DIVE, DIVE, DIVE

Imagine yourself tucked inside a Coke can for a few hours.  No way to get out no matter what happens.  You have to make the ride all the way up and down into the deep.  A few Atmospheres Never really hurt anyone right?  No fish, no reefs, and no beer on the deck after.  That was my latest experience at my
Hyperbaric vacation at the University of Pennsylvania Hyperbaric Medical Center.  Nothing like a few days of SCHOOL.  The rocking of a boat in turquoise blue water was exchanged for ear popping and decompression math in Philly.  The facility was great and the Hyperbaric Techs and Docs were top notch.  If you are ever messed up on the east coast I would ask for my ride to go to Penn.  This is me on a BIBS under pressure.  Don't I look calm.    Well a new crop of Dive Medical Techs has been unleashed on the world.  And me for the third time.   Maybe this time I will understand what CE means.... 

Hanoi here I come

Up the elevator to the eleventh floor seemed to be an easy task.  I mean it's not like you had to climb stairs, how hard can it be?  Well, you know you are in trouble when you get into the elevator heading for old number eleven and realize the highest button is ten.  Hum.  Are there other elevators to the magic old eleven?   Well, no is the answer to that one.  No is also the answer to the question, "do you know how I get to the Vietnamese Consulate?"  After about 10 minutes of walking in circles and looking at the blank walls of this rather high rent building next to the Galleria in Houston, I decided to go as high as I could and see if that would bring me a clue.  To make a long story short, I found a small sign on the tenth floor that lead to a secret elevator to the eleventh floor.  Wow, this adventure is picking up.  Unfortunately, there were only four doors on the secret eleventh level.  None of them had any signs and all had security pads on the doors.  Hum again.  No signage at all, no people, no numbers either.  Stuck again.  This place must be really secret.  After pacing for a few minutes hoping for someone else to come by.... I decided to go back down again and see if I could get some information.  In the lobby I spent a few minutes waiting and looking at the blank walls and wishing I had not left my phone in the car.  I could have called to see if they knew where they were.  Finally as I was about to head back down the street to the parking garage, a small lady with an Asian look walked to the elevator.  I decided that was a pretty good bet and followed her in.  My hear sank when she pushed the eighth floor button.  She also didn't know the location of Consulate either.  Back on the eleventh floor I did my pacing routine until I was about to leave again, when one of the doors actually opened. It was hard to hide my disappointment again when a very Texan looking woman emerged.  I asked her the same question and this time she pointed to the door right in front of me as if I was a child.  I thanked her and looked the door up and down.  Yep, no sign, then I stared intently at the lighted key pad security entry system and wondered how the hell I was supposed to get in there.  "It's not locked" the disgusted voice said behind me.  It was the lady again, just finishing up her, "you bumpkin" stare as she disappeared behind another mysterious door.   The room was about 8 by 8 with one window in it and a million vietnamese people in heated conversation.  It took all of one minute to turn in my Visa request....  

Live from Kathmandu

Kathmandu is a very cool place.  I have read about it for years and heard stories from the old Hippie trail days about it’s exotic feel and soft culture.    There is a lot of true to that you just have to throw in some music and cell phones to round it off.  Somehow I managed to stay in a hotel  that was about 2 kilometers from the Thamel, the center of the real city.  Always stay downtown in the thick of things.  Bad mistake.  It’s a life or dead situation crossing that many streets especially at night.  I do love the narrow streets and the amazing amount of things for sale.  I wonder if anything is left in Tibet or the countryside.   My feeling is that Nepal and India are night and day.  Maybe some of that goes back to working so hard to make an atomic bomb or working to corner the programmer market.  I don’t know.  I think the life would be more relaxed if a Nepali answered the phone when you called Bank of America.  Even if they said their name was Peggy.   Most of them just seem to have a kinder way about them.  Rickshaws and Temples also go together better than huge mounds of rotted garbage and open sewers.  So, make a stop in Calcutta and then roll through Darjeeling and spend a week in Kathmandu.  Namaste.

Truesila River, Nepal

I’m sitting here on the balcony of my bamboo hut that overlooks the might Truesila River in South Central Nepal.  It’s winter here so they tell me the water is quiet from what it will be later in the year.  The snows of the mountains will melt and make this river a monster.  From the looks of the water line on the rocks my hut could be in danger.  I’m having the last of my Old Monk and marveling at this beautiful place.   Already I have come to like Nepal much better than India.  The scenery is spectacular and the people are very warm and friendly.  But things are hard here.  I am forever moved by how impossibly hard people work here and how difficult life is.   People from my world have no idea what this life would be like.  I watched some locals a few minutes ago going by with heavy loads on their heads and holding a very young child.   I watched them walk up a steep hillside that I would have trouble getting up on the best of days, and then disappear in the distance.  Never slowing or resting.    As night fell I could make up two men carrying huge piles of brush that completely covered them as they walked.  They decended a steep face that a goat would trouble staying on and then climbed again in the darkness.  Our local guide said they were going to make fence posts for sale in the market.  The entire bundle would be worth about 30 cents.  

