All Hail King Gyanendra.

Al had been in the country all of 2 hours before I broke the news to him "dude, I need to get out of this city. Get some rest and we are leaving for the mountains in 2 days. Deal with it." We went to see Nibban, my Nepali teacher, who was going to help us get the best prices for permits and travel arrangements into the Himalayas. Nibban introduced us to his good friend who runs a trekking company next door. We were then informed about a new government law that goes into effect starting tomorrow. "tomorrow?" As of the 27th, you can no longer trek solo in the country, you must have a guide, you must plan it through a government approved trekking company, and you must purchase the new government permits. It seems the king wants to squeeze every last rupee out of the tourists as he possibly can. After an agonizing 5 hours of haggling over costs and fees related to this new law, we folded and hired a guide, despite our resistance. I crossed the street to the ATM and took out a cool fifty thousand rupees. It was quite a feeling to be walking around with $50,000.00 in my pocket. Too bad it only amounted to about $600US. We paid up and got the plans together. The good news was we were able to plan not only the Annapurna trek, he also got us a good deal on both our Everest trek and jungle safari for later this winter. More than anything I am just happy to get out into the mountains. The king can have my money.

Buddha Would be Proud.

I met Laurie, another traveller I met in Kathmandu, for breakfast at the Brezel Bakery across the street from the Kathmandu Guest House. It was a big relief to meet someone that was travelling for similar interests. Laurie, like me, is also a practicing Buddhist. While we were enjoying some Nepali baked goods and milk tea she says to me "Would you like to come with me to meet a Buddhist nun that I know?" Of course I did! I changed my plans for the day to go to the temple where Rammawati resides.

Laurie and I walked south of Thamel into old Kathmandu. We turned down small alleyways past butcher shops and fruit stands. It is disturbingly quiet today as it is the last day of festival, and so everyone rests, most shops are closed. As we turn down one more alley it opens into a large courtyard with a large Stupa in the center. There is a Tibetan Monastery on one end and a Nepali Theravada Nunnery on the other end. This courtyard is delicately decorated with prayer flags and prayer wheels, with the usual assortment of shrines and statues. We approach the door to the Nunnery and ask if Rammawati is available. The Nun bows and runs inside to fetch her. I took a moment to appreciate how clear and nice it was out today. the quiet is something I wasn't used to in this city, and the pollution seemed to be taking a holiday as well. After a few moments a very small woman with the unmistakable shaven head emerged from the building and introduced herself to me as Rammawati. She was very excited to hear that I have been learning Nepali as her English is still not perfect.

We walked into the Nunnery and sat down in a common room area very modestly decorated with a few pictures of Buddha. Rammawati immediately started bustling around with teapots and dishes. Laurie leans in and whispers in my ear "she really likes to serve people and make them eat." She came back with some hot milk tea and some biscuits and sat with us. Rammawati decided she wanted to be a nun at 10 years old, and has devoted her life since then to the Buddhist path, she is currently in nursing school as well, as she wishes to give back to the community as a healer. I am amazed to learn that she is only 20 years old. As we sit Nuns are coming in and out of this room, and a few come and offer us some fruit and more biscuits. The plates in front of us just continue to pile higher. We really were not that hungry. After tea Rammawati invited us up to the roof of the Nunnery to see her room and the view. From the roof of the building you could see all of Kathmandu and the monkey temple out to the north west. Behind that I had my first view of snow capped peaks since Ive been here. I remind myself that there are mountains in this country. Rammawati pointed down into the Tibetan Monastery next door and pointed out a young monk "He is only 4 years old." There was a small 3 foot child running around in maroon robes with a shaved head. "Sometimes parents give their first child to the monasteries to ensure that they will have a good life." This was the most adorable thing I think I have ever seen.

After visiting with Rammawati, Laurie and I took a taxi west of the city to Boudha, the site of the largest Stupa in the country and home to at least a dozen Buddhist Monasteries as well as the largest area of Tibetan population in the country. This stupa is a holy place to Tibetan Buddhists and some believe that inside the stupa houses a piece of bone from the Buddha himself. Hundreds of Tibetans and monks were walking clockwise around this stupa counting prayers on their beads, and off on the sides performing prostrations, and sitting in meditation. It was a powerful experience. We grabbed a quick lunch and rushed back to Thamel to meet up with Al who just arrived from the states.

Tonight We Gonna Party Like It's 1127.

