Bowman Crossing Borders: The Trek: Day 5

On the last day of our trek we had to say goodbye to Nepal, which made us all a little bit sad.

Waking up in Shrikhola, we heard the sound of the river running outside of the hotel window, but for once there was no rain in site and all we saw was sunshine and the beautiful flowers that were planted in every one of the tiny villages along our route.

It was about seven kilometers of trekking out to Rimbik, our last mo-mos of the journey, and the jeep that would take us the eighty kilometers and four bumpy hours back to Darjeeling.  That day, it didn't even rain until our final passport check of the trip. 

sights in Rimbik: things you may need at the end of the Sandakphu trek
We also found out that the jeeps that do the driving between Rimbik and Darjeeling need their shocks replaced every three months or so.

Milan, Manu, Dad, Mom, and why didn't someone tell me we were taking a picture?

What a great time I had exploring the Himalayan foothills!  I'm definitely encouraging Mom and Dad's talk of heading to Nepal for Christmas!

Bowman Crossing Borders: The Trek: Day 4

Mom says I probably don't need to write much togo along with these pictures.

5 AM from the top of Sandakphu

Mt. Everest 120 kilometers away and lit by the rising sun

Mount Kanchendzonga, the third highest mountain in the world at 8,598 meters

We did hike fifteen kilometers that day, had a lunch of vegetarian Tibetan mo-mos (just like jiao-zi) at a hut where I pulled a picture frame right off the wall when Mom picked me up, and ended up in a pouring rainstorm before reaching Sirikhola for the night, but the sunrise views were obviously the highlight of the day.

Bowman Crossing Borders: The Trek: Day 3

In the morning, it looked like the blue skies might win out for our summit day, but, alas, mountain clouds engulfed us again by hiking time.  Since I couldn't see much anyway, I went back to sleep.

It took a while for Mom to hike the six kilometers with 500 meters of elevation gain, so I got quite a nice nap in after Dad propped my head back up with a sweatshirt.  Mom told me later that there were encouraging signs posted along the way to the summit of Sandakphu with slogans like, "Slow and Steady" and "No Sweet without Sweat."

Once we got to the 11,929 foot (3,636 meter) summit of Sandakphu, we really hoped to see more of the Himalayas, but everything was foggy and chilly.  Dad took advantage of the respite to join in on a game of Indian army volleyball.

After the volleyball, we still had much of the afternoon to fill.  We hiked another two kilometers or so to a hut of a family of yak ranchers.  Inside, we were treated to warm yak's milk, and a super friendly kid kept wanting Dad to take his picture and show it to him.  It was fun to play with him while we listened to the rain pick up outside.  It was not fun to have to hike back out of their house in what turned into a Himalayan hail storm.  Fortunately, Dad let us use his rain jacket so Mom could mostly keep me dry, and I fell asleep again.

Still with no sign of the snow-capped peaks, we went to to bed after a dinner of popcorn (yes, popcorn in a dark and very microwave-free trekking hut kitchen) and chow mien for everyone but me, we went to bed, hoping that the name of our hut meant that tomorrow morning would bring the clear skies.

Bowman Crossing Borders: The Trek: Day 2

We woke up in Tumling with 15 kilometers to trek for the day and Dad not feeling super great.  Mom and I explored the village and watched the sunrise while Dad slept in a tiny bit, and then we were off for the day, starting by hiking into the foggy Singalila National Park.  (Dad said, "Son, as long as my legs work, I can hike" when I asked if he was sure he should be carrying all of our gear.)

As we entered the park, we had to show our passports for probably the seventh time on the trek.  I asked Milan why I had to keep showing my embarrassing photo (you see, when it was taken, I was too young to hold my head up so I'm a little self conscious about it) to so many men in army uniforms.  He explained that it was because we were hiking along the Indian/Nepali border, so each of those times we had been crossing that border and having our passport and visa information recorded.  

The ascent, although mostly along a jeep road, was pretty steep, so Mom kept having to take breaks.  She says hiking is harder after living at sea level.  I didn't mind because I had pack straps to chew on whether we were moving or not.

It rained all day again, but Milan was really good about getting us to tea houses before the heavy clouds rolled in, and we reached the waters of Kalpokhari and the our hut for the night before the afternoon downpour.

It's rumored that five-headed vipers can be seen in these "black waters" that never dry up. 

