3000km to Goa

I've just gotten up after the sleeping through the night on the train from Kolkata (Calcutta) to Mumbai (Bombay). This journey takes me from the east to the west coast of India. I'm moving south as well, though not as dramatically.

From early yesterday afternoon until late tonight, I'm in a 2.5 m by 4m compartment with 7 other Indian passengers. We all sit together during the day and in the evening thin, sleeping platforms are brought down. I was supposed to be on the bottom berth, but happily switched with an quiet, older lady who fed me fried roti last night. On this leg of the my train trip, we'll cover 1968km together.

I've bought a ticket in 3AC (air-conditioned) the class above the cheapest, sleeper class. Although it's 3 times the cost of sleeper, it still costs under $40. I know that if Jackson was here we'd be back in the slightly more hectic, dirtier, sleeper class.

At every station, vendor's come through yelling 'Chai, chai, chai, chai' 'Pani, pani, pani, pani' 'Samosas...samosas' and many other words I don't recognize. Chai costs under 15 cents and water is around 35 cents. It's likely I'm the only foreigner on the train. I was scanning the hectic, pressed line when the train rolled in. I played the good ol'game of gringo spotting but it didn't yield any results.

A small cockroach is crawling on the wall beside me and most surfaces are pretty grimy. In the washroom, you can clearly look down to see the tracks rushing below.

I like travelling on the train. It has a consistency and enters a peaceful rhythm as it creeps from station to station. I'll get off to rest and stretch in many stations; then chase down the doorway with many others as it starts to pull away. I escaped the compartment at points so sit by the open train door. Farms, villagers and oxen whir past me and I'm happy with where I am in the world. I going completely across the country of India and I could barely imagine a way I could be more free.

Most of the my time in India so far is spent watching, talking and trying to simply live day to day. It seems that more time should be just like this: feeling my freedom and satisfaction that I am doing exactly what I set out to do. In reality, these moments are intermittent and fleeting. Happiness is an impermanent state like this and needs to be recognized and appreciated in the same way.

Meanwhile, the train rolls towards Mumbai, one of the most metropolitan and dynamic cities in India. It would be good to some travellers on the next train down to Goa. The best part about arriving will be trading train station food and crackers for prawns and fish curry.

Voy a la playa.

Calcutta - A Walk in the Parku

I have found it difficult to do very much in one day. It's best to make an excursion out of the hotel room a couple of times a day. Over 5 hours in the streets of Varanasi or Calcutta will leave you drained and tired. There is a constant energy and background activity in even back alleys that makes these Indian cities unique.

My plan for the day was to walk around to Moiden, Calcutta's version of Central park. It was a very large area providing ample space for cricket of various levels of organization and even a polo field. I walked around slowly for a while, moving towards the impressive but illogical Queen Victoria memorial (Queen Victoria never even visited India and it was completed 20 years posthumously).

Generally when I would stop, people would come sit or stand near me and eventually ask me where I came from. I sat under a tree and bought a chai from a roaming vendor with a pot and contained fire. He mixed milk powder and filtered the spices through a handkerchief. The chai was small, hot and satisfying. Two young men came and stood by me, staring and smiling. They were thin and dusty, particularly their shoeless feet. These Bengali brothers asked where I was from and after a few minutes one asked if he could sit beside me. I put down my book and said yes. We didn't understand each other well but had a slow conversation with minutes of silence breaking our respective questions.

The younger, 19 year old brother told me they were very poor. Working as housekeepers, they earned 15 rupees (35 cents) per day. They lived with their parents in a village (slum) not far from where we were sitting. He offered to take me to his house, which I declined. He told me he was not happy, mainly because he did not have enough to eat. He and his brother had never been to school and he discovered I had gone to school for Engineering. The moment that followed was quiet and weighted with our gross inequity brought to light. I tried to break it by stating the glaringly obvious fact that I was lucky.

