L'Arte di Viaggiare - Art of Travel - Francis Galton

At ten o'clock, Laghkpa, Didi, Kelly and I leave for Banepa on a very old and run-down bus. Having stopped at Bhaktapur, which I know already, then Dhulikel, Panchal and Bahunpati, we arrive at Banepa a little before midday.
A quick lunch and then off again to Malemchi Pul. The road is horrendous, the bus is packed, we arrive exhausted.
To get back on our feet, so to speak, what better than launching at once on a steep climb in the driving rain? Thank goodness Kelly helps me to slow their pace, otherwise I'd never manage to keep up with the two Sherpas.
The scenery is splendid, but we never stop to admire it. What's more we are obliged to keep our eyes on the path, which is extremely slippery due to the rain, and take care where we put our feet. My heart is bursting, I'm gasping for breath, but nevertheless my pride won't allow me to give in.
After an exhausting four hour relentless climb, with not a moment's pause, we stop at a small shop which has a room with two straw mattresses in it. It is here we spend the night. By now it is dark and a thick mist has come down. We are soaked to the skin and in need of a good fire to dry us out.
Unfortunately the stove in the kitchen gives out more smoke than heat. So, after a supper that I can't manage to eat, we take off our wet clothes and hang them out before crawling under the quilt.

My whole body tingles, but I decide to ignore it and try to sleep. Sleep doesn't come. I peep out of the windows anxiously awaiting the first sign of dawn. As soon as I see a glimmer of light, I get up in the hope of beating the others to be able to have a proper wash instead of the usual 'face-only' one.

What a vain hope: the family whose guests we are is already up and about and there are already people setting off down the valley.
I collect my clothes that I had hung out on the verandah last night hoping that they would somehow dry. They are dripping. I get into them all the same and go down for some tea.
The mist is really thick and the humidity very high. Coming to the Himalayas at this time of the year calls for an iron will and constitution!
We set out again around ten, the rain having replaced the mist. About three hours later we reach Shermatang and Laghkpa's house where we find his aunt who is a Buddhist nun.
The house consists of a ground floor store room and a single room on a mezzanine floor. The furniture is basic: two beds, a dresser and a small stove. Prior to the family moving to Katmandu, twelve people lived in this one room.

We are offered Tibetan tea while the potatoes are cooking. Perhaps because the firewood is damp, or perhaps because the stove has an inefficient flue and there's little draught, the atmosphere is so smoky that it makes the eyes burn.
In no time at all news gets around in the village that Laghkpa, Didi and two foreigners have arrived and everyone, friends and relatives, come to say hello.
Kelly and I take it in turns to go to the spring and draw water for the tea and to wash the cups and plates. At the rate of today's visits, this soon becomes a full-time job.
These Sherpas, distant cousins of those more authentic ones of Solu Kumbu, are cheerful and talkative: despite the language barrier, they manage to involve us in the conversation and fire all sorts of questions at us.
By seven o'clock it's already dark and we eat rice and lentils by the light of a small candle.
Towards ten we retire.

Tomorrow we have an early start.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF THE HELAMBU SHERPAS

In a film I saw some time ago, the teacher in an American college suggested to his students that they should always have an original and different point of view when facing reality.
The Sherpas show this kind of originality in their use of the tools and gadgets of everyday life. Here are just a few examples:

they use a piece of wood chewed at one end to clean their teeth, while their toothbrushes are kept for cleaning and shining the pots and pans; the sponge for washing the dishes is used to clean the red clay floor; the aforesaid floor is ideal for sleeping on, while the bed can be used to rest clothes and sundry other items on; the floor cloths are, for them, a perfect cushion, while the cushion makes a very good stopper for the cracks and the window openings – there's no glass in the windows, just the wooden framework – during the colder months . . . and so forth!

21 July Primo Levi a Katmandu

24 July Tarke Gyiang