Is it bungy or is it bungee

As I stood in line awaiting my turn to bungy, I looked to the other side of the bridge at the congregation of Nepalis who watched as we one by one threw ourselves off a bridge. I couldn’t help but wonder if their thoughts were similar to mine….why are these crazy foreigners throwing themselves off a perfectly good bridge? I don’t think I have ever even walked across a bridge as high as this one, and to make matters worse it was a cable suspension bridge… and yes I was going to jump off of it. I can’t even tell you the flood of emotions that I felt as I awaited my turn.

We had to meet at 5:45 this morning in Kathmandu to start our journey to the location of the bungy jump. We were told that it would be a comfortable 4 hour drive. At least they were right about the 4 hour part. I have decided that any land travel in Nepal is anything but comfortable. The roads are narrow and ill maintained. I imagine that in the states we could have traveled the same distance in about an hour as we did in 4 hours today. We really did luck out with our bus driver this morning. It was easy to see that he was very experienced and patient driver, and the ride was as comfortable as possible. I wish I could say as much for the return trip.

It was Chris, Liz and I traveling together. I was glad to have them with me, not only for the company on the long trip, but as support when the time came to jump. We had the opportunity to get caught up on goings on in each others lives. Chris and I grew up together in Paradise and have been friends since we were young kids. Even thought Liz grew up in Utah, I had met her on several occasions in Paradise as one of her cousins was my best friend growing up. It is such a small world. My point being that I have known the two of them for a long time, and they have always been great friends. On the trip up to the bungy site, we started talking with two Brits who were sitting near us on the bus. They had both recently graduated from college and were traveling for extended periods of time. Rich was traveling with his girlfriend and Dan, as of late, was traveling alone. They were roommates before, and happened to meet up in Kathmandu. At the end of the day we were friends and actually had dinner together when we arrived back in Kathmandu.

We jumped in order of our weight. That put me towards the front of the line. Why didn’t I start that diet months ago like I had planned? I was grateful to know that there were a few heavier guys than me going first. That way I knew that at least the bungy cords could hold. As I waited for my turn I thought about the consent form we had to sign. I thought it was kind of funny that they warn of retinal detachment. Not that something like that is funny, but of everything that could go wrong with jumping off a bridge some 500 feet above the rocks below, retinal detachment would fall pretty low on my list of concerns.

It was my turn to jump. They brought me over and had me step into a climbing type harness that goes around your legs and waist. Then they had me sit on this little stool and they wrapped a chain around my chest and clipped me to the side of the bridge. Then comes the small, yet ever important ankle harness; Such a small apparatus standing between me and the rocks below.

Like any tourist attraction, making money is paramount. So as you might imagine, there is a man with a video camera. He pointed the camera in my face, then over the edge, then down at my feet, then back to my face as though trying to add drama and intensity to the already extreme situation. He continued with the camera right in my face as the jump master starts giving instructions. I wasn’t sure if the cameraman was awaiting some deeply profound statement or if he was enjoying capturing the look of sheer horror on my face, but the camera in my face, the jump master talking in my ear and knowing what was awaiting me just a few steps away was really all to much.
The next thing I knew I was being lead out to the jump platform. I really wanted to close my eyes, but was afraid it would only make things worse. The jump master said spread your arms and one……..two….…..three……..Thank goodness I did not hesitate. I leapt forward, arched my back and started counting. I got to 5 before the cord caught, slowed me to a stop, and then flung me upwards towards the place I had just left. I would love to say that I had profound thoughts as I was falling the 500 feet to the earth, but really I merely counted and muttered a few words that my mother would not like. Before I knew it, it was over. I was being lowered to the river bed below where a man with a bamboo pole stood waiting to pull me to the side of the river. It was an amazing experience. I can see how people can get addicted to adrenalin rushes. It was one of the most amazing feelings ever, one that certainly made the long, horrible bus ride home all worth it.

