Action-Man, 16 July, Chhomrong, Nepal
Tonight we are lodged at Lucky Guest House on the hillside of the Himalayan village Chhomrong. A few days ago, we passed through Chhomrong on our way to Annapurna Base Camp and at the time it seemd to me like just another remote Himalayan outpost.
But tonight, as we began to climb up to Chhomrong on the top of the hill, this remote Himalayan outpost seemed like a city. Chhomrong is a vital center for the mountain villages beyond. Horses and mules bear goods to Chhomrong, but from here the path is too rugged for the beasts of burden. After Chhomrong it's all manpower. Men and women wear big wicker baskets on their backs, pronounced 'dohkos,' like dirty clothes hampers, held by a tight strap over their heads. The porters strain under heavy loads. The stone staircases and paths are the roads of these Himalayan mountains. They were "layed by our ancestors, a thousand years ago," our fluent innkeeper told me last night. What a feat to hew and drag those blocks and boulders into position. But how much greater a feat are our American roads! If the Himalayas were in America, we would build wide, two-lane highways all the way to Annapurna Base Camp at 4130 meters.
Yes, Chhomrong seems very luxurious tonight. Electricity runs through power lines along Chhomrong's main road. We have light and lightswitches and a hot shower tonight, which was very meager. We look ahead to a full flowing stream of hot water from the showerhead in America. Up from the river, the main staircase with stone railing passes handsome rice paddies and a general store and stables and residential areas. Down there on the banks of the river is Chhomrong the nether and we are in upper Chhmorong. The city stretches from the bottom of the hill to the top. We have walked more than ten miles today. Drew and I wanted to push on to Jhinu, where there are hot springs, but Yogya persuaded us to stop here. Our feet and legs are sore. I see the light of the kitchen and hear the flame of the burners and a knife chopping. Tonight, Drew and I are gonna have some spaghetti, a rare break from Nepalese food.
Sam
But tonight, as we began to climb up to Chhomrong on the top of the hill, this remote Himalayan outpost seemed like a city. Chhomrong is a vital center for the mountain villages beyond. Horses and mules bear goods to Chhomrong, but from here the path is too rugged for the beasts of burden. After Chhomrong it's all manpower. Men and women wear big wicker baskets on their backs, pronounced 'dohkos,' like dirty clothes hampers, held by a tight strap over their heads. The porters strain under heavy loads. The stone staircases and paths are the roads of these Himalayan mountains. They were "layed by our ancestors, a thousand years ago," our fluent innkeeper told me last night. What a feat to hew and drag those blocks and boulders into position. But how much greater a feat are our American roads! If the Himalayas were in America, we would build wide, two-lane highways all the way to Annapurna Base Camp at 4130 meters.
Yes, Chhomrong seems very luxurious tonight. Electricity runs through power lines along Chhomrong's main road. We have light and lightswitches and a hot shower tonight, which was very meager. We look ahead to a full flowing stream of hot water from the showerhead in America. Up from the river, the main staircase with stone railing passes handsome rice paddies and a general store and stables and residential areas. Down there on the banks of the river is Chhomrong the nether and we are in upper Chhmorong. The city stretches from the bottom of the hill to the top. We have walked more than ten miles today. Drew and I wanted to push on to Jhinu, where there are hot springs, but Yogya persuaded us to stop here. Our feet and legs are sore. I see the light of the kitchen and hear the flame of the burners and a knife chopping. Tonight, Drew and I are gonna have some spaghetti, a rare break from Nepalese food.
Sam
posted by Unknown at 8:15 AM
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