Nepal is not for the weak of heart. The sights one sees on a daily basis can really tug on your soul's compassion. Lepers roam the streets with missing limbs begging for alms, homeless children are seen curled up asleep in trash heaps, stray dogs dying every few street corners, trash is piled everywhere, and living conditions are as poor as one can imagine. Maybe this is something that the Nepalese are used to, and so their standard of living is much lower that what we would expect in the west, and maybe to see how we westerners live would be a complete shock. It is hard to not give alms to every beggar or child in need, though it is not easy to tell the con artists from the true needy. My Nepali teacher says the best way to help Nepal is to donate to a non-profit organization that directly helps. I sat in old Kathmandu today half in tears watching a small child find his daily meal from some discarded trash in a market, he gave up on his search and instead stole an apple from a fruit stand and took off without the vendor knowing it. You go kid!

Today is Nepali New Year, Their calender is a bit off from ours and are only on year 1127, and the streets couldn't be any more nuts over this festival. There are long parades, musicians playing traditional Nepali music, and all sorts of holy rituals. Men are seen dancing in the streets, just men, as men and women do not show affection for each other in public here. Which is pretty interesting, men are seen dancing with each other, and it is normal to see male friends holding hands as they walk down the street, but never a man and a women besides the occasional westerner. I actually saw two police men holding hands the other day, cutest thing I've ever seen.

As interesting and amazing as Kathmandu can be, I am ready to head out into the mountains for a while. This city can take a lot out of you mentally and physically. The mountains will be very refreshing and I would really like to get to know the Nepal countryside as a contrast to the city. Tomorrow I will head out east of the city to Boudha to explore some Buddhist shrines and look at some monasteries to consider for a meditation retreat later this winter.

Enter Goddess of Wealth.

Today is day three of Tihar or Deepawali, which is the most important festival of the year for Nepal and India. It's on par with Christmas. Each day of the festival honors a different animal, some for dark reasons. On the first day of this festival you can see seeds and breadcrumbs scattered throughout the streets of the city. I noticed this but passed it off just as trash. Though this is a food offering for crows, as they are beleived to be sent by the god Yama, the God of Death, crows are the messangers of death. Day two is festival of the dogs. Dogs are honored with tika powder and garlands of flowers. This must be a considerable surprise to most Nepali dogs, who are usually honoured with no more than the occasional kick, but the fact that in the afterworld it is dogs who guide departed souls across the river of the dead must not be forgotten. Today, Deepwali, is the day when Lakshmi (Vishnu's consort and the Goddess of wealth) comes to visit every home that has been suitably lit for her presence. No-one likes to turn down a visit from the Goddess of Wealth and so homes throughout the country are brightly lit with candles and lamps. The effect is highlighted because Deepwali falls on the new moon day.

Feeling a bit under the weather today I decided to lie low and relax some. So after a nice breakfast with some friends at the Guest House, I strolled down some unexplored streets and alleys away from Thamel. I am amazed at how Nepali life goes on, and it seems that the entire city relies on each other and everyone has a friendly face. Wandering into areas that tourists do not go can be interesting, and the locals give you a look like you really don't belong here, but a simple bow and Namaste' brings a friendly smile to their face. I took random turns and aimlessly wandered down small alleyways and hobbit sized archways. I was shocked to emerge into a courtyard that had a very large Stupa in the middle surrounded by rows of Buddhist prayer wheels. This spot is not listed in the guide book, and so I was quite happy to discover it. I crossed the courtyard and entered into the very busy and congested marketplace. Fruit and vegitable salesmen and women were shouting and bargaining. And everyone was stocking up on flowers, candles, and firecrackers for the festival tonight. Hoards of little childeren are seen walking from storefront to storefront singing childish songs, hoping that maybe the shopkeeper will give them a rupee to move on.

Beware the Monkey Gods.

Everyone wants to be your guide in Nepal, everyone. Richard and I bargained our first rickshaw ride and headed down to Durbar square or Hanuman Dhoka. This is the religious center of Kathmandu and houses dozens of shrines and temples. We flew down the narrow precarious streets of the city watching Nepali life go on, once out of the tourist area (Thamel) things go about very differently, and you finally are the minority. Back in Thamel there are probably more white people on the streets than Nepalese. We got dropped off at the corner of the square and were immediately greeted by a Nepalese man "Hello my friends, what country are you from?" "America." I say. "America! I love America, America is very good country, let me be your tour guide!" It is sometimes very hard to say no, and you have to admire some people's determination. "We don't have much money, but thank you for the offer." "MONEY! No money, I will pay you, I have no cash, but I will write a check. Free tour." I liked this guy, he had charisma. But this is how they get you, I immediately think of people like my mother, she would not have as much luck as me and would probably have two dozen personal guides.

