Seeing the Light

By Alli Sinclair

I’m a glass is half full kinda gal and I like to believe there are more good people in the world than bad. Travelling has always been a great way to test my theory and I’m happy to report, my theory of more good people than bad holds up. I’ve met many, many people willing to give up their time and comforts to go and make a difference in people’s lives, especially in developing countries.

If you asked me to name the most inspirational person who has done wonderful volunteer work and changed the health and welfare of entire communities, there would be no argument--Frederick “Fred” Cossom Hollows wins, hands down.

Born in New Zealand in 1929, Fred Hollows studied ophthalmology and moved to Australia in 1965 where he became an associate professor of ophthalmology at the University of New South Wales. His interest in charity work had been sparked while studying in New Zealand, and when he moved to Australia, Fred travelled to outback Australia and worked with Aboriginal communities. During his time there, he grew concerned about the high incidence of eye disorders amongst the Aboriginal people, especially trachoma (a condition that can be treated with medication).

Fred, his mother, and others set up an Aboriginal Medical Service in Redfern, a suburb of Sydney with a high indigenous population. From this success, they set up similar clinics throughout Australia. He organized the Royal Australian College of Ophthalmologists to establish the National Trachoma and Eye Health Program. Between 1976-1978, Fred and his team visited more than 460 Aboriginal communities, treating 62,000 people. As a result, 27,000 people were treated for trachoma, and another 1,000 received necessary eye operations.

Fred travelled to Nepal in 1985, Eritrea in 1987, and Vietnam in 1991, training local technicians to perform life-changing surgery in remote regions. He organized intraocular lens laboratories in Nepal and Eritrea to provide lenses at cost (around USD9).

Many of the people in these countries suffered blindness that could have been fixed with simple operations. They couldn’t work because they couldn’t see, and it was impossible to travel to large cities to obtain the help they so desperately needed. So Fred and his team visited them and found many of the patients had cataracts that could be removed and the patient could quickly return to work and earn money for their familes. Eye infections were cleared up with short doses of antibiotics and within a short while, Fred and his team changed the lives of many people, and in a lot of cases, entire communities.

In 1992 the Fred Hollows Foundation was formed but unfortunately, only five months later, Fred passed away from cancer. But thanks to the work of his wife, Gabi, and friends and family, the Fred Hollows Foundation has grown to the point where they now work in over 40 countries around the world including the continents of Asia, Australia, Europe, and Africa.

To give an example of the work they do, in 2011 (taken from the Fred Hollows Website), people working with his foundation have:

* performed eye operations on 282,714 people

* supported training for 10,757 medical and support staff

* examined 1,604,802 people

* delivered $3.38 million of medical equipment

* Built or upgraded 50 eye health facilities

This man’s kindness, knowledge, and undying belief that everyone has a right to health has changed countless lives and communities for the better. Even now, years after his passing, Fred’s team are and giving millions of people the chance to see the world and their loved ones and gain back their independence and self-esteem.

The world could do with more people like Fred and Gabi Hollows. I can only imagine…

If you want to find out more about The Fred Hollows Foundation or get involved, please click here:

http://www.hollows.org.au/our-work

Up Where I Belong

By Alli Sinclair

I took this photo in 1994 at Base Camp on Mera Peak in Nepal. It was my first-ever climbing expedition and this trip awakened a passion for mountain climbing and travel that has never left me (and I doubt it ever will).

At a height of 6,476 metres (21,247 feet), Mera Peak isn’t for those wanting a Sunday stroll. I took this photo the day before we arrived at the summit and my life changed forever. Standing on the top of Mera Peak, overlooking the 8,000 metre peaks of Mount Everest, Lhotse, Cho Oyu, Makalu, and Kanchenjunga, I discovered my ability to push myself beyond the physical pain and mental torment of climbing at high altitude. This awareness changed my whole philosophy on life, and at the age of 24, I realised the only limits are the ones we place on ourselves and once we smash those down, we can achieve almost anything we set our heart and mind to. Eighteen years later, and I still believe this is so.