Those experiences come in hard contrast to me bitching about carrying 3 wine bottles, some cheese and a 24 pack of cokes to the truck a crappy parking spot a 40 yards from the Brookshires door.   The fact is they still smile and laugh and wave as you go by.  Maybe they have the secret to it all.  Complaining and procrastinating will not get you one step closer to the market.  That would mean that you have one less moment in time to do what you really love.....whatever that may be.... 

Rumtek Monastery Sikkim

There is a very famous monastery about an hour outside of Gangtok Sikkim.  It’s current holy superstar is now at the feet of the Dali Lama himself.  It’s most famous for it’s grand Stupa which is made of gold.  Now I’m not sure if you guys know what a stupa is but I sure didn’t.  To be honest I have now seem two of them in India and Nepal and still really don’t know.  The most famous one in Rumtek was in this separate building away from the monks and had to be unlocked, which took some effort.  It was a golden box like thing that was said to hold the heart of the previous most holy monk at the monastery.  Now that sounds a little extreme but that was what was said.  The monk who showed me around had just come off of praying for 48 hours straight not including a bathroom break.  He had no formal English training but spoke better than I did.  Keep in mind I’m from Texas.  The thing I found the most interesting was the fact that there are so many young people with such strong beliefs that I now think changing the world is possible.  It may not be completely the way we would like for it to be but at least parts of it are in the hands of some very kind, peaceful, and dedicated young people.  I am also loaded with blessed prayer flags so time to live on the edge again.

In another place, the world also lost a very interesting and dedicated man last Sunday.  I was not a friend but only a bystander in his life.  He had vision and energy beyond what anyone would have found in Ben Wheeler, Texas.   So tonight in Chitwan National Reserve in Nepal.  I will drink a toast to Mr. Brooks Gremmels and hope his path continues with fast cars, local music, and dream building.  You will be missed.  

Karmi Farm Sikkim

Karmi Farm clings to the side of a steep hill on a West facing slope about half a mile from the Nepali border.  The river down below is the border with the state of Sikkim and all that goes with that.   This region is almost completely Nepali and Tibetan.  The ethnic features are obvious.  Chinese eyes with lighter skin.  The faces of the people are more rounded and the young women are very beautiful.  Andrew is the owner of Karmi with his mother who is Indian.  He is a man full of tales of the parties of the old Raj and the tea planters club in Darjeeling.  That is were his father and mother met and married.  That is also the lovely older lady who just handed me a cup of coffee as I am writing.   

Karmi is a guess house now and not a working farm but you can see the old terraces that existing in the day.  Andrew said, the super awful road had only come up this far in the last 15 years.  Before that all the supplies had to be carried by Sherpa’s across the ridge to the older road.  I also learned that Sherpa is a caste level in this part of the world.  It is also a job title and has been for many many years.  Sherpa’s are the high altiude porters that carry supplies for Himalayan Mountaineering expeditions.  Tenzing Norgay was a Sherpa from Darjeeling when he became the first person to summit Mount Everest.   I will have to settle for summiting A Mount Gay Rum bottle when I get back.  It is ridiculous to see these slight people both men and women carrying hundreds of pounds on their backs attached to trump lines on their foreheads.  I get tired and mad when I have to carry my groceries to the truck from Walmart...   Well, I have finished my coffee and every else is gone on some short hike.  I think I will just chill out and look at Nepal for a few minutes.   Wish you all were here to join me.....  Namaste

Good bye Darjeeling

Saying good bye to Darjeeling was very hard.  It is a wonderful city and continues to hold on to some of the colonial charm of the British Raj.  It’s a city that  I will return to one day and spend more time.  I only barely scratched the surface of the place.  Darjeeling had a wonderful send off for me as it revealed Mt. Kuchenjunga for the first time all week.  Looking at the 3rd highest mountain in the world from my hotel window was a big treat on the last morning.   It is breathtaking to see how massive and regal these mountains are in the morning sun.  Time for a new adventure and some overlanding to Karmi Farm.  A place owned by a British fellow with ties to India that go back generations.  One thing about Karmi Farm is that it is not easy to get to.  It took four hours by jeep on some of the roughest roads I have ever seen.  They were steep and narrow and about half had been washed out leaving you to navigate a road with only a couple of inches between the rocks on one side and 500 feet of cliff on the other.  Not to mention heavy machinery that was tearing up portions of the road and required another near death move to get around them.  This time trusting your life to the newly moved loose earth. Next time,  I will have some great photos of this process because I will not be inside that jeep anymore on those crossings of faith.  So If I owe anyone money don’t panic...I will get out of this alive.