The Art of the Squat Toilet

On the plane from Istanbul to Bangkok, I saw a sign in the airplane bathroom that I thought was hilarious. It shows an illustration of how one is supposed to sit on the airplane toilet, with feet on the ground, and NOT by squatting on top of the seat (see picture below). As a westerner, this tickled me because it seemed so very obvious how a “throne” toilet should be utilized. It wasn’t until a week or two down the trail in Nepal that I began to understand why there might be confusion: EVERY SINGLE toilet we encountered along the trail and many of the ones in the larger cities were squat toilets. For those who aren’t familiar, a squat toilet is basically a hole or porcelain receptacle at floor level with places for your feet on either side. You squat down, do your business over the hole and flush by pouring a bucket of water down afterwards.

Now, despite my previous third-world travel experiences, I have spent very little time with squat toilets, if any. I guess most of the toilets in Latin America, even in poorer countries, are still Western-style thrones. In one of our first few days in Nepal, Audra came back from the bathroom and proclaimed, “Man, there’s nothing like a good squat toilet.” I found this HILARIOUS. Analogous to the idea of there being nothing like a good bout of diarrhea just to clear out the system. But by the end of our time there, I was singing a slightly different tune.

First of all, we encountered just about every possible inception of the squat toilet imaginable on the trail between Shivalaya, Base Camp, and Lukla. Seriously, I wish in retrospect I had taken pictures in order to document the creativity and variety. These included:

· “Standard” squat toilet bowls, made of porcelain, with foot grips on either side and a bucket and running water with which to “flush”

· More rustic wooden versions consisting of a planked wood floor, with a hole cut out of the middle, with or without wooden foot grips. These usually didn’t involve running water but the good old port-a-potty design (poop on a pile). Some variations included piles of dried leaves inside the room with which you could cover your business and speed along the composting process.

· A stone version, which was essentially a large slab of rock (marble, perhaps? Ah, maybe not) with the same rectangular hole cut into the middle. Another stone version included an inclined “slide zone” (for your number two needs) that could then be flushed down with water.

· An even more rustic concept which, instead of featuring planked wood, was constructed of (worn down) saplings lain across as floorboards with one or two missing from the middle to provide the necessary space for squatting. This one was particularly precarious, as not only could my foot have fit through the squat hole, but could have slipped between any of the tree trunks and made its way down to the odorous netherworld below.

· And, the most rustic version of all: Nothing at all other than something to give you a little shade and perhaps a sliver of privacy. Although one time, Audra and I were directed to the “toilet” which was actually just an open field, by this young girl (probably 10 years old) who proceeded to sit there and watch while we squatted and took care of business. Luckily we were wearing our hiking skirts so it wasn’t such a peep show.

At first I found the squat toilet concept awkward and primitive…particularly the non-flush versions had a tendency toward pretty strong smells. But after I got into the groove, I really started to appreciate what Audra was getting at. For me, the key to comfortably using a squat toilet was the concept of the FULL SQUAT. This is not a “dirty bar bathroom hover” situation in which you’re basically doing a wall-sit while relieving yourself, but an actual bent knees, weight on your heels, bottom at ground level, full squat. This posture is WAY more comfortable than the “hover” and you can stay there for as long as you need (variable factor in stomach bug territory) without your quads starting to burn and quiver. The other realization I had was that in any rural or more germy situation, a squat toilet is actually a ton cleaner than a poorly-maintained throne, because there’s actually no contact between you and the toilet other than with your shoe-covered feet. You walk away from that thing without having to touch, wipe, or sit on a seat or pull a handle to flush. I would say American bars should consider a change-over but the idea of drunk women squatting in stiletto heels is just asking for trouble.

The real turning point came on my last day on the trail, heading from Namche to Lukla, where I stopped for a bathroom break at a rest house. There were two toilet options: the throne and the squat. Can you guess which one I chose? That’s right. I passed up the porcelain chair and opted instead for the hands-free sit on my haunches approach. I walked out thinking that Audra had been right after all. In places where you have to choose between a sporadically maintained squat toilet and a sporadically maintained throne, there is NOTHING like a good squat toilet.