How about you? Have you ever had a life-changing moment while traveling?

Jiri – Gateway to Mount Everest

Jiri, Nepal
Photo by Krish Dulal

Last week, our guest blogger, Tracy Tyson, wrote about her road trip from Suspa to Jiri, Nepal. This week, she continues the adventure with an account of her visit to the town and surrounding area at the foot of Mount Everest. You can read Part I here.

Now that I’d reached Jiri, I decided there was no rush in finding a room. Maybe it was because after six months among the Nepalis I had absorbed some of their “things-always-work-out-somehow-in-the-end-so-why-stress-yourself?” attitude.

Fifteen minutes later, a man approached and handed me a business card for his guesthouse. We set off to take a look at the rooms. The place was nice, but when he told me the price—100 rupees—I nearly fell over. Not because the amount was a lot but because it was so little (not even $1.50). Sometimes you can bargain the cost of a room down a bit, but I've never been given such a cheap quote initially.

We’d spoken Nepali on the walk to the guesthouse, so maybe he decided to give me a discount for attempting the language. In Kathmandu, I paid four times as much for a room that wasn't nearly as comfortable.

Because I was in no rush, I decided to check out a few other places before committing myself. The next guesthouse was even nicer, and the room cost only 50 rupees. Once again, I’d spoken Nepali with the owner. Too bad my efforts to speak the language don't have the same effect on Kathmandu landlords.

Stupa in Jiri
Photo by Sundar1

All the rooms in the second guesthouse were named after Nepali mountains, and mine was called Everest, which is the closest I ever got to the real thing on this trip to Nepal. Fortunately the name didn't reflect the room's elevation and I only had to climb two flights of stairs to get to it. Leaving my backpack in my new room, I decided to take a walk while there was still daylight.

My first stop was a huge stupa, a shrine shaped like an upside-down bowl with a steeple-shaped peak on top. The bowl part is usually painted white, and the top of the peak is gold. The lower part is white and has four sides, at least two of which display a pair of painted eyes that represent the Buddha’s all-seeing gaze. Between the eyes there's a long squiggle that resembles a nose, although it's actually the symbol for the number 1. I'm pretty sure it represents the unity of all things, a belief central to Buddhism. Stupas come in all sizes. Some are small, just a few feet in diameter and others are quite large and can be over 100 feet. The Jiri stupa is around 30 to 40 feet in diameter.

After sitting by the stupa for a bit, I climbed to the top of a nearby hill, mounting a staircase to the summit. On the way down, I followed a path that led through an evergreen forest clinging to the side of the hill. After a 45-minute walk through a lovely landscape, I came to a small stream with a huge yellow raspberry bush growing on its banks. Luckily, it stood on the side of a hill, so I could climb up behind it in order to reach those high-placed berries. I scratched my arms up getting to them, but the snack was worth every thorn prick.

Main street in Jiri
Photo by Sundar1

The berries did little to take the edge of the appetite I’d worked up on the hike, so I returned to the guesthouse for some dinner. While perusing the menu, I noticed an “Other Items” heading, which contained “Toilet Paper” for 40 Rupees and “Hot Shower” for 50 Rupees. I wondered how you got a hot shower on a plate, but the fact that hot water cost as much as the room explained why I'd found only cold water in the shower earlier in the day. After a tasty dinner of momos (a Tibetan dumpling) and vegetable thukpa (a Tibetan noodle soup), I hit the hay so I could catch the early bus for the trip home.

I may never have gotten closer to Mount Everest than the name on my hotel room, but the moments of contemplation at the Buddhist stupa, followed by a comfortable hike through the forest and a Tibetan meal at the end of the day, made for a memorable experience.

The Road to Jiri

Road in Nepal, north of Kathmandu
Photo by U.S. Dept. of Agriculture

Alli is off for a couple of weeks, so we’re running another Nepalese adventure by Tracy Tyson, an occasional guest on the blog. Tracy is an American educator living in Nepal, where she trains teachers and helps schools set up Montessori programs. In a two-part travelogue, she describes a trip to Jiri, a village in the northeastern part of the country.

