On turning 39, homemade rafts and my big toe

On Sunday morning, I packed my bags and left Kathmandu. I got on a plane bound for Bhadrapur in the far southeastern corner of Nepal with Som to do some more volunteer work with ANSWER. When I'm traveling with Som, I don't have to worry about a thing. He's my translator, tour guide and boss all in one. He's great!

We spend the 24 hours between Sunday noon and Monday noon visiting five schools in five different towns. I'm really lucky to have had this opportunity to travel Nepal from east to west. Som tells me that I've seen more of Nepal than 98% of Nepali people. And from my experience talking to the locals I think that is true. Most people only leave their villages to go to Kathmandu or Pokhara. Not further. Certainly most Nepali's have never been outside of Nepal at all.

So, after our busy day of visiting schools, this one is in Biratnagar, our cab drives east as far as it can go and then Som says, "This is where our adventure begins." And, boy did it! The main highway - which is the only road - had been washed out in September floods of the Koshi Khola which killed thousands of people, and it was terribly devastating to the entire Eastern terai region. So we started walking... and went for about 1/4 of a mile through sandy shoals with me pulling my princess suitcase. (In case you're wondering, rolling luggage does not work well in sand, but I couldn't in my haste figure out how to make the transition. Bummer!)

So we finally arrive at a place alongside the river and there are literally hundreds of people standing there, and a dozen or so entrepreneurial raft makers. I honestly thought when I looked at the rafts, with only the drivers aboard, that I was surprised any of them were floating. Gilligan could have done better! It was definitely of the home-made variety, and had bamboo poles across a very simple looking hull. Just for a moment imagine that the Department of Transportation does not exist. That's what it's like here. Essentially I-90 is closed, and everyone with a piece of plywood and a hammer becomes an entrepreneur, and they are your only hope for crossing the country.

The driver is telling everyone to get on, and then Som said, "Let's go." So I follow him, and there is barely a place for me and my Princess Bag to sit...and, I am maybe passenger number 30 on the boat. The people keep coming, and coming and coming. In all, there were 55 people AND a motorcycle aboard the 25' long boat (maybe 8' wide?) for the quarter mile journey across the fast moving river. (Yes, mom, I heard your frantic voice in my ear...)

I honestly was making my escape plan the whole way across. I was SURE it was going to sink, so I was constantly aware of which shore was closer, and what I needed to hang onto. But Som was in charge so I just trusted him. Things just go like this in Nepal. The motor sounded like a lawn mower with something like molasses in the tank.

We arrive at our "destination", meaning we have made it across safely to another sandy river bank. I was so relieved that I was practically giggly...until I saw our NEXT mode of transportation. It was a tuk-tuk -- a kind of gas-powered rickshaw typically built for 8 or maybe 10 people. So all 55 people getting off the boat run for the tuk-tuk... and 24 of us make it in and on this tiny little thing. I am just laughing at this point since I'm pretty sure I'm not going to die now, but just might be stranded for a while. My Princess Bag gets thrown on top with four guys who are also holding about eight other bags, and Som tells me to get in fast. The tuk-tuk tries to move but we are stuck. So all the guys pile out and push us over the obstacle (a three inch high sand pile) and then jump in the moving machine. I've never seen anything like it! Absolutely hysterical, if only for the point that no one else is laughing at all!

The whole ride I am watching the tiny windows for any evidence that my bag has fallen overboard, which would surely mean into the river. At one point, it was about 1/3 of the way off the roof but luckily Som was able to secure it to window and get the guys on the roof to pull it up. The entire experience - from sandy shoal to Gilligan's raft to the end of the tuk-tuk ride was almost three hours. This photo was taken from the back right corner towards the front right where Som was sitting. Imagine that there are 15 other people in this tiny space that you can not see. Crazy!! Definitely a day that I will never forget.

So when we arrive at the end of the road Som's phone rings and it is Joanie wishing me a happy birthday! Very sweet, as I seriously had almost forgotten that it was this day. But unfortunately, in all the chaos and with the time delay of the phone I hardly hear a word, but I'm feeling happy none-the-less. It was a great call to receive!

