin' it up with his master massage buddy--who by now is crouched down on the ground massaging Greg's quads. He asked Elizabeth if she would like a head massage. "Welll, how long will that take?" "15 minutes madame." "Well, how much longer will his massage be?", "About 15 minutes madame." "How much is it?" "50 rupees". What the hell, she has to sit and wait anyway so figures she'd go for it, and let's just say this boy had some of the toughest little fingers ever. He was very skilled and knew what he was doing. With her head resting on her hands in front of her, and thoroughly enjoying her head and neck massage, Elizabeth thought this was well worth her 50 rupees. So as she's enjoying herself, she hears Greg's massage abruptly come to an end. As Greg is reaching into his pocket to get his wallet, the boy begins to write something on a piece of newspaper. Greg had no idea what he was writing, but thought to himself that maybe he was writing down his email address or something. The boy shows Greg the paper and the number 1,250 had been written on it. Greg says "1,250 rupees?!" The boy confirmed that is what the paper said. Greg tells him that this is not possible, that he had been told and re-told that the price for the shave AND massage was 50 rupees. All he hears in reply is "Sorry, cannot sir. 1,250 rupees". Elizabeth is continuing to enjoy her massage thinking she might as well get her 50 rupees worth. Greg adamantly tells the boy that there is no way he will pay that (over 20 US dollars) and that there must be some kind of mistake. Our young friend then writes, 1,200 rupees. Greg replied with, "No, no, no, no...we will pay you 50 rupees for myself, 50 rupees for Elizabeth, 50 rupees for the miscommunication/gratuity, and that is all!" The boy reluctantly took the money from Greg, at which point Elizabeth had to accept the fact that her massage, too, had come to an end.

Thanks to our darling Polish friends, we were inspired to celebrate St. Nicholas day, which is a tradition in their culture. So we all drew names and had a hoot exchanging gifts. Elizabeth got a bright red and pink felt gardening hat, Greg got a shirt embroidered with "I'm afraid of PolStraliCans Two Yankees, One Ozzie, and a pair of Pols" (that's in reference to our little group, of course, in honor of our trekking experience--we all got the shirts made, later on), Pete got a huge Dal Baht plate in honor of his ridiculous ability to eat more Dal Baht than any Nepalese person. Dorothy got a bottle of vodka--Polish people love drinking vodka on St. Nicholas day...and many other days of the year, and Peter received a traditional Nepalese goat and tiger game, which we still haven't figured out how to play. After opening presents, we spent the evening gnoshing on some more mouth-watering food and swilling down a few libations. So Pokhara was a delightful time of relaxation that we all felt we very much deserved after our trek.

First stop on our way back to Kathmandu was in a small town called Bandipur. It was nestled up in the mountains and consisted of the most charming, twisting, twining little streets. Seriously, this small town was the place to stay if you wanted to see gaggles of giggling, chortling little school children. From when we arrived (about 3 pm), until after dark, throngs of school children of all ages, clad in navy, sauntered, strolled, and covorted down these streets. We were bemused by several choruses of "Hellos" and "How are you's?" followed by full body laughs or shy little chuckles. Seriously, watching the kids definitely added to the whole experience in this town. We ate some dal baht, of course, and strolled around the streets. After a nice, charming, breakfast the following morning, looking over a misty little valley, Greg had decided that he wanted to shave off his uber-fluffy mustache. He said he had enjoyed the fun and didn't want to look back at too many photos and wonder why he had decided to have that mustache. The other three ran off to see if they could find out about a bus as we had heard some mixed information about how often the bus comes and at what times. It seemed that it ran simply if there was a need. Pete returned shortly, yelling that the bus was about to go. Hurriedly, Greg finished snipping his mustache down to a short shave-able length--no time for an actual shave, and the two of us ran with our packs just in time to catch the bus pulling away. Elizabeth caught up to it and started slapping on the back of the bus and yelling for it to stop. It eventually came to a hault just long enough for us to pull down the ladder from the roof, climb up top, and barely get settled, before it started heading back down to the world below.