He looked off across the field, after a minute he turned back to me and said that he was unlucky. He complained that his body wasn't working well for him and I thought I heard that he had hepatitis. I had no answer or wisdom to offer, I could only agree that I was lucky and he was not. He requested that we meet up again and wanted to give me his mobile. I didn't have a pen so he recited his number while I pretended to memorize it.

I got up to leave and gave him 100 rupees which he had not asked for. I told him to go with his brother and eat. As I walked away, I felt physically sick and thought I might vomit. The gaps of our lives were clearly shown to both of us. My wealth felt so repulsively excessive. I was planning to take out 10,000 rupees to cover my costs for the next 2 weeks. This money means nothing to me, because I have an excess of it.

I think that broken conversation humanized some aspect of poverty for me. It was one thing to know it exists, even another to see it but hearing the pain and frustration in this boys voice was an acute reality.

As I walked across the field in a haze, a cricket player shuffled over with a big smile to shake hands. I continued past a baby crying, sprawled on a blanket in the sun. An old man with a large white beard was beside the baby and he smiled and waved at me. It comforted me as I walked out of the park, back unto the busy streets of Calcutta.

This evening I was walking with a British lad I'm sharing a hotel room. I told him I don't think I could view India as anything but a developing country. A well dressed Indian man overheard me and joked that India was stronger than China. We kept the banter going and I asked him to recommend a Bengali restaurant for us. He insisted on coming with us and ordering the food. He works for UNICEF and with street children around Kolkata. We had good conversation, mostly about the Indian elite and cricket. We wanted to hear each others impressions about the $1.3 billion dollar (that's right, $1.3 billion USD) home that's been built in Mumbai. Mumbai is well known for it's sprawling slums, as depicted in Slumdog Millionaire He answered many questions for me and wanted to know our impressions of the city as we walked around. After chatting and walking for several hours, we sent him home to his wife who had been calling.

All in all, I've been out around Kolkata for 7 hours today. After what I've written about here and the omitting several other stories from the day, you can start to understand why it is more than enough time. Great, great city, people and travel.

Varanasi and the Bomb

It wasn't long after we abandoned our rickshaw and walked into the old city that we noticed ambulances and police cars rushing by us. Police were loosely trying to block access down the main street and a young boy tried to stop me with a stick as I walked through.

We had just finished 25 continuous hours of bus travel which brought us from Kathmandu to the bustling city of Varanasi. Coming to the riverbanks of the Ganga river in Varanasi feels like being thrown in the deep end of India. In the alleys of the old city there are bull cows, sadus or holy men, hindu pilgrims and armed police. Escaping the old alleys often means ending up at a ghat, where deceased Hindus are burned on a funeral pyre. Following this their body is to a rock and put into the Ganges river, upon which the city is based.

At the Dasaswamedh ghat, there is an nightly ceremony on the steps by the river. This is where a small bomb was put in a waste bin the night which I and two Israelis arrived. I was told that in the seconds before the bomb exploded, it caused a disturbance with the stereo system. This cyclic noise was broadcast and then the small device went off, killing a small child and injuring some 30 others including 6 foreigners. I've talked to some locals who were at the event and shaken up. More often people did not seem to pay the event any mind and would continue to try and sell me hash or silk. The bombing was on the 4-year anniversary of a explosion which killed 16 people in 2006.

We continued until an area where even the ambulances could not move any farther. There was enough noise and apprehensive crowd that I knew we had arrived close to the epicentre of some large event. We ducked back into the alleys and began looking for a guesthouse to stay for the night. When we stopped in one restaurant, the staff were watching the news. It was broadcast live from 100m away from us. I thought originally that 40 people had died and that it would be international news. I've since had to search on BBC News to find coverage of what had occurred.

BBC After Coverage of Varanasi Bomb

The ghat and evening ceremonies have been shut down for a few days. Besides that, Varanasi seems to be functioning at capacity. Funeral processions lead steadily through the alleys, carrying a covered relative down to the fires. Pilgrims and mourners with shaved heads move in packs. In the heavily contaminated river, people perform puja, bathe and wash clothes. We hired a boatman to row us along the banks. Varanasi is an incredible contrast of everyday life and beautiful temples against the sights like deceased babies, sadus and cows, which are put right into the flow of the river.

