meet her a few years later at an Adventure Travel show in San Francisco, and take a camel safari with her some years after in Northern Kenya. On another occasion, in Barcelona, I checked into a hotel which I had asked her to book for me. On arrival I opened the window for a view and saw a piece of paper dangling on a string - a playful note from Sassy, as she is called, telling me she was installed in the room directly above.
On my last day in Bagan there was a commotion in the main street. The villagers had come out of their homes and were watching a procession. In front were dancers and mimers indicating this was a joyful occasion. Behind these entertainers followed a group of silent, solemn monks in yellow robes and in the center of these, mounted on a horse, a young boy of maybe ten years, elaborately dressed with a crown on his head. He was about to be initiated into the Buddhist priesthood as a novice monk. Nowhere was the influence of Buddhism in the daily lives of the Burmese more clear to me than in this simple local event.
NEPAL
From Burma, I flew to Nepal. This landlocked Himalayan kingdom is wedged between India and Tibet. In the 60s it was the end of the Hippie Trail but twenty years later it had attracted other kinds of tourists, particularly trekkers. It is home to some of the world's highest mountains (Everest, Annapurna, Kanchenjunga), and treks to or near these peaks had become an important part of Nepal's tourism business.
I picked the Annapurna Trail, a 128-mile trek around the Annapurna massif claimed by some as the best long-distance trail in the world. It promised to be doable but challenging. I just had to keep going to 18 days and have the energy to climb to 17,769 feet at the Thorung La Pass, the highest point of this trek which winds round Annapurna peak (26,245 feet). In 1950 two French climbers, Herzog and Lachanel, summited Annapurna, at that time the highest peak in the world to be climbed. Near the summit Herzog dropped his gloves and on the descent the climbers had to bivouac overnight in a crevasse. Both climbers lost all of their toes and Herzog most of his fingers through frostbite. Herzog later wrote a best selling account,
Annapurna.
Trekkers require a permit. At the office in Kathmandu which issues the permits I met a New Zealand girl, somewhat overweight but enthusiastic, who also planned to do the Annapurna Trail. We agreed to meet the next morning at the bus station to catch a bus to Dumre. In Dumre, we climbed on the back of a truck where a Swedish girl and two Canadian guys were already sitting among backpacks. Our ad hoc trekking group was now five persons, and we would stay together for the next eight days.
We got off the truck at a place called Besisahar where the trail started. We were following a well-trodden trade route, moving from jungle to terraced rice fields to canyons with pine trees and finally within sight of Annapurna, always upwards. We didn't need a guide, and we chose to carry our own bags. At the end of each day there would be a village, always with a choice of guest houses.
Arriving at a guest house, we would put our hands together and say Namaste ("Hello"). The local people, weathered and wiry, would smile at our greeting and later pose for photos. We would eat in the warm kitchen where a fire always seemed to be burning; we might choose a Western dish like an omelet or something local like dahl (lentils) or a vegetable curry. After eating and using the outdoor toilet, we would unroll our sleeping bags in a snug loft, heated from below by the warmth from the kitchen.
From time to time we would cross a suspension bridge over a raging stream. Sometimes we would be overtaken by a Nepali porter, carrying huge loads supported by a strap across his forehead. Porters are the only means of bringing supplies to the villages. After a week or so, we reached a plateau. Here the terrain was bare, the trail steeper and rockier. Ahead we could see a mighty flank of
On my last day in Bagan there was a commotion in the main street. The villagers had come out of their homes and were watching a procession. In front were dancers and mimers indicating this was a joyful occasion. Behind these entertainers followed a group of silent, solemn monks in yellow robes and in the center of these, mounted on a horse, a young boy of maybe ten years, elaborately dressed with a crown on his head. He was about to be initiated into the Buddhist priesthood as a novice monk. Nowhere was the influence of Buddhism in the daily lives of the Burmese more clear to me than in this simple local event.
NEPAL
From Burma, I flew to Nepal. This landlocked Himalayan kingdom is wedged between India and Tibet. In the 60s it was the end of the Hippie Trail but twenty years later it had attracted other kinds of tourists, particularly trekkers. It is home to some of the world's highest mountains (Everest, Annapurna, Kanchenjunga), and treks to or near these peaks had become an important part of Nepal's tourism business.
I picked the Annapurna Trail, a 128-mile trek around the Annapurna massif claimed by some as the best long-distance trail in the world. It promised to be doable but challenging. I just had to keep going to 18 days and have the energy to climb to 17,769 feet at the Thorung La Pass, the highest point of this trek which winds round Annapurna peak (26,245 feet). In 1950 two French climbers, Herzog and Lachanel, summited Annapurna, at that time the highest peak in the world to be climbed. Near the summit Herzog dropped his gloves and on the descent the climbers had to bivouac overnight in a crevasse. Both climbers lost all of their toes and Herzog most of his fingers through frostbite. Herzog later wrote a best selling account,
Annapurna.
Trekkers require a permit. At the office in Kathmandu which issues the permits I met a New Zealand girl, somewhat overweight but enthusiastic, who also planned to do the Annapurna Trail. We agreed to meet the next morning at the bus station to catch a bus to Dumre. In Dumre, we climbed on the back of a truck where a Swedish girl and two Canadian guys were already sitting among backpacks. Our ad hoc trekking group was now five persons, and we would stay together for the next eight days.
We got off the truck at a place called Besisahar where the trail started. We were following a well-trodden trade route, moving from jungle to terraced rice fields to canyons with pine trees and finally within sight of Annapurna, always upwards. We didn't need a guide, and we chose to carry our own bags. At the end of each day there would be a village, always with a choice of guest houses.
Arriving at a guest house, we would put our hands together and say Namaste ("Hello"). The local people, weathered and wiry, would smile at our greeting and later pose for photos. We would eat in the warm kitchen where a fire always seemed to be burning; we might choose a Western dish like an omelet or something local like dahl (lentils) or a vegetable curry. After eating and using the outdoor toilet, we would unroll our sleeping bags in a snug loft, heated from below by the warmth from the kitchen.
From time to time we would cross a suspension bridge over a raging stream. Sometimes we would be overtaken by a Nepali porter, carrying huge loads supported by a strap across his forehead. Porters are the only means of bringing supplies to the villages. After a week or so, we reached a plateau. Here the terrain was bare, the trail steeper and rockier. Ahead we could see a mighty flank of
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