Berlin

I arrived in Berlin in the late evening and checked into my hostel, which at first, seemed like it was  a bit out of the way (despite statements on their website that they were 5 minutes from Alexanderplatz).  I had sent a few Facebook messages to Ryan Shane, a pledge of mine back in my days as the Pledge Ed.  He was in Berlin on some organized trip and so I dropped off my stuff to go meet him at a beer hall in downtown Berlin in an area called Hackeshermarkt.  After a round or two, we decided to wander.  We didn't get very far as we ventured upon another restaurant/beer garden with umbrellas decorated with one of my all-time favorite beers, Weihenstephan.  We managed to put in an order just before last call and enjoyed the foamy deliciousness before trying to find a new place to hang out.

It was a Wednesday, so it seemed like there wasn't much going on (I would later discover there's something happening somewhere in Berlin every night of the week).  But I walked up to a cabbie and asked if he could take us to a pub/club/bar/anything that was still open.  He drove us a little less than 10 minutes to a cool pub where we ran out the clock.

The next day was a "get my life back in order" day, as much as I would have preferred to explore and go sightseeing.  I researched future hostels, flights, trains, etc, did laundry (which took forever...had to do 3 cycles in the dryer because it sucked so much), and went out to Alxanderplatz to try to find a new pair of shoes because of the brand new pair of New Balances I had "magically disappeared" in Sarajevo.  That took a surprisingly long time as well because a) finding a shoe that fits isn't always easy in the states, let alone in Europe, b) Germans aren't exactly known for style and everything was a little wierd, and c) their system is not like ours in the states and it's more of a "stack all the shoeboxes in the middle of the room and let's see if people can find shit on their own" kind of system.

That night I returned to my hostel to discover I had four new roommates.  They were all students in University in Milan, who were in Berlin to attend a conference/series of lectures in Urban Planning, their major.  The group was comprised of one Bulgarian, two Italians, and one Chinese who called themselves the "Superfreaks" based on the Rick James song.  They were all very friendly and invited me out with them that night.

We all decided to grab some dinner at a Mexican joint (I was just trying to be easy about things, having just met these folks, and I would definitely have preferred sausages and beer).  After dinner I rented a bicycle so I could ride with the Superfreaks to Weekend, a club near Alexanderplatz, rather than split up and take the metro.

We got to the club and really enjoyed ourselves.  I personally really enjoyed the upstairs balcony bar where we were given great views of Berlin until after the sun came up.  The highlight of the night though, was the fight.

Some guy (I think he was American, although the Superfreaks disagreed and said he was German...but let's be honest, I'm the only native English speaker and as an American, I can tell a New York dickhead when I see one) burnt Francesca, one of the Italian Superfreaks with his cigarette.  Rather than apologize, he just tried to dance up on her and hit on her.  Stefan, the Bulgarian Superfreak, stepped in to protect his friend and--not being particularly rude or anything--simply stepped in between New York Dickhead and Francesca.  Taking this as an offense, New York Dickhead started having words with Stefan.

This quickly escalated.  Filippo, the other Italian Superfreak, didn't much like New York Dickhead getting in his friends' face.  A pushing match ensued, followed by Stefan and New York Dickhead going toe-to-toe in the club.  They got right in each others faces, baseball manager v. umpire style, and after a few seconds, New York Dickhead smashed Stefan into a wall.

I wasn't about to let this go down in the club, especially since the Superfreaks had been so nice to me.  I headlocked New York Dickhead, pulled him off Stefan, and started throwing kidney shots.  The Bouncer ran up, pulled me off New York Dickhead, and threw New York Dickhead out of the club.  This came as a surprise considering that in the States, anyone remotely involved in a fight is instantly booted from the club.  I was impressed that the bouncer recognized New York Dickhead as the instigator and threw him--and only him--out of the club.

We went on about our business for another two hours or so and enjoyed sunrise from the outdoor balcony of the club.  The Superfreaks had a lecture to go to that morning, so we all decided it was time to go home.  We made our way out of the bar.  I was wondering if New York Dickhead was going to be waiting outside, but I didn't see anyone when I walked out with Francesca and Lei (Lei was the Chinese member of the Superfreaks for those keeping score at home).  The three of us walked over to the bike rack where we started unlocking our bikes and waiting for Stefan and Filippo to come out.

I was just chatting and joking around with Lei and Francesca when I noticed that Filippo and Stefan had emerged from the club and were walking away from us, directly towards a group of 3 guys.  I thought to myself, "oh shit, I hope that's not New York Dickhead with his dickhead friends."

I began walking after them but the fight instantly started.  They were a good distance away, and by the time I'd run over there, the fight was already about over.  I started pushing and pulling people (Filippo and Stefan had been fighting 2 on 3) and trying to de-escalate the situation.  It took quite a long time, but I was eventually able to convince one of the more sober dickheads to get his friends back home.

Stefan grabbed his bike and pedaled off.  Filippo had one hell of a shiner, one of the best I've ever seen, so I went to grab him some ice from the club.  Having nothing to put it in, I let him use my tshirt.  The shirt was red anyway, so I figured that it at least had a chance to be salvaged if any blood got on it haha.

We biked back home and went to sleep.  The next day Stefan went to the hospital to check himself out.  He messed up his thumb and had some kind of soft cast put on but the real damage was his fractured skull.  He was fine, it's worse than it sounds.

Needless to say, the Superfreaks missed their lecture.  While Stefan was at the hospital, Francesca, Lei, Filippo and I all headed out to see a few sights.  We went out to Potsdamer Platz, saw fragments of the Berlin Wall, its old location, and the Sony Center.  We got some coffee around there, which I promptly spilled all over my balls when we sat down.  I was uncomfortable for a while after that, but my jeans protected me from serious pain, I suppose.

We walked around a few parks and eventually found ourselves at the Reichstag.  We walked from the Reichstag to the Bradenburg Gate, and then to the Holocaust Memorial.  It was very interesting to be in a place of such historical significance, as well as to try to understand German attitudes toward their history in World War II and the Holocaust.

Berlin Wall at Potsdamer Platz

From left to right: Filippo, me, Francesca, Lei at the Reichstag

Bradenburg Gate

Holocaust memorial

Holocaust Memorial

That night, I helped out making food at the hostel.  One of the managers came in to make some kind of stew for everyone, along with sausages.  I got sausage detail.  They were simple and delicious.

After dinner, I went out with Francesca, Lei, and a group of Irish girls we'd met.  I can't remember why Stefan and Filippo didn't join; i can only assume it had something to do with the injuries.  We drank for a while at the hostel where they had this beer that was in a dark bottle with a white label that only read, "BIER."  It seemed a little sketchy at first and reminded me of Dharma Initiative beer cans from LOST.  Still, it was one of those things like, "ok...I gotta try that bier, obviously."  It was pretty damn good, too.  Between the few of us who were drinking it, we killed the hostel's supply of BIER.

We ventured out for a little while in our area of town, just looking for a bar or something along those lines.  We didn't find much, but did happen upon a group of extremely emo-gothic looking dudes who instantly started drunkenly hitting on the Irish chicks.  They invited us out to a party they were going to.  Under normal circumstances, I would tend to avoid people dressed in black jean jackets with skulls painted on the back, tight pants, chains, all manner of piercings, and mohawks/other stupid haircuts.  But hey, I was in Berlin and was quick to say, "absolutely."

The Irish chicks were instantly sketched out.  "I don't know who these guys are.  They're weird.  I don't know where we are.  I don't think this is safe."

"Yes, they're weird.  I know where we are.  You don't have to come if you don't want to."

So we get to this abandoned-looking building, covered in spray paint, and we hear music blasting through the walls.  It was about to be my first experience with a Berlin "squat party."  It is exactly what it sounds like.  People squat in a building and throw a party.  It's fairly common.  We walked in and there was a girl working the door who said, "Entry is 3-5 Euros."

"Wait, so we can pay three or five?"

"Yes."

"Ok.  Uh, three."