Durbar Square was running wild today, it was day one of the 'Festival of the Dogs.' Wild dogs were running around the square and had Tika (paint) on their foreheads and flowers draped around their necks. It was all pretty hilarious. I saw a dog that looked identical to Tiger Lily all painted up like a Hindu god, she would have liked this. We paid the modest tourist entry fee to the temple area (200 rupees) and watched as people would pray and chant and street vendors selling various holy goods for rituals. A holy man approached us "My friend, you have beard, just like me, you must be a Holy Man. We must have picture together." Richard snapped a shot. Mr. Holy man wanted 200 rupees for this, a bit steep for a photo. I declined his asking price and handed him 5 rupees for his time. Tourism in Nepal has started many bad habits among the locals. Those who come to photograph all the "strange and interesting people" created frauds who dress up like holy men and expect money for a photo, we watched many other well off westerners pay large amounts of money time after time. I learned later that a real Holy man would never ask for any money, as they have chosen a life of simplicity.

From Durbar Square we took a quick short cut down Jochne, which used to be called Freak Street back in the late 60's, when hippies would gather here, and so was named after the strange freakish white people. Huff from work recommended a small cafe on this street claiming the best chocolate cake in Kathmandu. And so Richard and I stopped in the Snowman Cafe and had some banana chocolate cake and milk tea, better than anything you can get in the US. We jumped on another rickshaw and started heading towards Swayambhunath, or more commonly known as the 'Monkey Temple' as hundreds of monkeys like to call this temple home. This Temple, or Stupa, is a holy place for Buddhists. The temple dates older than 2,000 years old and the architecture around the site is equally as old. The path to the temple is something out of a story book, you first walk through a archway and start climbing up thousands of steps up the side of a small mountain, the stupa is on the top. On the way up you pass by many Buddha statues and shrines, there are hundreds of thousands prayer flags strung up every which way you look, and monkeys, shit loads of monkeys. Let me quickly explain monkeys in Nepal for a moment. At first site, I say to myself "aww, a little monkey, I think I'll have a picture." I take my picture and watch another tourist repeat the same thing I just accomplished, only she was not as lucky. The monkey leaped from a standstill and landed on this woman's head and gave her a little wallop. From this point on, I learned to always yield to these simians. You are not allowed to disrespect monkeys though, as they are a representation of the god Hannuman, or the Monkey God, for Hindus. I for one do not wish to upset these gods for their teeth are bigger than mine.

Exploring the Stupa was probably the most exciting part of the trip so far, from the top of this mountain you can see all of Kathmandu, we are away from all the tourist hubbub. And it is very serene and peaceful. Hoards of Buddhist monks are seen walking about, and sitting in chanting meditations. After walking around some more , we start to head back through the "real" Kathmandu. Jumped on one more rickshaw and came back to Thamel just in time for my Nepali lesson.

Hoina means no.

Kathmandu is an extremely overwhelming place to walk around. There is so much going on everywhere you go. The only escape from all of this is the hotel gardens. A simple walk down the block and Nepalese people are in your face every few steps. Shopkeepers, beggars, taxi drivers, rickshaw drivers, holy men, children, monks. "Sir, come into my shop." "Come with me, I will drive you." "I will guide you up Everest." ""Please buy milk for my baby." "Let me be your tour guide." "Want some smoke, Hash, Hash." This is what you hear as you push your way through the crowded streets. It doesn't stop, at first I felt rude for ignoring people, though I now am comfortable with it. Doesn't take long to figure out how it works, and if you do greet someone or even make eye contact, you are done for, and you will have a new friend for the next few blocks, as they will follow you. I have learned the most important word in Nepali, Hoina. It means no.
I explored Thamel a bit more and found Karen's friends Thuptin and Jeevan and gave them her photos. They were so grateful and so happy to meet me. Thuptin's employee Hari-Dangal was instructed to show me around as a thanks for the photos. I thanked him with a pen, he was very grateful.
Eating at budget Nepali eateries is very adventurous, a plate of chicken curry includes many chicken parts that are unidentifiable, and would never be served in an American restaurant. I do not wish to know exactly what I am eating, and besides the slight bother of pulling bones out of your mouth, its all very tasty. And who can complain about a full meal including tea and bread for under a dollar. I'm already feeling pretty cheap, nothing here costs much more than a few dollars, yet I will walk the extra 1/2 mile to save 10 rupees (roughly 15 cents). How the hell will I readjust to prices in America.
You must watch your feet in this city or you will lose your toes, I've learned to hug the curb while walking around. I don't believe you need either a license or insurance to drive in this country.