Day 3

Once again it is about 3am and I am wide awake. I actually don’t mind waking up this early as it gives me the opportunity to write a little and read. In addition, I will need to be up tomorrow morning at 4:30am to begin the 4 hour journey to the site of what I believe is the worlds second largest Bungee Jump. My good friend from high school, Chris Johnson and his wife happen to be here in Nepal as well, and he has convinced me that jumping off a bridge and falling some 500 feet with just a cord around my ankles is a good idea. This is so reminiscent of the old days when good judgment was overshadowed by peer pressure from my good friend Chris….well not only Chris, but he is the only one I can blame this on now. Apparently the location of the jump is on the border of Nepal and Tibet, thus the 4 hour drive. The absolutely lame thing is that I am a bit fearful of heights. Not so much so that it interferes with my rock climbing, cliff jumping or flying…but I have been know to freeze on the ledge here and there. Chris and Liz have strict instructions that if I don’t jump on the count of 3 or less…they are to push. Regardless of what ends up occurring, I will surely only write later that I jumped without any hesitations and that I performed the most graceful of swan dives the long way down….well until the bungee catches and my body is jerked into a series of abnormal tortuous and twisted positions. Well enough of that for now….If I survive, you will read the first hand account in a day or two.

So yesterday was my first “real” day in Nepal. I was feeling great and I didn’t have to spend most of my day looking for lost luggage. I decided to venture out into Thamel. It is the area of the city where my hotel is located and it is quite the tourist trap. The very second that stepped through the gates of the hotel, I was immediately overwhelmed by beggars, street merchants, and people asking me where I am from. I know that in a weeks time they will recognize me as someone who is not interested in buying their wares, or handing out rupees to anyone who asks….or at least that is what has happened in previous trips. The Nepali people are some of the most genuine and kind people I have ever encountered. I think that alone is a great part of the reason I am so enthralled with Nepal.

As I was walking the dirt street of Thamel yesterday I had the unfortunate experience of witnessing first hand a scenario that on many levels represented that which is wrong with America….I heard her before I saw her. A loud screechy voice with an obvious American accent….yelling….” No you are trying to rip me off? I would never pay you 200 rupees for that. I will only pay 150.” (a difference of about 70 cents mind you). Then I saw her. This very large woman (the size that I would normally be stuck next to on a plane) wearing a mini skirt. Yes you read that correctly a mini skirt. It was the most horrific and traumatic sight I have ever beheld. I will not lie….at that moment I felt a little embarrassed to be counted a fellow countryman….Had I not been in such utter shock at the sight of it all, I would have thought to grab my camera and take pictures. Not so much of the woman herself as that would have been a waste of film, but of the looks on the faces of the poor Nepalis who stood dumbfound observing this debacle. I won’t take the time to draw the parallels I recognized between this scenario and that which is wrong in America…but I believe that there are many and I will allow you to come up with your own. Let’s be honest….there are just some women who should not wear mini-skirts. Just like there are some men who should do us all a favor and leave their shirts on. (I know, I am one of them)

Anyway, I went to dinner last night with Chris and Liz. It was good to get caught up with them and little and hear what is going on in their lives. The picture is of them.

It is late, or early...however you want to look at it. I will write more tomorrow.

Oh and bad news, the Bungee jump was postponed a day, Apparently they were having some "technical difficulties"....Make of that what you will. I am more nervous about this now than ever.

A few pictures

Day 2

I called the airport no less than 10 times to inquire about my lost bags. It was always something….you need to talk to a different person, everyone is in a meeting right now, or simply that no information was available at the time. I ended up catching a taxi and just going to the airport to see what I could figure out. I found a Thai Air representative and showed him my paperwork from the day before. He informed me that they had no idea where my bags were and that I would just have to keep calling to check in with them. I was so frustrated. As I was leaving the baggage terminal I happened to look over and lone behold there was one of my bags slowly making its way around turns and twists of the baggage carousel. I can’t tell you the happiness I felt at that moment as I knew a change of underwear was in my future. Being accustomed to having my bags lost I have learned to pack by diving my clothes and various as sundries in half. Half then goes into each bag so that if only one bag arrives I am certain to have the necessities to get me by. But today the luggage Gods smiled upon me. As I was grabbing my bag from the conveyor belt, around one of the corners appeared my other bag. The taxi ride from the airport to the hotel today was a vastly different experience than yesterdays ride on so many levels.