It was the opposite of my scene.  There were wall-to-wall emo gothic kids.  I went down into the basement and there, I started to get a little creeped out myself.  It was like a vampire den.  I went back upstairs.  We ordered a few 1 Euro beers for the road (cheapest in Berlin), and headed out.  Interesting experience, to say the least.  But it felt very..."Berlin."  Whatever that's worth.

The next day, the Superfreaks all had to go to one of their lectures, so I prepared to head out for another day of exploring.  Just as I was about to leave, Stefan returned, saying that the lecture was being given in Italian, a language he does not speak (which I thought was odd, considering he's in a University in Milan).  So he and I went out to explore.  We wanted to go up the huge skytower to get views of the city.  We bought our tickets expecting to go straight up, then realized we had a number and would have to wait over two hours until we'd be called to go up.

The waiting sucked, but we got a chance to explore the area surrounding Alexanderplatz a bit.  There was some kind of rolling party that was going on, DJs on the back of trucks blasting their beats out to a crowd drunkenly following them.  I have no idea why it was going on, but it looked pretty cool.


Once we got in, an elevator shot us to the top where we exited the elevator to a dense cloud of tourists all crammed against the railings trying to get the best view.  We spent a while trying to see the whole 360-degree view, fighting little children and old people along the way (just kidding).  We quickly tired of the crowds, but still wanting to see the view we walked up one floor to the swanky restaurant.  We took a seat near the window hoping nobody would notice us, but we stood out a little...

Stefan, complete with his battle scars on his forehead and his bandaged arm, just out of frame

We nursed that one extremely overpriced beer for about an hour as the restaurant rotated around, giving us awesome views of downtown Berlin.

After the tower, we went back to our hostel.  I grabbed my bike and headed out for the East Side Gallery.  It's something that I was most excited to see in Berlin and was happy to have gotten the chance to see it.  The East Side Gallery is a 1+ km section of the Berlin Wall which is still standing and was painted by dozens of artists.

That night was Saturday and we were all very excited to go out to a famous club we'd all heard about called Berghain.  It was supposed to have amazing music and be something worth experiencing in Berlin.  Unfortunately, the Irish chicks joined us and dressed like they were about to go clubbing in Dublin or something.  They stuck out like sore thumbs in the line to enter Berghain and were immediately denied at the door.  We were denied as well for having been associated with them.  This pissed me off, but there wasn't much we could do.  We figured we'd try again later.

We walked a little ways away until we heard loud music coming from somewhere.  Tracing the source of it, we found a huge outdoor party.  We went in there and partied for hours, having a great time.  Once the sun started coming up, most people decided it was time to go home.  I, however, decided to give Berghain another try.  I went with Francesca and Lei and when we got back to Berghain we discovered that the line at 6am was bigger than it had been at 1am.  I was astounded.  We got in line and began waiting.  All of a sudden the Irish girls appeared to give it another try with us.  I wasn't at all pleased about this.  They were also like 19 years old, which made them stand out.  At 23 I was even on the young side for Berghain, but far more acceptable than 19.  Knowing we'd never stand a chance while they were with us, I decided to cut my losses and head back to the hostel.

The next day, Sunday, was the Superfreaks' last day.  We went back out to Hackesher Markt and got some delicious german sausages, sauerkraut, pretzels, mustard, and beer.  Ah, what a country.

We were going to go explore a bit more, but Francesca needed to get some more contacts first, so we headed out to find her some new ones.  We hopped on the train to the Ostbanhauf and our plans immediately changed.  About a minute out from the station, we saw a massive party going down across the river.  Uh, yep.

We got Francesca her contacts and immediately went to find that party.  When we got there, we discovered a two DJ set going down right on the banks of the river.  We went in and had an amazing time.  We hung out and met people and partied until the sun set over the river.  After that the party died down a bit.  While it was winding down, two friends from Dubrovnik met up with us.  Nick, a Kiwi, and Brittany, who I'd flown from Croatia to Germany with.  It was cool to see them and hang out again.

We went and grabbed some dinner before venturing out to find our spot for the night.  We went back to Berghain, just to see if there was anything happening.  Once we arrived, we were denied at the door, but for a different reason.  According to the bouncer, "we can't let in any more people.  This is the same party from Saturday night, and it'll end Monday afternoon.  If you haven't gotten in yet, I can't let in new people."

Uh, so you're telling me there is a 3 day long party going down and I'm not invited?  Well that sucks.  We messed around in the area a bit longer before Francesca and I decided to head back to the hostel.  The Superfreaks woke me up at around 5am to see them off.  I was sad to see them go, we'd had a great time.

Monday I met up with Nick and Brittany again and we got some more delicious German food and German beer.  On Brian Veber's recommendation, I decided we'd all go check out the Deutsches Historisches Museum.  It didn't disappoint.  It was a very cool museum that featured a special exhibit on the police and gestapo under the Third Reich.  We spent quite a while in there.

Afterwards I went back to my hostel and got some food before I ventured out again.  I went to meet up with my friend Seth from Budapest who was in Berlin for some kind of program.  He and I hung out for a little while as he told me about how much he hated his program and was considering quitting to travel with me for a bit.  Unfortunately he was stuck for the time being because he had lost his passport.

We went out and met up with Nick and Brittany as well as another friend of theirs from their hostel.  There wasn't much going on that night (at least nothing we knew about, again, there's always something happening) so we went out to a pub until it closed and then went back to Nick and Brit's hostel.  This odd gay German in a headdress followed us, which was entertaining at first and then just plain annoying.  We tried to play pool but he kept picking up the balls and trying to juggle or something but he was so drunk he was failing miserably.  We eventually told him to leave, but he refused.  Things got a little awkward for a while but after 45 minutes or so he finally left.

We all just chilled at the hostel for a while until Nick and Brit went up to bed.  Seth and I caught the train to Alexanderplatz where we parted ways.  I went back to my hostel and fell asleep ready to go to Krakow, Poland the following day.

Next post from Krakow...

Dubrovnik

I partnered up with a couple Canadian girls for the bus ride to Dubrovnik.  It was only five hours, which generally I would consider to be a very short trip.  Unfortunately, the bus driver refused to turn on the A/C, so it was a very sweaty and uncomfortable five hours.  He'd flick it on when we approached a Croatian police/border guard stop (of which there are many) and then turn it back off when the officers all left.  I have no idea why.

So we got to Dubrovnik and the girls (who had been to Dubrovnik before) pointed me in the direction of my hostel.  I walked up a hill seemingly going nowhere, found a random switchback in the road, followed that up another hill, and then wandered through what looked like a residential neighborhood until someone shouted out "are you looking for the hostel?"

Turned out that someone was Nik, the son of the hostel owners.  The hostel, called Dubrovnik Backpackers Club, was absolutely awesome.  I met a great group of people, which is always nice, but more than that the hostel itself was a great place.  Big common room, kitchen, outside seating areas, projector TV (perfect for pregames and hangovers), and solid wifi.  Not to mention the family that ran it were some of the nicest people in the world and the mother made amazing food (and lots of it).

The first night everyone hung out at the hostel, playing card games, drinking games, and watching Ali G on the projector.  The next morning I headed out with an American and two Canadian girls (different Canadian girls) to see the city.  We got the bus to the Old Town, and wandered around.  It was a really cool place with a lot to see but it was insanely touristy...just loads and loads of people in dense crowds and tour groups.  Still, we had a great time and we climbed up to the old fortifications and walked all the way around the city.

Later on, we wandered around to a little cove where we all enjoyed a beer.  The American, Joe, and I each got some seafood.  I had some excellent clams, "Dalmatian style" which was basically made it taste lemony fresh.

That night, everyone hung out at the hostel again, same as the previous night.

The next day the Canadian girls asked if I wanted to join them on some kind of three island tour which was organized through the hostel.  I thought it sounded cool so I went for it.  The day ended up being pretty relaxing.  We were out on a boat all day long, got to see some of the interesting surrounding islands, and enjoyed some more great views.

We wandered through some botanical gardens, went swimming a few times, it was great.  The weather didn't quite cooperate and it was overcast all day but it was still a lot of fun.

