Nepal | On the miseries of travelling

Himalayan trekking broke me. As soon as we reached some liveable altitudes after crossing the Kang La Pass (5,320 m, the most exhausting thing I have ever done!), I could let go pretending that I’m able to endure anything - I went quiet and I started repeating in my head like a mantra, ‘I hate mountains, I hate mountains…’. When we finally reached our last super basic tea house, I had enough. I took a cold shower (and cried), sat down on a crooked bed  (and cried some more), open my last Toblerone and a packet of gummy bears (and, yes, cried) and then ate all of it within 15 minutes (and finally the sobbing stopped).

As we got to Kathmandu, I wondered what caused my admittedly intense reaction. The trek has been beyond beautiful - remote and peaceful with ancient Tibetan villages, lonely stupas with a mess of prayer flags, dry and raw landscape. It took a few days for me to put a finger on what it was that I was missing and then another few weeks to realise how to deal with it since we still have around 3 months ahead of us.

So here it is, the not-so-glamorous account of being on the road for a long time by a person who has realised that she cannot be on a road forever because she likes her routine (surprise, surprise!) and is also absolutely conscious of the fact that this is a not-so-serious list of the ‘first world problems’:

Problem no 1: The Food

I had no idea that this will hit me so much but, after over a month of a diet based on potatoes, rice and chocolate, I was done. The problem was all the things I craved (avocado and halloumi, to be exact) were not available and all the regular tourist comfort foods (pizzas, pasta, ham and cheese toasties, brownies…) were not an option for me. I had moments when I even exercised the idea of having one tiny little pizza. Fortunately, I was stronger than the smell of pepperoni and cheese on Oskar’s plate since I knew that caving to my weaknesses would make my life hell (see Problem no 3: The Bathroom). My hope was that exotic sounding Bhutanese national dishes like ema datshi, shamu datshi, or shakam shukam datshi (datshi meaning cheese, so you know why I was excited) would break the curse of rice and potatoes. How disappointing it was to find out that all tourists are treated mostly to bland buffet meals. At least it was an upgrade from rice and potatoes!

So how to fix it? Coffee! Coffee is a habit back in Sydney and it gives me the illusion of having habits while I travel. I also realised that tracking down decent coffee is not that hard - we found it in the most traditional town in Iran, ancient Nepali city of Bhaktapur and even in the rural centre of Bhutan.

Problem no 2: The Bed

It took me four months and roughly 80 different beds to miss my mattress. Since we took off in August, I slept on everything from carpets in Iran through one-inch thin mattresses in the Phu Valley to hard-as-a-rock beds with giant-size pillows in Bhutan (I won’t count the plush beds in Paris at the beginning of our trip). I know what you think - what a princess! But, as I mentioned before, I’m not 20 anymore and my back hurts.

Again, what helps is an illusion of familiarity - I’m turning into a funny old lady and if something is off with the hotel or guesthouse bed, I sleep in my own sleeping bag (because it is exactly this - MY OWN) and on my own inflatable perfectly-sized pillow. Phew!

Problem no 3: The Bathroom

The problems with bathrooms are multiple: cleanliness of roadside toilets, the hot shower that’s so hot that you burn your skin, the cold shower that only allows you to take a mini bird bath, the shower that turns from super hot to extra cold while you have your hair full of shampoo, the shower that floods the whole bathroom (and you forget about it and walk in with your socks on), or simply the lack of shower or even bathroom altogether. I could go on for a while. The point is that I can’t get used to it (again, princess, I know).

The way to deal with it is somewhat counterintuitive, but it gives me yet another illusion of familiarity (see a theme here?). I think I have almost everything one could possibly use to take good care of their skin, hair and body: lotions, hair mask, face cream (x2, plus extras in case they run out), eye gel, dry shampoo, normal shampoo, shower gel, massive bottle of face wash - the list goes on. As a result, the size of my cosmetic bag is enormous. Oskar can’t understand it or figure out the purpose of half of the bag’s content, but he is ok with it for as long as I carry it in my backpack. 

That’s it. I might just add that there are also a few lovely positive developments about being on a road for so long, so you don’t think me so spoilt after all. Firstly, you honestly stop caring about what you wear and how you look. Dressing up in the morning has never been easier - there are just few very limited options. You also learn to let go (not so easy for me) and slow down. You sleep a lot and don’t even set the alarm on but wake up at the same time every day anyway. Last but not least, you realise how good your life is and become grateful for everything you have and, as much as you like exploring the world, you know that coming back will be much easier than you initially thought.

Annapurna range in the background.

Entering the Phu Valley. It. Was. Cold.

Phu, Tibetan village at 4,100 m.

Monastery in Phu.

On the way to Naar.

Finally in Naar (4,200 m).

Traffic jam in Naar.

Spinning the wheels of karma.

On the way to Kang La Pass. Probably just after sunrise at 6 am.

I have 6 layers of clothing on. Doesn't include double gloves and underwear.

Last few meters before the pass...

And here we are!

Peace out Nepal!