The morning had borne a desire for something hearty and the menu had just the dish: tsampa. Even only a week removed from Tibet, I was already craving some of my favorite Tibetan dishes. This day was a holiday in Nepal, the 10th day of Deshain, the most important day. This is they adorn special tikkas after the sacrifice goats to the gods. I thusly treated myself to tsampa and potato momos; there was no yak meat here. The tsampa was more of a liquidy porridge, but it was still delicious and filling. The momos were taking a while and I almost hoped they'd forgotten the order. Just as I was standing up to pack, they came. They were also tasty, almost like a peroggi. It didn't take much effort to finish the whole plate.
Chame is the district headquarters of the Manang district, so it was quite populated and had more going on than the typical tourism. The streets were filled with people celebrating their day off. Many were gambling with cards or betting on special game of dice. Five dice are shaken then placed, covered on the ground, everyone lays down some money upon the symbol of their choice. The bets are collected and the dice revealed. Whichever symbol showed on the most dice, was the winners. This was popular, as it was being played many places and it was quite difficult to proceed down the streets. Even child were placing bets. I passed, but I regret not gambling even 50 cents, just for the experience.
The day was a relaxing one. It was mostly flat gaining 600m in about 10km. Plus, there was only five hours of walking time. A holiday deserves a short day.
My back was feeling better, but I wanted to find out why my middle back was hurting, when the backpack is most supported by the shoulders and lower back. A quick inspection of my backpack revealed the problem. After a couple of years with no adjustments, my pack had become set for a man who is 6' 2". I set it for my height and tried the pack. It made a drastic difference. The weight was spread out throughout my whole back, the straps went around my waist and over my shoulders comfortably. When walking, I was finally standing upright instead of hunched over slightly. I know not how I'd not noticed after using my backpack for so long. Good thing I fixed that early; I may have had some great pain later on.
With my weight properly distributed and my body finally used to the abuse, I was feeling good. Even the hills proved to be no trouble. The trail was clear with only a few rocks and pine needles scattered the ground. The titans of the East were hidden behind clouds, leaving only the minor peaks in view. If it wasn't for the porters carrying the 100lb loads with their heads, one could imagine being in Colorado. The trail veered west with the river, sandwiched between two 4700m walls on either side.
I also saw the first of the regrowth forests, evidence of clear-cutting. Nepal does need the lumber, but I hate the sight of regrowth. Forests get their beauty from the symmetry of the asymmetry. Regrowth is straight and ugly, a painful bastardization from its resemblance to real woods.
I met a Spaniard and his guide occasionally through the day and we found ourselves arriving at Pisang at nearly the same time. Just before the village, Himalaya, the guide, veered off the road and started picking some plants. Upon close inspection, I saw he was plucking the buds of marijuana which were growing in a large patch right off the trail.
I grabbed a bud and saw many sparkling crystals over the whole thing. If I could ship it to the US, I'd be able to make a decent bit of money.
"I didn't know marijuana grew so high."
"It is everywhere my friend; you just have to open your eyes!" Himalaya exclaimed.
"I've never seen it growing before; our government destroys all it finds."
"Wow!" said Javi, the Spaniard. "You must be the only person in the world who doesn't know what it looks like."
We walked five more minutes to town, right before a downpour, as Himalaya explained the Nepali process of making hashish. I was fascinated, though I'm sure it would have been more interesting if I knew anything about the hash making processes at home to make a cultural comparison. I shared a room that night with Javi and discussed Himalayas plan to create a new trek in the Nepal since the Annapurna is dying. He corroborated my theory of the hike's death. The further the road moved into the mountains, the less trekkers who will come. The guides are now scrambling to be among the first to bring tourists to an unpopularized route not mentioned by Lonely Planet. The market for trekking guides in the big three areas is so overpopulated and since many, like myself are now easy to do the treks without guides with all the infrastructure, so some are forced to corner a different niche.
It was an educational night for sure. Later in the evening, I met two Americans, one had been living here for the last ten years, during the height of the civil war. The brief history of Nepal in my Lonely Planet ended after the Maoist party overthrew the monarchy. The Maoist apparently, only won the war with the help of other groups and parties. After the monarchy was finished, all the groups wanted to assume control. There was an "election" which the Maoist won, but with so many different groups trying to make decisions, nothing was getting done. Maybe ineffective decision making is a universal downside to democracy. One dispute pushed the Maoists to quick operating, and since they controlled the majority of the government and have their own army, this has dammed up the governments efficiency to nearly zero. Nepal has its own national army, but having lost in its backing of the monarchy, they've abandoned all political affiliations until the dust clears and there is a stable government to support. For now, they just do public works projects to keep busy.
My dal bhat I ate while hearing this story was not so great, though the pickles were; they gladly gave me seconds. I considered a dessert for the holiday, but passed. I'd spent enough money already that day.
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