That night, a large group of people all wanted to go to the club, but I declined.  I think I had a better night at the hostel when I found out the next day that all the clubs were closed and they just wandered the empty streets for a few hours.

The next day at breakfast, a large group of American guys who had just arrived asked if I wanted to join to Lokrum island.  I had planned to climb Mount Srd to get cool views of the city, but Nik said he was going to take us out and show us the best beaches and places to hang out so I absolutely had to join.

We hopped on the bus down to Old Town and had to run though the crowds to make the ferry we were minutes away from missing.  We eventually made it with not a second to spare, and wandered on to find our seats.  The ferry didn't take long and we got some great views of the Old Town fortifications from the water.  We even saw a beach that had been ranked in the top 5 beaches in the world, although Nik doubted the ranking system by saying "I don't know how people think so highly of it.  We think it's not even top 10 in Dubrovnik."

We came ashore and crossed the island (it wasn't very big) to an area where there were big cliffs that we could use to jump into the cool blue water below.  We passed a lagoon, a bunch of peacocks, and arrived at the cliffs.  There was one monster cliff we passed which Nik claimed he enjoyed jumping from, although today wouldn't be a good day for it due to the fact that the water was too still and would hurt too much on impact.  A few of the Americans were afraid of heights anyway (not that I would have jumped from the monster cliff, I'm not stupid), so we went for a few smaller ones, between 5-10m.  The water was pretty cold but the sun was scorching, so it felt good to jump off into the ocean.  I tried my first swan dive, which is notable because I messed up and landed on my head.

After a little while spent swimming and relaxing, we decided to climb to the fortress on the top of the island.  It was annoying to hike in flip flops but it wasn't much of a hike...so no problems.  And the view from the top was awesome

We walked back down, got some food, and ended up hanging out by a lagoon for a few hours before we caught the ferry back.

That night, we met a Peruvian girl and a Canadian who were both studying in Vienna.  I enjoyed speaking Spanish with the Peruvian and it was cool to know exactly where she lived in Lima, because I had been there just a few months prior (even though I wasn't particularly fond of the city).  We got a HUGE meal prepared by the mother of the house.  It was some traditional Croatian stew...basically a meat n' potatoes thing, which seems like it's the staple of every diet in the world.  It was delicious and she kept piling the food on to the point that we were all completely stuffed and had to tell her--with a serious tone--that she wasn't allowed to keep feeding us or we'd all die from overeating.

After a few hours of uncomfortable digestion we decided to grab a few beers and head out to Copacabana Beach to hang out and drink for a little while.  I said I knew where to go (which I did...at one point at least) so everyone followed me until I realized I was lost.  We had an interesting wander through darkened streets until we finally found the beach.  From the beach I did know the way back and was able to guide everyone...although they were all understandably doubtful of my ability to get us home.

The next day I just hung out for a few hours until Brittany--an Australian girl--and I got a ride to the airport for our flight to Germany.  She stayed in Munich while I had to wait a few hours for my connection to Berlin.  It was one of the easiest layovers I've ever had.  Plenty of good beer to drink.

Next post from Berlin

Sarajevo

I arrived in Sarajevo via the train.  I met a 30-something year old Kiwi woman who was heading to Sarajevo as well and wanted a travel companion for the 11-hour journey.  We found a decent compartment and the trip was relatively easy.  When we arrived, it was definitely dark out and there was absolutely nothing open in the train station.  No information kiosks, nothing.  Her hostel had someone meeting her there to pick her up, so once she left I was solo in a dark concrete building that looked like it was built by the Soviets.

I wandered around for a minute trying to get my bearings and wondering if I could just walk into the city.  I couldn't.  I was hesitant to take a cab, but having no other options, I went for it.  Turned out my cabbie was a nice guy and didn't screw me over on the fare on the way in.  He even gave me a little tour, explaining everything we were driving past.

In the hostel, I met a few Canadians who had just finished their first year of law school.  It made me feel good that I'll still have some degree of freedom once I begin law school, although I think I'll find it difficult explaining to people that I don't want to get a job but want to continue traveling over my summer vacation after I've just completed an 8-9 month epic.

The hostel I was staying at was in a cool area in the Old Town, so we all headed out for a beer and to check out the seemingly vibrant night scene.  We had a few drinks but I wanted to get up and have a productive day so I tapped out early.

The next morning, I booked a tour of the tunnels on Brian Love's advice, and began wandering around Old Town.  I saw the Latin Bridge, where Gavrilo Princip started World War I by assassinating the heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

Latin Bridge

The gun that started the war

I noticed that the office where I was supposed to be at 2pm for my tour was nearby, so I thought I'd stop in and confirm.  When I arrived, the guy working said there was another bigger and better tour starting in 5 minutes that included the tunnels.  I was hesitant until he said the tour guide was a soldier who defended the city during the siege.  Sign me up.

There were only three people on the tour.  An elderly couple from California and myself.  I used the opportunity to ask the guide hundreds of questions about his experiences.  He was 15 when the former Yugoslav army surrounded the city and began its 4-year siege.  After a year, his parents signed a waiver that allowed him to serve in the Bosnian resistance army along the front lines.  They spent all the money they had left so he could have a Kalashnikov.

When I was 16 I was only worried about my drivers license, homework, and girls.  I can't imagine having to worry about dying to defend my city and my family.  But as the guide, Nadim, said, "there was no retreating.  If we retreated, the Serbs would have destroyed our homes and killed our families.  We all would rather die than let that happen."

When he was 17 years old, he was on the front lines preventing the Serbs from taking over the Free Bosnian Territory and discovering the tunnel system that was keeping the city alive.  He was on a ridge on Treskavica, one of the former Olympic mountains, when he was shot twice in the chest.  The high-velocity rounds pierced his body armor and nearly killed him.  He remembers getting shot but blacked out and woke up days later in the hospital.  He spent only 4 months recovering and then returned to his unit on the front lines.

After the war, he was offered a promotion and asked to serve as an officer in the professional Bosnian army, which he declined.  He went to medical school and is now an anesthesiologist working in the same hospital that he was treated in when he was 17.

He took us on a drive around the city, and we saw some of the old battlegrounds, the Olympic stadiums, and some of the massive graveyards--many of which are populated by those who died during the siege, 11,000 people.

The route that we took around the city gave us some spectacular views, but it also helped us understand just how dire the situation was for Sarajevans in 1992-1995.  The city is surrounded on all sides by high mountains that give perfect views and strategic advantage.  From those mountains, the former Yugoslav army could easily see and shoot just about everything in the city, which they did.

We took a drive through 'Sniper Alley' where civilians were picked off every day by Serbian sharpshooters as they tried to bring food and water across the city to the citizens.  We saw the Holiday Inn, which was saved from bombardment because journalists were staying there to cover the war story.  Eventually we reached the tunnels where we watched a short video on its construction and use, and then went down to tour the tunnels themselves.

Secret Entrance to the tunnels

Shrapnel Damage

A 'Sarajevo Rose'--the floral-like pattern that appears in the concrete after a grenade goes off

Inside the tunnel where vital supplies, food, and ammunition were sent to help the city break the siege

We drove around a bit more, got some more great views of the city which is now quite beautiful.  It's amazing how well the city's infrastructure has recovered, although the scars are still quite evident.

Afterwards, I went around to several of the museums and basically saw everything I wanted to see in one day.  I spent the rest of my time in Sarajevo simply wandering and trying to find new and interesting places.  I really liked that city.

That night I hung out with the Canadians again and two very nice Spaniards who I practiced my Spanish with.  We had a few beers, listened to some live music, and I met a group of Bosnian girls who taught us a few phrases, including the most important one of all--how to say, "cheers."

*Awesome side note, one of the Spaniards was named Emilio Estevez.  I wish I had gotten a photo of his passport

The Bosnians took us to a club where there was some more live music.  We had some fun there and agreed to meet the next day, although it never ended up happening.

The next day I walked around town for a while with the other Spaniard, Miquel.  I tried burek, which I hadn't had yet.  It was just as good as the cevapi, if not better, but I still couldn't get used to drinking yogurt with it, as is tradition.  And drinking yogurt is exactly what it sounds like.  It's thick, slightly sour, but not too viscous to drink.