We eventually caught a bus to Manakamana, home of the longest, and only cable car in Nepal. Manakamana was unlike anything we have ever seen. It is is the most reverred temple in Nepal. You can reach it in one of two ways, either by foot which is an approximate 5 hour hike (covering 1000 meters in elevation), or you can take the cable car. We were all still quite satisfied with ourselves so had no problem shelling over a considerable sum of rupees to plop our butts down in the cable car. We noticed that the cable car was equipped with a quite rustic, open air, metal car that was fit in the rotation every so often. This was not for people but for livestock that would be sacrificed at the temple. Ahhh...that makes a lot of sense. We wondered how many people took on the five hour hike with a goat in tow. After riding the cable car, we walked past loads of vendors selling everything from souvenirs to samosas, and goats and chickens for sacrifices. As soon as we arrived at the temple, we saw a water buffalo carcass lying in a large pool of blood and it's head was to be found about 6 feet away. People were walking around barefoot and we observed one pilgrim dip her finger in the blood and dab her forehead. Coming from a land where we slaughter animals for food on an overwhelming scale, with not so much as a thought about it when we pick up the plastic covered package in the super-market, we found ourselves thinking that this way of sacrifice (and thanks) had something to show us. All of the sacrifices are made in hopes of something (many times in hopes of having children), or in thanks for a blessing received. All sacrifices are carted back down the mountain to be consumed amongst family and friends. We had the eye-opening experience of witnessing a number of goats being sacrificed; they lost their heads in two swift chops by the hands of a young man that couldn't have been more than 18 years of age. At first, as you might imagine, we didn't know how our presence as foreingers in such a local holy place would be interpreted. About 30 seconds after arriving at the sacrificial altar, a man came up to Elizabeth and asked where she was from. He was Nepalese but had lived in New York for a long time, and was currently living in Germany. She had a difficult time being attentive to him as she saw goats' heads sliding across a blood covered stone floor behind him. He alluded to the fact that he was sorry if the sacrifices seemed offensive to us, but it was the Hindu way. She replied by saying that all cultures are different, and as a visitor, she of course respected these differences. After the goats had been sacrificed, they would be stuffed into a plastic shopping bag, hooves out, and carried away from the altar by the individual(s) who had made the offering. The whole ritual took place in a matter of seconds. We were all very surprised how quickly everything seemed to happen. We found that almost everybody smiled at us, and made us feel welcome. We were contented to know that we weren't being viewed as interlopers. The five of us walked around a bit and were amazed at the number of people, of all different ages, praying, chatting, laughing, taking photos...and yes, some of the little ones were crying. It was quite an eye-opening experience.
We hopped on a bus to Ghorka. We arrived amidst a power outage and stopped at the first hotel we could find thanks to some candles in the entry-way. The following morning, after checking out the Ghorka Durbar (extremely old fort, palace, temple), we caught another bus back to Kathmandu.

Gallery: Bandipur, Manakamana, and Gorkha

thestunnings — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 18:04:00 GMT

Small Nepali Towns

Gallery: Lakeside in Pokhara

thestunnings — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 17:26:00 GMT

In and around Pokhara

140 Miles around the Annapurnas

thestunnings — Thu, 6 Dec 2007 18:13:00 GMT

After our death-defying ride on the "Gateway to Hell", schlepping our way across the most interesting of border crossings on the "The Friendship Bridge", and smartly negotiating a ride for less than 10 bucks apiece , we finally arrived in Kathmandu.

We welcomed the congested streets of Thamel, packed with hotels, guesthouses, and restaurants, after our challenging (but excellent) overland trip from Lhasa. The core of our little group had remained together, Peter Flockhart (the Ozzie), Dorothy and Peter (aka Dorota and Piotr-the pair of Pols), and US. We all had decided to trek around the Annapurna Circuit together so opted to have a leisurely week before our departure, full of good meals, sleep-ins, and Greg's Birthday. Yes, Mr. Gregory Jerome Cunningham hit the old 3-0. We all celebrated right with delicious food and Greg even had a Nepalese dance lesson in front of the entire restaurant that all of his party-goers thoroughly got a kick out of. We sat on the roof of our hotel 'til the wee hours of the morning enjoying our libations. It was a fantastic thirtieth in Kathmandu.

During our week of relaxation, we purchased our permits for the circuit and purchased van tickets to Besisahar. We had a problem with our lift; our microvan. The five of us had jumped in a taxi and headed to the "bus station"--a conglomeration of buses and micro-vans clumped together on a pothole filled dirt road. We tried to find our van. Others tried to help us find our van. We found our van-chock full of 20+ Nepalese...but the fact that there was no seat for us was not the problem. Apparently there was no contact information on our voucher so the guy at the gate couldn't get his cut of the profits, and therefore, couldn't put us in a van. We soon learned that we should always buy tickets on our own. We went back to the copy center/tour agency, found the guys we had purchased our tickets from. They then kindly came with us to the loosely organized bust station, and we finally got into a microvan. Aha! On our way to Besisahar.

Ok, so the trek took us 15 days, and we will not drag you through each entire day. The Annapurna Circuit, for those of you who don't know, is a circular (hence circuit) trek around the Annapurna mountains in the Himalayas. The trek covers 220 kilometers (140 miles of terrain) reaching a height of 5416 meters (17,927 feet). The trek starts out in terraced rice fields that slowly blend into green deiciduous forest that is actually quite similar to the forest in the Great Northwest. The forest eventually melts away into rocky terrain and that is where we started to see our first inklings of snow...snow that covered the tops of these famous mountains. The only time we trudged through the snow, was when we were going over Thorong La Pass, at the above mentioned height. Of course the views were astounding, and variety in the landscape was extremely satisfying. At some points, we would look out around us and we found we were perched above fields of Himalayan mountain tops covered in snow and glaciers. Despite the beauty we had seen, we do have to say that after 15 days of trekking, we were not overly disheartened to say goodbye to our trekking days (at least for a short time).

