I had heard that college life was fun, but I never knew what that really meant until I got admitted into Westminster College in the United States of America, in 2009. My college was located in the city of Fulton, in the midst of wild forests in Missouri. It was a beautiful place for a nature lover! During my freshmen year, there were about 1,200 students on campus from 60 different countries around the globe, and almost everyone knew one another. I thought that was the coolest thing ever!
In the beginning it was difficult to adapt with the American culture, language barrier, and adjusting with American food, but it did not take long before I got used to them. Soon, summer was on the roll. Like many of my friends, I wanted to spend my summer vacation with my family. The only difference between my friends visiting their family and me visiting my family was that, you see, my family lived half way across the globe. That was a problem to me. Going back to my home became tough for me not only because of that reason but also because I had been away from my village for thirteen years now, and as a consequence, I had forgotten my Dolpo language.
My family lives in the heart of The Himalayas, somewhere in a small village of Nepal called Karang, in the district of Dolpo. They lived in such a small village in an isolated place that I could not even find on maps. On any map, you name it! That was supposed to be my summer destination- my home. And I had no idea how to get there.
What I did know was simple common sense. I needed to book a flight ticket for a trip from St. Louis to Kathmandu and find a guide who could hike with me to the Himalayas for several days up to Karang. That is, if I could even find one. There was no road or airport that could make my village more accessible. Not even telephones were available to contact my parents. I had to call and ask a villager who lived in Kathmandu to pass a message to travelers to let my parents know that I was coming to visit them. So, it was not even certain that they would receive it. Dolpo is the largest district of Nepal. I liked to call it the secret garden of Nepal, because it holds immense value but only few people know about it.
It sustains and preserves invaluable herbs like the Cordiceps sinensis (Yar tsa gun bu), and Cordydalis megacalyx (Gudue Serpo); contains several aesthetic monuments like the Shey Gomba, Phoksundo, and Crystal Mountain; is home to rare animal species such as the snow leopard, and the blue sheep; and inhabited by the people of unique ethnic race that followed pure Tibetan tradition and the Bon religion-- all which are about to be wiped out by isolation. The upper Dolpo also preserves several ancient texts of Mahayana Buddhism which are believed to be found nowhere else on Earth, and the Bon religion that the Dolpopas follow is said to predate Buddhism itself. I think Dolpo region has too much to offer but, is too hard to be explored.
Dolpo is, by far without doubt, one of the most fascinating places on Earth: to go for a spiritual quest; to get away from the rest of the world; even just for a moment, to connect yourself back with nature; and to lose yourself into thin air of the tranquil atmosphere of the Himalaya. However, the sole purpose of my travel was never spiritual nor was it to know the face of nature, but to get to see the face of my parents, who I rarely ever got the chance to see. Even so, it is hard to deny till today... that the whole trip was a journey within, that weared me out and teared me up piece by piece on the way... that moved me bit by bit deep inside. And over the course of time, that changed the way I saw everything for ever.
On June 20, I flew from St. Louis to Atlanta, to London, to Bahrain, and finally to Kathmandu. There was never any direct flight from the States to Nepal. Once I arrived to the capital, I knew did not have enough belongings to start with. So I had to do some shopping. I had an old sleeping bag, some match sticks and a torch, so I went to buy two pairs of sneakers, a Swiss knife, raincoat, compass, mat, a large raincoat and warm clothes. I found the capital city crowded with buildings, vehicles, tourists, schools and hotels, as usual. Taking trekking gears would have been useful for me while hiking through the mountains, but it was not necessary so, I did not buy them. Plus, I only had a limited budget of 40,000 Nepali rupees and I wanted to save at least 10,000 rupees to give it to my parents. The exchange rate of one US dollar equaled eighty five rupees at that time.
I have stayed in the capital for about thirteen years now. As much as I like Kathmandu, I can’t deny how trashy it can get, with garbage all around the corners of the city, sometimes you just can't escape the smell of rotten wasted fruit and vegetables. As I went shopping through the streets, they were congested with all kinds of old buses, cars, rickshaws, and tempos, emitting burnt diesel black smoke. That did not really bother me much as I was used to it. People walking on the sidewalks filled the remaining space of the city and it was hard to arrive at any destination without being touched by someone. At that point I felt that I was home.
In Kathmandu the only things that were expensive were if you were going to buy electronics, or if you were buying land. The cost of food was as cheap as it could get. Four US dollars was more than enough to fill you up for a day at a mediocre restaurant. So, I ate a lot of dumplings, noodles, and potato with naan which were much spicier than anything I had eaten in the states. That was the best part about Kathmandu for me, food. However, I could not stay in Kathmandu for long since I come to visit my parents.
So, I immediately started contacting people I knew who were from Dolpo, to ask if they could find a guide or a friend who could go with me to my village. After 3 days of relentless search for a guide in Kathmandu, I just could not find anyone going to Dolpo. At that point I felt like I had it all right about coming to Kathmandu, shopping for the trip and everything was as planned, but I had lost hope for finding the guide. That was the last thing I expected to happen, the important one. So, I had no other choice than what had to be done without a guide, "Deal with it!" So, later at night, in my room, an endless chain of thoughts and emotions came to my mind while I tried to relax on my comfy bed. I jumped to a conclusion of going to my village all by myself and I quickly fell asleep.