Time Warp: Nepal

Ok yet again I’m here to catch you up on things that I meant to write about earlier but never got around to and blah blah blah…are you sensing a pattern here?

Cue squiggly screen shot and dreamy flashback music.

I wanted to expand a little on some details and stories from our time on the trail in Nepal. The 3 weeks we spent trekking in the Khumbu region were by far the highlight of this trip for both of us. The scenery was spectacular, the people were welcoming, and the challenge was tangible and drove us to action each day. In my last update, I talked about the physical and mental challenge we experienced during the long days from Shivalaya to Namche Bazaar. After Namche, things really shifted because the limiting factor each day had more to do with how high we could climb (and sleep) rather than how many hours of daylight we had to walk. Instead of aching legs, it was burning lungs that caused us to pull over for rest. In the end, we both navigated the altitude safely, and it was fascinating to watch/feel as our bodies adjusted to the climate, feeling stronger and less winded each day. Our “training trip” really did pay off when, towards the end of the trip, we barely noticed the weight on our backs (which ended up being in the vicinity of 10kg or 22lbs). Ultimately, we accomplished exactly what we came to do, and then some. We left Nepal with a great sense of accomplishment, success, and confident that our backsides are going to look better than ever once we get them back to a pair of jeans.

There are a few specific themes I still wanted to write about from our time in Nepal, so please bear with me as I take you back in time for the next few posts!

Adventures in Krabi

Sooo Krabi. I loved Krabi. It was a pretty far cry from Ko Phangan in terms of geography (more interesting), vibe (more relaxed), people (older, calmer, less inclined to get hammered all the time), and activities (way more options). The first day there, we rented kayaks and rowed along the coast, which has a lot of cliffs jutting out of the ocean. We went over several areas that were shallow and clear enough to see the bottom, which made me want to snorkel. So the next day, I went for a long snorkeling session. It was a great swim/workout, but to be honest the wildlife wasn’t that spectacular. I guess it wasn’t the best area, plus the water was choppy.



That afternoon, we spent some time at the hotel pool after lunch. It was nothing fancy—the water wasn’t particularly clear and the plastic lining was coming off the bottom—but it was a great way to cool down and stay in the shade in the afternoon. While we were there, this Irish guy who lived on the island (who was most remarkable, to me, for the central role that marijuana clearly played in his life) told us about a view point and laguna nearby. We set off to hike to these points, but ran into a Canadian girl we had met, who was covered in red mud and said that she’d been unable to get to the laguna because the going was too rough. That was enough to convince Carla to stick with her original plan of reading and writing all afternoon, and enough to convince me that this journey was not to be missed.

I started up the path to the viewpoint, and it was definitely more interesting than your average trail—it was a steep climb up a slippery slope, with ropes strung here and there to help on the ascent. I was wearing my Vibrams, which are a great shoe for scrambling, and I felt pretty confident climbing, just as long as I could use both hands and feet.

At the top I spoke to some other guys who had been to the laguna and they agreed it was technically challenging. It was late enough that I doubted more people would be coming, and I decided that I shouldn’t go alone (is anyone proud of me for such uncharacteristic prudence?) so I was on the way back down when I ran into a group of Americans coming up. I asked if they were going to the laguna and they said yes, so I joined them.

We got to the top and began the descent, and soon we got to a place where there was a 20-foot drop, with a rope hanging over the edge. This guy Mike went first—lord knows how—and then helped me to get my feet into progressively lower loops on this slimy rope until I was close enough to the ground to jump, with his guidance. He helped the rest of the group down the same way. In all there were three drop-offs like that, where you had to lower yourself on ropes. After the fact, and based on the fact that nobody fell or was injured, I’d have to say that it wasn’t too hard… but in the moment it was SUCH a thrill.

At the bottom, we got our reward: a still, clear lagoon surrounded on all sides by jutting cliffs. I floated in the middle and looking up, all I could see was an eye of blue sky rimmed with foliage, with birds flying to and fro across it. The air was absolutely still.