The next day I hopped a bus to Dubrovnik, Croatia with two Canadian girls, excited to finally get to a beach.

Next post from Dubrovnik...

Budapest

So far, my time in Europe has been fantastic due to my excellent first destination: Budapest.

I don't count fence-straddlers like Turkey.  Pick a continent.  Eurasia is not a continent according to my 2nd Grade Teacher Ms. Velte.

Anyway, Budapest has basically everything a 23 year-old backpacker could ask for.  It's cheap, easy to get around, has great sights and things to do during the day, followed by a vibrant nightlife.

I arrived in Budapest fresh from my time recuperating in Istanbul.  It was late morning when I got in, so I dropped off my bag, expecting to head head straight out and tour the city.  I met a guy named Seth, beginning his own month in Europe in Budapest.  He was a New Yorker--and one that was easy to get along with--so he and I partnered up and headed out.  Esther, the cute Hungarian receptionist recommended that we take a free walking tour that was set to begin at 2:30pm.  We headed out to the meeting spot but were unfortunately too late.  We looked at our maps and devised our own walking tour.

We started off at St. Stephens (St. Istvan) Basilica, a large Church near the river.

St. Stephens Basilica

We crossed the bridge from Pest to the Buda side of the city and headed towards the Castle on Castle Hill.  There was an option to take some kind of elevator-like thing to the top, but where's the fun in that?  We walked a cobbled meandering path up to the Castle.  At the top, it wasn't nearly as impressive as it seemed from below, but the views of the city were great.

Wanting to get an even better view, we walked back down from Castle Hill and headed towards the Citadel--a 575m 'peak' that has the best views of the city.  I can't say I was at all fazed by the walk to the top--my muscles are still in 'Himalaya' mode.  But up there were some absolutely great views of the city, where we could clearly see much of Buda and Pest, the bridges across the Danube, and some of the landmarks like the Parliament building

Parliament Building

Content with our homemade walking tour, we found our way back to the hostel where Esther and a heavily-tattooed Brit were pouring drinks of some kind of home-distilled spirit.  It tasted like shit, but as far as home-distilled liquors go, it wasn't half bad.  I liked it a hell of a lot better than moonshine (which I find tastes like bottom-shelf tequila mixed with death).

Esther and Mr. Tattoo (whose actual name was Ryan) then immediately took a bunch of us out on an impromptu pub crawl to show us some of the cool areas of the city nightlife.  We went to an outdoor bar where I offered to get a round for a few of the people I'd met at the hostel.  Realizing that I didn't yet know how much alcohol cost in Hungary, I was dreading a hefty bar tab.  But as luck would have it, beer is pretty cheap.  The round cost me about $5.25.

The whole group chatted for a while and got to know each other, talking about our trips and where we were headed, interesting adventures and advice…the usual stuff among backpackers.

After a little bit we headed towards a club called Instant, which had a really odd decor of papier-mâché bunnies and frogs everywhere, but was a pretty cool club.  We had a few more drinks until eventually I realized it was late, I was drunk, and I hadn't yet eaten dinner.

I left the club and found my way back to the hostel, where the only restaurant still open was a kebab shop.  Not that I don't love a good kebab, but I had just come from Turkey.  Still, I walked in and in my beer-induced idiocy I tried ordering in Turkish.  The Hungarians had no clue what the hell I was talking about.  I reverted to charades and they made me my kebab.

The next day I got up and went to a cafe with Seth to relax and get the day started properly before having another wander around.  We went to the National Museum, learned some more about Hungarian history, then headed towards the Jewish Quarter.  We saw the synagogue (one of the largest in Europe I think), got some information on tours, then headed back towards St. Stephen's Basilica for the walking tour we'd missed the previous day.  We went inside where some kind of service had just begun.  Inside the church the organ was playing loudly and people were singing which made for a pleasant experience.  After a few minutes we walked up the 300 or so stairs to the top of the Basilica for another view of the city.  It was great and we got some cool photos but it was windy and freezing up top.  We headed back downstairs and Seth left for a walking tour of the Jewish district while I opted for the general city walking tour.

The tour was great, I got a ton of great information (like the fact that Yoda talks so weirdly because the script was translated into Hungarian and then mirror-translated back into English) and got some advice on things to see and do around the city.

After the tour I left and went to grab some goulash.  I'd previously had bad goulash in the Czech Republic, and 'good enough to eat but I wouldn't order it again' goulash in Slovakia, so I wasn't too thrilled at the prospect of another goulash attempt.  The restaurant was recommended by the hostel staff who hadn't steered me wrong thus far and had also mitigated some of my reservations about goulash by saying, "of course it sucked in Czech!  It's Hungarian!" so I went in and ordered myself a big bowl of the stuff.  It was delicious.  I went back again for lunch the next day.

That night I went out to explore some of the ruin bars in the Jewish district, and in particular, one recommended to me by Blove who had previously traveled to Budapest.  The pub was called Szimpla and turned out to be exactly what I was looking for.  It's a bit more relaxed, had some outdoor sections, as well as random entertainment like foosball tables.  Seth and I met an array of interesting people, like the daughters of some Canadian diplomat who gave me good advice on traveling in the Balkans and Eastern Europe, some Swedes, and an American girl who was cool but whose friends were meh.

The next day it was raining and turned into a fairly lazy day.  A lot of the other people at the hostel felt similarly and we pretty much just chilled.  I made myself productive by booking a hostel in Sarajevo and walking down to the train station to get my ticket.  That night me, Seth, and a trio of Brits all went out exploring the night scene again, ending up back at Szimpla at some point.  

The next day was my final day in Budapest.  It's a great city and I would have loved to stay longer, but I had four great days and tons more to see around Europe.  Seth and most of the other friends I'd made all departed that morning, heading mostly to Vienna, Bratislava, and Prague.  Then in came the new wave of people at the hostel, and it was one of the bigger coincidences I've come across yet.  It was like the Big 10 conference just decided to show up.  There were 5 people from Michigan (including myself), one person from Michigan State, one person from Iowa, one from Purdue, and one from Wisconsin.  Needless to say we all had a lot to talk about.

I went out to the famous thermal baths in Budapest, which were basically a series of swimming pools--very unlike my experiences in Turkey.  But the building itself was enormous and the architecture was very interesting.  I hung out in the area for a few hours, enjoying the park and Heroes Square before I headed back to the hostel.

At the hostel, for reasons unknown, the owner showed up with a few other folks and started cooking a huge meal.  It smelled amazing and I was about to leave to go get some food when they announced that the food was for everyone.  For free.  Hmmm……but yeah it was awesome.  It was a Hungarian dish--some kind of mildly spicy potato/pepper stew with some sausage in it.  I'd never be able to remember what it's called, but it was delicious.  I had two servings and then another when I got home from the bar.

That night Ryan the tattooed guy took all the new people out on another pub crawl.  I tagged along for a little while but having been to a lot of these pubs already, and needing to wake up in the morning to catch my train, I dipped out early.

I awoke this morning to the loudest goddam snorer I've come across yet.  I don't know how many hostels I've stayed in (it's a lot), but this guy was the worst snorer by far.  Loud, echoing through the entire dorm room, inconsistent (consistent noise, inconsistent sounds), jesus I wanted to smack the kid in the face.  But it was almost time to get up anyway so I packed my bag and got ready to go.

I picked up a few snacks because I'm currently on an 11-hour train ride and for the last 9 hours of the trip, there is no restaurant car or place to get food at any of the stops (thanks for the heads-up, Wikitravel).  I said goodbye to the really nice night-shift guy, and headed out.

Next post from Sarajevo...

Blogger Fixed!

Blogger has resolved whatever stupid issue they had and Everest: Part II has been reposted with all text and pictures.  Budapest and Sarajevo posts will go up soon.

