Allyson Johnson

Pieces of my Mind

Archive for the tag “travel”

03 Aug 2012

To Russia with Mom – Day 3 (part 2) : Breakfast, Ballet, Brides, Bistro a la Russe

Bright and sunny morning.  Seating for our complimenatary breakfast was up a steep flight of stairs on a mezzanine above the buffet service counter – not a good way for Mom to start the day.  Our accomodating hostess made space for us at the side of the counter.   Breakfast very Russian: 2 kinds of porridge (neither one oatmeal), tomato omelet or hard-boiled eggs, white or rye bread, waffles, yogurt, apple/orange fruit salad, cucumber/tomato salad, cold cuts, cheese, and coffee strong enough to float the spoon. (This was standard fare for our Russian mornings).

Maxas picked us up promptly at 11:15 for the ballet performance at the Mariinsky theatre, a wonderfully baroque structure inside and out.  This matinee was a “graduation performance” of the Mariinsky Ballet Conservatory (known as the Kirov School of Ballet under the Soviets) – 3.5 hours of varied performance – everything from modern dance to Pierrette/Pierrot mime to pseudo-West Side Story to a court dance from a Glinka opera (Glinka is big in St. Petersburg). Mom had the aisle seat, which she held onto even after “the biggest man in all of Russia” sat in front of her.

The audience was almost as varied as the ballet, with lots of doting grandparent and parents,  adorable kid sisters in braids and ruffled dresses, younger ballet school classmates holding themselves very upright, as well as scruffy boy friends and girl friends of the graduates in tattoos, jacket and jeans.

Some bits were just wonderful – the first with the company in flowing slips or simple tights and just exploding like fireworks as the music and movement called for it.  Another bit which was comedic but required tremendous athletic elevation and extension from the cocky little bantam rooster balletomane.

Mom and Maxas

Maxas is a student of Soviet history and an aficionado of classic ballet and symphony, so he was a wellspring of information. I was so impressed not only by his depth of info but also his instant understanding or and consideration for Mom’s limitations – we did a lot of driving around points of interest after the ballet rather than walking as he originally planned; the restaurant where we had lunch/tea after the ballet was quiet with an English menu in large print, and he was careful to look directly at Mom and speak as clearly as possible. This helped a lot.

After tea we drove along the Neva River admiring the green lawns, the over-flowing flower boxes and plantings, the gilded domes and spires of the Admiralty Fortress and St Isaacs Cathedral.  We did some bride-spotting – at least six Saturday bridal parties emerging like butterflies from their BMW, Mercedes, and Hum-Vee stretch limo cocoons, getting their ritual pix taken. Fashion note: Russian bridal gowns a little more ruffly and top-of-the-wedding-cake-y than at the Stanford Chape;  I saw one with a bright red sash on cream, one with a white lace corset laced up the back, one with a 12-foot tulle veil/train fighting the wind.  I also noted Russian  bridesmaids’ gowns tending more to bright-colored chiffon rather than black satin.

In the evening Mom decided that she needed a drink before dinner even more than she needed dinner.  I had spotted a bar with nice outside seating the day before.  We set off sheltered from the rain by my faithful blue umbrella, by a wonderful long arcade around the shopping mall – and by a few side trips into the shopping mall.  We got to the place – no outside seating in the rain even if we had wanted. The place was full, but a kind young server lady took pity on our dampness, age and infirmity and found us a table.  It was only after we had placed our order  for a Jack Daniels with Ice, water mit gaz,  a Greek salad and some spicy chicken wings that I noticed a number of hookahs being employed at at least half the tables around us.   There we were, two little silver-haired Alices surrounded by puffing caterpillars blowing smoke rings.  Mom got a huge charge out of it once I had explained what was going on.

On the way home we got a bonus bride-spotting – In the Gostiny Dvor arcade a guy was shooting a lipstick commercial involving a “bride” in slogan  T-shirt and tulle, throwing her lipstick to the panting bridesmaids in pink slogan T-shirts.  Then he had them all jumping for the lipstick – bride included.  Cute!