Coming back up the trail was another adventure, since you couldn’t very well shimmy up a rope, so we had to find places to free-climb up. This is not something I normally do without trepidation, but they guys spotted me and it ended up being easy enough. I was pretty impressed by the people I was with (and those who make this trip in general). I am a decently athletic person, but I would have never attempted it without the help of my new friends.

Then we went to the lookout point (again, for me) and watched the sunset—AMAZING!! And the whole adventure was capped off with me going down the first path alone in the dark. I felt like Jane of the jungle, grabbing all these ropes and roots to guide me along a dimly lit mud path.



That day was also Carla’s birthday! So we had a nice dinner of grilled fish and sides (I had red snapper, Carla had shark) and then went dancing at the one bar that had a club-like scene. Right when we got there, this guy approached Carla and we ended up sitting with him and his buddy. They were Canadian and they were (unsurprisingly) very nice. A little boring, but nice for sure. They wouldn’t dance with us, and of course we were there to dance, so… we hit the dance floor. Alone. And went crazy!

I don’t think there are many people in my life who will dance with me when the floor is otherwise empty, but I’ve known since this one Harvey Mudd party my senior year that Carla is one who can get a party started (or just dance alone with me until we’re tired and leave the party to continue to be not-started). So we were shaking our thing, sweat pouring down our faces, to such an extent that the bartender gave us a free bucket (remember, a small plastic beach pail containing a 5th of cheap alcohol, a soda, and a red bull on ice). Man, the contents of buckets is gross! I love the taste of alcohol, from two buck chuck to PBR, but I could NOT take down one of these buckets! It tasted vaguely like you went to the soda fountain and mixed all the options into a paper cup, then let all the ice melt and the soda has gone flat. With rotgut alcohol. I don’t even know if I can say I’ve outgrown such a thing—I might have never been able to stomach it. But I didn’t come to Thailand in college, so it’s hard to say.

So we danced and we danced HARD. It was a lot of fun, and eventually other people danced too. We left at 2:30 and the party was still going.

Wow this post got huge. To sum up the next few days: we went with the two nice Canadians the next day, took a ferry, rented motorbikes, and rode behind them to a temple above 1200 steps. We got really sweaty. Like, REALLY sweaty. When I wiped my face, it didn’t remove the sweat, it just moved it around. We went to a market and had CHEAP pad thai and iced coffees (about $1 for both) and I found out that I’m one of very few white people who like Durian fruit. We went back and had an early night (I basically went face down on the bed and missed dinner). The next day I went scuba diving and Carla went canoeing through mangrove forests with a Canadian tour group. The next day we decided at the last minute to go to Ko Phi Phi, which is supposed to be one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. So around noon we got on a water taxi that took us to a pier, where a van took us to another pier, then a big boat took us to Ko Phi Phi.

Thailand II

Right now we are at a place called Railay Beach, which is near Krabi town on the SW coast of Thailand. And it is breathtaking. One of the most beautiful places I have ever been. It is a small peninsula covered in sharp cliffs and tropical vegetation, so you have the ocean, the greenery, and the topography all battling for attention. A lot of people come here to climb, and we might do some climbing. There is also snorkeling and diving, and yesterday we took a kayak around part of the coast.
Our hotel is pretty fancy by our standards—flush toilet (though it doesn’t always flush) and fan (though the fan is technically not working) plus the room provided towels, TP, AND shampoo and soap! Right? It is up a big staircase, so from where I am on the terrace it looks out on a great view of the ocean. There is also a pool. Our room is about $15 a night.

Getting here was interesting—we went on an overnight boat in which most of the space was taken up by thin mattresses placed side by side on the floor. Each one was maybe the width of a full-size bed and fit two. We kept our backpacks at the feet of the beds and all the tourists piled in there together and the lights went out as soon as the boat left, and really pretty much everyone slept (based on the general lack of noise). It was a great concept! Unfortunately, the boat ride ended at 4 am and we had to wait in a parking lot for an open-back truck to take us to a waiting station, where it took some two hours for the next truck to be ready to take us to a bus, where we sat unmoving for an hour before making the journey to Krabi for a taxi to the port and a long-tail boat to the beach. But it was worth it! So far this is my favorite place in Thailand. The island we were at before had great beaches and everything, but there’s just something about the cliffs that really takes this area to the next level.