Everest Trek: Part II (resposted without any data missing)

We thoroughly enjoyed our time in Namche Bazaar.  We stayed at a nice hotel (nice by our standards at the time, $2.70/night by another standard) which had an amazing shower that pumped legitimately hot water.  That shower was magical.  It felt even better nine days later when we arrived back in Namche, but at the time it was still pretty good.

I cleaned the wounds on my hand and legs and put on some anti-bacterial solution.  On our first night in Namche, as we all sat around a table getting drunk on Everest Lager (it doesn't take too many at 3500m), I joked that I was lucky I didn't fall in yak shit, because that might have complicated my injuries.  The next morning, freed from the beer and altitude-induced haze, I began thinking "maybe I did fall in yak shit.  Who knows?"  I put on some Neosporin and took an antibiotic.  Couldn't hurt, right?

We met a few Danish girls and were going to head out with them (a nice trade for the American girls we'd been carrying--literally carrying--along) but we ended up being lazy and staying in Namche an extra day while they headed out a day before us.

We all went out and grabbed some extra gear.  I bought an extra set of thermals and a pair of gloves.  Yes, I ventured into the Himalayas without gloves.  Stupid.  But that's not the point right now.  I bought a pair.

We also stocked up on a few candy bars and granola bars, the kind of trekking fuel we'd need to climb to 5500 meters.

We awoke early on the day of our departure and went about the unnecessarily complex matter of figuring out the bill at our hotel.  Eran, our resident negotiator/bill collector started getting frustrated that nobody was ready.  We were all (especially Colin) just being really lazy that morning and sluggish to get moving.

We added a new member to the crew, another guy named Dan who we came to call Griggsy.  Griggsy was a tall, skinny, bearded Englishman with a light cockney accent who had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor.  Never complaining, always enthusiastic, he was a fun and welcome addition to the group.

Since Eran was fuming and Griggsy was ready to go, the two of them set off for our next destination, Tangboche.

We were in no rush, particularly because the hikes above Namche were considerably shorter in time than what we were used to.  However, rather than push on, it was important to limit our hikes to only a few hours a day, to compensate for the altitude.

Climbing in the Himalayas is very different from most other locations in the world.  There is no escape from the altitude.  If you develop symptoms of AMS, HAPE, or HACE (Acute Mountain Sickness, High-Altitude Pulmonary Edema, High-Altitude Cerebral Edema), it's not as simple as 'descend.'  It takes several hours or sometimes days to descend 1000m in altitude.  So it was very necessary for us to monitor our health and limit our climbing.

*Fun fact:  Viagra, Cialis, and other boner medications mitigate symptoms of Pulmonary Edema.  Modern medicine does not yet know why.

After Namche, we kind of went off-book.  What I mean is that we had been using the Lonely Planet Trekking Guide up until Namche, but afterwards we made our own schedule.  We were definitely better acclimatized and in vastly better shape than 99% of the people on the hill (save for those people there to actually climb things like Everest, Lhotse, Nuptse, Ama Dablam, and Lobuche Peak) so we made our own schedule.  The book called for a 16-day schedule, we completed the full trek and summit of Kala Pattar in only 10.  This may seem to run contrary to what I said in the preceding paragraph, but we were all very attuned to what our bodies were trying to tell us and in excellent shape (no that's not naivete, it's the truth of the situation).

So we took a few hours that morning to enjoy a final snack from our favorite bakery, packed our bags, and set off for Tengboche.

Day 10: Namche Bazaar to Tengboche
4 hours, 350 meter descent, 750m ascent

By the time we left, a thick layer of clouds had rolled in.  We followed a meandering path that wrapped around the valley for about an hour, until it dropped to a steep downhill.  Right about then, it began to pour.  We dropped our packs and scrambled to get into our rain gear, but by the time I had my jacket on and the rain cover over my pack (the priorities), my pants had become soaked.  I still put on my rain pants but it made for a very unpleasant climb to Tengboche.

We descended all the way to Phunke Tenga, the settlement at the valley floor where we'd begin our ascent to Tengboche.  We wandered into a teahouse because it was running a dung-powered stove and we wanted to enjoy the warmth and try to dry off a bit before ascending.  We got some tea, some soup, and a cheese sandwich.  We polished off our water and dropped a few iodine tablets into our refilled Nalgene bottles.  I had stopped carrying two liters of water and instead had resorted to only carrying one.  It saved me a kilogram that I didn't have to carry and we had adopted a new hiking policy for speed and proper water consumption.  We stopped every 30 minutes for a water break and drank 250mL.  That's a liter of water per hour, and within an hour we invariably were able to find a water source to refill.  Since iodine tabs take 30 minutes to sterilize water anyway, it didn't make sense for me to carry two liters anymore.

We crossed the river at the bottom of the valley and began our ascent.  It was an extremely tiring climb, as our destination was over 3800m (12,467ft).  The rain lifted and was replaced with a dense fog that made the climb all the more miserable.  We were sweating bullets inside our rain gear, and the humidity outside made it worse.  We eventually stopped and took off our rain jackets, but for the sake of time and so I wouldn't fall behind Dan, Wim, and Colin, I decided to leave my rain pants on.  Not the most comfortable thing in the world.

I can't seem to remember exactly how long it took us to ascend to Tengboche, but once we did we dropped our packs and changed clothes to let some of the gear dry next to the dung-powered stove in the guesthouse we were staying in that night.  The sky was a dull grey, and we walked across town (less than a 1 minute walk) to a giant sign that read, 'BAKERY.'  We already missed our Namche hangout, but this bakery wasn't nearly as good.  We enjoyed a warm tea and rested.

A few minutes later, Eran walked in.  He sat down and informed us that the clouds were breaking and we should probably step outside and check out the view.  I walked outside and was astounded and pissed off all at once.  Astounded because the view was incredible and pissed off because we spent a miserable hour to two hours climbing in a dense and humid fog when all the while we could have enjoyed fantastic scenery instead.  Colin ran back to the room and grabbed the camera and the 180mm lens and we started shooting.

Photo Credit: Colin Fairbank

Ama Dablam, our favorite mountain, poking out through the clouds.  Photo Credit: Colin Fairbank

We managed to catch our first glimpse of Everest as it poked through the clouds down the trail.  It was only for a second, and it was again obscured from view.  I'd post the photo we took of it but it looks like shit.  It was meaningful to us because we could finally see the target, but it's a terrible photo.

That night we met a few members of a Swedish climbing expedition to Lobuche Peak.  They were very friendly and very helpful, as was their climbing Sirdar, Ang Dawa.  They often gave us advice on AMS symptoms, acclimatization techniques, and routes and places to stay, much like Ngima Sherpa had done for us in our first 7 days.

After dinner we went upstairs and hit the sack.  That night, I awoke to Colin moaning and in obvious pain.  He began vomiting and got terrible shits.  He asked for antibiotics, but I refused to give them to him until we were sure he wouldn't vomit them up.  We had a very limited supply.  I gave him some ibuprofen instead and he waited out the nausea.  After a few hours, he and I both fell asleep again.

We awoke the next morning and Colin felt a lot better, but certainly not 100%.  When the leader of the Swedish expedition heard that Colin was ill, he suggested that Colin stay an extra day in Tengboche in case he was experiencing symptoms of AMS.

Several of us offered to stay behind with him, including myself.  I almost felt an obligation to stay behind because he had done the same for me, and because Colin would be the first guy to drop everything to help out any of the other team members if they were sick.  Colin refused to let the group fall behind, and explained to me that I absolutely shouldn't stay back because it was a completely different situation than the one I had been in.  I needed to climb to Dingboche to better acclimatize, and the group would be putting itself in jeopardy of AMS if we all altered our schedule.

Wim offered to stay behind and Colin reluctantly accepted his offer.  Wim hiked that day with us--without his pack--to an altitude of about 4200 meters (13,779ft), before turning back and hiking back to Tengboche.  Many climbers use the technique of 'climb high, sleep low' to aid in their acclimatization.  Although there is no medical evidence to suggest that it does anything, many climbers swear by this technique.  At the time, I didn't really buy it either.  After Lobuche, I was a believer.

