Day 8: Though I love most days on the trek, I think the nights are my favorite. Once the sun goes down, they light the fire in the dining hall, and that's where everyone congregates. The favorite pastime is hanging trail-sweaty gear in front of the stove while reading. The Chinese, the German Amazon, and the Swedes are in that camp. There's a clump of Nepali guides warming themselves on the other side of the circle, but what they're discussing? I don't know. Probably the cute Danish girls. They've made quite a commotion among guides and porters. The trekkers have been affected too, of course. The guy from the U.S. Air Force is teaching his guide the Rubik's Cube. The sweet little fifty-something Chinese-American lady regales me with stories of her daughter that went to NYU for undergrad and UVA for law school. Now that the daughter is out of school, Mom can live her life to the fullest. This is one helluva first step. My buddy Brian Kelly from...you guessed it...Ireland, is here to do Everest, then he's spending two weeks in a monastery in Delhi. He's looking for something and he figured the best place to find it was inside himself. He just needs a little guidance.
I'm in the corner, in as much light as I can muster, writing it all down. There's a light soundtrack going--if not Indian, it's very heavily influenced. It's loud enough to notice, but not so loud you can't hear your neighbor's story. The smell of burning firewood pervades the place and it fits--plywood floors, rough-hewn support columns, cylindrical iron stove (the heart of the room). Long tables line the walls, bench seating upholstered with shabby tapestries that have seated a million weary travelers. Large windows cover two of the four walls, providing jaw-dropping, squinting views of the snow-clad Himalayas. There's a trade-off, though. The closer you get to the windows, the further you are from the fire.
At every lodge where we've stayed, there have been dozens of stickers on the windows: guide services, trek equipment sales, tour groups. I wish I'd known. I'd've papered this place with Crimson Tide paraphernalia from start to finish.
Oh, hey--Air Force figured it out. Good job, brother. And the German Amazon broke her chair. Saw that comin'.
The clouds are rolling in, but I am safely, warmly, blissfully shielded with my trek family in the dining room. There's no meat in the house, so buffalo kofta is out. Looks like vegetable curry again. Worse things have happened. In a nation that leans more toward vegetarianism, I'm in good hands.
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