Relative Something

The only way I have been able to identify what day it is, is by looking at what I wrote the day before. It must now be Saturday, 18 April. The morning appears clear and sunny at 6 a.m., but what we need is for that to be the case in 3 hours. But it’s a good start. Our wake-up call is scheduled for 7 a.m. and Gary is sleeping all of it, while I am up, dressed, packed, and ready to go. I think I am really wanting this to happen.

Last night I was coughing so hard that I gave myself an intense headache. This morning it is a little less persistent. I wonder if it can possibly be gone before I get home. I dread coughing the whole way on the long flight. My lungs still have a bit of rattle when I exhale.

At 6:45, tea is offered at our door! The sound of an airplane suddenly fills the air. It dominates and makes the area seem really small, as if it is right outside our room. We head down to breakfast where Lhakpa (#1) honors each one of us with a ceremonial end-of-trek scarf. Then we are ushered out and walked around the runway to the departures building. Jim has agreed to be a guide for a child (of a friend of our cook, Gyalzen) who is on our flight, which adds a little excitement/confusion to the process. No line for men through security, but a long line for the women. The security check was entirely superficial. Then, two twin turboprop flights later, we are allowed outside and our Agni Air plane is waiting. They throw in the bags, we hop in, the door is shut and we are off! It is a rush like an amusement park ride to move off the flat at the top and drop down that runway. Passengers toward the back put their hands up in the air in fun, but are really hoping and hoping that it will be airborne before we reach the cliff that drops off at the end of that runway.

The flight was in the air 15 minutes earlier than we were told it would be and only lasted about 30 minutes. It is mind boggling and in shockingly fast fashion we are torn from where we were just having breakfast to now be in Kathmandu again. My mind can hardly keep up. It feels strange to have left the remoteness of the Khumbu Valley, yet still be in the relative limbo of a place where it is suggested we don’t drink the tap water and streets are often nothing more that rutted dirt trails. Five hours after I was greeted for morning tea at the door of our room in the lodge, I am showered and lounging on a bed in the Yak & Yeti Hotel. I find myself compelled to immediately find the iPod I had stashed in the bag I left at the hotel while we trekked, and cue up the tunes that were most prominently stuck in my head the previous two weeks. One way to clear ’em is to hear ’em.

In the afternoon, Gary and I do some cruising and shopping with Bonnie and Pam. We stop for dinner and end up walking back in darkness. I seem to have developed the most confidence in taking the risks of crossing traffic. It is a system that seems to work best when you just do it. Make your decision and go. Don’t hesitate or stutter-step, as that creates indecision in the drivers and leads to trouble. But you do need to be willing to endure incredibly close proximity of moving vehicles.

By about 8 p.m. we are crashed in our rooms. I find some Premier League Soccer on ESPN. It doesn’t keep me awake long.