I find it to easy to use the word 'crazy' to describe what I see around. Simply statements like 'This place is insane.' It's not insane but some of it is very difficult to understand. A long description of the funeral pyre tradition was given to me by a Dalit or untouchable caste worker. It's helped a great deal to understand the rules and religious rational.  
Info on Hindu Cremation Practices 
You can see and feel Hindiusm everywhere around you here. Varanasi is a pilgirmage city.

I like it here and will stay for a few more days before heading off. I'll should wait for the first day I can truly navigate the alleys or am tempted to take a dip in the river, then it will be time to go.

Bungee Jumping and Bhote Kosi

Tress was slowly convincing the group to bungee jump over a 160m gorge and I was pushing for them to go rafting afterwards. I won't write much about the bungee jump because while it was high up, I think a bungee jump goes exactly as you expect it to.

There were some very nervous people, some fearless Israeli girls and some people who would not jump at all and demand their money back.. The suspension bridge was around 50 stories over the gorge and it made some potential people nervous just to walk over the bridge. After minutes clinging to the platform or staff, some people would not jump off.

I remember feeling impatient more than anything as I waited for 10 to people jump ahead of me. I waited and was very ready as I stepped unto the platform. I didn't really imagine what would come once I jumped. It was the feeling of falling headfirst, untethered and unrestricted. The sides of the gorge around me blurred as I quickly fell towards the bottom. My free-fall on this jump was 3-3.5 seconds but it felt much faster to me. It stays as a vivid 1 second video clip in my mind. I understand it more now, the allure of that freedom in the air. However, the real fun and adrenaline was still to come.

We caught a ride down to the Borderlands Resort, where we could camp within meters of the rushing Bhote Kosi. As I understood it, it would be an easy first day to train the rafting crews and then a intense, long second day on a section that had just opened up for rafting.

I talk about rafting because there was no plan for the kayakers, we were just like safety kayakers that didn't pay have to pay attention to the boat.

I was happy when we were gearing up the first day to see 2 other foreign kayakers, both from Great Britain. I admittedly started sizing them up as soon as we got on the water.

The older paddler, named John, was confident, competent and I would learn had lots of experience. He was at the end of a 2 week kayak trip including the Karli Candaki and Bhote Kosi river trips. The younger paddler was a surf kayaker. He could move the kayak and had a solid roll, but had limited practice with river reading.

The first day was nice and relaxing as we cruised down a section of the Bhote Kosi before the dam. The sun was shining and the water was cold. There were a couple of class 3+ rapids but nothing to write home about. I just felt happy and free to be out in a kayak again. The younger kayaker went over a couple times and the rafts just bumped down the rapid. I was joking a lot with the Nepali safety kayaker, he was 22, tall for Nepali rapids, ripped. He was always smiling that first day.

After 4 hours on the water, we took off and headed back to camp. I started talking with John about the next day. He had decided to raft instead of the kayak because of the technical and committing nature of the river. I think he was hesitant about me running the section. We were both sure the surf kayaker was going to be in trouble but he was set on it.

When we started the next day, it was 10m down from our tents. It was directly into consistent Class 3 rapids, which isn't bad but means you need to hit the ground running. I had some nerves but was feeling good and ready to go. I awkwardly got into my boat and was happy when my skirt was on and I was prepped. I peeled out and moved downstream as locals and rafters watched from shore. 

There were 2 Nepali safety kayakers, one for each raft. The older one was a great boater and had been working for 12 years. He ran both Class 5's that day, Frog in a Blender and The Wall. I stuck with the 22 year old safety boater, who I would end up rescuing later on.

The surf kayaker had a rough swim within 200m of the put in. He was out of the boat for about 75m of rapid before a raft picked him up. We started to cruise down the river and the rapids were fun and continuous Class 3. Lots of boulders and enough flow, but easy to find clean line down.