The last place we were, Koh Phangan, is famous for the Full Moon Party. We arrived two days before it, and found that there were parties every night already. The first night we went to this pool party and I felt like I was the oldest person there—fine in itself, but the way everyone else was behaving was way too reminiscent of the awkwardness of the late teenage/early college years.

In general, the scene made me just a little uncomfortable. It reminded me of Spring Break in Rosarito, Mexico… where privileged white people descended en masse on this Mexican town, which had completely re-configured itself to receive them, feed them, inebriate them, and then clean up after them. I went to the market there and some of the vendors were floored that I spoke Spanish. They had learned to even accommodate their rich visitors linguistically, rather than the other way around.
Well, I don’t speak a word of Thai so I’m guilty on that front and many others. In Haad Rin (the beach town where the party happens), the shops are all made up of:

1. Restaurants that serve Western food at steep prices and play a continuous stream of American movies on big screens.
2. Shops selling neon colored shirts and shorts, hats, flip flops and an endless supply of summer dresses.
3. Massage parlors.
4. Tattoo parlors. Apparently they do NOT stop applying tattoos after a certain time of night, when alcohol can turn bad decisions into irreversible ones.
5. Motorbike rental facilities
6. Medical clinics. There were at least 4 on this island, a testament to how alcohol and motorbikes don’t mix.
7. Alcohol vendors. There are dozens and dozens of stands that are virtually identical except for the writing on the front, in which each vendor tries to out-do the other with respect to shock value and/or appeals to certain demographics. An example of the former would be “Free Fuck Bucket” to top “Me love you long time” or of the latter would be a surplus of, say, British flags.

So this town was basically a bunch of tanned/sunburned white 20 year olds killing time between parties. This was a difficult scene for me. Also, people were startlingly unfriendly! They would pass us without making eye contact, and sometimes even when I said hello they didn’t respond. One day we were trying to go to another beach and were unsuccessful hitching with SUVs full of tourists—though TWICE one pulled over and then pulled away before we could get in. It was unbelievable. I got so frustrated that I split with Carla and started running down the road, up and down steep hills. I eventually ran out of steam and it started to rain as I walked back, and vehicle after vehicle passed me without asking if I would like a ride.

Still, I had a blast at the Full Moon Party itself. A lot of people came in just for the party and they tended to be older and less single minded. Then there was a ton of loud music and people dancing. But the best part of the night was that Carla and I used glow-in-the-dark body paint on each other. We spent probably 2 or more hours applying it. We were both in sports bras and bikini bottoms, and I painted her exposed skin with vines and flowers. She painted my face with an incredibly detailed Dia de los Muertos-style skull and then painted an orange skeleton onto my body. It was definitely the winner, though we both got lots of attention. I am a definite convert to the idea of body paint as a party accessory!

We didn’t really stay out that late. We weren’t drinking—all together I think the two of us had maybe 3 beers total on the island, both because it was expensive and because we were enjoying the fruit shakes and Thai iced teas so much that alcohol seemed extraneous—so after a certain point it was just clear how drunk everyone else was and it was kind of a turnoff. Someone puked on my shoe. That’s a first. We saw a couple fighting and stood watching them for a few minutes in confusion, because it looked like the fight was based on her trying to remove his shorts and him not wanting her to. We started being approached not by people who just wanted to ooh and aah over our get-ups, but who wanted to drape their sandy, sweaty arms over us and slurringly convince us to hook up with their buddy. Another funny thing was guys who tried to impress us by name-dropping skeletal elements. “Oh wow. Clavicle, radius, ulna, carpals—you did a great job!”

We were in bed by 2:30 after scrubbing off whatever paint didn’t fall off from the sweat of dancing. I woke up at 7 and went back to the main beach, and the party was still going on! Some Americans I had talked to the night before were sitting on the beach, and I found out that they had pulled an all-nighter by necessity; they didn’t have accommodation. They had come in the day before and were just waiting on the day’s first ferry to leave. (My reaction: next time I’m doing it that way! Carla’s reaction: that sounds like torture).