In early May, we had a two-day holiday and I was feeling a bit stir-crazy in Suspa, the village where I lived, so I decided to go to the town of Jiri. Once a popular departure point for climbing Mount Everest, Juri fell somewhat out of favor during the Maoist insurgency (1996—2006), and even though the insurgency is over, it still hasn't regained its former popularity. During the insurgency, trekkers hiking from Jiri to Lukla (the next large town on the way to Everest) would often run into groups of Maoists (or even non-Maoists taking advantage of the political instability) who insisted on a “donation” and often threatened to take it by force if it wasn't given freely. Needless to say, the trekkers rapidly began avoiding Jiri and environs.

I set off early in the morning to walk up to Charikot. It had been getting hot pretty early in the day as we headed into the Nepali summer, and I wasn’t relishing the idea of sitting on top of the bus in the sweltering heat. An hour and a half later, as I approached Charikot, it occurred to me that the bus hadn't passed me on the road yet. In fact, I hadn't seen any vehicles at all so far. At first I considered the possibility that road construction was holding up the traffic, but the closer I got to Charikot, the more I started to think that there was probably some kind of transportation bandh, or strike.

Bandhs of various kinds frequently occur in Nepal. Sometimes the strike only shuts down transportation or closes the schools. Other times, it brings absolutely everything to a standstill.

Strikes can occur in just one area or they can affect the whole country. Someone told me that the idea for these strikes came from the Maoists, who used them to shut down the country in order to put pressure on the government during the insurgency. Later, the situation got out of control, with people calling for strikes on a whim for no discernible reason. However, that might just be a nasty rumor started by someone who supported the monarchy. Who knows? When a group has a grievance that they don't feel is being properly addressed by the government, they usually call for a strike, but at times no one knows why the strike is being held.

Sure enough, when I arrived in Charikot there wasn't a bus in sight. I waited for 15 minutes to see if the lack of buses was some kind of temporary fluke, but all I saw on the road were a few trucks and motorcycles. Eventually I decided to ask the policeman at the traffic checkpoint if I was actually at the correct spot in the road to catch the bus. He told me that I was but that none of them were running that day. Although he explained why, my Nepali wasn't good enough to understand the reason. Then he asked the driver of a truck that had stopped at the checkpoint where he was going.

“Jiri,” the driver replied, and the policeman asked me if I wanted to ride along. I had no desire to walk back to Suspa and sit in my room for the next two days, so I accepted the offer.

Upon climbing into the truck’s cab, I noticed it already held a few people who’d been waiting at the bus stop earlier. Apparently, hitching a ride under such circumstances is fairly common. It was a tight squeeze in the cab but a lot more comfortable than the bus would have been, with padded seats and a great view out the window. At one point, a huge peacock flew across the road right in front of the truck and landed in a tree on the opposite side. It was gorgeous!

Gaurishankar, viewed from near Jiri
Photo by Sundar1

A couple of the passengers were teachers going to a conference in a town on the way to Jiri. We chatted for a bit in English, and when they got out, they were replaced by a family—mom, dad and a toddler. Nature particularly abhors a vacuum in Nepal!

With the truck loaded down and a very curvy road, we made top speeds of no more than 30 or 35 miles per hour—usually far less. At that pace, it took us four hours to reach Jiri.

Fifty years ago, Swiss contractors built the road leading to Jiri, and the town is often dubbed “Little Switzerland.” But whoever christened it with that moniker has apparently never been to Switzerland! The style of architecture is typically Nepali, although the town’s layout has a bit more order and organization to it than you usually find in small Nepali villages. Maybe that's what qualifies it as Swiss.

A single road runs through the town with lots of hotels and guesthouses on either side—tourism plays a major role in the local economy. One of Jiri’s claims to fame is a cheese factory, which sounds very Swiss, but the cheese is made from yak milk, which doesn't sound Swiss at all.