Posted in Baltic cruise, Elderly travellers, Russia, St. Peterburg, Travel and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
26 Jul 2012
1 Comment

To Russia with Mom – Day 3 – Martyr’s Manic Monument

Mom and the Church on Spilled Blood

The Church on Spilled Blood erupts from the site of the assassination of Csar Alexander II like a clump of maniacally multicolored mushrooms.  Yes, that is an over-the-top opening sentence, and this over-the-top icon of St. Petersburg deserves it. The church’s exterior façade is made up of elaborate brickwork with gilded mosaic insets, topped by seven onion-shaped domes, either gilded, painted or tiled in colorful patterns of checks and swirls. If you can imagine Disneyland’s Sleeping Beauty castle covered in vari-colored gumdrops held on with gold-leaf staples, you might have an inkling of what the outside is like. It is surrounded by tourists, brides, and wedding parties, all enthusiastically snapping photos of the Church and each other as well as of the erzatz Catherine and Peter the Greats who hang about in period costume hoping to be paid for a photo.

Interior with saints – Church on Spilled Blood

Inside is another unworldly vision – a vertical mosaic world of golden-haloed giants against an ethereal blue background.  Anything not covered by mosaic tile is gilded. The floors are inlaid with marble in diverse colors and intricate patterns.

High in the dome above a compassionate and sorrowful Christ looks down at the sinners below. Mysteriously, his fingers area crossed.  Is he wishing us luck against the odds?

Christ in his heaven

A sunken , flower-decked spot in the floor surmounted by an elaborately carved wooden gazebo marks the actual site of the czar’s assassination by a terrorist bomb attack in 1881. Mom is convinced that this gazebo was build first and then the rest of the church built around it – I’m not sure if this is true or a garbled version of a half-heard tour guide’s talk.Origin tale true or not, the Church on Spilled Blood  is also one of Mom’s favorite sights of our whole trip. If you are visually impaired, an outsize and brightly colored landmark is sure to be a hit.

Mom inside the Church of Spilled Blood

Posted in Baltic cruise, Elderly travellers, Russia, St. Peterburg, Travel and tagged , ,
22 Jul 2012

To Russia with Mom – Day 2 -Frankfurt -> St. Petersburg

In-flight (10 hours). We are in a new 777 with on-demand movie, TV, audio, and game channels – hundreds of selections! Is this cool or what?

In fact, there is a lot less here than meets the eye – a choice of  12 “current release”  movies is not thrilling if they are all unwatchable.  I took a look at  “Journey 2: the Mysterious Island” –  the Teletubbies have better visual effects than this.  I go back to my 19th century media – back issues of  Science News Digest and the New Yorker.

Mom was excited at first also, but a choice of hundreds of media options is not very useful to a visually impaired nonagenarian if the choices are unreadable –  small light blue type on a medium blue touchscreen just doesn’t cut it.  I try to pick a movie she will like and she settles in with “As Good As It Gets”, struggling to make the audio phones fit over her hearing aids.  Fortunately, she is able to sleep.

In-flight meal – I get lucky – there is an extra vegetarian meal in the galley – a nice spicy curry of corn, peas, and chickpeas over rice.  I set aside the triple brownie for future need. Mom gets the chicken and eats a good bit of the chicken, rice, and salad.  I snag her brownie also.

“Breakfast” is a disgrace” – a “croissant” as fluffy as a baseball bat, six small chunks of unripe melon, half inedible.  I blush for United, imagining the feelings of the passengers used to the amenities on Lufthansa and other state-sponsored airlines.

We land in Frankfut at 12:32 local time.  Our connecting flight leaves at 1:25.  The stewardess  assures me that we can make it.  Despite some nervous moments,  and thanks to the kindness of strangers who yielded prority seats on the bus and offered many helping hands, we do.

A special commendaton to the harried service staff for Lufthansa at Frankfurt, faced with a plane-load of slow-moving seniors and families with tight connections to various vacation places. They maintained patience, order, and control over the anxious horde, several electric carts, and assorted wheelchairs.  A special shout out to Eilika Williams, our personal chair navigator, who wormed us through secret passageways, forbidden gates, and past long security lines, all the while maintaining a cheerful stream of chatter and a wide smile to allay Mom’s anxiety.