Not to much farther down, he had another rough swim down a steep section. The river opened up afterwards, he got out and his boat got pinned. The whole Nepali Ultimate Descents team got to work and I got out to take a quick video. That was the end of the kayaking day for that guy. He made it about 45 minutes of the easiest section of a 5 hour run.

The rest of the day was a most fun and full on kayaking run I've done so far. Just like riding a water roller coaster that doesn't stop. I had it dialled in so I felt confident, capable and aware the whole run.

Some memorable moments included a nasty rapid called, 'Fake left, go right'. Talking it over with the Nepali boater meant yelling the words left and right and gesturing with our hands until I decided to go. I turned left where it looked right to me and came over a cascade off nasty looking rocks I ended up getting spun around on. I bumped down, super scared for a minute but ended up just fine. I was just yelling and swearing as I paddled out of the rapid. The other boater just gave me a thumbs up and a smile, apparently I had taken the right line down.

He warned me about a rapid called 'Midnight Express' and we headed down ahead of the rafts. There was one big, bouncy class 4 and then another even bigger. We eddied out and I asked 'Which one was Midnight Express?', he said 'It's coming.' I just started laughing.

When we put in after the wall, I went over for the only time that day. I blew my first roll in the big water which was not a good feeling. When I came up, I saw the other kayaker was over, he rolled up at a bad spot and went over again. I ended up T-rescuing him and tossing him his paddle just before we headed down the next set of rapids.

We ran ahead of the rafts, so after some big sets I would look back and see John with a huge grin and thumbs up from the raft. He was kayaking vicariously through me. In the end, he says he was happy he didn't run it but wanted to come back. I hope he'll send some footage/photos from the raft that I can put up. Tress, Emily, Paul and Jaume were all fired up and ecstatic from the rafting. I've read Bhote Kosi is considered 1 of the 10 rafting trips in the world and I can imagine it's true.

Before I ever went trekking, I was offered a safety kayaking job with Ultimate Descents for an American school running the Bhote Kosi. In the end however, I'm happy how things worked out. Though I had to pay a good deal for gear rental and accommodation, I got to go down the river with my friends and with another kayaker who knew the river well. I've run into a few young Europeans safety kayaking, earning anywhere from $4-$20 per day, but that is a different story all together.

Thorung La - One of the World's Highest Passes

The nights became colder much faster than the days. We all plied under dusty, dirty blankets at night. Jaume had a thin, summer sleeping bag and scavenged whatever he could find to stay warm.When we hiked during the days, it was rarely as a group. Tress would race ahead, twice my stride. I'd be following him, then Emily, then 'Los Abuelos' or the grandfathers shuffled up the mountain slowly behind us.

On Day 8, we were headed to sleep at Thorung Pedi at 4500m. Thorong describes the pass that we were headed over. Pedi is the name given to any camp at the foot of a long walk.

Video from this time: Around 4500m

I passed by two older Canadian men who likely were true abuelos and their 2 porters. I stopped for a water break a bit later and when they came by, we started to talk. After a bit, one man turned to me and asked if I had ever hiked at high elevation before, which I had not. He told me to slow down and take it easy. Above 4000m he says everything, walking, eating, putting on clothes, should be slow. I never fully believed this advice until I watched the porters. The moved so methodically with one little step after another and would break whenever they could.

We reached Thorung Pedi one-by-one in the early afternoon. Emily had gotten food sickness the night before, likely from the Dal Baht we both ordered. She had a miserable night and her and Paul didn't leave camp until noon. It is a very rough experience being uncontrollably sick in such a foreign and bitterly cold place. While sick Emily seriously considered changing her flight plans home and how long she would keep traveling for. She's a tough Kiwi though and was feeling much better 24 hours later.

We were all ready for one more cold night and a big day over the pass. The lodges at Thorong Pedi were strictly businesses with no village life around. They were more expensive and less enjoyable than lodges farther down. We were simply perched at a chosen location on the rock slope.

After good health the entire trip, a splitting headache hit me in the afternoon. This led into food poisoning throughout the night. Thorung Pedi is a tough place to be sick. You are trapped with the very large pass day looming overhead. The cost of everything was high, I spent $9 trying to keep down a sprite and crackers. It was very cold outside the dining room and the bathrooms were dirty and had no running water.