After arriving in Jiri, the truck parked on the main road and everyone got out of the cab. I set out to explore the town, get acquainted with the terrain, and scout out a good place to stay for the night.

Check back next week for the second half of Tracy’s adventures in Jiri.

Top Of The World

Alli on the summit of Mera Peak

By Alli Sinclair

In my late teens and early twenties, my vacations involved beaches, palm trees, and many hours reading books or playing water sports. At the ripe old age of twenty-four I decided to fulfill a dream I’d had since I was twelve—to travel through India. As I thumbed through guidebooks, Nepal, India’s neighbor, wouldn’t quit calling my name. Nepal is a quick flight from India, so I looked into adding a short trek in Nepal to my backpacking trip in India. This innocent thought changed everything. My ten-day Nepal trek morphed into a six-week mountaineering trip in the Himalayas and got me hooked on the one sport I’ve never lost passion for.

I’ll be honest and say I bit off more than I could chew. Up until that trip the longest I’d slept in a tent had been four days—this mountaineering expedition meant six weeks of camping, including at least two weeks sleeping on snow. In my head, I had the confidence needed to undertake such a journey but when I told family and friends about my plans there were more than a couple of raised eyebrows and exclamations of “Are you sure you want to do this? Didn’t you want to lie on the beach at Goa?”

After 18 months of rigorous training in Australia (where our highest mountain is one third the height of my Nepalese goal) I travelled to Nepal, determined to prove my silent critics wrong. I’d only been in Kathmandu two days when I sprained my ankle in a pothole and it looked like the trip had finished before it began. A few tears, icepacks and lots of drugs later, I made the eight hour trip to Jiri, our starting point for the trek.  The first few days were a blur of painkiller-induced delirium, but it go me through the discomfort and I hobbled up and down valleys with my awesome expedition team.

Mera Peak photo taken from two valleys away

For weeks we acclimatized to our new home—the Himalayas—and met amazing locals along the way. We travelled far off the beaten track, away from the usual trekking routes, and met school kids in remote villages who hadn’t seen foreigners before. Farmers with yaks in tow smiled as we passed by, women washing clothes in the freezing glacial rivers waved, and my notion of what makes a wonderful vacation changed forever.

We endured heat, cold, tiredness, sunburn, storms, boredom, blisters, and homesickness—yet our band of intrepid climbers stuck it out. Many, many times I questioned why I wasn’t laying in a beach sipping piña coladas and chatting up the pool boy, but I remembered why I undertook such a journey—to prove to myself I could take the easy with the hard and not ever give up.

When summit day finally arrived, we left High Camp at 2 am. Even though we were swaddled in the super-dooper technologically enhanced climbing gear, our fingers and toes remained numb. We traipsed through the dark, a line of head torches bobbed up the side of Mera Peak, the mountain we desperately wanted to summit. At a height of 6,476 meters (21, 247 feet), it’s not a skip through a meadow of daisies. Climbing at this altitude is serious business and one false move could mean your death, or that of your team members.

The sun rose and we traipsed onwards and upwards. The summit was in sight, yet it was still hours away. All I wanted to do was sit down on the freezing snow and sleep, but my ego and pride wouldn’t let me. The thin air at altitude meant breathing was a struggle, and near the summit we were taking one step to every two breaths.

High Camp on Mera Peak

After eight hours we finally made it to the summit of Mera Peak and I will never forget that moment. The weather cooperated and the cloud had lifted for us to view the 8,000 metre peaks around us: Sagarmatha (Mount Everest), Lhotse, Cho Oyu, Makalu, and Kanchenjunga. Bright blue sky formed the backdrop and in that moment, standing on the summit of my dreams, I was in awe of the beauty of the world before me.

The sun danced across my face, warming my skin and the air I inhaled was the freshest I’d ever experienced. Silence wrapped around us. This, I discovered, was my ideal vacation from the craziness of the world.

After summitting, it took a couple of weeks to return to Kathmandu. The mayhem of the traffic, the pollution, and the busyness of life took over and I clung to that moment on the summit. Even now, nearly twenty years later, I can close my eyes and remember the feeling of pure bliss standing, literally, on top of the world.