Through the Frankfurt maze!

We are aboard the Lufthansa flight to St. Petersburg.  At first we are seated far apart, but the kind gentleman in the aisle seat moves up one row, which allows Mom to move up, and we have a whole row of three seats to ourselves!  They serve a hot meal.  I finish a Smithsonian magazine, play a few rounds of solitaire, think, write a little.

****

The St. Petersburg Airport –  Arrival.  Chaos.  No wheelchair here, no magic card or helpful genie to speed us through the queue.  Actuall, “queue” is a misnomer, implying some sort of order or sequence.  We simply merge into a tidal wave.

My ex-colleague and now friend Maxas is waiting for us as we exit from customs(after standing in queue for nearly an hour – did I ever miss Japan!). He packs all our stuff into his snazzy red French mini-van, gives us a quick tour of the central city sights (the Bronze Horseman, the Winter Palace, the Nicholas Istatue, the Legislative buildings, the Nevsky Prospect, Dostoevsky’s house) and deposits us at our hotel, together with the baggage which requires two trips in the tiny elevator to convey to our room.

We are unwinding now in a very lovely little hotel room  at the Stony Island Hotel on Lomontoriv Prospect, just around the corner from the Russian Museum.  We change a few clothes, and check on what we have misplaced so far. (My sunglasses disappeared after the first security check… they may yet reappear and I have backups)

Arcade – Gostinyy Dvor

After our R&R we venture out, walking around a huge building which hadsbeen re-purposed into a shopping mall.  (We later discover that this is the famous Gostinyy Dvor, the oldest department store inthe world, now carved up into a series of small bourtique shops.).We make it to Nevsky Prospekt where we see lots of happy looking people in various shades of style walking, chatting, swigging beer, and  watching street performers.  We do not make it to any notable sights as hunger overtakes us.  We are surprised to be told at the little café that they did not serve anything but coffee, tea, and pastries after 10PM – it is still quite bright outside and we had no idea it was that late.  Fortunately the croissants and jam we ended with are delicious, as iss the tea we share.

We find our way back to the hotel, feeling triumphant – we have arrived!  We have explored!  We have eaten!  We are in Russia, the hidden, secret, unknown mystery of my childhood, fantasized as a place of gray, treeless, empty streets , now revealed as a bustling  place full of life and color and exhiliration.  It all seems a bit like the Emerald City of Oz.

A piece of my mind editorialized “This is not Russia – anymore than San Francisco is America!” Most of my thinking was just joyful to find a place so much better than my expectation.  How often does that happen? Can the spell last? We have three days more to spend here…

Posted in Airports, Baltic cruise, Elderly travellers, Russia, St. Peterburg, Travel and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
15 Jul 2012

To Russia with Mom – Day one (In flight SFO->Frankfurt)

 

Our flight is scheduled to depart at 1:56 PM.  I call Mom at 8:30 AM. She is up and dressed, but there are some things she can’t find.  I go through the hedge  Explanatory [Note: I live next door to my Mom] and find what needs finding, forget about the other items that won’t be needed on the trip. We empty the fridge of everything which won’t last two weeks.  I take milk, meat, cheese, fruit through the hedge to our fridge for my husband’s survival rations.

I call Mom again at 10:30 with a 15 minute warning.  She says “I’m ready to walk out the door.”

We bring the car around at 10:45.  The door is closed and locked.  We ring the bell. No response.  We ring the bell again.  Finally Mom opens the door.  She had fallen asleep.  Well, at least she is relaxed.

We load two incredibly heavy suitcases, a jam-packed rolling tote, and an equally crammed Land’s End Tote into the trunk of the car.  I hand Mom’s passport around her neck in a little ID pouch recycled from a trade show.  I have my passport, cash, airline itinerary in a passport wallet around my neck. We are off!

1PM – At the airport:  I have a Gold card for United thanks to my business excursions in Asia last year, so we get fast processing through check in;  my mother’s silver hair gets us waved into the Priority line at Security,  and we are quickly admitted to the Red Carpet Club, where we are informed of an hour’s delay of our flight.  We have a four hour window at Frankfurt, now cut to three.  No worries.  We settle in with trail mix, raw carrots, cheese and crackers;  Mom snoozes and reads; I read and write.

