10-5-01 Friday – 5:40 PM – LA airport

Well, Susan and I are sitting in the LA airport after flying from Greensboro, via Atlanta. Our flight to Taiwan doesn't leave till 1:30 AM and we'd planed to put our luggage in a locker, catch a movie, and have some dinner during the long layover. Unfortunately they just decided to close all the lockers and even the luggage storage room, where they scan every bag before checking it, for security reasons (though I don't understand how the bags can be safe enough to put in the hold of a plane, but not safe enough for a locker). Eva Airlines won't let anyone check in until 9:00PM so we, and a bunch of other passengers, are stuck here in the airport entryway, which only has a few chairs – all filled, of course. Because these bags are too big to go through security, we can't even go to the US Airways Club, which we have a card to. Oh well, I guess that's why travel is an adventure. It's going to be a long 12 hours...

At least the International Terminal isn't as much of a madhouse as the other terminals are here – the lines stretch out the doors and far down the sidewalks. Susan is eating some McDonald's (not the dinner we'd planned!) as we sit looking out at the airplanes taking off into the darkening sky.

10-7-2001 7:00AM -- Taiwan Airport

After traveling a few hours over 24 hours, am feeling very proud of self – how impressed all our friends are at these around the world trips. How smart, resourceful, and tough they think we are! In reality, once you're out of the US, everything is so well organized and efficient, the food and service is so good, that you feel like a pampered baby. At the end of our last flight, the stewardesses bowed and everyone applauded. The Taiwan airport is very well tended with lots of plants and leather couches everywhere. What a contrast to LA! The only spare place Susan and I could find to lay down was in the food court, behind a rusty metal bench – worried the whole time that one of the security guards would make us move. We hooked all our bags to each other and to our belts in case someone tried walking away with any of them while we slept. LA wasn't without entertainment, however, since we got a half-hour show of a short, drunken Russian man who took a punch at a Korean business man and was eventually arrested by police.

10-8-2001 6:00AM – Monday – Bangkok

Just about to head down for some breakfast. Our hotel, Pathumwan Princess, is very nice, especially since they've upgraded us to a four-room suite at not charge! (apparently, so many people have canceled their trips because of the attacks that they've decided to upgrade those few that have decided to travel anyway). Once again, traveling is just so tough...

We got here around 2:00 in the afternoon yesterday and have been sleeping the whole time – 36 hours strait of traveling will do that to you. The Afghanistan bombing started last night so we've been keeping an eye on CNN.

1:00 PM – Just returned from a Bangkok canal tour we arranged last night at the airport. We met a nice Australian couple on the boat who'd just returned from Nepal. A lot of people were disappointed with the boat trip since they advertised it as Bangkok's "floating market", even though the floating market here moved onto land a decade ago and all that is left is the canals – you have to go a few hours outside of Bangkok to see a few genuine floating markets that are still hanging on.

"Floating Market" Thailand, oil, 9" by 12"
Here's a painting I did of one of the surviving Floating Markets about two hours outside of Bangkok from a previous trip to Thailand.

 Signing up for a tour is always a mixed bag of good and misleading. Susan and I knew there was no floating market in Bangkok anymore from our previous trip here earlier in the year (despite the photos they show you at the airport) but we still wanted to see the canals anyway. Unfortunately, you were also forced to pay extra to see a depressing "zoo" for 40 minutes (or wait in the steaming boat), and then go to a jewelry store at the end. We told our guide we'd just rather skip the jewelry store and get back to the hotel, but he desperately pleaded with us to go to the shop since he'd get in trouble if he didn't take us there. We went as a favor to him and when we got back to our room, he'd arranged for a birthday cake to be waiting in our room for Susan (yes, this is the day!). Right now it's storming outside so we're just resting in the room for a bit and watching the spectacular lightning show dancing across the sky above the vast city below.

10-10-2001 5:30AM Wednesday – Bangkok

Still on strange sleep schedule – waking up about 12:30 at night and thinking, studying Nepali words, and reading. Yesterday was fun but exhausting. It seems so hot and humid here it's hard to imagine it was so much hotter when we were here in May. Bangkok is just so crowded! Is both interesting and oppressive at the same time.