Day 11: Tengboche to Dingboche
3-4.5 Hours, 70m descent, 580m ascent

As we exited the guesthouse, we looked up to see our first view of Everest.  It had been obscured the day before, but we could finally see it.  We were thrilled.

Lhotse peak is on the right, Everest is on the left.  It's the one with the cloud blowing over the top of it.  It only looks smaller because it's farther away.

The trail to Dingboche begins with a short descent to the river in the valley before you cross a small steel bridge (replacing the sketchy old wood/rope bridge below it) and make a long, slow ascent of 580 meters  (1,902 feet).

Photo Credit: Wim Gielis 

After the bridge, the trail slowly wound its way uphill to Pangboche, where we stopped for lunch because we saw a shop that said, "Bakery."  There seems to be a pattern here.  Some of the guys got some pastries and other goodies but I was feeling the need for a carb binge so I ordered some macaroni.  It turned out to be the best macaroni in all of Nepal.  Macaroni is a very common dish served in the guesthouses, and it's usually stuff that would make Chef Boyardee cringe.  Not the Pangboche Bakery, absolutely not.  Little chunks of tomato, onion, basil (fuckin basil?!) made it the best thing I ate over the course of the whole trek.  The following day, Colin and Wim would stop and order it on their way to Dingboche, and everyone stopped and ordered it on our way back to Kathmandu after Everest.

From left to right, Griggsy, Eran, Me, and Dan at lunch at the Pangboche Bakery.  Photo Credit: Wim Gielis

After lunch, we headed onwards and upwards to Pheriche Pass, where the trail splits.  It was about 1pm, and Wim turned around to head back to Tengboche.  Someone asked me a question about our current altitude, and I said that I didn't know but that we had to be nearing the tree line--the altitude at which trees are no longer able to grow.  We looked around and saw no trees.  We looked at the mountain adjacent to us and saw the trees stop a few hundred feet below us.

"I guess we already passed it," someone said.

At the Pass, the trail splits between two towns, Pheriche (for which the pass is named), and Dingboche.  Pheriche sits in a valley just south of the Khumbu Glacier, the monster that splits Everest from Nuptse, passes Everest Base Camp, and cuts a swath through the entire valley.  Dingboche sits nestled in its own valley, right at the base of Ama Dablam, 130 meters higher than Pheriche.  Because of its higher altitude (better for acclimatizaton, as long as we weren't crossing our bodily threshold within that 130m span), we opted to stay in Dingboche.

We climbed again through a haze of fog when all of a sudden it began to snow.  Down valley, it was raining.  We realized it was a whole new ball game from then on.  The wind whipped towards Dingboche and up the valley, pushing the puffy cumulus clouds along with it.  They passed right by us, at eye level.

Upon our arrival, we walked inside to warm up, dropped off our packs, and got some tea.  A man named Ngima Sherpa was running the lodge (not to be confused with the Ngima Sherpa we met a week prior, and who was no longer on our trail), and he was very kind and hospitable.  He had a rough cough, which he called the 'Khumbu cough.'  The 'Khumbu cough' is a cough developing from the dryness and altitude at 4,000 meters.  The lungs prefer a bit more humidity.  It's a truly inhospitable environment that looks more and more alien as we ascended.

I began to get a headache (one of the first symptoms of AMS), but continued to hydrate and it went away.

Day 12: Acclimatization Day, Dingboche
4,410 meters, 14,468 feet

We tried to sleep in a little bit, but by now our bodies were so used to falling asleep at sundown and waking up at sunrise that we all were up before 7am.

After talking with Ang Dawa and the Swedish Expedition, we decided to climb the mountain behind Dingboche that stood at 5100m (16,732ft) as an acclimatization foray.  'Climb high, sleep low.'

I decided to join, but my headache had returned and seemed to be getting worse.  I climbed up a good 100 meters or so, but decided to stop there.  I had a good view and didn't feel like exerting myself with a headache brewing.

Sitting and enjoying the view.  Ama Dablam is the mountain on the right, just out of view.  Photo Credit: Dan Baum

I sat up there for about 30 minutes or so before I decided to descend.  Got plenty of great photos of Ama Dablam, Dingboche and the valley, as well as 6100m Island Peak.

The Summit of Ama Dablam...an extremely technical climb at 22,349 feet.

All the way left down the Valley is Island Peak (6100m), Dingboche in the valley, and Ama Dablam center

I decided to walk around town a little bit, not that it's a particularly exciting or time-consuming activity.  The town is possibly smaller than Tengboche, although it's more spread out in farming plots.  They actually had an internet cafe, which surprised me, and I went in to check my email.  It was pricey to say the least, 500 rupees for 30 minutes of internet, but I guess that's warranted given the extreme isolation and the fact that some poor bastard had to carry the computers, wiring, and equipment all the way up the fucking mountain.

Hopefully this gives photo gives you some insight into the life of a porter

Sherpas are fucking supermen.  They are some of the nicest, most hospitable people I've come across on 6 continents.  They work incredibly hard for pennies, and they always seem to have a smile on their faces.  At one point, we came across a Sherpa who was carrying an 86kg load up a mountain (189 pounds).  The way the straps function is that all the weight is placed on the head/neck area.  They probably lose several inches of height over a lifetime through spinal compression, and they're short to begin with.  They work as porters, eventually becoming base camp porters, and later on climbing sherpas, where the good money is.  It's an extremely difficult life, and for climbing Sherpas, incredibly dangerous.  More than 50% of all deaths on Everest are Sherpas.  The median age in Nepal is only 20 years old.  I have nothing but respect for them.

Anyway, I checked my email, found out Osama was dead (Obama 1, Osama 0), and other than that not too much.  My headache continued to get worse.  I went back to the guesthouse to try to hydrate a bit more and sleep it off.

I couldn't really sleep.  When you get up to those altitudes, people tend to have trouble sleeping.  As your body relaxes, your respiration slows, and eventually you're not getting enough oxygen.  You wake up with a suffocating feeling.  It's unpleasant.  But it didn't last long for me, fortunately.

My headache worsened and worsened, and eventually it was absolutely head-splitting.  I got some dinner, and went back upstairs for the night.

Day 13: Dingboche to Lobuche
4.5-5 Hours, 550 meter ascent

At this point on the trip, everyone was nursing some kind of nagging injury.  Blisters, tweaked ankles, knees, whatever.  Just about everyone had a blister or two, and several of us were taping ankles and knees before hikes.  Some of us had developed coughs, persistent headaches, or other illnesses.  On the hike to Lobuche, several mistakes were made that put the team's schedule and summit of Kala Pattar in jeopardy.

In Dingboche, the trail splits again.  You have the option to either climb up 100 meters or so, and take a low pass to the town of Dughla, before a steep ascent to Lobuche, or you can take a high pass called the Kongma La, which deposits you at Lobuche.

The book cautions against making climbs of more than 500 meters in a day, and recommends an overnight stop in Dughla.  Fuck that, we're walking all the way to Lobuche.

I was feeling great.  My headache was gone, and aside from all the cuts and bandages, I felt in perfect health.  My acclimatization seemed to be doing well, and after day 13, I think I became the strongest in the group.  Maybe some of my teammates would dispute that claim, but I was the first to summit on day 15.

Griggsy and Wim decided to take the Kongma La pass, while the rest of us declined.  They set off early in the morning, because the steep climb to 18,159 feet would take an additional 2-3 hours.

The rest of us prepared to set off around 8am or so, but Colin wasn't quite ready to get going.  He told us to leave and that he'd catch up, an idea I wasn't too keen on.  He was strong, but I doubted his ability to catch up with us at 5000 meters.  He was insistant, so I figured maybe he just wanted a little time to hike alone, something I understood completely.  Fearing he was going to get lost, I double-checked to make sure he knew the route.  He insisted he did.

We set off with a new teammate that day.  The day we arrived in Dingboche, we met a nice American guy named Michael Martin.  He and I had an odd connection in that his cousin is one of my little sisters' best friends at University of Michigan.  Small world.  But it was nice to have another American in the group, particularly one that doesn't give Americans a bad name.  I think I've gotten sensitive to the issue while abroad, that Americans don't have a great image, and I've tried to be a good ambassador.