Less than a year after Nepal I traveled to South America to climb Aconcagua, the tallest mountain in the Americas. That’s a whole other post, though.

Sure, I love my beach vacations but for me, the most memorable vacations are the ones where I have climbed peaks around the world. I loved it so much I ditched my job as a graphic artist to work in the adventure travel industry and take my own clients on expeditions.

Humans as tiny dots near the summit of Mera Peak

The innocent trip to Nepal started me on a lifelong journey of appreciation and respect for mountain climbing and Mother Nature. As many expeditions leaders have told me, “the mountain will only be climbed if it wishes.” After witnessing a handful of accidents and getting involved in rescues on the mountains, I know this saying to be true.

Now I’m older, nowhere near as fit, and a mother of two young kids, nicking off to climb a mountain for a couple of months is a big ask. But I have my memories and stories, and the kids love to hear about my adventures and look at my photos. Perhaps I’ll inspire them to follow their dreams and find their own adventures. I certainly hope so.

Off The Beaten Track: Jenny Watson, Habitat for Humanity

This week’s Off The Beaten Track guest is Australian Jenny Watson. Jenny is primarily a businesswoman, but whilst business is very important, it’s only a small part of what makes Jenny tick.  Her vision is a world where every family has access to decent housing, a clean water supply and sanitation facilities. To that end, she has developed a programme in conjunction with Habitat for Humanity to take Australian volunteers into Mongolia, Cambodia and Nepal to work alongside local homeowners, building safe and affordable housing and village infrastructure. For more information click here http://www.habitat.org.au.

The world is experiencing a global housing crisis. According to UN statistics, 1.6 billion people worldwide live in substandard housing and 100 million are homeless. Rapid population growth and urbanisation adds greater urgency to this crisis. Every week more than a million people are born in or move to cities in the developing world, increasing the demand for housing, water supply, sanitation and other urban infrastructure.

Right now, according to the United Nations, more than a billion people – 32 percent of the global urban population – live in urban slums in dilapidated housing characterised by poor structural quality, over-crowding, squalor, lack of tenure security and poor access to water and sanitation.

I first heard about Habitat for Humanity in the aftermath of the Tsunami in the Indian Ocean in 2004.  Habitat was heavily involved in the rebuilding of homes for some of the most devastated families in this disaster. I worked in the construction industry at the time and some of my friends were travelling to Aceh to assist with the rebuilding process. The idea fascinated me – to be able to help not only financially, but physically and emotionally as well – I needed to find out more about Habitat. What I discovered is an organisation based on advocacy, engagement, leadership, sustainability and dignity - all values that I respect and hold.

I believe that long term sustainable change is best achieved when families and communities are personally involved in improving their own circumstances, and Habitat provides micro-finance opportunities for low-income families and communities to build their own home or to build infrastructure in their community. It’s definitely not a hand out – homeowners pay back every penny of any money they borrow and that money is then available for others to borrow and improve their own lives. Many homeowners also go on to mentor others through the process of building their own home.

A decent home is a catalyst for change in the life of these vulnerable families. It opens the door to improved health, better performance in school, greater economic opportunities and increased community cohesion.   

As a volunteer with Habitat, I can’t help every one of those billion people, but I can help just a few people take charge of their circumstances and build a future of hope and potential for their families.

In order to be involved with Habitat for Humanity, I need a “pool” of funds available for micro financing (I can either donate this myself or raise the money through friends and family).  Then I travel to the country, or countries, of my choice (this year, Cambodia, Mongolia, and Nepal) and spend a week with a local family helping them to build their own home.  

I have no building experience – it’s not necessary. I move rocks, dig holes, mix concrete, paint walls, hammer nails, – none of which require any skills. I also learn to make and lay bricks, tie scaffolding, and build steps – all skills that I would never have learned in any other environment, and which I will take to future builds to help other families over the course of my life.