I knew the entire group was ready to go, but I was not willing after my nightlong sickness. The entire group quickly decided to stay the day and wait with me at Thorung Pedi. I remember smiling, sick in my bed, thinking what a good group of people had come together. It was a  very long rest day at Thorung Pedi, we played cards and tried to avoid almost everything on the menu. We warned anyone who would listen not to get the Veg burger, which I blamed for getting me sick.

The next morning we started walking at 7:00 a.m. The pass day requires you to climb around 1000m to the pass at 5416m. There are many false summits along the way, extending the apparent length of the long walk up. Especially over 5000m, the pace slows dramatically and constant breaks are needed. There are many consolations though. You break to look at beautiful views, everyone around you is in the same breathless state and you know that the reward is coming soon.

 The Panorama Video

The slow ascent right up to Thorung La was liking walking on clouds for me. I recognized it from photos and immediately gained the energy to walk steadily towards it. It was plastered with prayer flags and I was amazed to see a small stone teahouse standing beside it. After we had all arrived and taken pictures, I did not want to stay long and started the long descent down.

The next morning we saw clouds move in behind us. In fact, the next few days were very cloudly. Though I don't know for sure, we all suspected snow had come in behind us. When snow does come in, it blocks Thorung La for days and around December closes the pass for the winter. The pass had been very climatic for all of us. So we celebrated, drank and had incredible hot showers a mountain pass away from where we had been the night before

Above 3000m

The middle mountains had a strong look like Canadian forest. There were pine trees engulfing the trail and the familiar look and feel of walking over brown pine needles on the ground. If it were not for the Nepali people and villages, I would often forget where we were. A few times we saw groups of school kids moving along the trails. They had big smiles, wide eyes and tried out whatever English they could muster. Every lodge we had stayed in so far was empty, save for the 5 of us. On the trails during the day we rarely saw any other people. Those we did see we saw repeatably, like a game of mountain leapfrog.

Our group had expanded to 5 now. There was a Canadian from Calgary named Tress. Tress was long and lanky. This was accentuated by the weight he had lost travelling 4 months through Southeast Asia. Though Canadian humour is universally hilarious, it was nice to have another Canuck to joke around with.

While hiking up switchbacks on the morning of Day 3, we noticed some porters taking an alternate, more direct route. We decided the switchbacks were for suckers and followed the porters straight up. I felt alright on this new trail but for some it was a scary mistake. A solo Spaniard saw Paul, the last in our group and gave him a 'Should I follow?' thumb up. Paul responded with a big smile and a even bigger thumbs up. When we all arrived at the top, panting 'Never again...' the Spaniard looked at us all shaking his head. He spit out, 'That was not the recommended route' . This is how Jaume from Barcelona joined our group.

It was not until we started moving above 3000m that the elevation started to become apparent. When exercising, it felt like you were gasping for oxygen and never receiving quite enough. The nights became much colder and the landscape became more barren as well. Some in our group had mild headaches and trouble sleeping, which are mild signs of AMS.

While all this was foreboding of what would come higher up, the scenery was quickly becoming breathtaking. After a tough stretch of switchbacks, we climbed out of the valley to 3800m. Across the valley was a view of several Annapurna peaks. For $1.50 each we shared a room and a cold night, with a perfect panorama of the mountains across the valley.

Moving Through the Lush Lowlands

After 6 hours on the local bus, we moved up to the roof to get a better view. The entire journey, like most bus rides I've taken in Nepal, closely followed a river. There were 2 large dam projects along way creating lakes along the otherwise light-blue water cascading river.

As we started to move through villages, we were often stopped by roadblocks made by children. They would hold a string or banner across the road and request some small payment to let the buses through. It was part of a the Hindu festival named Diwali and very cute, though repetitive, to see. Some children would boldly stand in the way of the bus. Often the groups were organized, with clear blockers and leaders who would come ask the bus drivers for money. The disorganized groups rarely got paid as we slowly rolled on through.

