I have a little backpacking experience from the past summer, after making my way across Southern Peru alone, but every country is a new experience. The hostel I had chosen, mostly for money consciousness, had a bed that was a wooden plank and a bathroom small enough that the shower would get everything wet in there when used. I remember always feeling so bad when I would shower because the next person would have to deal with water everywhere, on the floor, toilet seat, sink, etc.
My first two days in Kathmandu I was feverish and utterly homesick. I didn’t feel the same courage I had felt when buying the plane tickets. I laid up in bed sleeping random hours and eating the granola bars I had packed. It wasn’t until the third day when I told myself I had to suck up the fear and enter the world again. I made my way to the balcony for some breakfast that came with the bed. I awkwardly looked around until a young man with a slightly sun-burnt face offered me to sit with him as the other of the two tables were full.
I could tell he was of the athletic kind, one of those people you just know are long distance hikers or runners. He was lean but muscular and was adjourned with the classic hiker fashion, leggings underneath basketball shorts, a lightweight, easy-breathe fabric of a long sleeve black shirt. His face was peeling on the very peaks of his cheeks just as chapped lips do in the winter of my hometown. A shock of homesickness made me regret and question, “what could I have ever thought by coming here?” With regret weighing me down, I quietly took a seat next to the man and slouched looking over the many huddled houses and busy dirt roads.
There is no quiet in the heart of Thamel, even in the early mornings.
“What are you in Nepal for? Is this your first stop?”, the unknown man asked in quick succession. I hesitated to tell him. Speaking out loud for the first time of my idea of trekking alone to the base camp seemed so dumb now. I was afraid to say it, as if speaking it would solidify it in my prideful ego and I’d have to do it. Just an hour ago I had decided to just enjoy my month in Kathmandu and maybe make some short hiking trips.
“I’m not sure. I was thinking about hiking up to the Everest Base Camp but just not sure if I should be doing it alone, especially this close to the end of the season.” I replied with, trying to sound nonchalant, as if I had no qualms about this plan. Though I wondered if he could sense the shaky undertone of my voice and the way my eyes darted away from him as I mentioned it.
There were many times in this journey that I couldn’t help but think there were so many, too many, moments of guidance, of help, for it to be a coincidence. I used the thought that I was meant to be here, as fearful and broken down and lonely as I was, this was the exact place I was meant to be in my life. I believed it was written out in front of me and I could ignore these signs and let fear rule me or grab onto this fish line of life lines, thin but unyielding and strong.
He smiled where his chapped cheeks rose and I feared they would split right there in the center in front of me. He leaned his chair back on the back two legs just as the “cool” kids in high school were always yelled at not to do. And he began.
He explained to me how two weeks before a man had been sitting here and told him of the best way to go there. The flight to Lukla was too expensive and he didn’t have the time to walk the other option that adds an additional five days from Jiri. He told me you can take a Jeep ride that is ten hours to Salleri where you can pick up the trail along the way and head towards the base camp that way. It was the way he had chosen and he said you get to see many valleys you miss by just starting in Lukla. Soon after describing the way, he was off to the airport to head home and leaving me once again with a mosquito pinching around my brain.
After prolonging my breakfast for as long as possible I attempted to steel myself into leaving the hostel for the first time since I had arrived. When going downstairs the hostel worker in front of the desk pulled out a rough map and pointed to the places I should go, being too embarrassed about being clueless, I figured I could just wander around for a while and come back. One thing I had failed to learn since traveling was how to handle the phone situation. I had my iPhone 5 nestled in my pocket for pictures but had yet to know how to use it in a foreign country. I usually kept it on airplane mode and used it whenever I could get WiFi, in hindsight a dangerous move, but allowed me to be fully there in the world, in the present.
This proved to be a pain when I realized there were no road names in Thamel. Instead it was made of twisting dirt roads where you had to hug the wall whenever a car drove past. I wanted to see some of the well-known sites in the area but with no map on my phone I didn’t know where to begin. Then I saw them, a young couple with striking white blond hair and a height that towered above everyone around. I saw a glimpse of them before they turned a corner into a swath of dust. I jogged after them and followed at a distance of 20 to 30 paces. I didn’t want to seem weird and I didn’t have the courage or extroverted personality to make acquaintance with them. I hoped they were sightseeing and would lead me right to everything.
I saw a couple of amazing temples and statues while following the couple but by mid-afternoon I wanted to go back. I thought I had memorized the way well enough to make my way back but I soon realized my horrible mistake. I lost sight of the couple before I realized I was lost and had no way to ask them to use their map or phone. I decided to just walk. And walk I did for the next 3 hours making loops. Soon your mind thinks you are getting closer, street corners and intersections look familiar, but in reality they are all blurring into your mind in desperation. As the sun was going down, I was filled with stress and covered in sweat and dust. Totally lost but knowing I was still in Thamel at least.
It was at that point, I was leaning against an old stone wall at an intersection that I felt like I had crossed at least twice already. I saw them. There were three people, two girls and a man. Two had long dreadlocks and all three were already dressed in the common backpacking attire of brightly colored woven pants ballooning out by their ankles. They had been in my room earlier and I realized they must know where the hostel is from there.
I rushed up to them, “Hi, hey, this is super awkward but is there any chance at all you can tell me the way back to the hostel?” I spit out taking an over dramatic breath at the end.
Frustration set in when I realized they didn’t have any clue what I had said. I didn’t recognize the language so we stood in dead silence with the horns blaring, dust flying, pigeons chirping, and monkeys screeching just staring at each other. They stared at me then shared a look with each other that screamed they were thinking, “She is a total lunatic”.
All I could say was, “hostel, house, hotel, home” and every other word I could think of. At some point the man realized, or took a guess, that I was lost and pointed down the road twice waving his arm in what I hoped was the direction of the hostel. I smiled and thanked them, hoping they understood my gratitude and continued onwards.
It only took about 0.3 mi for me to find the sign for the hostel and walk down the thin alleyway back to it. I was relieved and minorly embarrassed when I realized I had been so close yet felt too far and so lost. I went to bed that night completely exhausted with another granola bar dinner as I was too afraid to wander back out.
Tomorrow I thought, tomorrow I would try again and I would be smarter this time.