On the road towards Mt. Everest

Driving across the Tibetan plateau in a four by four Toyota Land Cruiser isn’t what I would think to be eventful or entertaining. We’ve had some long 10 hour drives to get from point A to B, and there have been days where the scenery has been stunning and others where every mountains and steppes look the same. By now, seeing a herd of antelopes, horses or donkeys have become regular, but we all get excited when we see a rabbit or fox crossing the road.

As I said, driving on the roads can be boring, but when you’re driving towards Mt. Everest Base Camp and the roads cannot be defined as roads anymore, things tend to get a lot more exciting. The “roads” now consist of rocky paths with major holes and dams. Of course a lot of these “roads” are correctly described as cliffhangers as well. It’s been quite a few times where we’ve held our breaths (not a good idea by the way, when in 5000 meters altitude), hoping that the road is wide enough or that the rocks that make out the outline of the road actually will hold. It’s safe to say that we all bare marks of the bumpy roads when these cars are not equipped with seat belts. We hold on as best as we can to the hand rails and to each other, but bruises on arms and legs that take the hardest blows are unavoidable. A couple of times we been just short of a couple of concussions as well. At one of our breaks, an Englishman expressed: “I feel like I’ve been in a blender!” He couldn’t have been more spot on!

As we entered the bumpiest part of the road, we all felt both shaken and stirred and almost dreading the final hours of the ride. To our amusement the driver suddenly put on a CD containing western music, but not any kind of music: romantic tunes. We’re talking Celine Dion, Shania Twain, Bette Midler, etc. What to do when losing your mind on a rocky road in Tibet? Sing along! We all agree that there’s nothing like some romance when crossing the plateau towards Everest on so called “roads”. I must hand it to them thou, the Toyotas and not to mention the drivers, they really do an amazing job. I’m absolutely shocked that these vehicles are still in one piece after the treatment the “roads” have given them.

Apart from music which the bumpy ride added an extra beat to, we would regularly pass by a few houses which outlined the village center. Even thou we passed the village with good clearance, it seemed as if the children had some sort of radar built in. They would come running down the hills, across the steppes and rocks to greet us, lining up waving, smiling and giving us the thumbs up, even thou they know we’re not stopping.

We eventually reached our final destination at Rombuk Guesthouse, with a view as spectacular words can hardly explain. Seeing the clear, blue sky framing the outline of Mt Everest’s 8848 meters with its snow kissed peaks and glaciers, is thrilling and spellbinding at the same time. After a visit to Everest Base Camp at 5200 meters above sea level, which was extremely windy and cold, we returned to the common room to have dinner (the standard selection: vegetable fried rice, egg fried rice or yak noodle stew). We all refilled our energy compartments and had ourselves a well deserved beer and defrosted in front of the fire kept alive by yak dug. We also learned the lesson – quite involuntarily – that if the dug isn’t dry enough then it produces enormous amounts of smoke. After being smoked out, I laid in my bed for the night, looking out the window and seeing the top of the world right in front of me; it’s beyond imagination and incomprehensive, thou I’m very aware of its reality. 

5670 meters

I’m trekking the holy kora around Mt. Kailash in Tibet. The air is getting thinner by the minute. In the shade it’s freezing cold and the temperature is somewhere around minus 5 degreesm, and if you add the head wind it’s probably as bad as 10 degrees below freezing. Most of the trek is either false flat or gradually steep uphill. I see the hill rising in front of me. The last kilometer and the last 300 meters of altitude that stand between me and the top of the pass at 5670 meters. Thankfully the sun has managed to stretch above the tall mountains at 7000 meters. The icicles my fingers and toes have turned into slowly start to defrost and the numbness is at retreat. A last sip of water, thou most of it has froze, before the painful, yet exciting, ascent begins. All I see is stones, Tibetan signs and a stray prayer flag here and there; all which lets me know that the pass is within reach. One step at the time; one step a second. By this time I’ve gotten used to random yaks loaded up with trekkers gear running past whenever, with the yak guy right behind whistling his commands. Right after the yak has passed a Tibetan will come running (at least compared to what us westerners are doing) up the hill in his traditional outfit, chanting his prayers while spinning his or hers prayer wheel and counting of their prayers on the bead necklaces they hold in their hand. More and more payer flags are becoming visible and I can only hope the top is close by. I have to yield to a horse coming running down the path before I can continue the climb which has turned quite painful. Every breath contains far too little oxygen, every step makes my knees ache and the thirst which comes with the heat is grueling. Alas, I cannot stop because there is no energy left to jumpstart me if I give in to thirst. I’m starting to let my mind drift and at the moment I’m wondering what Harry Potter’s going to be up to next (I’m halfway thru book four). Now I finally see it, the major pass with prayer flags painting a colorful picture in the midst of the mountains and snow. As I’m using the last of my stored up energy I hear a few of the guys up front yelling “Only 50 meters to go, Kiki!” I feel a second wind coming as 50 meters turn into 40, 30, 20, 10. I made it! Adrenaline is flowing thru every inch of my body as I’m greeted with “high fives” and cheers.