Upon returning to the Hotel I met again with the hotel manager. This time it was to discuss room rates. Their standard monthly rate is $480 dollars. Where by our standards this is very inexpensive, by Nepali standards it is perhaps just a little pricey. Especially in light of the fact that the Tibet Guest House where I usually stay offered me a price of $300 per month. So the bartering began, and when it ended we agreed on a price of $300 per month and we both walked away happy. I returned to my room at about 4 pm and decided to take a short nap. I awoke seven hours later and I am now wide awake and there is no sleep in sight. Thank goodness for a good book.

Day 1

I made it to Nepal. It took 2 days, three airplanes, and 23 hours of confinement to a economy sized seat, but I made it. I would love to tell you that the trip was uneventful, but alas that would not be honest. Those who know me best know that there are two certainties in my life…no not death and taxes (although those would apply also), but the two that plague me on a regular basis are 1) always picking the slowest check-out line in a store, and 2) Murphy’s law always applies when I travel….if something can go wrong, it will. Certainty number one continuously baffles me. One line can have 5 people in it and another just one person. Being the educated person that I am, I assume that the line with one person will be the shorter one. But true to form, the one person will say something like…I would like to have these items rung up separate from these and these…also I have this newspaper and I know there is a coupon in here somewhere. Why do people have things rung-up separately? I will never understand it. As for the travel and Murphy’s Law….I have the worst luck when it comes to travel. Either my flights are canceled, delayed or I end up sandwiched between two extremely large individuals…not to mention the 4, yes 4 times I have had coffee spilled on me by stewardesses ( is that the PC term or is it flight attendant? Either way they spilled coffee on me. Then of course my bags are ALWAYS the ones that are lost. Arg! I thought things were going well on this trip. No delays, fat people, spilled coffee or anything of the such. The map on the monitor indicated we were somewhere over Japan when it hit……food poisoning. I thought the potato salad I ate hours earlier tasted a little odd. But then again I was on an international flight and I can’t pronounce half the items on the menu. (a note to the Waterfalls who will be making that same flight in December……don’t eat the potato salad) Like clockwork, it hit about 5 hours later. For your information if you are ever on a plane and someone is in the bathroom alternating between kneeling and sitting…. No amount of beating on the door will expedite or change anything. The good news was that there was no problem at all getting everything out of my stomach. One whiff of the odor coming out of the toilet took care of all of that. What a horrible ordeal. When I finally did emerge from the bathroom, it was apparent that my wrenching might have been a little on the noisy side. Guys were giving me the thumbs up, women had looks of compassion and kids were downright disgusted. Then the icing on the cake was upon arriving in Kathmandu I learned my bags were lost. To be honest I really wouldn’t have cared that they were lost; I should have just assumed as much and just taken the first taxi to the hotel returning the next day to get them. But inasmuch as I didn’t know that they were lost I had to sit in a very hot, humid airport for almost an hour waiting for them. In the end I made it to the hotel. The first thing they told me was that there was a slight mistake and I was scheduled to be in a room with a shared bathroom. Let’s see….me sick with it coming out of both ends and a shared bathroom…….not a good combination. I am certain at that moment I looked about as pathetic as a human being can look. The manager was standing there and asked me “are you okay”….I told him that in fact I was not. Next thing I knew I was being escorted to a suite with a private bath. God bless them. I arrived to my room yesterday at 2:00 in the afternoon laid down on the bed and woke up today at noon feeling much better. I rolled out of bed to find a get well card from the hotel management that was slid under the door. Only in Nepal. I have always stayed at the Tibet Guest House when I have been in Kathmandu, but this time I am staying that the Kathmandu Guest House at the recommendation of Landon John. So far, so good.

Prologue

My good friends (Joel and Jenny) introduced me to the world of blogging. They themselves maintain a blog about life and experiences of being parents of recently born twins. I have read and re-read their entries and knowing ahead of time that I will never be as articulate or creative as Joel and Jenny, I have decided none-the-less, that this would be a good way for me to keep track of my experiences in Nepal. As you probably all know, I recently graduated from PA school and decided to take some time and travel. I was offered the opportunity to spend several months in Kathmandu and assists with several humanitarian efforts. I also hope to get caught up on all the personal reading that I missed out on during the arduous years of school. First on the list…The Count of Monte Cristo, an all time favorite that I have not read for some years. I also plan on taking time to travel the country, take hundreds, if not thousands, of photos, and perhaps even travel into Tibet and Everest base camp. It will be interesting to see what the next two and a half months have to offer.