The best part about our stay that night was meeting a new friend who introduced me to the local dogs and tried to sneak me a lolly pop.  The second best part was the huge portion of chow mien that Mom ate for dinner, and I got later.

Bowman Crossing Borders: The Trek: Day 1

Well, I was very excited and did not want to sleep the night before our trek.  Dad thinks the higher elevation made it harder for me to have sweet dreams, but really I just liked being in the same hotel room as my parents and getting to wake Mom up with every little sound I made.

We woke up to lots of rain, a buffet breakfast of boiled eggs, toast, Swiss cheese, oatmeal and bananas at our hotel, and hopped in a car with a Tibetan driver, Nepali guide, and French friend at 8AM.  After a drive that took about an hour, we got to a town called Maneybhanjyang where we started trekking.

This is our group - Manu, Mom, me, and Dad.  Milan, our great guide, took the picture.  The sign says, "Way to Sandakphu, K.M. 31"

“Two steep kilometers,” is what Milan, the guide, told us, although Mom joked that she wouldn’t believe him the rest of the trek, because the trail didn’t even out much after those two.  I didn’t mind either way because my ride was pretty sweet and no harder on steep or even terrain.  After those first two kilometers, we did get a break at Chittray Monestary, where about twenty monks live and work and a nice family runs a tea house where I got a diaper change and break from the wet mist.

Chittray Monestary

Then we had a few more kilometers to a lunch of “soup noodles” (known as Ramen the world over) that we ate in someone’s house while I played with the bright cushions on their bed.  Finally, after a total of 11 kilometers and an elevation gain of about 1000 meters, we reached Shikhar Lodge in Tumling, which was equipped with a flush toilet!  Oh, and it was in Nepal.  I didn't even know until we actually started hiking that I would get to go to the country my parents have wanted to return to ever since they met in Glacier over Dad's Nepali flag sticker on the Taurus.

our room the first night of the trek, We used every blanket in there!

This is a friend I made before dinner in Tumling.

We had a lot of fun there, especially in the morning when Mom got to try her first Bhalay, or Tibetan fried bread, and Dad decided that he likes oatmeal if you water it down, add bananas and sugar and call in porridge.

Of course, when I went to bed, it was still raining, and when I woke up the clouds were still everywhere.  After Day 1 I was still wondering when I would see the Himalayas!

Bowman Crossing Borders: The Travel Edition

in the Sherpani looking at the Himalayas

Two weeks ago on Thursday night, I felt like I was back in Mom’s belly on a Friday evening in Baltimore.  Mom and Dad used to plan weekend trips to Shenandoah all the time, and they’d frantically throw chips, salsa, ginger snaps, hot dogs, and the camping bin into the car as soon as they got home from teaching on Friday afternoons.  Then they’d head out with all of the other weekend traffic, ending up in Matthew’s Arm or Lewis Mountain Campground three of four hours later.

Well, we live in Bangladesh now and don’t have a car or a nearby national park with fall foliage and fleece weather.  So, they decided to take me to Darjeeling, India for the fall break week.  We loaded into a school van at 10PM on Thursday evening, and it took us twelve hours to get to the border town of Burimari, but that was mostly because it was the weekend of the beginning of Durga Puja (and all of the Hindu people in Dhaka also seemed to be heading north.  At the border, we had a few offices to visit and had our passports signed about four times on the Bengali side, and five on the Indian side.  Then, we had to find a way to get from there to a town called Siliguri, because Changrabonda where we were wasn’t even big enough to have a computer to process our passports.  I ended up on Dad's lap in this taxi, bumping along a road that may once have been paved, but had primarily eroded into gravel form for our two and a half hour journey. 

Yes, my eyes looked like this for the whole trip if I wasn't sleeping.

From Siliguri, we caught a shared jeep, which meant that we squeezed with our shins digging into those of the people across from us into the back of a land-rover style vehicle because the first two rows were already filled by seven adults.  It only took us about three more hours to travel the 80 kilometers to Darjeeling, and Mom only had to hand me over to Dad once because her right leg had lost all sense of felling from the knee down. 

Once in Darjeeling, I was back in my familiar carrier, and in the big-kid one for most of our trek, which I’ll have to write about a little later.

We're looking at one of the places where the famous Darjeeling Tea grows. 