All that said – my involvement is not entirely altruistic – I get as much from the experience as the homeowners do!  I get to travel to some incredible places and meet some amazing people who I wouldn’t cross paths with normally. I get to work alongside them, see how they live, what they eat, I learn the history of their country and their culture and I get to learn about what dreams they old and what they wish for their children.

In July this year, I’m taking a team to Mongolia to participate in a “Blue Sky Build”, where we will join with volunteers from around the world and homeowners to build twenty energy efficient homes in one week. The families for whom we are building currently live in ramshackle wood huts, in overcrowded and unhygienic conditions. They lack connections to the city’s central heating – vital to combat the winter cold – and water systems. Each 32m² home will have a small bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, and a separate toilet. The families will also have access their own small garden, so that they can grow some of their own food.

I am also arranging some teams into Cambodia and Nepal this year, too.

If you’d like to find out more or if you’d like to join my team – please contact me at jennywatson@me.com.

It’s A Long Way To The Top – Sir Edmund Hillary

Sir Edmund Hillary 2004 - Photo by Mariusz Kubik

I’ve always been interested in firsts when it comes to history – the first person to discover an uninhabited land, first person to cross the Antarctic, the list could go on. Milestones are reached everyday; sometimes the achievements are our own, while others go on to obtain milestones that will go down in the annals of history. For me, Edmund Hillary, mountain climber and philanthropist extraordinaire, is someone who never stopped achieving milestones – both personal and professional.

My bookshelves bow from the weight of mountaineering and adventure books I’ve collected over the years, and I’m very proud of my extensive Edmund Hillary collection. As a kid, I read about adventures in far off lands where humans battled extreme elements and their own psyche in order to obtain their dreams. Tenacity and undying passion are what pushed these amazing adventurers along, and Edmund Hillary was no different.

Born in New Zealand in 1919, Edmund Hillary finished primary school two years early and moved on to high school. He didn’t fit in very well, so turned to books and at the age of 16, undertook a school trip to Mount Ruapehu. His passion for climbing was awakened and a few years later, he climbed another mountain in New Zealand, Mount Ollivier, with his brother, Rex. Their desire to climb every winter meant they needed a well-paying summer job, so they entered the bee keeping business.

Over the next few years, Hillary undertook other climbs in New Zealand and in 1951, managed to gain a place on an expedition to Everest, led by Eric Shipton, a renowned Himalayan climber. After a failed attempt in 1952 to reach the summit of Cho Oyu, a mountain that borders Nepal and Tibet, Hillary joined the 1953 Everest Expedition led once again by Shipton.

At this time, the Tibetan route up Everest had been closed by the Chinese, and Nepal only allowed one group of climbers per year up the mountain from their side. The expedition involved 4,000 people, including 362 porters, 20 Sherpa guides and 10,000 pounds of equipment.

In March, the climbers set up base camp and slowly worked their way up the mountain, setting up camps intermittently. The expedition rock stars, Tom Bourdillon and Charles Evans, were slated for the first attempt at the summit but turned back when Evans’s oxygen system failed. They were only 300 vertical feet (91 metres) from the summit. Hillary was paired up with a successful Nepalese climber, Tenzing Norgay, and the men quickly formed a strong team.

Tenzing and Norgay were next in line for the summit bid and on 28 May they headed up the mountain. When Hillary woke the next day he found his boots had frozen solid, and he spent two hours warming them before they started their ascent. With climbing, every minute counts, and late starts can make all the difference between success and failure and, literally, life or death.

Mount Everest - Photo by Pavel Novak

Just below the summit, the pair came across a rock face that is now known as the “Hillary Step”. The men successfully scaled the difficult section and a short time after, they made history. Both Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay reached the highest point on earth – 29,028 feet (8,848 metres).

After years of planning and training, the men spent only 15 minutes on the summit. They took the obligatory photos, but as Tenzing had never used a camera before, the photo didn’t turn out. Hillary left a cross he’d been gifted and Tenzing left chocolates on the summit in respect for his gods. Hillary took additional photos to prove they’d made it to the top and just achieved one of the most amazing milestones in history.

