Page 76 - theloveofteamag 1

It probably was, but it was barely suit- ed for us and for me in particular. It was, in short, the best of times and the worst of times. To be fair, the trek was gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. e weather could not have been more perfect, with warm and sunny days fol- lowed by windless temperate evenings. e scenery was stunning; with rich green elds spread out below us and ancient trees and mountain crevices around and above us.
We got a chance to fully immerse ourselves in the culture, nodding and exchanging warm “namastes” with friendly local farmers and village res- idents working their land and guid- ing tired donkeys up daunting stone steps. We saw awe-inspiring women carrying burlap sacks lled with rocks on their backs to their homes, com- petently ascending the shaky steps in mud-stained ip- ops, their colourful saris swaying behind them. Life in the mountains is hard in a way we could never have imagined.
We were winded and exhausted af-
ter every seemingly in nite staircase, while everyone else walked those steps as though they were nothing. It was such a profound lesson in fortune
and humility. As inspiring as it was
to watch women carry rocks up stone
steps, it was also di cult to see them, to know this backbreaking labour was necessary on an almost daily basis.
We heard sad stories too. Dawa told us about a young girl who passed away from appendicitis because her family couldn’t carry her down to a doctor
in time. We also heard news from an- other Sherpa about a group of young men who died in a car accident a er their vehicle tumbled o a hillside into a ravine. No medical help could be reached in time for them either.
e teahouses we stopped in were basic, almost comparable to sizeable tents — perfunctory structures held together with duct tape and tarp. e meals at the teahouses never failed to make us laugh with their mish-mash of cross-cultural ingredients (chicken fried rice with parmesan to appeal to Chinese, North American, Australian and European tourists simultaneous- ly) and adorable English misspell-
ings (“pie” was almost always spelled “PAI!”). What was never disappointing was the masala chai, something I had twice with every meal — regardless of the warnings from friends and fellow travellers to go easy on the liquids.
When the trek ended and we parted ways with the saintly Dawa and Nima, our bodies were temporarily