 So what to do when at 5670 meters? Eat an Oreo, probably the best one I’ve ever had. Needless to say, it’s also a Kodak moment so we huddle up for a group picture, lay down our prayer flags and realize that we’re all fairly hungry. It’s time to start our descent towards the lunch tent which allegedly is an hour away (that is, if they haven’t packed up and left for the season). Our expectations are low as we know pot noodles is the hottest – and the only – edible thing on the menu. We reach the tent and we all sit down for lunch. If one was to peek in it looks like we’ve all been slaughtered and piled on top of each other. We skip the pot noodles and chew on whatever snacks we have available before we gear up and re-motivate us for another three hours of walking thru a long, beautiful valley to get to our destination for the night. After the three longest hours the most of us have ever experienced we reach the guesthouse, pop open a beer and realize that once again pot noodles are today’s main course. We finish our beer and noodles, open our sleeping bags and dive into them. Lights out at 9 pm.

It’s been a long day, but absolutely one of the best days of my life. It’s doubtless the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done, thou it felt good putting my perseverance and stubbornness to the ultimate test. I’m proud and pleased with myself as I lay tucked in between my sleeping bag and numerous layers to keep me warm thru the cold, cold night. I take a last look out the window where I see the stars twinkling like diamonds and the Milky Way bright and white. Life above 5000 meters is not half bad.

The daily life of a traveller

While out travelling the world you know and your daily routines are literally turned upside down and then some. A new bed, a new room in a new city every other day or so, and I find myself in a constant circle of adjustment.

I just got back from the supermarket here in Lhasa without knowing what 2/3 of the groceries actually are. When going to the supermarket at home I don’t like to rush, so take my time to pick and choose exactly what I need and want. Reading between the lines, you might have picked up on that I’m not Speedy Gonzales. Needless to say, while walking thru the aisle in a foreign supermarket with a different written language, it takes me forever! There are so many different things to see and to try to figure out what is. There’s dried donkey meat, plastic bagged yoghurt, fried duck, glazed pig feet, vacuum-packed meat and swimming turtles in the fresh food section trying to get out of their glass cages. This alone keeps me occupied for a while and then I have to start buying my own groceries. When trying to find one out of hundred different kinds of pot noodles that doesn’t contain meat, you better not be in a hurry. Since I’m also allergic to all kinds of dairy, buying crackers etc in itself is like going on an expedition. I’ve managed to teach myself the Chinese symbol for milk, so it’s an adventure how many different types I need to read the ingredients on before I hit jackpot. Alas, not containing milk doesn’t necessarily mean they’re tasty thou. Anyway, today I got some cookies which I think, and hope, are green tea cookies. I found some orange juice, which turned out to be nectar (I’ve more or less gotten used to this by now). I eventually ended up deciding on some bread that looked good, which turned out to be sweet (not a shocker when in China) and I also got some instant coffee that did not what so ever taste like coffee (better of sticking to Chinese tea). I did on the other hand get some dried bananas and some laundry detergent, which both turned out to meet my expectations. Apropos laundry, whenever I’m staying somewhere more than two nights I pull up my sleeves, fill up the sink, put on some music (often enough pop open a beer) and get down to business. Specially after getting off a Chinese train where you have been stepping in urine and god knows what, it feels absolutely heavenly to clean all the filth and dirt of your clothes. Even the soles of my shoes get a scrub!

The places we’ve stayed so far have been close to western standards, which mean that all the little extras I find in my room are confiscated. Toilet paper, soap, shower gel, cotton swabs, toothpaste are all tucked away for when they might come in handy and they always do. Another routine I’ve allowed to spoil myself with is morning tea. There are always a couple of teabags provided in the room and with a water heater it magically becomes tea. I’m almost starting to feel like a Britt. The water heater comes in handy also when it comes to purifying water and making it drinkable. First of all it gets pricy when having to buy several bottles of water a day, and second of all it’s not very environmental when considering all the plastic that’s being wasted. I therefore boil water and refill the plastic bottles, and it tastes just as good. Impatient as I am I never have time to wait for that water to cool off, so I’ve gotten quite used to drinking warm water.