Fame followed and not long after that, controversy. Many people, especially the media, said Tenzing made it to the top first, but Hillary always maintained they stepped on the summit together. Although Tenzing, in his biography, The Dream Comes True, said Hillary had taken the first step.

Both men participated in other expeditions and Hillary documented many of them in his books, including an adventure along the Ganges river, From Ocean To Sky. After hitting such a monumental achievement in Nepal, Hillary devoted much of his time to helping the Nepalese through the Himalayan Trust – an organization devoted to improving the lives of people living in the Himalayas. The trust has built a hospital in Kunde, undertaken a forestry program in various parts of Nepal, and also built a school in Khumjung. Hillary was also an Honorary President of the American Himalayan Foundations, as well as Mountain Wilderness, a company dedicated to protecting mountains around the world.

With all the wonderful milestones Hillary has reached, his private life has not been devoid of tragedy. In 1975, Hillary’s wife, Louise, and his daughter, Belinda, were en route to meet Hillary and help build a hospital. But the plane carrying his wife and daughter crashed near Kathmandu shortly after take-off. Hillary remarried many years later.

Hillary’s son, Peter, followed in his father’s footsteps and became a climber, summiting Everest on the 50^th anniversary celebration. And to top things off, so to speak, Norgay’s son, Jamling Tenzing Norgay, was also part of the expedition. In 1990, Peter and Edmund Hillary became the first father and son duo to ascend Mount Everest successfully.

Edmund Hillary passed away in 2008, and the outpouring of love and respect for the man was felt throughout the world. A true adventurer, Hillary touched the lives of many. He used his milestones and engaging public persona to raise funds for communities that desperately needed assistance.

The legacy this adventurer has left behind is legendary. His charity work still lives on, increasing awareness of the plight of poor communities in the countries he travelled to, as well as inspiring climbers of the past, present, and future. Edmund Hillary showed the world that a young, gangly boy with a big dream can achieve monumental milestones. All it takes is determination and passion.

Statue of Edmund Hillary overlooking Mount Cook, NZ. Photo by Johnathon Keelty

Off The Beaten Track: The Spirit of Christmas - Nepal-Style

This week we have another adventure from Tracy Tyson, an American educator living in Nepal, where she trains teachers and helps schools set up Montessori programs. She follows up her account of a Tibetan wedding in Kathmandu with a seasonal tale for the holidays.

A few years ago, I made the trek from Charikot, where I was then living, to Kathmandu just in time for the Christmas. I spent the holiday with some friends – a Nepali family and a couple of Americans who lived with them. In an effort to be non-partisan toward any religion, now that Nepal is no longer a Hindu kingdom, the new government declared Christmas and Eid (which marks the end of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan) national holidays, so schools and government offices are closed during these times. This declaration is a great example of what I love about Nepal – a Maoist government that celebrates two religious holidays! I guess they don't agree with Mao's statement about religion being poison!

My friends cut a branch off an evergreen tree in their yard and decorated it. Although it didn't quite have the desired conical Christmas tree shape, the gesture was in the spirit of the holiday. Everyone got a present – mine was a jar of peanut butter (all natural and "made by handicapped persons" here in Kathmandu, according to the label). The kids in the family squealed with delight at their gifts – and they were teenagers!

Christmas dinner turned out to be an interesting Nepali/American mix. For starters we had chaat, a crispy, spicy, Indian-style party mix. Dinner began with a first course of dal-bhat (rice and lentil soup), plus a very hot pickle made from potatoes. This was followed by meat for the meat-eaters and a tasty veggie curry for the vegetarians. And then for dessert – fruitcake! I don't really like fruitcake, but fortunately you can't get disgusting things here like the yucky dried fruit they put in fruitcake, so the cake just had raisins and nuts, and I actually liked it.