I had spent the 2.5 days leading up to the party mostly feeling uncomfortable. I felt uncomfortable with the scene of privilege-meets-natural-beauty-and-cheapens-it, and I think I was also feeling some serious Nepal withdrawal. As many of you know, I’m not great at sitting still. So the Nepal lifestyle (get up and hike!) suited me better than the Thai tourist one (sit on the beach and read). Plus I missed our friends from Nepal, the doctors. We had spent a lot of time with them and it was hard not having them around all of a sudden. But the day after the party, I ended up sleeping in a hammock and reading for a lot of the day and it felt pretty good!

We finally left our bungalow in the late afternoon, and went to Haad Rin beach. There, Carla saw three guys messing around with a volleyball and said, “looks like the need a fourth to play!” She jogged towards them and called out “It looks like you guys need a fourth!” And they ignored her. For a second I was like, this is unbelievable—more rude people! But then she caught their attention and one of them gestured to her that they were deaf. So the four of them went to the nets and had an awesome game of 2 on 2 (all four were great players) while I kept score. And it was just so much fun!! The guys could all mouth words, though I didn’t hear any of them speak at all. They’d ask me what the score was and I’d speak it while holding up fingers to show. Carla and I cheered and everything as usual, but ours were the only voices. After the game, we sat and chatted with them for a while, using gestures, lip-reading, and a single piece of paper and pen. They all seemed like really great guys and we got their email address and might see them here in Krabi.

We had paid for two more nights but the next day we decided to move on that night. I wanted to get motorbikes to explore more of the island but Carla was turned off by all the tourists with bandaged limbs from where they had fallen. Just when we were debating what to do, we saw three French guys Carla had met earlier renting bikes, and we ended up riding on the backs of their bikes over the island to a much quieter beach. I really enjoyed the ride! Man, there’s something about flying over terrain with the wind in my face that really gets me, whether it’s on a bicycle or a motorbike. We were out there till evening, and then we had to really scramble to get all our stuff packed and get to the boat, but it was a really nice day and a great way to end our stay there.

This post is in the wrong order but it brings us up to speed! The plan for today is to join an afternoon-evening tour for snorkeling, seafood, sunset and swimming with some phospholuminescent shrimp. P.s. we’re just a ferry ride away from the place where the movie The Beach was filmed, and we’re going to go check that out tomorrow or the next day.

I fly out in 8 days and I’m really excited about that. I don’t know if it’s because the end is near or just because it’s been so long, but I’m running out of steam for traveling. Which I’m kind of grateful for—we’ve talked to some people who are going home and sound really depressed about it, which makes me kind of sad. I’m glad that I have so many wonderful people and things to go home to!

Thailand I

I had heard a lot of not-nice things about Bangkok... from the book Earth Odyssee, which described it as one of the most polluted cities on earth, to a friend from the Nepal portion who called it "soul sucking." But to be honest, Bangkok was much cleaner, quieter, politer, and MUCH more Western than Kathmandu. All of a sudden we had a room with A/C, western flush toilet, TP provided, a private (hot) shower, towels on the beds... we were in the lap of luxury. Meanwhile, we were across the street from a mall with A/C (see a theme) and all sorts of restaurants, including such things as Dairy Queen. We did some touristing and saw amazing temples and things, and people were really polite. The only weird thing had to do with tuk-tuks, but that'll have to be a separate story. Oh, and NOBODY HONKS. Which was an incredible difference from not only Kathmandu, but also most urban centers in developing countries where I've been.

So we ended up spending an extra day in Bangkok, which meant two nights and three days. We ate a lot of street food. Then we took a night bus to the south in an effort to reach the island of Koh Phangan, where there is a really famous Full Moon Party every month. When we found out that the party would work well with our proposed itinerary, we went for it.