The next day, I performed a quick internet search about my village and the path that could possibly lead me there. I knew it was pointless, just was a new spark of hope that could have died at any time. But, I did it anyway. After a few hours of Google search, boredom, and Facebook creep, I was surprised to receive a phone call from someone. It was a lady, an elderly friend of mine who was also from my village. She was one of the few people I had contacted while trying to find a guide. So, I was pleased to get a call back. While I picked up the phone, I expected, and I prayed that it was about the guide. And, I was right! I was finally able to find someone to go with me to Dolpo. Well, but not quite completely yet.
She said it on the phone in Nepali, "Hello! Karma, Thinley’s son Karma Gyaltsen is going to Dolpo." My feet were above the ground with relief and excitement to hear this. "But he is going tomorrow at seven pm sharp", she added. Well, that was unexpected. But, I was still excited. As I asked her more questions, it occurred to me that she only knew who was going but nothing else, but a number. It was not of Gyaltsen, but someone he was acquainted with, who might know where he was. Right then, I felt like she just slapped me on the face, and I found myself in a maze.
It became a heavy challenge for me to find Gyaltsen through a number that I had no I idea whose it was, to ask for permission to go with Gyaltsen, and if yes: to book the tickets successfully before evening; to pack everything after that, every freaking single thing I needed; and to prepare emotionally, physically and psychologically before the dawn, if I were to then go to Dolpo with him.
I had never met Gyaltsen or heard of his name before. However, what I did know was his dad, Thinley. Everybody in Nepal knew Thinley. He was a famous actor who played the main role of the movie The Himalaya. In 2000, it was the first Nepali movie to have been nominated for Academy Awards. The movie was about Dolpopas, and their livelihood. The people who are from Dolpo are called Dolpopas. Thinley was a Dolpopa whose village was thirty minutes walk away from ours. So, I wanted to ask him if I could go with his son Gyaltsen to Dolpo.
I walked to Thinley's house. Failed! Thinley had moved somewhere else. The resident who lived there that time told me that after I knocked on their door for several times when no one came out when I rang the bell more than three times. Then, I walked to my house, and tried calling the number I had received before.
A girl picked up the phone. She had a sweet voice. It was Thinley's niece. Sweet! I told her about trying to reach Gyaltsen and Thinley. She confirmed that they had moved to a different place. She gave me their address so that I could meet them to talk. She warned me that Gyaltsen wasn't at the house but, that we could still figure something out.
So, I rushed towards his house in a car which was about 20 minutes far from the place I was at. When I reached Thinley’s house, his niece was the only one at home. She kindly offered me Tibetan tea and some biscuits to eat. We sat on mats on opposite corners, and I asked if I could go to Dolpo with his son, Karma Gyaltsen. As I found out Gyaltsen had been planning on flying directly from Kathmandu to Nepalgunj but his flight had gotten delayed because of bad weather. Therefore, Gyaltsen was leaving the next day on a bus ride from Kathmandu to the Nepalgunj Airport.
I finally got the answer I had been waiting for. She called Gyaltsen and immediately told me that I could go with him. She also gave me his ticket number and the bus number so that I could book the ticket for the same bus. But I had to make that happen. If I wanted to go with him, I had to buy this bus ticket as soon as possible before the ticket counter closed. There was no tomorrow for me, the only thing I knew that would be "tomorrow" was the "bus gone". Gone at five am, if I failed to buy the ticket.
So to speak, I rushed in a relaxing manner, I gulped the cup of salt tea from the short table in front of me. Then, I looked at my watch, and glanced at the car in which I rode to get there. It was still there, outside, waiting for me. I thanked her for all the help and got out of the house filled with salt tea and information. I had to reach the ticket counter before it closed. I could feel the cold breeze of air on my arms telling me that it was getting late. I jumped into the car and smiled at him and thanked him for waiting for me.
I had spent exactly twenty eight minutes at Thinley's house. I was glad to be on time. I had told the driver not to wait a bit for me if it took more than thirty minutes. Before we took off the wheels I bargained and made a deal with him to give me a ride up to the bus park for thirty rupees. What could I do… I was just not the rich kind of guy. The conversion rate was one dollar for every eighty five rupees then.
Moments later, we reached the bus park where I could buy my ticket. They only accepted cash. In Nepal cash transactions are more popular than the use of cards, only certain places in big cities have ATM machine. I walked to the ticket counter and a guy gave me a ticket. I was excited. I looked for cash in my wallet to pay for the ticket; I found no money there, or in my right pocket. Then, I put my left hand into my left pocket, I felt my debit card. However, there wasn’t any ATM when I looked around. It was getting late, and the ticket counter was about to close. I felt nervous. I still had not paid the taxi fair to the driver and he was standing right next to me.
I was stuck for a moment. I looked at him, and he was staring at me. I had been nice to him while I was in the car been talking to him like a friend. In the same manner I talked to him and persuaded him to lend me 975 rupees so that I could buy my bus ticket. He took out several hundred notes from his pocket, counted them and handed them to me. I gave it to the ticket counter and purchased the bus ticket. I was glad that I had been nice to him and that he was nice to me in return. In total I owed the taxi driver 1,275 rupees. Then I asked him if he could drive me back home nearby Boudhanath Stupa for 200 rupees.
He easily agreed and drove me there. At Boudhanath Stupa, I was able to pay him 1,600 rupees by using the ATM machine there. I thanked him for helping me and tipped him. Then, I walked for few minutes until I reached home. I was so exhausted. It didn't take me long before I fell asleep