Later, as I made my way home, an older man offered me his seat on the bus. I tried to tell him in my primitive Nepali that I was fine standing, but he insisted. Then he said "Merry....." and turned to his neighbor for help on how to complete the rest of the phrase. "Chreesmus," he subsequently added, holding his hands held in the prayer-like position in front of his chest the way the people here do when they greet each other.

This experience reminded me that one thing I love about Nepal is all the little daily kindnesses people show me here! They are such warm, genuine people. When they smile at you it comes straight from the heart.

Off the Beaten Track: A Tibetan Wedding in Kathmandu

Tibetan Bride

Tracy Tyson is an American educator living in Nepal, where she trains teachers and helps schools set up Montessori programs. Several years ago, while living in a village near Charikot, she attended a Tibetan wedding on a trip to Kathmandu. This is her account of that experience.

Not long ago, a Tibetan friend in Kathmandu was preparing for her daughter’s wedding and invited me to the festivities, which were to take place at her house. I leaped at the chance to experience this fascinating tradition.

On arrival, my hosts escorted me into the living room, where I was shortly joined by a group of older Tibetans. The women sat cross-legged on the floor, while the men took the couches that stood about the room. Most of these men carried a bottle of either beer or whiskey, which they set down on a low table near one of the couches.

One man, who seemed to be officiating, took up position behind an urn where burning incense scented the air, and a couple of elderly men joined him, one on either side. On the wall behind them hung a poster of Avril Lavigne in a rather Goth outfit. What an image!

After the hosts handed beer around, a toast was made, and everyone received an honorary white scarf, draped around their necks. Next, the men started chanting, much like in a Tibetan monastery, and then the women sang something in response. They repeated this ritual several times.

When they’d finished, the "master of ceremonies" picked up a long leaf, dipped it into an urn that held some kind of liquid, and flicked the leaf toward the guests sitting around the room. He dipped the leaf back in the liquid and put a few drops of it in each person's palm. We all licked the liquid off our palms and smacked our lips with a loud flourish! (It tasted a bit like oil with lemon.)

Next, everyone received a fistful of rice and, after a few words from the MC, threw a bit of rice into the air and shouted "ho!". This ritual repeated three times, and then it was back to the chanting and singing. Later, I learned that the older Tibetans who’d joined me in the living room were elder relatives of the bride and groom, and by licking the liquid and throwing the rice, they were indicating that they had no objections to the match.

Khapsey Wedding Pastries

At one point, the bride and groom came in the room to receive blessings from the assembled elders. The bride wore a traditional Tibetan dress (that wraparound style you see in the movies) and had a woolen shawl draped around her shoulders. Her hair fell down her back in a long braid with a red ribbon interwoven at the end. The groom had on a Nepali-style suit with narrow-legged pants and a suit jacket, and on his head he wore a light-pink turban!

After the marriage ceremony came the reception, held at a Tibetan temple located a 15-minute bus ride from my friend’s house. Here the guests enjoyed course after course of food, along with plenty of beer. The bride and groom sat behind a table at the head of the room, with around 150 guests assembled cross-legged at low tables on the floor.

Interestingly, the bride's mother, my friend, sat on the main floor along with all the other guests and not at the dais with the groom’s relatives (the bride's father lived in the U.S. and wasn't able to attend the wedding). So I took a spot on the floor beside her. She understood little English, and I didn't know the right kind of Nepali to ask questions about what was going on, so the meaning of a lot of what I saw remains a mystery to me! But I did notice an unopened bottle of beer up on the dais with a white scarf draped around its neck, and I wondered if blessing your beer prevented hangovers!

Tibetan Butter Tea

After the first course of the meal, the guests stood up table by table and formed a line. Then each guest approached the bride and groom and draped a white scarf around each of them. They also deposited an envelope filled with money into a big bowl that stood in front of the newlyweds and was decorated with, you guessed it, another big white scarf!

Given the huge number of guests, this took quite a while and periodically, when the volume of the scarves around the necks of the bride and groom threatened to swallow their heads, they were removed to make room for more. (The scarves, not the heads!) The newlyweds apparently received quite a substantial fund to start their married life with!