Anyway, he was another welcome addition to the group, and we made our way towards Dughla.  We got some more great views along the way.

Me with Ama Dablam in the background

Yak grazing

We continued towards Dughla, and made it there in under two hours, way ahead of schedule.  About 30 minutes out, and out of nowhere, a storm blew in.  The temperature dropped, the valley became enveloped in a thick layer of clouds, and it began to snow and hail.  We stopped and pulled out some more appropriate gear.

Eran was moving a bit slowly, and when we arrived in Dughla, he said he was going to stop there.  We told him he should join us and ascend, but he said he was having difficulty with the altitude and wanted to rest up in Dughla.  He said he'd wait a few hours for Colin to arrive before heading up to Lobuche.  We agreed that was a good idea so Colin wouldn't have to walk the whole way alone.  Mike, Dan, and I purified some more water and turned to face the huge hill up to Lobuche.

At the top of the hill, it was a little more of a gradual ascent to Lobuche, which we all appreciated.  The clouds had also blown completely through and we got some more great views.  We also got to see the Chorten erected for Scott Fischer, one of the guides that died on the disastrous May 1996 Everest Expedition.

Scott Fischer's Chorten

Closeup

Chortens for Sherpas that have died on Everest

The Everest Himalayan Range.  Pumori is on the left, Nuptse is on the right.  Everest Base Camp would be center-right of the photo, settled at the base of the Khumbu Icefall

As we neared Lobuche we realized the alien landscape we were entering.  Rocks and ice were everywhere.  There was no vegetation.  There was 50% of the oxygen there is at sea level.  Strange creatures made noises from within crevasses and underneath rocks and boulders.

We rounded a corner and found Lobuche, settled at 4,910 meters (16,108ft).  We went to the guesthouse recommended by Ang Dawa and the Swedish Expedition, but found it too pricey.  We found another place more comfortably in our price range.  We got some food, some water, and relaxed while waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.

Colin and Eran arrived after a little while, and Colin looked completely wasted.  His eyes were sunken, his face was pale, and he was completely exhausted.  It turned out that he had accepted some extra weight from Griggsy and Wim so they wouldn't have to hump it over the Kongma La Pass.  Then, after departing Dingboche, he had taken the wrong path.

In all of our time trekking, the policy had been, "if you're unsure of the path, take the one that goes up."  This policy had helped us all the way along and had always been correct, but in this case it steered Colin the wrong way.  He had asked a Sherpa for directions, and the Sherpa cautioned him to not take the low path which would lead him to Pheriche, down in the valley.  Not being able to see it, and mistaking the road to Dughla as the low path, he headed up towards Nangkartshang Gompa, a nearly 17,000 foot peak.  Nearing the summit, and seeing the proper path below him, he was forced to descend and begin the hike from where he started.  The tremendous amount of energy he expended on Nangkartshang Gompa would cost him.

Shortly after he arrived, we got word that Wim and Griggsy had arrived as well, and were holed up at a nearby guesthouse getting some food.  When I walked in, they looked completely wasted as well.  Wim looked almost sick and Griggsy sat quietly trying to warm himself up with a bowl of soup.

Wim turned to me and said only, "the Belgian Machine broke down today."

Along the Kongma La pass at approximately 5300 meters (17,388 feet), Wim nearly collapsed from the lack of oxygen and the weight of the pack he was carrying which was much heavier than the rest of ours.  Griggsy and the Sherpa guide they had hired to get them across the Pass offered to help him with his pack, but as Wim later admitted, he was too proud to allow them to carry his equipment.  He took some time to collect himself, and in a tremendous feat of endurance and willpower, picked up his pack and carried himself across the Kongma Glacier and down to Lobuche.

Despite their incredible and impressive efforts on Day 12, neither Wim nor Colin ever fully recovered.  It simply takes the body too long to recover from massive feats of effort and strength when you reach those altitudes.

Since it was still fairly early in the day, and we still had the energy, Dan and I took a quick hike up a little 50 meter hill to get a better view of our surroundings

You know you're high when the clouds are below you

Glacier 

The summit of Pumori at 23,494 feet

Photo Credit: Dan Baum

Day 14: Lobuche > Gorak Shep > Lobuche
5 Hour Return, 250 meter ascent, 250 meter descent

I woke up the next morning feeling like Superman and wanted to get moving.  Wim and Colin were still absolutely wasted from the day before and decided to stay in Lobuche.  Dan and Griggsy weren't feeling great either, Griggsy in particular, and it was decided that everyone would stay in Lobuche an extra day to acclimatize.  I would hike up to Gorak Shep to scout everything out and get a handle on how long it would take because the times in the book were significantly slower than the time it actually took us to hike.

Mike wanted to get moving and have a night at Gorak Shep (5140m, 16,863ft), so he and I took off.  He had to carry all his gear, but I went without any of mine because I expected to return to Lobuche that night.  It was supposed to take us 2.5 hours to reach Gorak Shep, but we arrived in only two.

The hike out is not particularly scenic.  It's just rocks and boulders that the Khumbu Glacier has pushed along the valley.  Once you reach Gorak Shep, however, you get a view of Kala Pattar, as well as fantastic views of Nuptse and Pumori.  In additon, you can just see the summit of Everest poking out from behind Nuptse, which was incredible.

Mike dropped off his pack and wanted to take a little bit of time resting before climbing Kala Pattar or heading to Everest Base Camp.  I decided to climb Kala Pattar until I could see Everest.

I climbed with the members of the Swedish Expedition up a few meters until I got my first real views of Everest.  I stopped to take a few photos, and wanting to save my energy for the following day, I descended and walked back to Lobuche.  It was supposed to take 2 hours.  I did it in 1.  I was feeling fantastic.

I got back to Lobuche where I played cards with the guys until the day was over.  We all got some rest and prepared for what we all knew was going to be an absolutely epic day.

Day 15: Lobuche to Kala Pattar
4.5 Hours to the summit, 18,536 feet

We got an early start that morning.  I had spoken with a couple of Sherpas and had expressed my desire to summit Kala Pattar, descend, hike to Everest Base Camp, descend back to Gorak Shep, then descend all the way to Lobuche before nightfall.  They said, "not possible.  Sleep one night Gorak Shep."

Colin and Wim decided they didn't want to go to Everest Base Camp.  They weren't feeling very good at that altitude, and wanted to descend.  We were so close to our objective that they decided to summit Kala Pattar with us, then hike all the way back to Namche Bazaar in one day.  I told them I thought it was a bad idea and that they should return to Lobuche, Dingboche, or Pheriche, but not go all the way back to Namche Bazaar.  They said they could make it, and there was no changing their minds.  But for the time being, our sights were set only on Kala Pattar.

We set off and reached Gorak Shep in record time, only 1 hour and 40 minutes on a supposed 2.5 hour ascent.

Dan got a room at the local guesthouse because he intended to spend the night there, and we all dropped off our packs, intending to carry only water and cameras to the summit.  We crossed a dried-up lake bed and began our ascent.

The air was so thin you'd exhaust yourself after only a few steps.  Typically when I'm at altitude, in Colorado or other places between 8 and 10,000ft, I'll take a long, slow, and deep inhale to catch my breath.  When I employed this technique at 18,000ft, I felt like I was suffocating.  I invented a new technique called 'hyperventilate.'  I'd breathe as rapidly as possible until I felt like I could breathe normally.  Despite my issues with the oxygen, I was well ahead of the group.  I was feeling great--oxygen notwithstanding--and had no real issues with the climb.  I found it easier than the climb to Sete over a week prior, and the only reason I'd ever stop was to catch my breath for a second before carrying on.

Eventually I reached the summit, dropped my water bottle and camera, and looked around at an absolutely amazing view:

Everest is the big ugly dark blue/black rock on the left side.  Nuptse is on the right.  I know Everest looks smaller, but it's way bigger and this is the best view of it in the Himalayas.