Each night, we would stop in a small village where there there were teahouses/guesthouses to sleep. Accomodation was anywhere from 50 rupees (less than a dollar), to free, under the agreement that we would purchase our evening meal there--often times Dal Baht--a local dish consiting of rice, lentil soup, greens, and a vegetable curry all of which should be re-filled to the consumers content. Although, we must say in the beginning, being the thrifty backpackers we are, we tried to head out for a local little place for some tasty bites rather than eating at our guesthouse, and soon realized, that this was not customary, nor appreciated by the guesthouse owners. Surprisingly, there were showers to be found (or basins of hot water as we got closer to the pass) but they were solar, and being that the sun would sink behind the mountains by mid-afternoon, we found them to be quite "refreshing" to say the least. Needless to say, the showers were overlooked on most days. We should note here, how extremely cold it got in the evening. We would layer on all of the warm clothes we had until bedtime which usually came around 7, or 7:30 pm--not just because we were knackered from that day's hiking, nor because we wanted to rise at 6:00 am, but because we were so damn cold there was nothing else to do but bundle up in bed. Many times we woke to the temperature in the room being freezing or just a few degrees above (this knowledge is thanks to our handy compact alarm clock). We did come across a hot spring in Tatopani on our descent from the pass. It was a lovely rock-slabbed tub constructed right beside the river. It seemed as though every trekker that had come through Tatopani, had the same idea about the hot springs. The tub was full of tired hikers sporting their skivvies and drinking slightly over-priced Nepalese beers. A number of Nepalese also flocked either to ogle at the entertaining foreigners or get a nice bath. We were required to rinse off before entering, so we opted to have a nice scrub with a hose before jumping in the overwhelmingly hot water. It was fantastic. We seriously considered staying another day to rest our weary muscles, but alas, decided to plug on. Another highlight in one of our villages was when staying in Manang. We thought it wise to stay an extra night there to have an acclimatization day; we went for a brief hike nearby to gain some elevation and get used to the altitude. We had a hankering for a movie and had seen some signs outside a couple of little venues in this regard, so on our second evening in Manang, we chose to give it a go. The "theatre" was a tiny room downstairs full of benches covered in yak hide and fur with a central wood-stove. We were in HEAVEN! We were the only people that showed, so we had the 36" screen all to ourselves. We could buy bottles of "rakshi"--homemade Nepalese wine made from rice-for 50 rupees each which our proprietor would kindly warm up for us on the stove. So, we all sat back with a warm glass of rakshi, and watched, oh yes, "Seven Years in Tibet".

The trek-the landscapes and time for personal reflection-was incredible in and of itself, but the time we got to spend schlepping through tiny Nepalese villages; to see how many people live out in the rural areas (which is most of Nepal) was pretty incredible as well. Although, we will add, that after seeing some of the other places off the beaten path (whereas the circuit is pretty full of travellers), we realised how so many of these villages are tailored to hikers and maybe not quite as authentic as we had originally thought. Regardless, it was very interesting to see the rustic architecture, simple dwellings, and lifestyles that these mountain dwellers embrace. Not to mention, the laborious manner in which they tote goods from village to village by supporting the load on their backs but the brunt of the weight is placed on their necks due to the large strap that is taughtly slung around their foreheads; impressive. Many porters were seen carrying ridiculously large backpacks (many carrying two) for trekkers who wanted to lighten their own load. As we were making our way around the circuit, we did come upon a few areas where it appeared a road was being built. So needless to say, in a matter time, maybe a year or two, there will be a paved road where Landrovers and Jeeps will be cruising along instead of lumpy dirt trails packed with porters, donkeys, and trekkers...as it goes, in developing areas. We can't deny that in many ways it is better for a lot of the villagers, but in regards to these unspoilt areas, well, who knows what will become...tour buses that will shuttle people around the circuit in a matter of a few days? Trekking on a paved road full of cars will not be the same. So, luckily we made it around the Annapurnas before the road did. All in all, it was a fabulous and challenging two weeks. After finishing our trek in Naya-Pul, we clambered up onto the rooftop (the Nepalese way) of a local bus, and sailed on into Pokhara for a well celebrated finish.

Gallery: Annapurna Circuit Trek, Our Way Back Down

thestunnings — Wed, 5 Dec 2007 22:08:00 GMT

The End of the Annapurna Circuit Trek

Gallery: Annapurna Circuit Trek, We're Gettin' Pretty High Here

thestunnings — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 22:07:00 GMT

Middle of the Annapurna Circuit Trek

Gallery: Annapurna Circuit Trek, On Our Way Up

thestunnings — Sun, 25 Nov 2007 22:05:00 GMT

Beginning of Annapurna Circuit Trek

Gallery: Tibet/Nepal Border Crossing to Kathmandu; G's 30th

thestunnings — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 00:08:00 GMT

Border crossing, ride to Kathmandu, and Greg's 30th

The Gateway to Hell

thestunnings — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 00:20:00 GMT

While we were in the process of chartering a mini-van to take us from Lhasa to the border, the woman that we were dealing with kept warning us that the driver would not be able to take us all the way to the Nepali border town of Zhangmu, but only to Nyalam; 35 km from the border. She kept telling us that the road was under construction and was closed during the day. She said it was a," very bad road, and very dusty." We would have much rather been taken all the way to the border, but we were left with no other choice but to find our own way from Nyalam to Zhangmu. First of all, we thought it would be easy to get a ride, and secondly, we thought, "how bad could this road possibly be? All the roads are pretty terrible." The actual translation of Nyalam is "Gateway to Hell". This gave us a small clue to how bad the drive might be. The road hugs the mountainside all thrity five kilometers (about 22 miles) and falls from the elevation of 3700m to 2250m (a difference of nearly a mile). We had a hell of a time finding someone crazy enough to drive us and soon found out why it was the called the "Gateway to Hell".