BOOM-SHAKA-LAKA.

I don't think anything could have mentally prepared myself for what I would encounter in stepping off the airplane into Kathmandu. Luckily I had made a friend on the flight, Richard, he would share this dreadful experience. Inside the airport was quite nice. Getting a visa and documents for entry was a breeze. After baggage claim, I stepped through a door guarded by a heavily armed police officer, on the other side we were engulfed by dozens of men trying to take our bags and coax us into their taxi. The commotion was scary. We spotted a man holding a sign 'FREE RIDE - KATHMANDU GUEST HOUSE' (This was our destination) We pointed at him and then many more men claimed that we should follow them. In an instant one man got a hold of Richard's duffel bag and started off with it. We chased after him through the cars in the crowded lot, and he tossed the sack into a van bearing the name of the guest house. The man put his hand out and said "Please, 100 Rupee for carry bag." A crafty man, though he carried the bag all of 50 feet. We refused him money as the country urges visitors not to give money to these beggars as it encourages bad behavior. The man walks away quite upset and we board the small cramped van. A young Nepalese child approached the van and said "Bon bon or rupee." with his hand extended. We all say no. He then goes on "give me sweet please." We say no again. The boy scrunched up his face and said "BOOM-SHAKA-LAKA." and walked off, I looked at Richard. "Did he actually say Boom-shaka-laka?"

None of this compared to the ride we were about to have. We pulled out of the airport and started barrelling down small streets flooded with cars, motorbikes, bicycles, pedestrians, rickshaws, cows and calves, wild dogs. there are no lanes on the roads and people drive all over in any direction they please, collisions narrowly avoided within millimeters. The overwhelming noise of high pitched horns and honks and shouts dominate. I look outside and see more people than I could ever imagine walking the streets, street vendors, store fronts, filthy living quarters, homeless on the street corners. I see monkeys climbing up on roofs, Cows lying down in massive trash heaps, and children playing on street corners. It finally sinks in "Holy shit, I'm in Kathmandu." we keep going down smaller and more narrow streets. I am amazed we aren't hitting anyone or anything. every square inch of this city is utilized, store fronts, restaurants, living space, markets, they are all crammed into each other and on top of each other. We twist and turn down more roads and dead end at the Guest House.

The Kathmandu Guest House is large and beautiful with gardens, courtyards, fountains, and sitting areas. I checked into my private room for a modest US$4 a night, this is expensive for where I am, but I figured I'll stay in comfort until I know my way around. After a quick unpack, Richard and I explore the streets. The city shops have everything you could imagine. My favorite are the trekking shops that sell poorly duplicated North Face jackets for $2-3. They appear to be Goose down, but I am sure they are stuffed with chicken feathers. I am asked at least a dozen times if I want to buy hash. Despite all the chaos, everyone is extremely friendly and most everyone speaks english well. I have a good dinner and retire back to my room. I am already in love with Nepal.

Waiting in India.

"You are not allowed in India, you must wait." The man behind the immigrations counter did not seem very happy, nor was he going to give me any more information other than that I needed to wait. "What about my baggage?" I ask. "You must wait." So Waiting I am, though I have no idea what it is I am waiting for. The Flight from New York City was spent dozing in and out of sleep in very uncomfortable positions. It seemed that every time I awoke they were serving yet another meal. Always a mystery Indian dish that was quite tasty. My flight companions where very friendly and had some great stories. Roslynn, the woman, had been to Kathmandu in the 50's and had been invited to stay in the Royal Palace by the Prince of Nepal, as westerners were rarely seen at that time.