Left early for the Chinatown section. Hired a Tuk-Tuk outside the hotel – showed him where we wanted to go, agreed on a price, and set off. A quarter of the way there, the driver pulled over, shut off the motorbike's engine, and began pressuring us to go to a jewelry shop. I told him no, firmly, a few times, then we simply got out and caught a cab. This is a pretty common thing here, but there are tons of cabs so there's no point in getting into an argument.

Our next cab driver had a difficult time figuring out where we wanted to go even with the slip of paper I'd had the hotel write out with the name and directions in Thai. Eventually we arrived and set out for a couple-hour walk through the sea of bodies, beggars, smells, slithering, frying, and shocking foods. Though hot and crowded, it was nice being in a non-tourist area since no one paid us much attention or tried selling us anything. A comical monk at one of the temples – very friendly to us, eagerly motioning us to look around as he furiously puffed on a cigarette and chatted incessantly into a cell phone that seemed permanently glued to his ear. Decidedly un-monkish, monk!

By the time we reached the Indian section we were drenched in sweat and in need of some elbow room – literally! Caught a cab to the Oriental Hotel for lunch. The traffic here is a permanent jam, but even a half hour ride will only cost a dollar or two – half for a Tuk-Tuk, but I'd suggest the cabs if only for a bit of air-conditioning. The Oriental was ok, be we'd really expected something more spectacular. The buffet lunch was around seventeen dollars a person so we decided to walk around and find something on the street.

Popped into a nice internet cafe, returned some e-mails, then had an excellent lunch for about three dollars per person – very full afterwards! Then the overhead train back to our hotel area. Walked through the vast mall next to our hotel, which is crowded to capacity in the mall area, though almost no one in any of the stores – how do they stay in business, we wonder? Then to the Jim Thomson House (we are touristy American's after all!). Stifling heat, long-winded tour, very beautiful house. Our perky and polite guide seems utterly cool (as are most natives here) while all us Americans pour sweat. Very few overweight people here – I wonder if the heat retards appetite? Happily back to air-conditioning and some more ice-cream!

Back to the hotel around 5:30, collapsed into bed and fell asleep by 6:00 yesterday. It's now the next morning and we're all packed up and waiting to head to the airport and then onto Kathmandu – hurrah!

6:40PM Same day – Kathmandu

Here's the first page from my sketchbook of an old Tibetan woman I hired to pose for photos in Kathmandu.

What an emotional roller coaster trips like this are! Such a constant mixture of highs and lows blurring together and on top of each other so that your head simply spins after a while. At checkout our hotel added on a special 7% "hotel tax" a plus a 10% "service charge" that they'd hidden from all quotes, confirmations, etc. We'd even specifically asked if there were any other charges when we checked in (from past such experiences) and they confirmed the rate of our previous reservations. Complained to the manager, but to no avail. How do hotels get away with such nonsense (in the US it's just as common)? Service charge could be 50%, for all you're told beforehand. Interestingly, we've run into this practice only at more expensive hotels (this one is a 4 star), though they normally at least admit it when you specifically ask if there are any other charges upon reservation.

Low—

High— Back up when we get on the plane and find our seats are inexplicably in first class!? We'd long ago paid, and it was definitely Economy prices. Oh well, I wasn't going to complain to the manager this time – it was a very relaxing three hours to Nepal. Weren't hungry, but neither of us could resist course after course of fantastic gourmet cuisine and came close to bursting.

We waddled off the plane... into the utter mayhem of the Kathmandu airport. The trekking company who we were going to go on the trek with in two weeks, said they'd be sending someone to pick us up, but were not there. A sea of eager bodies trying to get us to take their rusted boxes that appeared to have once been cars. A policeman swings a long, javelin-like stick in vicious arcs, which creates a temporary open space that instantly begins swelling back inwards until the next assault.