For the overnight bus, we didn't book in advance so we ended up in third class. I might have chosen third class anyway, but Carla was having some weird skin issues (this seems to be a pattern in tropical areas!) and wanted to be able to lay down and put up her foot, which was unreasonably swollen from a mosquito bite. It really turned out ok-- there was no air conditioning but the windows opened really far, and I had brought my ground pad (second time using it in 3 months, yay!) so we put that down on the floor and one of us could sleep with our head under one bench seat and feet under the other while the other of us stretched out across the bench (which was a 2-seater; not very long). We arrived in the morning and basically got straight on a tourist bus, then a ferry, then a taxi, and finally arrived at our beach destination.

Everest Recap

Before too much time gets between me and this part of the journey, let me recap the second part of our Everest journey.

We spent a rest day in Namche so we were there for two nights. While there, we met a group of doctors on a continuing education trip, and we just somehow ended up integrating ourselves to the level that we took off from there with them. On this part of the trip we had less weight (we left a bunch of extraneous stuff at a lodge between Namche and Lukla), there was less time spent hiking (since altitude changes dictated a slower pace) and overall we just had a LOT more free time. So it was great to be traveling with a group, since we benefited both from their wacky and cool personalities in the evenings for card games and social games, and we got to sit in on their courses, which ranged from insect transmitted diseases to how to avoid getting struck by lightning in the outdoors. I picked up quite a few new bits of knowledge.

The trip to Everest Base Camp was inspired by my friend Joe's status as an employee there, so I was REALLY excited the day of our summit to the camp... and instead I ended up crossing paths with him along the trail. Which was cool because I got to catch up with him and also meet his girlfriend, whom I'd heard plenty about but never met, but it kind of took the wind out of my sails for the trip to camp. Still, base camp ended up being great! Carla and I left the med group to go there, and we ended up chatting first with an American solo climber, and then we chatted up a group of Spanish climbers and got invited into their tent for a hot drink and a chat. This group was led by a badass woman who had been the first woman to climb all 14 peaks over 8000 meters tall, and was now leading the team to do all 14 without oxygen. So far the had accomplished all but Everest. I have the website info for them so we'll check it out-- and we might even be on Spanish TV! (their videographer took video of our conversation).

Thank goodness we are both Spanish speakers! Though to be fair probably our being female had a lot to do with having gotten the opportunity... base camp has some pretty skewed male/female ratios and we got a ton of attention just walking around the camp in our hiking skirts.

BTW, general info about base camp: it's a little village of tents, with no permanent structures. There are sleeping tents, which are short and igloo shaped, and cooking tents, communal tents, storage tents, and even toilet tents. The Spanish crew showed us their provision tent, which was chock full of all the Western junk food you could ask for, from cookies to hot chocolate to chips and candy. Though it seemed like paradise to our variety-starved palates, I'm sure they get pretty sick of it.

Climbers spend most of their 1-2 months at base camp. They will go higher for short periods to acclimatize at Camp 1 or Camp 2. They go up to Camp 3 briefly, and beyond that is the "Death Zone" where acclimatization is physiologically impossible, and basically you only go there for as long as you have to to summit and get the hell out. It takes I think 5 days to summit Everest from Base Camp, and people just wait for the weather to clear to go for it. Sometimes there is not a single window in the entire season and it just sucks to be you if you hung out for two months and paid tens of thousands of dollars for permits, guides, supplies, and support staff.

It's a crazy culture and I can't imagine wanting to climb those peaks, but some people live for it. In Namche we saw a couple of movies/documentaries about it and I would recommend you check it out if you're interested. One was Into Thin Air and the other was some National Geographic flick. People are just NOT designed to be up there (though Sherpas are genetically predisposed to be able to withstand much higher altitudes than we are). And it is no joke. We saw plenty of people not take it seriously, and we also saw some life-threatening altitude sickness. We personally met three people who got helicoptered out for medical treatment. One was in our med group, and one was a guy I hiked with for a day who had done the same treks as me and Carla, only faster. It happened all the time, and apparently 1-2 people a day DIE up there. It's crazy because it feels like you're just living life normally (albeit a little breathless) but it can creep up and kill you. We followed the rules and outside of a few headaches, we made it through with no trouble. We took our pulse throughout and after descending, and while we were in the 120s resting at altitude, I had a resting pulse rate of near 50 back in Kathmandu!