The adolescent roadblocks continued as we started to walk, with 2 children holding a open blanket with small bills in it. As we started our trek at 800m, we were walking along a rapid, light blue river and quickly ran out of all our small change.

One of the most redeeming parts of the Annapurna Circuit trek is walking through changing ecosystems as you climb upwards. As we started it was tropical, with lush plants, rice paddies and hot weather in the sun. It seems unlikely you are walking into the Himalyas until you rise briefly out of a valley and can see the high peaks off in the distance.

When we stopped for our first lunch, several porters stopped to rest close to us before continuing at a slow steady pace uphill. I realized quickly that all the food we ordered came directly from the fields around us. If I ordered vegetable momo's, a steamed dumpling, it was easy to see the lodge owner walk to the field and cut plants for the ingredients. If you ordered a 50 cent glass bottle coke, there is no doubt it was carried up on a porters back.

These tea houses were my favourite on the entire trek. Run out of people's houses and fields, the prices were low and the people are very welcoming and friendly. Elevation was not an issue yet and the nights were warm. But we came to walk through the high mountains, where the weather and environment are more harsh and less hospitable.

Preparing to Trek the Annapurna Circuit

Local Bus on the way to Annapurna Himilayas. Best seats are on the roof

 It is always funny what you imagine in anticipation of a new experience. I've realized that this fantasizing is what leads me to most new places that I go.

I had thought of Annapurna, a 55 km stretch of mountains almost as soon as I thought of trekking in the Himalayas. The largest mountain is Annapurna I, standing at 8091m and the 10^th highest peak in the world. The main draws for me were the long length of the trek and the accessibility of tea house lodges along the way. The teahouse are small lodges and means you don't need carry weeks worth of food and other gear. They are a major source of income for the small mountain villages along the circuit. Annapurna is one of the most popular treks in Nepal but this was reassuring for an independent trekker like myself.

I started posting on a traveller's billboard in Kathmandu and searched online to find someone to trek with. While I waited in the city, I started to wander and explore. The air in Kathmandu is thick with pollution and dust. Like many people here, I walked with a cover over my mouth and nose while walking and dodging the traffic.

After a few hours of wandering, I realized I was close to the trekking permit office. Here all aspiring trekkers must to register with the Trekker's Information Management System (TIMS) and for the Annapurna Conservation Area. When I went into the crowded office, I was approached by a young French guy named Paul and a girl from New Zealand named Emily.

Paul, Emily and I decided within a minute to do the trek together. This was the start of group of 5 different people from 4 different countries that would travel inseparably the next three weeks.

Bus Stop in Kathmandu

The next day we rushed around the city to buy knockoff trekking gear. My biggest purchases were a $30 down jacket which has since started to fall apart and a set of gloves and trekking poles I've sold to another trekker.

Emily and I went out to the city bus station and found that all signs were written in Nepali. Nepali looks to me like Hindi and is completely indecipherable. A middle aged local man named Khil stopped to help us and facilitated the whole process. Emily and I were guarded around Khil, expecting him to ask for money in the end. Once everything was done, he only wished us good luck as we left. We were elated at what a nice encounter it had been. We decided to eat something quickly at the bus station (foreshadowing....) and found Khil eating at one of the stalls.

I was determined to buy him lunch so we stopped and ate bhaji with other fried food. Khil was a soldier for the UN and had served in the DRC and told us stories about fishing in Lake Victoria. He wanted us to come visit him, his wife and son when we came back. It was a very relaxed, unique conversation. I tried to pay when it was time, but he insisted on buying our meals and said when we are in Canada I can pay for the food.

We left the bus station feeling full, satisfied and happy to be surrounded by Nepali people. Emily would get terrible food poisoning from the food later in the evening. 

In anticipation of Annapurna I imagined an uphill hike in sunny weather. I picture big valleys, little villages and snow-capped mountains. What I couldn't imagine was the huge range of landscape covered. We would hike from tropical forests to far above the tree-line and most of the way back down again. In one day, we would hike a vertical 1 km up to 5416m and destroy our knees on 1.6 vertical km right back down. It was truely a trek where everything would change day to day.