Two hours later: Our plane is undergoing “aircraft servicing” and the flight time has slipped from 1:55 PM to 3PM to 4PM. We still have a two hour window to make our St Petersburg flight, but  if it slips another hour we may not make our connection.  I talk with assorted other folks using Frankfurt as a connection point to Moscow, Florence, Copenhagen, and other exotic points – many with tighter connections and fewer options.  I’m glad we added a few days in front of our cruise date in St. Petersburg; I’m getting a little worried about the Saturday matinee ballet tickets my friend Maxas secured for us.

I get online and email my husband and Maxas, more to vent than to inform, at this point.

3:30 – Boarding announcement.  We gather our scattered  resources and head for Gate 95.  Again, Mom’s silver hair is even more effective than my gold card in getting us priority seating.

4:55: finally, three hours late, in flight.  Our Frankfurt transfer window is cut to one hour.  Will we and our luggage make it?

On board and ready to fly!

Posted in Airports, Baltic cruise, Elderly travellers, Travel and tagged , , | Leave a comment
13 Jul 2012
1 Comment

To Russia with Mom – Prelude

My mother has traveled to over 30 countries on 6 continents, about half with my father in the adventurous years after children and before infirmity, the other half on her own or with a friend or family member.

My mother is 91 years old.  She has no vision in one eye and very limited vision in the other.  Her hearing is ok if you are seated across from her directly at a distance of no more than 6 feet.  She wears hearing aids which seem to vary in their usefulness.  She frequently repeats questions which have just been answered. Occasionally she Is afflicted with digestion troubles.

My mother lives next door to me and has become my best friend.   I think I am hers also, as almost all potential rivals for that title are deceased already.

My mother declared on her 91st birthday that she wanted one more trip. I had quit my salaried job 9 months previously and my other siblings have work, children at home, and other impediments.  We began trying to figure out where and how to go.

At first we leaned toward a trip within the US – no long plane flights, no issues if medical help was required.  Mom thought a boat would be nice so that she would not have to pack and unpack often. We looked at a cruise of the Great Lakes, but Mom was put off by the need to pay extra for any alcohol, and by the unglamorous posts of call (Embark from Detroit? Stop at Cleveland?  Sorry – those names just didn’t sing.)

Then the European economic bubble burst, and  the Italian cruise ship Costa Concordia  ran aground in Sardinia – suddenly the cost of high-end cruises in Europe tumbled.  Even including the plane fare, we could go by 6-star cruise line from St. Petersburg to Copenhagen, stopping at Helsinki and Stockholm along the way, for less than the cost of an Elder Hostel cruise from Detroit to Quebec City. Wow! Four countries on one trip which Mom had not visited before!  And I have business friends in St. Petersburg who could show us around a bit.  We cast aside our fears and signed on.

We committed to the cruise in April, which gave us two months to anticipate everything that might go wrong:

Mom might lose the batteries for her hearing aids.  We bought three times the number that would normally be needed;  I carried a supply, Mom carries a double supply.

Mom might fall on the boat.  She hates to use a cane because “it makes me look old and feeble”.  My husband  bought a specially sturdy foldable cane in a fetching shade of pink. My sister bought a not-as-sturdy foldable cane in a pink paisley pattern.  Mom promised to try.

Mom might get lost on the boat, since it is hard for her to distinguish signs and numbers at any distance.  I bought a set of walkie-talkies which I hoped we could use on the boat and on sight-seeing trips in case we got separated, assuming she can figure out the buttons.

Mom might be cold in those Northern latitudes, even though we were traveling just after the summer solstice.  We exhumed thermal underwear from long-ago ski trips and discovered the elastic had disintegrated.  I had two sets of silk long underwear  – Mom is borrowing one.  At the last minute Mom packed the old thermal underwear anyway, just in case.

Mom might have one of her infrequent bouts with spastic colon.  At the last minute we stuffed every cranny with adult diapers.