And so I waited, and waited, and sat. After a painful three hours of sitting alone in the large empty immigrations room of Delhi International Airport I walked back to the desk. "Please tell me what I should do." It wasn't long before I was in the middle of ten men talking loudly in Hindi, every so often pointing at me. This went on a bit and I was then ushered into a small grey office with a small desk, a few chairs, a sofa with a woman asleep on it, and one poster on the wall of Dennis The Menace. A man pointed at on of the chairs and motioned for me to sit. He then sat behind the desk, a small sign indicated that this was the Immigrations Officer. I didn't speak, and in all honesty I was feeling really scared. Men were coming in and out of this very cramped office speaking very heatedly in Hindi and shuffling immigration paperwork. The officer finally speaks to me "I'm trying to contact Air India to find out where you belong, you have my deepest sympathies." He calls out to a man, I gathered his name was Babu. Babu joined us and sat in the only available chair and lights a cigarette despite the large sign stating 'NO SMOKING IN AIRPORT' directly behind him. the officer pulled a white box from under the desk and places it on top and opens it. It was a cake. He says something to Babu and looks at me and asks "do you have any knife?" I didn't, seeing I was just on an airplane, and carrying these sorts of things is frowned upon these days.The ten or so men from earlier all crammed into the office and sang happy birthday to the officer. I think to myself "is this actually happening?" The officer points and the cake while staring at me and says "please, eat." I take a piece and have a bite. When I look up, the entire office is staring at me intently. I am scared again. Did I do something rude? Did I eat with my left hand? No one said anything. The officer broke the silence "well... how is Indian cake?" "It is very good." I say sheepishly. Everyone seemed pleased with this and went back to ignoring me. I sat quietly for another two hours, occasionally the officer got on the phone yelling to someone on the other line. All I could decipher was "Air India 112." (my flight #) and my name. After what seemed like an eternity I am told that I just need to go upstairs, and I shouldn't have some to immigrations. I am taken to a new area and told to wait until 11:30am. "What about my baggage?" I ask the new man. "You must wait." he says.

Now on to the bigger mountains. . .

On October 7th, a day before my 2 year anniversary of finishing the Appalachian trail I took the final steps climbing a mountain that would complete another long time ambition 10 years in the coming. When I crested the summit of Mt. Adams (5,574') in the Presidential Range of New Hampshire's White Mountains, I had climbed all 48 Peaks in the state that rise above 4,000'. This feat has been accomplished by many in the NH area, and I am glad to join their ranks. I committed my first peak almost 10 years ago on Mt. Lafayette, and over the years with friends and family I climbed several peaks a year up until 2004 when I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail which crosses over 15 of the peaks required. By the beginning of this summer I had exactly 20 peaks checked off my list and decided I would take on the challenge of hiking the remaining 28 peaks in a single summer. So between day hikes and several day backpacking trips, I slowly started working towards the last walk. The 26 mile Presidential Traverse which crosses 7 peaks over 4,000' (some of which I have already climbed). On the last day, with maybe the clearest and best weather of the year I finished on the second tallest peak in the state.

So, you may ask, what do I do now? Well, I will do what any person as insane as I am will do and leave the country for the tallest Mountain Range in the world. The Himalayas. I leave in just 4 days for the Kingdom of Nepal for a 3 month adventure. During this trip I will Trek across several ranges including Annapurna and Everest Base Camp. As well as climbing some fairly modest peaks (in relation to the range) such as Kalla Pattar (18,372'). Other than Trekking and climbing, there will be plenty of immersion into the culture of the country as well as exploring the southern Terai and finding some Bengal Tigers and Black Rhinos.

I am hoping to update this BLOG from time to time from internet cafe's in Kathmandu to keep friends and family updated. Next time I post I should be sitting amidst Nepali natives and large mountains.

Up S**T Creek with a Paddle.

"If I slip you a twenty can you guarantee that Scott will fall out of the boat?"

Torturing my brother has been a favorite passtime since his birth 22 years ago. But don't get me wrong, I love the guy more than anyone else in the world. I dragged the whole family out to Caratunk, Maine in a few weeks ago to do some white water rafting on Maine's fiercest river, The Kennebec. I also somehow convinced my step father Don to join us. My brother looked at me as we walked down to the Dam where we launch out into the gorge and says to me "Casey, how do you convince me to do these sorts of things?"

The run was actually a fairly mild one compared to my past rafting trips, no flips, no fall outs, no deaths, etc... Everyone had a great time. We had some very successful hits of Big Mamma and Magic Falls. Got everyone's adrenalin pumping and I think I got a few new addicts to the river.