The road is supposedly closed during the day to allow uninterrupted construction. We had loitered around town all day, soliciting every person that was driving a car, trying to find a driver, to no avail. A local man eventually clued us into a local bus that MIGHT be making the journey around 6pm. After having been turned down by every sane person with a vehicle, we decided to just go with this nice man's suggestion of the local bus. As the time drew nigh, we saddled ourselves with our rucksacks and went over to the youth center (the supposed point to get on the bus). At this point, it is snowing lightly, and the same nice Tibetan man was sad to tell us that the bus would not be mateializing, BUT he had found a person who could take us to Zhangmu. This sounds like a perfect scam setup, but after introducing us and settling the price for us (less than half of what we had been told it would cost), the nice man would not accept any money; just the happiness of having been able to help. He finally did relent when Piotr offered a few pieces of candy for his adorable son and a Polish bracelet he had brought from home (gifts that you just can't turn down). We said good bye to the nice man and, literally, crammed into his small mini-van. There was already Tibetan man in the front seat, and the two back rows made us jealous of smoked oysters in cottonseed oil.

The drive started out well. The view was incredible! The sky had cleared a little to reveal blue sky and snow topped mountains. We slowly snaked our way over brand new pavement, down quite close to a river. We laughed, joked, took pictures, and tried to figure out why this is supposed to be so terrible. Slowly, as if a warning message from above, the clouds closed back in over us and the sky darkened. The road, that was at one moment paved and smooth, gave way to a road that could be likened to moonscape. Huge potholes and piles of rocks dotted the road, which nearly made it too narrow to navigate. Any person in their right mind might slow down and take this dangerous road with sense of caution. Not our driver. As if being timed by some stunt-driver academy, our little guy just sped up; daring the road to get worse. At the same time the river fell faster than the road, and the gorge immediately next to us deepened. It deepened so much in fact that we could no longer see the river. Mr. Crazy-ass driver got so close to the edge of the road that if we peered out the window, looking straight down, we could not see the road anymore; just the endless abyss below. We swear that there must have been moments when the tires were half on the road, and half hanging over the precipice. The laughing stopped. The joking stopped. The cameras were also put away, in the hopes that if we just keep still, the little van might not lose balance and topple over into nothingness. This sounds pretty bad, but we finally had a reprieve when a huge backhoe stopped our suicidal march to death, by having dug a huge hole in the middle of the road. The Tibetan man in the passenger seat used this opportunity to jump out and run up to the workers tents to buy a beer off them. He must have done this to settle his nerves, as there is no way he was not as freaked out as us.

Once the backhoe had kindly filled in the gaping hole, allowing us to proceed, we continued barrelling down the ridiculously dangerous road. As if fear had not gripped us enough, the situation worsened. We had been driving for about an hour and still had about half way to go. The fog lowered, making visibility even more terrible, and it started to rain. Rain is bad enough on paved roads, but it is horrible on a dirt road; especially when said road is perched on nothing more than a ledge above a gaping chasm in the earth. We slid around a bit, and our driver would turn around and smile and laugh when we had a close call. At this point, even with the language barrier, we started to plead with him to slow down and keep to the far side of the road, away from the cliff. He was either really, literally crazy, had a death wish, or was incredibly confident in his driving skills, because he elected to ignore our pleas and continued his wreckless dance with death.

As if sensing us about to reach our breaking point, the town appeared in the distance. We all looked at each other and literally let out sighs of relief. The tension had grown so thick, a simple sigh did nothing to make us feel better. The town of Zhangmou is nothing more than one road that snakes its way down a very steep hillside, so we followed the road until we finally arrived at the Sherpa hotel. After settling in, Piotrek and Greg headed to the store to get beers for the group, hoping that some good laughs and a bit of alcohol good ease our frayed nerves and bring us back to some level of normalcy. The first beer, second beer, and even the third beer did little; forcing us to have another. We looked back and seriously had a good laugh at how dangerous the ride had been. We ran into other travelers who had made the same trip that same day. They had been in 4 x 4s and had passed us along the road. They joined us in laughing about our harrowing experience and they could not believe that we had made it in the little van, as they had had some close calls, even in a vehicle suited for such a feat of endurance. At the end of the day, it was truly a tale for the books, and the night at the Sherpa nightclub (co-inciding with Nepali New Year), that followed, was yet another; but that is a whole other story.

Seven Days in Tibet

thestunnings — Tue, 13 Nov 2007 17:54:00 GMT

Along with a huge laundry list of other transgressions to the Tibetan people, the Chinese government has made travel within the Tibet "Autonomous" Region incredibly difficult. In the same vein as the permits that are supposedly required to enter the region, there are different permits required to enter into separate prefectures. These permits can vary in cost and also in the amount of time required to acquire one. All this being said, the easiest, and by far the most used, method of travel is to find other people that have your same itinerary and book a mini-van, or Land Cruiser, to the border, with a travel agency. The travel agency then arranges (or doesn't!) all the required permits; this is a huge pain in the ass. It is not hard to find a travel agent, they are all over. It is difficult to run around the city to find other like-minded travelers to sign up or a mini-bus charter. In any event, this is what we had to do to get to the border, and we were pretty damn happy with the results. We had arranged for a 6-day trip to the border with some stopovers along the way; 5 Americans, 1 Aussie, and 2 Poles later, and we were on our way...