Our seventeen hour trip back to Dhaka last Friday was even more exciting as we took the shared jeep back down the 1700 meters of Himalayan foothills and then skipped the taxi in favor of the cheaper, and much more crowded, bus to the border.  Many long stops for men to go to the bathroom on the side of the road later, we found out that the bus does not drop you at the border, but five kilometers away from the border.  Fortunately, I was the perfect balance of cute but fussy to convince a friendly Nepali man to share a rickshaw with all of my baby paraphernalia, and we made it back to the border only about four hours after we’d arranged for the school van to pick us up.  By that time, I could no longer hold in my gas, and tooted what was my biggest man toot yet right in the Bengali customs office, to the delight of all twenty Benglai men who had gathered to see my baby passport. 

Boy, was I relieved to get into that school bus, fall asleep, and find myself back home on Lane Five only nine hours later!

Thank you, Great-grandma Lue

for making this possible!

Mom is very, very excited about having a washing machine.  We start out every other morning now by plugging in the machine, turning on the water and then sorting the laundry together while my diapers are in a cold rinse load.

 Agnes usually helps get all the laundry drying on the roof.

 Then, Mom and I go turn all my diapers over so the sun bleaches them all over.

Plus, we like hanging out on the roof to see what's new in the potted garden plants.  Two days ago we found an eggplant.

We wouldn't have been able to get the washing machine without you, Great-grandma Lue, so thanks very much!

P.S. We're leaving for India tonight.  I'll tell you all about trekking in Darjeeling when we get back.

This reminded me of my boat trip,

and if you haven't seen it yet, you need to.

Please Enunciate

I’ve learned that in Bangla, bowni means vomit.  Please enunciate the "n" of my name when you visit.

Boating in Bangladesh

This Saturday the staff and board members at Dad’s school were all invited to go on a boat trip by the very helpful doctors who helped Dad get all better from dengue, answer Mom’s questions about my growth, and run a three hospitals in Bangladesh.  (They’re pretty cool people!) 

We met at what I thought was a riverbank, and later found out is actually just a flooded area where rice grows during the non-monsoon seasons of the year.  I was pretty excited and loved looking cool in my hat like dad.

Aside: Go Twins!  Please win the playoff game!

As we boarded, the other kids were yelling about being pirates and walking the plank.  Someday I’ll be able to yell and run all around like them, too!

 Our boat was all decked out with huge cushions and a nice shady roof so we just relaxed for the three-hour ride.  We also got to learn a little bit about life outside of Dhaka.  For instance, this is one way that many of the fish in Bangladesh are caught: fishermen drop these contraptions made of five bamboo poles and fitted with a net into the water and then pull them back up with a see-saw type motion.  We didn’t see them catching anything, but it must work sometimes because I see fresh fish in the street markets all the time!

 We also learned that a lot of Dhaka is built over the water.  I guess it is sort of like that place Venice that Mom and Dad visited when they were dating, but without the charm and romance.  So, ships like the one in my next picture go to the rivers and dredge up sand. When they’re so full that water is coming over the sides, they go back upriver and dump the sand wherever they are thinking about building the next part of Dhaka.  Pretty creative and resourceful!

This ship is being filled with sand. It is surrounded by non-native water hyacinth that's in so much of the water here.

 I had a great time with my friends and family!

I'm Eating Cereal!

so ready

not sure

Is this right?

I think I've got it.

Baby Led Weaning?

I'm all for it!  Let's start with carrots.

Feeling Nostalgic

Although I have still officially lived in Baltimore longer than I was on the road (in Minnesota, Montana and Arizona) and longer than I’ve been in Dhaka (two months and two days now), that threshold is about to break.  Soon, Dhaka will have been my longest-standing home.  In light of that, I’ve been thinking about the city where I was born and missing some of the sights, smells, and sounds there.  I miss the walk from our Lauraville apartment to the park that our family did so many times while I was in Mom’s belly and while I was in the BOB.  In fact, I miss the BOB!

I miss the salty Fells Point smells.  

I wish I could know what that crisp fall air feels like and what the leaves look like on the annual Carlson/Cornwell October Shenandoah trip.  I wish I could know what it is like to need a fall jacket.

I miss Boordy picnics with the small group, Dad’s steak Saturdays, and lazy mornings at Starbucks in shady Mount Washington.  

I’m very glad to be exploring Bangladesh, but I am missing my friends and “The Greatest City in America.”