2nd perspective: Shivalaya to Namche

I actually haven’t read Carla’s last post as I write this, so forgive any redundancy. We’re in Bangkok and having to pay for internet, so I’m writing this offline and will upload it.

I can’t believe that it’s been nearly a month since we left Turkey for Nepal! Oh man, Turkey feels like a long time ago. So much happened in the last month, and each day stretched out so long (in a good way—we just had so much time to think with all the hiking and resting).

The first part of the journey, Shivalaya to Namche, was much harder than anything that followed (for the most part—stay tuned for the last few days). Each day we got up early, had breakfast, packed up and hiked till lunchtime, then ate, then hiked till somewhere between 4 and 6. Then we had dinner, and then usually we went to bed by 9 to get up and do it all again. The first day we hiked with the five guys we had joined up with, and on subsequent days it was either just the two of us or us two and this Israeli guy.

Carla just told me that she didn’t mention these guys in her post, so allow me to recap: on the bus to Shivalaya, we met a group of five guys who were planning largely the same treks. I will refer to them by their nationalities: English, Canadian, American, Belgian, and Israeli. We spent a 12 hour bus ride with them and we were all getting along really well! English was particularly funny—he did these great impressions of the kid who was running the show on the bus (“Hello ladies. Don’t know if you noticed, but I’m the bus conductor. If you want to chat about it, you know where to find me.”)

So yeah, we all hiked together the first day and we were all excited about our great group. Then as the days wore on, it seemed like the guys became increasingly involved in a 5-way bromance that required them to go ever faster, talk ever more about how badass they were, and increasingly ignore us girls. So by the end of day 5, when the guys were talking about doing a super long day 6 to get to Namche, we told them that we wanted to take it slow and would be leaving later and going the distance in two days. Carla and I had a great, peaceful last two days during which we went at our own pace.

Again I will backtrack a little to tell about our surroundings. From the time we left Kathmandu basically until we hit the trail from Lukla, we were in the land of the squat toilet. There is a wide range of squat toilets. Some have porcelain foot platforms in a cement floor. Others are little wooden sheds that make use of a hillside, with a couple of widely spaced boards suspended over a 6-foot drop, wherein you stand on the boards and let your business go down the space in between. For the most part, the squat toilets were preferable to the dirty, seatless, peed-upon thrones that we found a little later on the trail. It’s way easier to do the full squat down on your haunches than to try to hover-poo over something that’s already a foot tall.

Along the way, we saw virtually no tourists. We did see plenty of Nepalis, and we would always exchange a Namaste and often a little clasped-hand bow. We saw porters carrying unbelievable loads in wicker baskets suspended from the crowns of their heads, and often wearing sandals over the rugged rock paths.

We stayed in guest houses that were basic. The rooms were usually doubles, and Carla and I would get our own room. The bathroom was always elsewhere—sometimes indoors, sometimes outdoors—and showers ranged from a running, hot (or cold, depending) shower to a bucket shower with hot water. Showers cost extra, anywhere from $1.50 to over $4. Meanwhile, the rooms were anywhere from free (cause you’re buying dinner) to $0.75 a person. During the first week, Carla and I probably averaged about $10-15 a day on food, lodging, outlet charging, and showers. Together, not each.

It was a really spectacular taste of rural Nepali life, which largely ended when we hit the point where the trail joins up with the trail from Lukla (to which you can fly from Kathmandu). Suddenly white people were all around, squat toilets were replaced by (gross, seatless) thrones, and prices were double. Nepalis would sometimes answer your Namaste but rarely initiate it and never bow. So in general, the latter part of the journey was a diluted version of the first.

One more funny story from the first week: at one of the lodges, we found out that the owner had summited Everest twice AND met the Dalai Lama (Me: “You’ve met the Dalai Lama?” Him: “Yeah. Good guy.”) So we asked if we could take a photo with him, and he sat between us on the couch for it. With his hand on my butt. When he got up, I told Carla, “he patted my butt!” and she replied, “MINE TOO!” So basically, this guy took the opportunity to cop a double feel with some young ladies. Oh well, I guess I can’t begrudge him that. I wonder if we look surprised in the picture…