Another feature that has more or less grown attached to my body, is my money belt. Unfortunately there have been episodes where ppl have gotten things stolen from then, or have felt someone trying to get into their backpack or pocket. It’s extremely frustrating being such a visible target, needless to say we stand out quite a bit, but then it’s way better to take precautions and be safe rather than sorry.

Blending in as a tall, white, blond girl is absolutely not the easiest challenge I’ve been given. Ppl point, stare, take pictures, follow you around, giggle, and if their able to they’ll utter one or two worlds in English. Here in Lhasa I keep bumping into small kids everywhere who absolutely adore speaking a few words of English with you. They are the cutest and most adorable children I’ve encountered so far. Thankfully, I have yet to experience impoliteness, but have several times been discriminated against mainly due to being taken as an American. In the group I’m travelling with now, we have an exceptionally hard time not sticking out. Not only does our group have the blond, tall girl, but we also have a guy who has fully tattooed arms and two other guys what are 200 cm tall. We have become quite the attraction to say the least! Even my small ankle tattoo tends to draw a lot of attention. Once again ppl point, stare and take pictures. Today, even a group of monks passing me by stopped to take a closer look, giggling like crazy.

What I’m finding the hardest to get used to is not being able to make my own food; whatever I want, whenever I want it. Of course, this is a problem of luxury… “Poor little white girl who’s traveling the world for eight months and have to eat out every day.” I’m not going to disagree, and I still cannot fathom how lucky I am to be given this opportunity. Still it gets tiresome spending around 3-4 hours a day finding a place to eat, ordering, waiting and then eating. Hopefully I’ll be able to make some dinner when I get a kitchen or something similar to a kitchen available when I hit Nepal.

Better be off, dinnertime.

The Great Wall and the bananas

I was lucky enough to go to the Great Wall of China twice. The first time I went with a group from the Trans-Siberian to a part of the wall in Jinshanling. This is a part of the wall that is very old and most parts of it has not yet been restored. It was absolutely amazing, and for someone like me who’s not all that into China and all its tourist to-dos, it blew me completely away! Since this part of the wall was a part of the oldest it really was a tough hike including climbing steep stairs and steep descends. Thou the wall was challenging, we ended up walking 16 km. And the best thing about the Great Wall? Ppl are selling beer on top!

The second time I went was with the new group I’m travelling to Tibet with. We went to a more touristy part of the wall called Badaling which has been completely restored. This part of the wall is literally nothing compared to the first part I visited. Since it’s the part of the wall that draws most tourists (it’s only a 2h drive from Beijing), there were a lot of booths selling souvenirs, food, fruit, etc. I was really craving a banana, so I was thrilled when I saw bananas amongst the fruit. I walked up to the women managing this part of the booth and asked for two bananas. How much? 25 rmb. I pulled out 20 rmb and the lady signaled that it was sufficient. Happy with my bananas I walked to catch up with the others, when it dawned on me how much I actually had paid for the bananas. 20 rmb = 20 kr. I couldn’t help but laugh when I realized that I had had my mental currency calculator set on either rubles (Russia) or tukruks (Mongolia), which then would have made it a pretty good deal. What to do, but to laugh and smile that I probably had made someone’s day a bit easier.

When I eventually got down from the wall I wanted more bananas, but this time I wasn’t about to get fooled. Once again I asked for two bananas. I was told 12 rmb. I gave her 10 rmb.

It’s not easy being a bananaholic when dealing with foreign currencies.

你好, Beijing

I went to sleep in the Gobi desert’s endless flat sand dunes and earthy colors with nothing but a scattered house to see and flocks of animals, and I woke up to the green fauna of the Chinese mountains with small lakes passing regularly. I had finally come to China, the country too small for its ppl and yet too big to comprehend or ignore. Also the country I have no expectations towards as I’m only passing thru to get to my next destination. I find many are immensely fascinated with this country thou, as if there’s something that drags them towards it; they have to visit, to experience and to explore. It’s the far east, supposedly a different world.

I have come to realize that I’ve so far been held as a fool by all the stereotypes that roam the west – and probably the world – about China. My expectations were low and close to none existent, since China wasn’t a specific choice I made to travel to, but rather a country to travel thru to get to the destination Nepal. The easiest way to Nepal is via Tibet, which in itself didn’t seem repelling at all. And here I am, my third day in Beijing, and I cannot do anything but take my hat off and admit that I have been wrongly influenced by twisted prejudgments, being my own fault of course. I’ve always heard of how filthy, smoggy, noisy and unpleasant Beijing is, but on the contrary. As I got up bright and early today I found myself walking under a clear blue sky with the sun caressing my shoulders as I walked to get a morning Starbucks. It was a wonderful moment where one can almost hear the world go “aha!”. I constantly met ppl sweeping the roads, cleaning railings, dusting whatever might be filthy. I also noticed that even thou the early morning traffic jams were taking place in front of my very eyes, the cars were merging as a oiled zipper without making a whole lot of noise as one should and could expect. Words cannot describe how nice it is to finally be able to cross the street again without fearing for your life (a huge contrast to UB to say the least)! As for the smell, I’m not going to lie, there are a lot of different odors that I’m not used to,  but nothing as bad as I had pictured (if you can picture a smell that is).

What impressed me the most was the metro. First I must say that I like metros. I like their function, the rapidness of moving from one place to another, the environmental aspect of it and their non-rocket science level to figure out. After “having done” quite a few metros in my life, I have never been more amazed over any metro like I have this one. The cleanness, the directories, the signs, the security, the prices, the modern style and futuristic look all adds up to a metro experience like no other (did I mention the prices?!). I believe it’s in its place to give some credit to the Olympics for this well-functioning system, but I’m certain they had a great foundation to further develop upon. A small detail as having English announcements and signs in and on the metro makes the world for a tourist, in an almost none-English speaking city, a whole lot easier.

And by the way, Chinese now come in taller versions as well. In other words, yet another stereotype can be washed out of the world along with many others. 

The first self reflection

The first leg of the journey is over and I’ve reached my temporary final destination in Beijing. Now it’s time to change travelling buddies, destination, climate and language. At least for this trip the currency, time zone and way of travelling will still remain the same. Next stop: Tibet, Mt. Kailash and Mt. Everest. For three weeks we’ll be trekking thru Tibet and the Himalayas. I don’t know what to expect apart from cold weather, a tense history as well as present, a hidden non-recognized culture, sore muscles, hard hikes and loads of fun. I can’t wait to be on the top of the world!

Looking back on the first couple of weeks of my trip, I’m somewhat amazed about how much you can learn about yourself in such a short period of time. I bet by the time I get home I’ll probably rediscovered a whole new me… So far it’s not the grand revelations, but more so small things that I never had to actually encounter to rethink.

First of all I’ve finally admitted to myself that I’m not a big city person who likes running from one tourist attraction to the next. In most of the larger cities we’ve visited so far, there’s been a time limit on how long we have to do the “mandatory” tourist sites. From one museum to the other, then a building that played an important role some time ago in the country’s history, before you head off to one of the three wonderful cathedrals the city rightfully can brag about. I had to get to Beijing before I actually looked in the mirror and asked the question: “why?” I’ve thought a lot about it and come to the conclusion that travelling thru certain cities comes with an expectancy of things you are suppose to do. You can’t go to Paris without seeing the Eiffel Tower, New York without Times Square, Kuala Lumpur without the Twin Towers, Beijing without the Great Wall, etc. These “rules” have been made up along the way and have become huge income sources for both private and state driven corporations. It’s amazing how much you can milk a tourist attraction like the Great Wall; there is no end to it! Today’s society created this monster called need-to-see-places, and if you don’t do what is unconsciously expected of you, you’ll be the odd one out who gets all the “whats” and “whys”, which one of course have to answer over and over again. I won’t deny that I wouldn’t be without the wonderful experience we had at the Great Wall (both times), but when reflecting around the reasons I do these things in the first place, I strongly dislike concluding that my to-do-tourist-o’meter is on autopilot. I started to dread coming to a new city where there were more to-dos, but it only took me a few second thoughts before I had a chuckle and decided to be both a sheep in the herd and the odd one out. I figure it’s a doable combination.

Second of all I’ve experienced how affected I get by being around grumpy and ppl who lack the ability to smile. The transition from Russia to Mongolia was enormous, and in fear of turning into a cliché, it truly was night and day. After about 10 days in Russia where smiling, not to mention laughing, I believe is prohibited, coming to Mongolia where you were greeted with a smile and a friendly face seemed like you had died and gone to heaven. The level of service and friendliness I experienced in Russia was next to nothing. If you politely asked them something in English with a spasiba added to it, they’d give you the famous sigh and a reply in Russian. Another example would be if you only had big bills to pay a smaller sum. Once again the sigh was to be expected. Turns out Russia isn’t all that interested in tourism and their way of thinking seems to be that we’re lucky to have them as opposed to they’re lucky to have us. This we encountered numerous times while working our way thru Russia, not to mention the restaurant cart at the Trans-Siberian which eventually turned into a farce. In order to underline how extremely non-tourist friendly it is, let me mention that there is no tourist office in Moscow (!). Honestly, we all agreed that Russian politeness is an oxymoron. I tried to ignore the feeling of not being welcomed and just go with it for the most of the time, but I didn’t understand how much it had affected me before I got to UB. It felt like waking up to life again after feeling suppressed and uncomfortable – which had become the natural state – and coming to understand how much impact a smile, friendliness and a kind word really have on me.

First lessons have been learned, and meeting and greeting ppl all along the way will most likely put me into quite a few situations where self reflection is inevitable and almost required. As long as there’s a smile along the way, I know I’ll do fine.

Mongolia

So as I’m sitting on the Trans-Mongolian train in the middle of nowhere, I’m trying to digest my days in Mongolia. I look out the window and realize once again that I’m a long way away from home. In the distance I can see the contours of the mountains and every now a then a small house passes by. I feel like jumping off the train and go knock on the door to figure out who lives out here in the middle of the desert. Apart for these few glimpses of life, I have the joy of watching numerous flocks of wild horses running and playing as the train passes by. What a sight!

The first word that popped into my mind when we arrived in Mongolia was “chaos”. We arrived late at night by train to a small city. We got off the train and rushed into the waiting room due to the lack of degrees above zero. Needless to say, we stood quite out as we stumbled shivering into the small area which already was crowded as it was. A Canadian travelling with us, being 1,90 m had Mongolians walking past him deliberately, only to look up at him and his enormous height (Mongolians average at barely 1,60 m). We then huddled up to find the closest store to get some piv (Mongolian for beer). We found a small house with piv, vodka, water and cookies and had our needs fulfilled. This place was also extremely crowded and waiting ones turn didn’t seem like something they were familiar with. We – aka the happy campers – got our piv, returned to the train and had ourselves a “hurray-we’re-in-Mongolia-vodka-and-piv-party”.  The happy campers had strangely enough turned into tired campers when we woke up bright and early the next day at our final destination Ulaanbaatar.

I’ve been asking myself what there is to say about Ulaanbaatar (UB), and I haven’t come to a conclusion yet. It’s a surprisingly metropolitan city, but the distance between the urban and rural, rich and poor is disturbing. We went for a walk to see a temple with a 25 m high Buddha statue in it which was a few blocks away from the main square. As we passed a densely trafficked road (which btw is dangerous since red light apparently means “go” and so does green!), we came to realize that we had taken a step into the part of UB that had not yet encountered the globalized touch other parts had. It was as if we had walked off one stage and on to another, without knowing there’d be a difference, but in reality the road separated two world; where the earthly soil was a trashcan, asphalt had turned into dust and solid brick houses was replaced by a shed barely staying upright with the help of a few nails and in a few cases, ropes. Several times we turned around more or less to double check that this was reality and that we were still in the same city we’d been in a few minutes ago. All in all, UB It’s a city filled with many random smells, exhaust and layers of dust, not to mention the random hazardous holes in on the street that kept popping up around the corners every now and then. I soon came to call it little India.  To be fare thou, I hardly saw anyone begging on the street. My impressions adds up to conclude that it’s a city preparing for tourism, doing its best to become what the west wants it to be so they’ll make the effort of visiting Mongolia. In many ways I’ve come to feel it’s a city trying to run before it can walk.

The reason I’ve always wanted to go to Mongolia was to go horseback riding, and I did. We went up to a Ger camp inside the Mongolian national park, which is absolutely one of the most wonderful experiences I’ve ever had. We lived and slept in a jert which is a very basic tent/cabin with a couple of beds, an oven and a table; no electricity and no heating except for the oven. The jert has the form of a circle held up by several wooden sticks connected in the center of the ceiling and the outer walls. The walls are made out of lattice covered with layers of felt and plastic to keep it dry and warm. I actually find it an amazing lifestyle when one keeps in mind that ppl live in these small houses all winter with degrees creeping to below 40 degrees. Apart for eating wonderful homemade Mongolian food – which is some of the best food I’ve ever had – we went horseback riding in a landscape as mesmerizing as I’ve ever seen. The scenery is rocky and dramatic, but at the same time smoothly outlined and covered in a non-typical mountainous dust-like color. What surprised me the most is how I expected the mountains to be bare, which was not the case. Turns out the ground is covered by nothing except for weeds and a small bush here and there, and the trees are located up in the rocky mountainsides. At a point we all stopped taking pictures, agreeing that a picture would be a disgrace to the wonderful sight, since there is no way a photo could capture what we were experiencing.  So far, this is the most wonderful experiences I’ve had and one of the most spectacular sights my eyes have ever seen.

The sun is setting in the Gobi desert, and I’m grateful for my front row seat to this magnificent sight onboard the Trans-Mongolian railway. I only hope that my journey thru life will bring me back here one day.