...well not exactly on our way. Two of our crew had visas that were to expire before our planned border crossing. We found out this was going to be a problem on our departure morning, excellent! This caused a huge snag, and we had to wiggle our way around the permit situation. After two visa extensions and a wasted day waiting, the next morning, we were on our way!

Our first stop was Samye Monastery. This is the oldest monastery in Tibet, and a bit off the beaten track. This is not to say that many people don't visit it, but it is not usually on the route from Lhasa to the Nepali border. After a late start and hours of bumpy driving, we finally arrived at the Monastery. The actual chapel was closed, but the entire grounds were open for our perusal. It was incredible to see where Tibetan Buddhism had its start, and it really makes you realize how a forest fire can be started by just a small spark. Our guide (he came with the mini-van, we didn't really ask for him) told us that the driver wanted to leave at 7:00 a.m. This would not allow us time to see the monastery (our only reason for coming so far out of our way). He also told us that the monastery would not open until 9:00, so we would have to leave without seeing it. Taking the role as our own guides, we asked some monks what time the monastery opened. They told us that they would have a service at 7:00 that we could watch. This is were we first realized that our guide was playing for two teams. Our driver, as it turned out, was a huge pain in the ass and he made our guide (Wang Chu) feel like he always needed to listen to his instruction. In any event, we basically told them that this was why we had come and we would not leave until we had seen it. This proved to be no problem, as we did not leave until 9:30 and still had plenty of time to drive to Gyantse; this further aggravated us as there was no reason to leave so early in the first place.

Day 2 started with us seeing Samye Monastery and then waiting for two of our crew that were a bit under the weather. Adam was suffering from what we all thought was altitude sickness and Joe had eaten something bad and was vomiting and crapping nearly non-stop (he even shit on his wallet as it fell out of his back pocket into the latrine). It is really difficult (actually impossible) to describe the amazing scenery along the way, so we will not even try. Our next destination was Gyantse. The driver was a bit sulky, as he had wanted to leave much earlier and therefore drove at a snail's pace. The day of driving ensued and we finally arrived at a road block that forced us to pull over for two and a half hours, clearly negating any reason for leaving any earlier; we would have been forced to stop anyway. We did not get to our hotel until nightfall, and we all quickly showered in one of the few hot showers we would get on this trip and snuggled up into bed.

Gyantse is the site of another important monastery, Kumbum Monastery, and also is a city that has a wonderful Tibetan quarter that is untouched by the modernization that has changed the faces of so many Tibetan towns. We strolled throught the old quarter and were even invited into the home of a family who was just as interested in us as we were in them. It was a very interesting cultural exchange that unfortunately had to be conducted with gestures and facial expressions. The stroll took a bit longer than we anticipated, and we still wanted to see the monastery. Much to our driver's chagrin, the monastery and grounds are quite enormous. We thoroughly investigated a huge stupa and its myriad of chapels before going into the main monastery. One of the chapel's had huge masks of angry beasts and murals depicting the tibetan ritual of sky burial. A sky burial is when bodies are dissected into pieces small enough to be devoured by vultures. This is still very much an active ritual employed my many Tibetans. Needless to say it was incredibly interesting and eye-opening, yet a bit haunting with the chanting and drumming in the background.

After just a short bit of driving we arrived in our third destination of the trip, Shigatse. Shigatse is the second largest city in Tibet, but only rates as a small town back at home. We explored yet another huge moastery in Shigatse. So much of Tibet's culture is wrapped around the astoundingly devout belief in the tenets of Buddhism. That being said, it should be no surprise that viewing the cities and culture of Tibet would also center around the places of worship. Tashihunpo Monastery is the traditional seat of the Panchen Lama, although he is currently under house arrest in Beijing and has been since 1995 (when he was six years old). The monastery grounds are huge and contain a number of colleges of Buddhist teachings. We viewed many incredible chapels and the burial chortens of many of the past Panchen Lamas. The town offers some very interesting markets that we strolled around, before heading back to the hotel.

Day four was another one started early at our driver's behest, as we had a long drive ahead of us to Rongphu Monastery, the highest monastery in the world; at the foot of Mt. Everest. The drive also took us by the incredible Yamdrok Lake, a holy scorpion-shaped lake that is regularly circumambulated by devout Buddhists. The lake has since been used by the Chinese to create hydro-electric power. Having no natural means of replenishment, the lake is estimated to be empty in twenty or so years, another unfortunate consequence of the Chinese occupation of Tibet. After leaving the lake, we continued to gain elevation until we reached Nam La pass that took us to our highest elevation yet, 5100m. This is where we got our first glimpse of the Majestic Mt. Everest. The sight was incredible and we all must have taken fifty pictures each. The cold was incredible and we only stopped taking photos when we were just too cold. We then lost a lot of the elevation we had just gained as we entered into a beautiful valley that would take us into the Mt. Everest National Park. We had a bit of permit problems at the military checkpoint, but after some explanation we were finally allowed into the park. We started gaining elevation again until we reached Rongphu Monastery and the highest, and coldest, guest house we would stay in. The guesthouse restaurant was exactly what we had previously envisioned. A Tibetan door covering is swept aside to reveal a darkened room rimmed by padded benches with colorful and decortative Tibetan chests/tables. The large room has a central wood stove completely surrounded by other visitors. Outside, the sun started to fall, and Mt. Everest was even more incredible in the fading light of the day. A full complement of pictures ensued before we finished the evening with Tibetan noodles and sweet milk tea. The room, which we shared with our Polish friends, was absolutely freezing. The two of us wore our long underwear and fleece pants and tops to bed and had somewhere around 6 blankets and still froze all night. The condesation on the inside of our windows froze during the night, and the thermometer on our travel clock said it was exactly 32 degrees Farenheit in our room, this is after the sun had risen and started to warm the air (it was really cold).