Mom has a hard time these days with check lists.  It is hard for her to remember what she intended to pack vs. what she has actually  packed.  My sister and niece came down for a weekend  armed with a detailed checklist provided by my cousin, a cruise veteran.  It took six hours of making decisions, but the suitcase and carry-on were packed to perfection except for the hearing aids,  medications, and glasses.

Mom has a hard time juggling documents.  I took charge of the passports, cruise documents, luggage tags.

Mom might be uncomfortable sleeping on the plane.  My husband found an easy- to- inflate neck pillow and a pair of shocking pink eye-shades.

My husband, sister, older brother and I walked ourselves through every possible scenario.  We packed backups for everything that could be used up or exhausted.  I have never travelled with such a full suitcase on the outgoing flight (coming back, stuffed with souvenir and presents, is another matter).

With fingers crossed for luck, we set out.

For a nonagenarian, a 20-step loading staircase is a challenge. Will we meet it?

Posted in Baltic cruise, Elderly travellers, Memoir, Russia, St. Peterburg, Travel and tagged , ,
20 Jun 2012
2 Comments

Intermission – New adventure begins tomorrow

I’ll be off on another exploration tomorrow -I expect this will be as much internal as external.  I will be escorting my nonagenarian mother on a deluxe cruise around the Baltic Sea.  This will be Something Completely Different, as

1. I have never taken a cruise longer than three days

2. I have never taken a deluxe cruise

3. I have always done ACTIVE travel – hiking, trekking, camping, biking… this will not be possible with my travel companion, who is socially and spiritually vibrant but also visually, audially, and mobility impaired.

I expect that my eyes, mind, and heart will be opened – travel does that, no matter where or how – and in ways that I cannot predict.  I’m not sure how soon I will be able to post again – thanks to all my followers who  stay tuned!

Posted in Memoir, Travel and tagged
19 Jun 2012
1 Comment

Three Perfect Days in Chiang Mai – Twitter version

I don’t tweet, but if I did have to encapsulate our Chiang Mai stay in less than 140 characters, it would go like this:

Go to Chiang Mai. Check into River View Lodge. Stay three days. Go home. Perfect.

Oh, you’d like a little more detail?

Day One: Woke to sunshine!  Out our window – a lovely patio garden, and a river view.  Breakfast on the patio looking out over the river, with real French-style croissants (not just crescent-shaped bread). Then out to see Chiang Mai armed with our Lonely Planet guides.  Temples – shops – stupas – temples – shops – stupas – shops – temples – shops. DM has gone mad, bitten by the bargaining bug.  As a result, what should have been an hour-long stroll to the central temple took three hours.  We break for lunch at a bustling Thai restaurant packed with people and wonderful smells.  Afterward, it is getting hotter – more shops and temples.  Too late for massage – we return to hotel and settle for a COLD swimming pool.

After  this refreshment we walked a couple of blocks to the  Night Market for dinner and a folk dance/folk music performance – and more shopping.

Day Two: Shower (After 12 days trekking, I can’t get too much hot water!), laundry, breakfast (those croissants again) , and a little catch-up email at the free Internet computer under the banana trees, we walk to the Street of Silk – shop after shop of  beautiful glistening fabrics that made my fingers itch to touch, stroke, fold. Then we took a Tuk tuk (Motorscooter-style taxi) to the Women’s Correctional Institute for afoot massage and lunch.  Feet feel great!

Outside the prison building, as was true with many other public buildings, was a shrine dedicated to the much revered, ailing King of Thailand.  It was odd and touching to us Americans to see how deeply the King is loved, without a trace of the irony which us Westerners bring to our political figures.

DM consulted with the concierge at the Lodge and found an afternoon cooking class for us at Asia Scenic Thai Cooking School.  After an afternoon sight-seeing, we were picked up by “Mum:” the loud, brash, funny chef-in-charge.  We added 5 Italians, 2 Dutch, and 3 Germans to the van, and off to Mum’s garden/house/outdoor cooking school.  First an explanation of what is grown fresh in the garden (basil, mint, bean sprouts, lemongrass as expected; a peat wall unexpectedly sprouting mushrooms). Then to the nearby open air market for fresh fish, meat, additional spices, additional vegetables. The class was mostly conducted in English, the byplay between students mostly in German.  DM, a fluent German speaker, did some translating. We pounded, pestled, chopped, ground, stirred,  with Mum barking out commands like a drill sergeant.  And we did cook good food: soup, pad thai, and curry.  Happily back to our jungly hotel.

