Continued from Part One
So, after a day wandering the city I was back sitting in an airport, waiting for my Etihad Airways flight to depart for Abu Dhabi. It was an overnighter, and one of the best flights I’ve ever had, actually. You could choose your own entertainment (in coach!) and I even managed to get a few hours of sleep in the half-empty plane.
Abu Dhabi International
Dawn revealed a dusty, desolate airport with no view whatsoever. Pretty much what I expected in the Middle East — though a view of the city would’ve been nice. I ran into a few obvious American and European trekkers in the terminal, and by mid-morning we were off, bound for Kathmandu.
The flight in was pretty chill — I was in high spirits and excited to see a familiar face again. However the situation started to deteriorate rather quickly. I will retell it stream-of-consciousness style:
Didn’t bring extra passport photos…must purchase photos from photo stand guy in terminal…but no money…not enough cash to exchange for Nepal Rupees or to pay for visa…must go to ATM..which is outside airport…hand over passport as deposit for my return to get visa…walk out get harassed by throngs of people get money from ATM..can’t find entrance back to arrivals hall…go through security in reverse…retrieve passport…buy passport photos exchange money wait in line for over an hour…………….. ipod almost dead………… no charger………….. mind-numbingly boring waiting ……………………………………….. get visa…get harassed by throngs again…pick random dude for taxi…sun is setting and it is pouring…negotiate for price, ask them to bring me to Cameron’s hotel…car looks like it was built in the 50s…traffic is INSANE…no traffic laws…still pouring…no windshield wipers…driving British-style on the left…air smells like i’m swimming in a smokestack…moving about 100 feet a minute… people bikes motorbikes everywhere… bombing down a one-way street with 3″ of clearance on each side…potholes like swimming pools…where the hell am I?…pulling out in front of incoming traffic like they’re not there… bracing for impact … interminable, incessant honking… traffic flowing like a fluid… stopping. People grabbing my bags…”yes, this yellow house”…”no I need to meet my friend is he here?”…”yes yes this vewy nice hotel vewy comfortable”…”what is this place?”…”you stay here you like”…”no I have to meet my friend, please bring me to Paknajol”…”you stay here tonight I bring you there tomorrow morning”….”NO I HAVE TO FLY OUT OF HERE TOMORROW JUST BRING ME TO THE YELLOW HOUSE”…”ok ok 500 rupees more then”….. [no way in hell sleazeball] ……back in the car with my bags…still raining…seeing westerners in the street…good…pull into crazy steep gravel terrible rutted driveway…stop again…look at sign…The Yellow House…pay driver 600 rupees for fare and tip $2USD…talk with dude at desk…walk downstairs…finally…see Cameron.
“Where the hell have you been?” is my greeting. I’m four hours late. Guess that was expected. I order Pad Thai and a big beer, plop my tired ass on the wooden table’s bench and relay the story. Release.
“So when’s our flight tomorrow?”
“Seven.”
“AM? No way.”
“Yep. Our taxi comes at five.” It’s ten o’clock.
We organize payments, gear, etc, and pass out. Ten minutes of knocking later and I wake up — it’s 4:30 and time to go. We hop back in a taxi, go to the airport (different, domestic terminal), wait for hours, and by 11 are sitting in a plane. We only know it’s ours by noticing people getting on with the same color tickets as us. Awesome. Soon we’re airborne and by one PM it looks like we’re going to fly into the side of a mountain. But no, we touch down and slow to a crawl in the span of about fifteen seconds. After a delicious lunch in Lukla, packs on our back, we’ve come to the main event: 11 days of trekking in the heart of the Himalaya, up to Everest Base Camp at 5300m. We’re in Lukla, at 2800m, but energy is high and we’re feeling good. Well, for a little while anyway..
To be continued…
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