At The Gates of Hell

After a real early supper on our first day in Nyalam, I was stuffed, not drunk but almost and I was ready to mingle with some of the trekkers staying in the same guest house. But to be frank, right about now, the last thing I need is some loudmouth trekker telling “Remember the time” stories and how awesome it is that they are going to head out to Mt. Everest base camp tomorrow. Seriously, I don’t get jealous easily but right now I don’t need another half-stoner reminding me that at my current state of health, I am not fit to even think of Everest. I know it is hard to avoid it because most of the trekkers that spends the night here is either going up or has just came back from there and every fucking thing that they spits outta their mouth is either Mt. Everest or something related to it.

So being that sore loser that I was that night, I drifted away from the “Mt Everest” clique like a desolated jerkwater berg and sat down alone at the corner far enough where their conversation seems gibberish and the sound of their laughter seems muffled. Just as I thought my first night here was going to end the moment I finish the strong content that was inside my flask. A fairly young local came up to me and we sorta started talking. The conversation wasn’t as interesting as the one going on inside, as a matter of fact it was full of banality but I do appreciated her gesture of coming over.

My night here was basically between Scylla and Charybids, but if I have to choose between them again, it would definitely be the slow and boring chat with this local Tibetan girl. Well, at least I found out what the nickname of this Town of Nyalam is; the Nepalese traders refers this place “The Gates of Hell' because the route here to the Nepalese border is so treacherous. Here Bhote Kosi River which acts as a physical border between Nepal and Tibet drops into a deep and extremely steep gorge, like a crack on the face of the earth that is almost 1000 foot deep. Well, I am glad I already passed through that and I will not be looking forward to crossing it again on my way back.

We started the next day pretty late because unlike me, most of us were too pissed drunk to even bother sleep last night. Amongst my friends back at home, I was the most lay back ones, but when I'm with these guys, I’m like the Monica Gellar of FRIENDS. You know one thing that I didn’t really notice last night during supper is that how crappy the food here is. Our lunch spread was basically: fish that smells fishy, soy sauce that doesn’t taste like soy sauce, pork that taste like last night’s pork (Wait it is last night’s pork!), noodles basically serve with water, bean curd (well, this is alright) and some tasteless broth with floating vegetables. Maybe it is just me feeling a little cranky but I am just gonna let it slide because I am really looking forward to head to our next town.

God, I miss tar roads