Day Three:

We took a taxi to Wat Doi Sethup on the top of the hill, barreling past the lovely campus of Chiang Mai University and the entrance to the Chiang Mai Zoo (pandas there!  Shoulda stopped!) The Wat is yet another extravanganza of golden buddhas, golden tile, folk-singing and dancing children from various schools asking for donations.

We walked around to the back to see the view of Chiang Mai spread out below, took a path partly down the mountain just to get away from the bell-ringing, chanting, and general cacophony that  seems to accompany Thai worship.  The peaceful tropical hillside of monks watering their garden, cats peeking out from the leafy undergrowth, seemed part of another world.

Feeling a bit burnt out, we settled for a quiet non-descript lunch at the River View Lodge, then walked across the Iron Bridge (pedestrians only) to a neighborhood massage parlor that Mum had  recommended to DM.  No one here was clutching a copy of the Lonely Planet guide – just dumpy middle-aged Thai folk on their work break, maybe, being pummeled by equally dumpy but very effective masseuse teams.  The masseuses were tickled to be working on a pair of silver-haired foreigners – they passed over our unusual scars and focused on our weary backs, legs, and shoulders.  Tea at the end – very nice, very quiet.

And for contrast that night – the Sunday Street Market.  The whole of the main street between the Canal and the temple is given over to street vendors of all sorts – musicians asking for donations, food vendors, book sellers, and the usual wood carvers, weavers, jewelers, gold and silversmiths, etc. Even the Buddhist stupas were selling food, drink, and crafts – no escape! We dropped off to a side plaza to find food at a vegetarian open air restaurant. By the time we finished, the market had become so crowded that it was nearly impossible to move – we had exhausted our gift list just ahead of our gift budgets, and so extricated ourselves and walked back to the hotel for our last peaceful sleep beside the river.

Perfect.

Posted in Thailand, Travel and tagged , , ,
18 Jun 2012

Tips for Travelers – Do as I Say, Not as I Do

During this day’s transition from Kathmandu, Nepal to Chiang Mai, Thailand, DM and I broke every rule of the experienced traveler, including:

1.  Allow plenty of extra time to get to the airport in case of traffic.

“Our international flight is at 1:30PM;  let’s arrange for a taxi at 10:30” say I.

“Oh, that’s silly,” says DM. “It’s only a 20 minute ride to the airport – make it 11:AM.” I didn’t feel like arguing, and also refrained from saying “I told you so” when the taxi arrived 20 minutes late, and traffic was horrendous.

2.  Besure to check that you have all your belongings before leaving the hotel.

Three blocks into the noon-time traffic of Kathmandu, DM shrieks “Oh No! I left my purse on the couch in the hotel lobby – we have to go back.” Fortunately, the taxi driver knew a back street, and the purse was still there.  And even more fortunately, the plane was a bit late.

3.  Be sure to check the rules about currency exchange if you have any significant amount of local currency left.

I had about $70 US in Nepalese rupees, which I decided in our hurry not to pause to exchange at the airport in Nepal.  It was only when I got to the US and tried to exchange that I found out that it is “illegal” to take NPR out of Nepal, and no other country will exchange the currency.

4.  Be sure to check that you have all your belongings before leaving the plane.

I stepped aside to check  the connecting flight number as we waited to exit the plane;  only after we were halfway up the concourse (fortunately, still within the security area) did I realize my backpack was too light – I had left my fanny pack/purse on the airplane seat.   I swam upstream against the flood of exiting passengers to retrieve it, and we loped through the concourse to catch our flight rather than making our anticipated R&R stop in the Thai Airways Orchid Lounge.