So we hire a posh cab (thank you Som!) and hit the road. Only Alyson, Joanie, Megan, Leila and Kathy will REALLY appreciate this but the first song that comes on the radio is "Careless Whisper" by George Michael. Memories of our post-trek van-ride karaoke party made me laugh out loud! I HAD to sing. (Sorry Leila, but no interpretive dance!)

We arrive at some small town in the Eastern Terai region of Nepal and Som tells me he has a small birthday present for me, and he breaks out a bottle of wine. It was about the best, most-needed, happiest glass of wine of my whole life. We toasted to life!

The next day, we head for Pokhara and spend a couple of days just hanging out together. We hiked up to the World Peace Pagoda, paddle boated around Phewa Lake and I ate lots of fresh fruits and vegetables (thank you Pokhara!).

For the last three days here, the country is celebrating Tihar. It is a wonderful festival, and thankfully does not involve dead animals. Instead it involves singing, dancing and lots of lights and candles. As if in a celebration of life, the streets are filled - for three days straight - with spontaneous happiness. Kids, women, men...everyone gets into the spirit. It is such a joyous festival that it makes me wish we celebrated Tihar in the US. While on our hike up to the Peace Pagoda, we were stopped by at least ten different groups of kids who insisted that we watch their well-practiced performances, and then of course make a small donation. I couldn't resist their smiles and joy...
Thursday morning, Som headed back to Kathmandu to prepare for his upcoming trip to the USA. I spent much of the previous two weeks helping him prepare documents for his appointment at the American Embassy. I was thrilled when he was granted his US visa! (By the way, he will be mostly in the Detroit/Grand Rapids/Chicago and Virginia/D.C. areas from mid-November until mid-January. EMAIL him at answer@wlink.com.np if you want to host him and meet a really fantastic Nepali guy on his first trans-Pacific trip.)

This morning, I decided to do my first really "touristy" thing and I went white-water rafting. The river had class 3-5 rapids and it was a BLAST! Unfortunately, no good photos from the experience since my camera is not waterproof... but suffice it to say it was awesome.

So, still wet from my river fun, I haul my very heavy princess bag to the new guest house where I will be staying. While lifting it to be a backpack (I finally figured it out!) I catch my big toenail on the bag and I rip it 90% of the way off. OUCH!!!! Luckily, like an angel, a really wonderful Canadian medical school student (score!) named Sarah just materializes out of thin air. I sit down, panting after I see my toenail standing STRAIGHT UP. (I deleted the photo...sorry to those of you that I grossed out!) She is so gracious to attend to a strangers disgusting, bleeding toenail but she does it. We decide that I should go to the clinic to see what they think. Slightly hesitant, I agree and we wrap my toenail (that will not lay down) and she accompanies me to the "hospital".

Third World hospitals really ought not to be called hospitals at all. It dark, there's no receptionist to check us in, all the patients share two rooms, there is blood splattered on the walls, mold growing by the sinks, and it's just plain dirty. Eeewww. We walk in and peek behind a curtain. The doctor sits me down, looks at it and decides that it must be removed. Sarah agrees, and so I submit. They lay me down and proceed - without warning - to jam a needle with local anesthetic into my toe FIVE TIMES! (the photo above was my last peaceful moment.) I am not kidding when I say that I screamed so loud, and for two minutes straight, that the entire hospital, and probably neighborhood, could hear my pain. Bless Sarah... she held my hand through it all. Thank heaven (Buddha, Durga, or whoever) for friends in new places!

Next week (assuming my toe allows which Sarah and I both think it will), I will join Gherdin and a few other orphans for another trek. This time, it will be the Annapurna Circuit, which is more of a cultural trek through authentic, year-round (not just for trekkers) Nepali villages. It's part of the major Tibetan trade route from hundreds (if not thousands) of years ago. From what I hear, it's a very different experience than the Sanctuary, though equally amazing in it's own right. We'll do it with porters, but no guide. Cheaper, and apparently very easy on this route. I am REALLY looking forward to it!

Now, I'm sitting in an internet cafe, happy that my toe is feeling better and preparing for my next adventure. Hopefully it will not involve Gilligan, any of his relatives, or filthy Nepali hospitals.

With love,
Pam