Arrival in Traveler's District, Kathmandu

I'm sitting in Thamel, the main travellers district in Kathmandu, trying to determine the best way to spend a month or two in Nepal. It has been painless and non-intimidating travel so far. By any indication, the Nepali people seem very welcoming and friendly. This is despite an amazing affluence gap between travellers and locals (around 80% of Nepalis live on under $2 per day). I have a lot to see, but that is my impression so far.

I met with the owner of Ultimate Descents, Mal Ale last evening in order to talk about paddling here. He was a very welcoming, stout man with short white hair. We started talking about our shared acquaintance, Lee Chantrell, who worked in Nepal for 10 seasons and now lives in the Madawaska valley. Mal described to me, with a downturned face, that rafting here was not what it once was. It has been a general decline that as I understand been an international trend. It is hard to imagine here where walking through the tourist area, you'll see no less than 20 organizations offering rafting and kayaking trips.

Mal offered that I could come kayak on a Bhote Kosi trip when an American school would come rafting. The Bhote Kosi is 4 day trip with a lot of consistent class 4 paddling. The trip is not for 2 weeks and we agreed to stay in touch. I would like most to go on 8-10 day trip on the Sun Kosi or Karnali rivers and may need to pay my own way in the end.

The other option is to head to the Annapurna region and start a trek. The treks vary from 4-30 days around, over and into the bowl of the Annapurna mountain range. I first need to find a trekking partner. There are posting boards around town (it feels a bit like a dating board) and I am surrounded by gringos in this restaurant, so I don't imagine it will be a problem. 

For the next few days, I will balance the excitement of planning trips with the jet-lag and frustrations that accompany coming to such a new area. I notice the desire to chat up everyone around me grows and grows.

London Stopover

I'm been lucky enough to stop over with Meg in London for a few days. She has done an excellent job putting off work and all other priorities in order to guide me around. I slept for 2 hours on the flight over and 13 hours last night so all in all I'm feeling damn good.

I can't help remember when I first arrived in London about 3 years ago, Mike and I partied through our jetlag the first night. He stayed out later than me and woke up the next morning in incredible bodily pain with no wallet, debit or credit card. While the hangover and jetlag faded, he'd need a little help for me and Western Union for the rest of our Eurotrip. Sorry Mike, but I still find this morning after picture entertaining, so much pain:

It has been a good re-entry into travel: confusion, market food, trouble communicating with people and the refreshing, exhilarating feeling of things foreign and novel. People are impeccably put together in downtown London. The fashion has such a formal feel to it and while the style can be original most clothing is black, grey, white and blue.  Canadian backpackers can be spotted from a mile away thanks to MEC bags, jackets and stitch on Canadian flags.

Meg is living in a small, clean two bedroom apartment with her roommate and her roommate's brother. There are now two brothers, both named David, taking advantage here, but he has a 5 week head start on me. Meg is making £'s now and has a great routine and knowledge of the downtown. We've walked all over to the British Museum, Tate Modern, Borough market and LSE. More recently, we've been taking double-decker buses everywhere to avoid walking any farther. We're now sitting in other Dave's bedroom (the living room, he's sitting beside me right now) resting our feet.  

My 85 liter pack has thrown up it's contents in Meg's room. Although I've brought bottles of poppy-seed dressing to Meg and am carrying warm clothes to a friend in Nepal, it is hard to believe I'll carry such a big pack with me for the next 6 months. 

I'm starting this trip:

- at 186 lbs and 4 1/2 inch hair

- with $4500 CDN, £50, $170 USD, 4570 Rs

- at least 75 L worth of Canadian bought gear, including lifejacket, drytop, helmet and sleeping bag
- a durable point and shoot (HD video ; ) ) camera and $179 netbook

- packed pelican case first aid kit, containing everything for cuts, sprains, dysentery and malaria.

As I said, it's hard to believe any of this is going to last very long.