5.  Be sure you have some local currency in hand on arriving in a new country.

We had planned to grab some Thai currency in the Bangkok airport, but had no time between flights due to flight delay and my brain-dead episode.  By the time we arrived in Chiang Mai, the ATMs and currency exchange booths were shut down for the night.  Fortunately, DM’s neighbor had given her a few leftover baht to use as mad money – just enough to pay the taxi to our hotel.

So yes, we knew better.  God watches over fools.  We got there anyway.

Posted in Nepal, Travel and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
16 Jun 2012

Trekking in Nepal – Day 11 – Jomsom to Pokhara

This morning the weather in both Jomsom and Pokhara has turned overcast, foggy, and damp,  so no planes are flying.   The town is swarming with folks who wanted to fly and are now seeking wheels.   We fall back on Alternative Transport to cover the ~ 90 miles.  Flying would take less than 60 minutes. Alternative Transport? In Nepal that means

Stage 1 – Jomsom to Ghaza    –  Bina, our guide,  manages to secure a jeep – one of the standard white made-in-India models, with blue tarp duct-taped over the space where the rear window used to be, clear packaging tape overlying the spider-web of cracks in the windshield, and a roll of duct tape for emergencies hung on the gearshift lever.  The Nepalese standard usage is a minimum of 14 people plus baggage.  Happily, our resourceful guide hired the jeep for the seven of us, paying for the extra phantom 7 people at the Nepalese rate – 140 NR/person, or an extravagant $12.50 extra.  We got puzzled and disappointed looks all up the road from folk who wanted to flag down the jeep and fill the empty spaces.

We departed at about 8 AM.  Just out of town we stop to top off the gas tank.  No gas pump – just a five-gallon plastic jug full of gasoline and a siphon.  It’s primitive but it works.

About 5 Km into the journey, we make an unscheduled stop: the driver hops out and greets an elderly woman carrying a plastic bag full of garlic.  He examines the garlic, shakes his head, discards some of the more dubious roots, then slings the bag into the back of the jeep on top of our packs.

Another 5 KM – a very unusual sound comes from underneath the floor of the jeep, and the engine stops.   Within 5 minutes there are two buses headed the other way which have been forced to stop, their two drivers are standing around our jeep offering advice to our driver, who is underneath the jeep with a monkey wrench.  After about 15 minutes he emerges, wipes his hands on the grubby towel he had been lying on, and we proceed with cheering from our group.

Another 5 KM – The driver stops again and a young woman runs up to the jeep.  He brings  out the garlic, and gets a big smile from the happy homemaker.

Stage 2 – We arrive at Ghansa about noon.  The driver refuses to drive any further, as the bridge has washed out at the Rutche falls and there is no turnaround.  So we resume our packs and hike for two hours, plus a lunch stop just after making our way over the washed -out bridge, until we get to Tithze (?) where we hope to hire another jeep.  The walk is actually very pleasant – cool, bypassing the road, and it feels good after the hard seats and bouncy suspension of the jeep. But yet to come was

Stage 3 – at Tithze, no jeep is available – all have been booked by folks who walked faster than we did.  Bina books us on the next available bus, which was third in line to leave – again, the earlier buses had already filled with an eclectic collection of Tibetan refugee women in their colorful woven aprons, young Nepalese men in blue jeans, and a swarm of trekkers from Germany, France, Australia, the US, and many other points, in various stages of grunginess and grumpiness.

Bina got us onto the bus as early as possible before its 3PM departure to make sure everyone had a seat – that was fine, until the additional folks started filling in the cracks.  DM and DB and two Nepalese and two Frenchmen sat in the area in front of the partition that was designed to separate the driver from the passengers;  I was packed into my seat unable to move my legs as they were wedged in between the spare tire, four back packs, and a violin case, plus assorted legs of fellow passengers.  Fortunately, I had made an offering to Ganesha, the god of travellers, at the temple in Mulktinath, so we survived the trip, although DB had to exchange seats with Bina since she couldn’t stop herself from shrieking at every upcoming hairpin turn.  We thought that the bus was crammed full, but that didn’t stop additional passengers from hopping aboard through the always-open side door – we accumulated three in the course of the ride, all of whom ended up sitting on the packs on top of the spare tire next to me.