Our driver was giving us some more problems, wanting us to depart much sooner than we were ready. We had planned on trekking the 8 kilometers to Everest Base Camp, feeling a little funny to drive there. We headed out and really enjoyed the first half of the walk. The views were incredible and the sun had risen over the high peaks to warm our chilled bones. Off in the distance, in the direction of the guesthouse, we see a dust cloud approaching us. It turns out to be our driver chasing us down. He wanted us to get in and abort our trek to drive to base camp, where we would undoubtedly leave nearly right away. We declined his unreasonable request and headed on our way. Further on the way, we saw the highest post office in the world, unfortunately, it was closed for the season; poor sick Joe had to hide behind it to poop. We finally arrived at base camp. Climbing had ceased for the season, so we were only greeted by some Chinese soldiers that registered our visit and let us walk around. The camp itself is quite unremarkable, but the view from a small hill is absoutely spectacular. It is the classic view of Mt. Everest you see in pictures, and it was immediately in front of us. Because we were already at 5200 m, it almost looked accessible for us to finish hiking up the rest of the way; clearly this was not possible. We took another enormous amount of photos before finally giving in to our rude honking driver. Before getting in the van, we got out our contract and showed him that the schedule was to be at our discretion, and he needed to relax or we might have some serious problems. The guide was caught in the middle, but was forced to listen to reason, which was on our side.

We pulled into Old Tingri a little after sun down. We sat in the restaurant and celebrated our visit to Everest Base Camp with some curry and a beer. The restaurant cleared out pretty early as most of the other travelers were headed the other way to visit base camp early the next morning. A little before closing, some Chinese soldiers strutted into the restaurant as if they owned the place. The workers quickly turned off the Tibetan music that had been playing and the silence that ensued was depressing. They perused the financial books of the restaurant and ate some food. They never paid and the exchange had a feeling of sad familiarity. We really enjoyed traveling in China and met many wonderful and generous Chinese people; but for so many reasons, the occupation of Tibet by the Chinese is so incredibly heart breaking. After the soldiers left, the workers wanted to close up shop, so we went off to bed.

We started really early the next morning. We had to drive to Nyalam, the drop-off point for our trip. We had to arrive there early enough for the driver and guide to turn around and pick up one of our group members who was headed back to Lhasa. Nyalam is not actually on the border, it is 35 km to the border town of Zhangmou and the drive is a dangerous winding road that descends an incredible 1450 m, nearly a mile. Nyalam can roughly be translated as "Gateway to Hell", and that is exactly what the drive turned out to be, but that is a different story, altogether.

Gallery: Mount Everest, Nyalam, and Zhangmu (Lhasa to border part 2)

thestunnings — Sun, 11 Nov 2007 23:27:00 GMT

Old Tingri, Everest Base Camp, The Gateway to Hell

Gallery: Samye, Gyantse, and Shigatse (Lhasa to border part 1)

thestunnings — Sat, 10 Nov 2007 21:59:00 GMT

Tibetan towns and monasteries

Gallery: Namtso Lake

thestunnings — Tue, 6 Nov 2007 22:13:00 GMT

Beautiful Sunrise trip to the majestic Namtso Lake

Gallery: The Potala and Sera Monastery

thestunnings — Mon, 5 Nov 2007 21:23:00 GMT

Amazing Sites in and around Lhasa

Gallery: Jokhang and Barkhor Circuit

thestunnings — Sun, 4 Nov 2007 20:52:00 GMT

The holiest Tibetan Buddhist Site and the surrounding area

Freezing Our Toes off at Nam-Tso

thestunnings — Sun, 4 Nov 2007 00:18:00 GMT

While traveling, we have been incredibly lucky to meet a full complement of wonderful people; and it was no surprise to us to have fallen into a great bunch of people while getting used to the altitude in Lhasa. We are not exactly sure whose crazy idea it was to go to Nam-Tso Lake at 3:00 a.m. one morning, but that is the situation we found ourselves in on the morning of the 4th of November. Our little group of ten had arranged a minibus to take us to one of the highest lakes in the world in the wee hours of the morning. We met our friend Pete on the road at 2:55 and proceeded to the bus, already feeling the chill in the air. Lhasa was actually quite warm during the day, if you stand in the sun; but gets bone-chilling cold at night. Now, imagine going 3650 feet higher and doing so in the middle of the night; yeah freezing-ass cold!

The bus ride was to take 3-4 hours and we had all woken up just enough to make it nearly impossible to fall back to sleep (awesome!) (Just kidding, it sucked!). We started the trip out all excited and talkative, but reverted into a sleepy lull where most of us were only capable of halfway listening to Adam and Eddie talk incesantly (really, they never stopped; even when the other was talking). Their banter aided in the passing of time, as it was too dark to see anything outside. The plan was to get to the lake before sunrise. We achieved this easily, leaving us time to freeze nearly to death as 6 of us ascended a small hill to get the best view of sunrise that we could. Our toes have never been this cold. We pretty much either lost feeling or just felt shooting pain in our poor little piggies.

As the sun approached the horizon, the sky lit up into a dull grey that in turn illuminated our surroundings. At 15,620 feet, Nam-Tso lake is too cold to be inhabited on a year round basis. The shores are virtually untouched by habitation and provide a truly stunning scene. The view of the lake is only part of the treat. The lake is also partially surrounded by a range of mountains that top out over 23,000 feet. It is a spectacle that is truly awe-inspiring. As the sun continued to rise, it grew lighter and the views only became more spectacular. Once the sun peaked its head over the mountains our poor little toes finally got a little break, just before we were sure we had lost them to frostbite (a slight exaggeration, but they were terribly, painfully cold). The sun provided a reprieve from the cold but now we had to avoid the shadows like kids on Elm Street avoid falling asleep. Our little group took hundreds of pictures and even set up our tripod to get some silly photos. The cold was harsh and the uphill walk (very thin air) a bit difficult, but we were so happy to have braved both. In the end, the 3:00 a.m. departure, which seemed so crazy before, was truly the best way to see the lake. As we finished our time at the lake, the tour groups that would later spill out of thier tour buses to trapse about the pristine lake area had only just begun their journey from Lhasa.

Gallery: Around Lhasa

thestunnings — Sat, 3 Nov 2007 20:24:00 GMT

Tibetan people and architecture

On Top of the World in Lhasa

thestunnings — Thu, 1 Nov 2007 00:46:00 GMT

We finally made it to Tibet, despite the lack of information, misinformation we kept running across in China. We arrived on the 28th of October, via a 44 hour train ride from Chengdu. Being the clever, sneaky little duo we are, we made it into Lhasa without a permit. We believe that the ambiguity on the permit situation is to keep travellers out of the-know, and to keep people purchasing the permits--which, never matierialize in anyone's hands but supposedly put you on some kind of list, in some government office, in Tibet. We did hear of a couple who went to arrange some travel within Tibet who admitted to the agency that they did not have the permit to enter Lhasa. They were fortunate, instead of getting the boot, they were asked to write official apologies to the Chinese government. So wild. So we risked it, and have had no problem. We are pleased that we were able to make it without putting any more money in the government's pocket...I should probably tone this down as I don't want this computer to suddenly explode.

Despite the Chinese "influence" that is spreading all over Lhasa, we still find ourselves in awe of the Tibetan people and culture. Our "hotel" is in the Tibetan quarter, and so we are amidst nomads and pilgrims constantly. By far the majority dress in traditional clothing. The women have long braided hair (as do some of the men), which is often times decorated with chunks of turquoise and Coral. Most of the men have long hair as well, which is swept up on one side, twisted over the top, and brought down the other side to either hang, or fastened in the back. Both men and women often times have colorful swaths of silk string woven amongst their black braids. As we mentioned about the people in Mongolia resembling Native Americans, we find a likeness in Tibet as well; not just their appearances, but also many things about their culture.

We went to the Potala (the palace where the Dalai Lama used to live), and hundreds/thousands of pilgrims are circling around daily, spinning their prayer wheels, vocalizing their prayers, and prostrating in front of the building. Apparently, pilgrims are only allowed in for free on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but when we went on a Thursday, we were happy to see some Tibetan workers there, usher pilgrims inside without paying the ridiculous fee instituted by the government. The Jokhang (the most religiously revered temple in Tibet) was another incredible sight to see. The building's history and architecture, amidst sloping mountains was amazing enough, but again, the pilgrims were what really impressed us. As travellers, we were lead inside via a different line, and found ourselves inside while thousands of pilgrims were squished together moving slowly from chapel to chapel. We slowly found ourselves feeling a bit uncomfortable moving in front of pilgrims as we picked and chose which chapel to enter (always being ushered in by a giant warm smile and "tashi delek" from a nearby pilgrim). So we eventually just joined the pilgrims in line and moved slowly through with them. There were even tiny children, who had barely learned to walk, reverantly placing there heads against statues. We are in awe of the unwavering beliefs shared amongst so many in this culture. We did get to speak to some monks there, one of whom was brought to tears on several occasions when the current political situation, and the exile of the Dalai Lama, were very briefly touched upon (he was the one that brought it up). We are constantsly impressed by people here that carry on with such strength and positivity.
We also joined in circumabulating the Bharkor Circuit for the auspicious 3 cycles. The circuit, like the Jokhang, was chock full of pilgrims that had come from far and wide, spinning prayer wheels as they walked along for hours. Aside from the spiritual aspect of the circuit, there are an incredible number of shops an merchants lined all along the square that spread down tiny, twisting little alley-ways selling everything from prayer flags and incense to masks, knives, and jewelry. The Bharkor was definitely a highlight of Lhasa where there was such a confluence of many aspects of Tibetan culture that come together and mix and flow in such a beautiful way. It was quite enjoyable to quietly walk amidst the throngs and take it all in.

We also went to visit Sera Monastery which is just a short bus ride of out of town. One of the most interesting aspects of the monastery was the debating hour. This is when all of the monks join together in a pebble filled courtyard/garden and debate in small groups about, what were told, their Bhuddist beliefs/teachings. One person in the group would "take the floor" while standing up, and posit his opinion to another monk or a group of monks, who is/are sitting down. When the speaker had made his final point, he would make a huge clapping motion, hit his hands together, and after a big "crack", one of his hands would go shooting off in front of the other to emphasize his point. They all looked like they were having a marvelous time; many of them laughing, and playfully taunting one another. We even witnessed a lighthearted wrestling match. We thoroughly enjoyed sitting on the side and observing these debates in a language we could not understand, in the slightest.

We spent over a week taking in the sights and what we could of the culture in Tibet. From our experience, despite the cultural genocide that is taking place, we felt that the "souls" of Tibetan people were still thriving through it all. Lhasa was an amazing place.

44 Hours to the Roof of the World

thestunnings — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 22:46:00 GMT

Having entered China four times in the past four months, the Stunnings had finally gotten their fill of China. Not to say that we did not love China, we were just ready for something new. While still technically China, the absorbed state of Tibet was focused firmly in our sights. Getting into Tibet has been made a ridiculously expensive and difficult process by the Chinese government. The process could have been so expensive that we almost scrapped the plan altogether to go to Myanmar; that is, before another oppressive and illegitamate government foiled our plans. We had already had a Chinese friend try to buy us tickets, only to be turned away. We had heard terrible tales of people spending nearly 300 dollars apiece for the "permit", which you actually never see, and a train ride. This was worrying us, as we do not typically like to throw around money needlessly. Once in Chengdu, we met other travelers that had all been told different stories by different, and sometimes, the same people. Some people were "training" it, while others were flying. Some people had paid a lot for a permit, others got a great deal, and still, others were daring the passage "permit-less". After some discussions, good information from our Chinese friend, and also some crack advice from permit-less friends already in Lhasa, we decided to be daring. We wanted to snub our noses at an oppressive government that is actively carrying out, what amounts to be, cultural genocide on the Tibetan people; we also did not mind saving a few yuan.

We were then faced with how to buy a ticket. This "permit" is said to be necessary to buy a ticket. This "permit" is also said to be necessary to enter into the Autonomous Region of Tibet. With no clear answers, and a hot tip gleaned from an Anglo-Canadian duo, we headed for an independent train ticket window that is not directly affiliated with the train station. Trying to avoid the nay-saying, permit-touting, price-profiteering travel agents, we shuffled up to the ticket window; attempting to avoid eye contact. We were pleasantly surprised to be given options of seats and dates without the shrug of the representatives shoulders or the pressing of the red "panic" button that we saw lurking within fingertip's reach (although that turned out to be the "print ticket" button). With only having had to pay a 5 yuan service fee (65 cents), we happily skipped back to the hostel with huge shit-eating grins; we had beaten the system again!

Our next big Challenge was to get onto the train without being asked for our "permit". We were a bit late to the station (true Stunning fashion) and had to run to catch our train. We made it to the platform in the clear only to have one of our grocery bags give way, spilling some apples onto the concrete. Greg was nearly positive that if he had not bent down to retrieve the fruit, he surely would have been hit by the muffled shot from the sniper in the rafters. We snapped a couple photos in front of the train (masquerading as though we were care-free permit holding law abiders) and boarded the train for 44 hours to the roof of the world, Lhasa, Tibet.

As the ticket taker came around to check our tickets, we both thought that we were doomed. The three other Chinese people in our train compartment had forms in Chinese script with little red stamps all over them. The conductor looked to us, and we only had our tickets. Blasted! We were found out, we were certainly going to Chinese jail for life, with only gross toilets and a future of being chow-meined to death. She left our compartment, serious-faced, with no word otherwise. Elizabeth shot Greg her worried face, and Greg shot back his "shitting his pants" face. We sweated out the next few minutes of the ride until she returned with English versions of those same notes our compartment mates had. Much to our relief, they were just waivers we had to sign, absolving the Chinese government if we were to explode from the pressure change caused by crossing 5000m+ passes on the way to Lhasa. We had just dodged another bullet. Relieved and relaxed the Stunnings grabbed their books and laid down in their bunks.

It was not long before a train attendant came around handing out nasal oxygen masks; the same kind you see people wearing in the hospital. We had never heard about anybody having a problem on the train ride, but the sight of the masks (that you usually see on sick or injured people) kind of freaked both of us out. As it turns out, neither of us needed supplemental oxygen during the trip. We whiled away the time reading, sleeping and staring out the window at the incredible landscape that makes up Northern Tibet. We finally pulled into the Train Station, only a couple hours late. Now all we had left was one last hurtle, evading the army of soldiers, police and permit checkers on our way out of the train station.

As it turns out, there were not permit checkers. We walked out of the train station only to find a whole brigade of Chinese soldiers! (maybe a slight exaggeration). We felt like pinballs in a great game, bouncing each and every way, changing directions to avoid contact with one of the soldiers. They looked nice enough (probably a big exaggeration), but we were sure they were going to drop kick us out of Tibet. We managed to avoid their clutches and hopped into the first Tibetan driven taxi we could see and agreed to an exorbitant price just to put the peddle to the metal and high tail it to the Tibetan part of the city. Phew! We made it!