The Summit of Mt. Everest, 29,028ft.  The South Summit, Balcony, and Hillary Step are clearly visible

The Summit of Nuptse

Ama Dablam, now far off in the distance

The South Col on Mt. Everest, location of Camp IV, and the place where many of the climbers of the 1996 Expedition died as they waited out the storm

The Team at the summit of Kala Pattar.  From Left to Right: Colin Fairbank, Wim Gielis, Me, Dan Baum.  Photo Credit: Michael Martin 

Mount Everest in the background.  Sorry my camera sucks compared to the photos from the D60

Summit of Pumori

We all enjoyed our time at the summit and took plenty of photos, giving each other high fives and hugs all in the triumph of finally making it.  It had taken us 15 days to get there, but now it was time to head back.

Colin, Wim, and Mike (who was already at the summit, having had a head start on us after spending the night in Gorak Shep), descended and headed for Namche.  I doubted their ability to get there before nightfall, but knew they were a determined bunch; anything was possible.  

Dan and I hung out on the summit of Kala Pattar a bit longer, hoping to savor the few minutes we had up there.  After about 40 minutes of being on top, we decided to descend and head towards Everest Base Camp.

The hike from Gorak Shep to Base Camp takes approximately 3 hours.  Dan and I hoped to cut off some of that time by descending the North Face of Kala Pattar.  That route proved impossible, and we backtracked almost all the way back to the South Face and Gorak Shep before we could continue.  All in all, our venture had probably wasted a good deal more time than it had saved.

We hiked along a rocky moraine until we reached the 'old' Everest Base Camp, still in sight of 'new' camp, but still 45 minutes away.  It was marked by a huge boulder and prayer flags.

We meandered past it, and stared in awe at the size of the Khumbu Glacier and the Khumbu Icefall--the portion of the Everest climb which is the most dangerous and has killed the most climbers.

I wandered over to a section of tents displaying the American flag (go 'merica) and spoke for a few minutes with one of their climbing Sherpas.  It turned out, most people in Base Camp were on the mountain, all making preparations for their summit bids before the monsoon season set in sometime in late May.

To our surprise, Dan and I ran into Griggsy and Eran, who we were not expecting to make the push past Lobuche with us.  Dan wandered off into camp, as did Eran, and I hung out with Griggsy wandering around our own little section of the tent city.

After an hour or so, we casually made our way back to Gorak Shep, had some tea to warm up, and I changed into some warmer gear, and said goodbye to Griggsy and Eran before I continued onwards toward Lobuche.

Base Camp, viewed from the summit of Kala Pattar

The seracs that form part of the Khumbu Glacier

The Khumbu Icefall

Flag outside the American Everest Expedition

I called my parents to let them know I had safely summitted Kala Pattar and that I was returning to lower altitude.  They seemed extremely concerned that I sounded like I was having trouble breathing.

"I'm not having trouble breathing.  I'm fine.  There's just no oxygen up here and im hiking uphill while trying to talk on the phone..."

About halfway down the trail, I ran into Dan, who had likewise decided to descend to Lobuche.  I was glad to have one of my teammates with me so I wouldn't have to make the walk all the way to Namche by myself.

Once we returned to Lobuche, we had some dinner and discussed the fact that Colin, Wim, and Mike were still on the trail.  In fact, they were still hiking long after we'd gone to sleep.

I am completely astounded that Colin, Wim, and Mike made it all the way back to Namche.  We all set off around 7 in the morning, and they arrived in Namche around 10pm, the last 3 hours of the hike illuminated by headlamp.  I am nothing but impressed.

Day 16: Lobuche to Namche Bazaar
8-10 hours, 1470 meter descent

Dan and I got another early start, and he generously gave me one of his hiking poles so my knees wouldn't take such a beating over the course of a long and arduous descent.  We hiked from Lobuche to Pheriche to Pangboche (where we got the macaroni lunch at the bakery) to Tengboche, made a long and steep descent to the valley floor, crossed the bridge, and began the slow ascent to Namche.

I had gotten to a point of fitness that I enjoyed the uphills.  I hated going downhill, it was extremely painful on my ankles and knees, which were already sore.  Eventually we reached the top where we had another hour plus of trail before we reached Namche.  We got in around 6pm, met up with Colin, Wim, and Mike, and purchased our flights out of Lukla for 2 days later.

We enjoyed a hot shower, a good meal, and a restful nights sleep at a comfortable 11,286 feet which, frankly, felt like sea level.

Day 17: Namche Bazaar to Lukla
6-8 Hours, 762 meter descent, 180 meter ascent

We lazily woke up the next morning, gathered our gear, and set off on a 6 hour hike towards Lukla.  We descended past Monjo, where Colin and I stopped for food, past Chheplung, where Dan and Wim stopped for food, and all the way to Lukla.

We'd heard that you had to be at the airport to check in to your flight the day prior to departure at 4pm, so when it was 2pm we started to hustle.  Wim and I raced up to Lukla, getting there in far less time than the Sherpas said it would take (I beat him to the top, but that's not important right now).  We searched around at the airport and at the airline main office until we discovered we hadn't needed to check in by 4pm.  We found a guesthouse, dropped our packs, and went to find a bar.

We found a little Irish Pub and began to play pool and drink some beer.  Beer was insanely pricey, but we didn't care.  We'd just completed a 23 day hike in only 17 days.  We played pool and guzzled beer until we were completely drunk and exhausted and decided it was time to retire for the evening.

We awoke the next morning and Lukla was socked in a thick layer of fog.  That means no flights would be getting out of the airport.  It's already one of the most dangerous airports in the world (the most dangerous, by many accounts), so any fog meant all flights canceled.  I told the crew I'd go investigate.

I went to the airport first where, surprise surprise, nobody was helpful (welcome to Nepal.  If they're not a Sherpa, they're not helpful).  I walked to the airline main office a few blocks away and it was closed.  Great, now what?

I walked to a local coffee shop that was set up to look like a Starbucks and had some tea.  I was trying to see if I could get any information off the free wifi, but got nada.  Then a guy walked in talking to one of his mates about the flight and I asked him if he had any information.  He told me to go to the airport because reports were saying the weather was clearing and Kathmandu was about to start sending flights.

We gathered our gear and headed for the airport.  Once we got a cloudless view of the runway we felt, in a word, scared.

Yup.  That's it.  One end is a wall.  The other end is a 2,000 foot drop.  Oh, and you take off going downhill, you know, so you go faster.

The airport was chaos.  Flights landed and the engines wouldn't even stop.  People were ushered off, bags were thrown from the compartment at the back, replaced with new bags, a new set of 18 or so people would clamber aboard, and the flight would take off again.  The game seemed to be, "lets see how many times we can do this before the weather changes."

Eventually our number was called and we were on-deck, so we chilled outside the dugout until our plane arrived.  When it did we waited for all the passengers to disembark, we scurried on board, strapped our seat belts as tight as they would go, and as fast as the plane had come in it was off again, while Colin and I sat in our seats humming the theme to Indiana Jones.

Oh, and Wim wasn't allowed on our flight.  He got the next one.  We have no explanation for this.

Back in Kathmandu we enjoyed another shower and got the rest of the mud and grime off of ourselves.  I threw out a bunch of socks, thermals, and tshirts, glad to be rid of them rather than try to wash them.

We got the rest of our clothing laundered, visited our old favorite spots like OR2K, and enjoyed Kathmandu prices, more normal meals, and copious amounts of meat.

Two days later I was on a plane to Istanbul.  It seemed almost surreal as that flight took off.  I looked out the window to see massive peaks on the horizon.  They're so fucking huge that even at cruising altitude, you can look out your window, see these peaks poking out above the clouds, and still feel like they're close enough to touch.

I'm now in Istanbul, coping with some of the after-effects of the hike.  My right ankle is sore and will probably take a few more weeks to heal properly, my sunburns are still tender, and most of my cuts have healed completely, save for the one on my hand.

I walk around town, enjoying kebabs and warm weather, and seeing famous and ancient buildings like the Hagia Sofia.  But still, I find myself enjoying most looking over the pictures from the hike and remembering how much fun I had.