The trip was eerily like living the previous week in reverse, as if the tape of my life were being rewound. We went through all the small towns – “Ah, there’s the Dutch Bakery in Tubuche where we had that great carrot soup and brown bread!” “Look, there’s where you lost your hat!” We plunged down the gravel track traveling from barren scrub brush to pine forest to cherries in bloom to apple orchards laden with fruit to banana trees.

Three hours later, we made it to Bema, and

Stage 4 – the SUV from 3 Sisters arrived to carry us the rest of the way – three more hours in the dark and rain (of course it would rain!) on roads not much better than the “drivable gravel roads” we had been on.  We keep ourselves awake and alert by trading songs with the Nepalese guides: DB, DM and I harmonize on “You Are My Sunshine”, and the girls in the back respond with a Nepalese folk tune that involves a considerable amount of finger-snapping and tongue-clicking.  We come back with a round of “White Coral Bells.” We get through our entire repertoire of 1960’s Girl Scout Camp songs before finally in the last hour we hit blacktop!

At 10PM we reached the 3 sisters guest house, where they insisted on serving us  our Farewell Dinner – dal bhat, of course.  Then we thankfully hit the cozy beds. Tomorrow we will enjoy hot showers and full-size towels, then DM and I will hit the road back to Kathmandu.  Next stop – Thailand! 

Posted in Annapurna trek, Nepal, Travel and tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment
11 Jun 2012

Trekking in Nepal – Day 10 – Mulktinath to Jomsom

The last day of the trek is a 5 hour hike from Mulktinath to Jomsom, partly across a rocky river bed along the bus road going into the sun and a cold wind. DB took the jeep again, as she has had a lot of trouble coping with the altitude.

DM and I were apprehensive about the dusty, rocky riverbed section of the trail, remembering how un-happy the trekkers on that path had looked when we had passed them in the jeep two days before.  However, our guides led up to the high path away from the road going from Mulktinath toward Jomsom, which cut out a lot of the riverbed section.

The first  section of the road retraced our path back toward Kagbeni, but then it branched up over the shoulder of the hill so we looked at Kagbeni far down in the basin of the valley with snowy peaks rising in all directions.  In the distant downhill we could see the small nameless town where we would have our tea break.  We passed a herd of domesticated mountain goats, built low to the ground with long shaggy coats of black, tan, or a splotched blend of both.  Each had one horn painted blue to show the ownership.  They munched eagerly on thorny gray scrub bushes which I would be ashamed to put in the recycling, much less use to sustain life.

At tea break, we talked with an Australian and a couple from the UK who had just come down from the high pass at Thorung La (5540 M).  The lady said “I just looked at Sindu’s feet and followed where they went.”  I congratulated her, but thought privately “Don’t forget to look up – it’s why you’re here!”

From this comfortable spot we continued down to the riverbed, the road barely discernible and the wind picking up as promised.  But the traffic was light – one tractor, two jeeps, two scooters, a half-dozen trekkers.  The wind was cool, the sun was welcome.  My new hat, pulled down tightly over my hood, blew off only once; the shoelace cord I had contrived to secure it was so inextricably tangled in my camera lanyard that no harm was done.

The hill trail cut half the distance between Jomsom and Kagbeni – we arrived in Jomsom in good spirits, but with the fog closing in.  On the good side, fog in Pokhara had prevented flights into Jomsom, so the premier guest house was able to find room for us despite having been fully booked when we checked on our way to Mulktinath.  On the downside, the hardest stretch of the day was getting from the near side of town – the jeep park – to the far side of town where this hotel was located.  (Strange but true – no matter which direction you are going, your hotel is always on the far side of town.) My feet protested each step on the cobbled street, which seemed to stretch on forever.  We finally made it to the Majesty Hotel, complete with chandelier in the three-story atrium lobby (see earlier post).  The service was slow, the internet connection was down, the ATM did not work, but all was excused: double blankets on the bed!  Attached bathroom!  And HOT SHOWER!

This was supposed to be the last day on the trail, but… men make plans so the gods can laugh.

Posted in Annapurna trek, Nepal, Travel and tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Post Navigation

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →