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Twice the bus stopped to let the government officials check our
documents, allowing us to leave our confines for a few minutes and
stretch our legs. Dawa kept a close vigil on the backpacks to
prevent theft and, taking no chances, was always the last back on
the bus. The country side is lush and heavily terraced. The
houses are red bricked with either slate, tin or grass roofs. We had our lunch stop and I ate with the locals: rice
and spicy steamed vegetables with lots of curry.
The stop seemed far to short and Jiri still four hours away as
the bus pulled away and the narrow ribbon of blacktop wound on.
The road is only a few years old and although not as heavily
travelled as the road to Pokhora it is already in need of
repair. Only the rich nations can afford to squander money on
highway upkeep. The inhabitants of poor nations just drive
around the pot holes.
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It has been raining and this is good. The bus was bad enough without
adding the heat of the day to my already mounting discomfort.
My legs were heavy with sleep and the onslaught of numbness and the
needles was
just beginning when we arrived in Jiri. It is bustling with the
beginning of the heavy trekking season. The low buildings sheath the
road and both come to an abrupt halt at the far edge of town. What
took me twelve hours by bus, not long ago took weeks by foot. I am
not sure which is better but I know which would be safer. |
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While I am writing this, porters are organizing their packs.
It looks to me they are part of a climbing expedition due to
the gear they are taking: carabineers, ropes, etc. Sitting
next to all this hi- tech equipment I am suddenly
embarrassed for my Sherpa. He has a really crummy backpack
which he borrowed from an uncle. Dawa had, at one time, some
very good equipment, but because of a slow season the
previous year, he had to sell it to feed his family. The
backpack is an old canvass variety, with holes in the
material and no waist belt which is needed for stability and
comfort. He has had to carry thirty of my pounds plus his
own equipment. The other porters have neat looking stuff.
Dawa doesn’t seem bothered by it. I guess it’s just my
western attitude. I should have rented a good quality pack
in Kathmandu to relieve my own sense of guilt but funds are
scarce.
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I have only eaten once today, at the lunch stop, and I am hungry,
but I am also tired and think I will wait for breakfast to satisfy
my hunger. |
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