We finally pick one man out at random, set a price for a ride to our hotel, and start following him into the parking lot, swarmed by dozens (I'm not exaggerating the numbers here) of "helpers" grasping at us and our bags – the idea seeming to be that if you can even briefly reach in and touch a bag, then you can hope for a tip. I am flooded with questions, am remaining calm, politely answering in the manner of all first-day Nepal travelers, but feeling more and more nervous about all this. How to tell who is honest or not? Haven't been here long enough to even know which direction our hotel is so am even more at the mercy of the taxi driver's honesty.

I'd become so distracted by everyone, that I hadn't noticed how upset Susan was becoming – "SCOTT! Will you help me!" – oops – Freaked out by the crowd around us, Susan turned our cart around with great difficulty and headed back toward the entrance. Eventually we arranged a cab at the most official-looking stand available (not much more than a tiny wood shack in front of the airport doors, but that was looking pretty good in comparison to the alternative). When we finally got to the "car" it looked no better than the rest of the wrecks in the lot – trunk didn't shut (flapped up and down loudly with each bump in the road and I keep an eye out the back to make sure none of our luggage disappears). We instantly got a flat tire upon turning into the overrun streets of Kathmandu. Unload the luggage, get the spare out, change tires, reload, off again. Accompanying the driver is a "guide" named John, hoping to get us to hire him for some other trips while we're in town. Very good English, nice, says it will cost $30 a day for him and a car and driver for a day – we can go wherever we'd like. I tell him we'll think about it, but secretly I'm wondering if this would be the car...( we found out later that you can hire a car all day for $5)

Here's a typical street scene in Kathmandu in front of the many small temples that can be found every couple of blocks.

I was interested in the sight of the Palace compound as we drove past. We couldn't see any buildings, just a huge, twenty-five foot metal fence that went on forever, with trees and guards inside. It was such an unbelievable contrast to the destitution just across the street that I couldn't help thinking of the Maoist uprising taking place in the Western part of Nepal. The divide between the tiny group of incredibly wealthy and the utter poverty of the vast majority of Napalis is one of the most extreme in the world. At home I've been reading Will Durant's ten volume "History of Civilization" and the one clear pattern that's been repeated over and over is that of wealth gradually accumulating in the few advantaged and industrious hands till it reaches such a disproportion that a redistribution becomes inevitable, either through bloody revolution or through reform. Here in Nepal most all the wealth and land is owned by a very small group, forcing nearly all farmers to lease their land at exorbitant fees and live in virtual serfdom. It's no surprise, therefore, that the Maoists uprising took hold in 1996, and it will certainly continue and grow till the country dissolves into chaos if no serious reforms are instituted.

I'd been keeping up on events in Nepal for about a year now by reading the local Kathmandu Post on the Internet and couldn't help trying to imagine the riots and deaths that had taken place in front of these very gates just a few months before, after Crown Prince Diprendra killed his father the King and nearly the entire royal family of Nepal in a drunken shooting spree. It was so amazing to be driving by so many of the places I'd been reading about all year.

Our Hotel, Nirvana Garden, is nice -- $30 a night, has cable, air-conditioning, and is really quaint, with an interior garden and restaurant. We set off into the streets – ups and downs continue. Downs – pollution, cars, motorcycles, bicycles, beggars, constant stream of hawkers – "Where are you from?", "I take you trekking", "I give good price", etc. Ups – wow! Visual feast – photographer and painter's paradise! I guess that's the only up, but it's a big one for me. Susan, though, is pretty down. "This isn't anything like what I imagined," she says. "I just didn't expect it to be this... well, third world."

View from the top of our Hotel in Kathmandu.

Hippie types everywhere. I think this must be their world meeting point.

Eventually come to a tiny square and spend a half hour shooting photos of people – could just stay in this one spot for hours. I'm too excited, my energy getting on Susan's nerves and I hope I can sleep. Finally back to the Hotel – still too keyed up. Dying to paint, sketch, photograph, explore. Susan quiet, tired, down. I have a feeling this is going to be a hard trip. Hope Susan will like Baktapur more. I'm sure the trek will be more her thing – quiet, peaceful, nature.

10-12-2001 Friday – 7:10 – Kathmandu

Sitting in a cafe in Thamel,(trendy tourist area where most of the restaurants and hotels are) sipping dude chia (tea with milk), looking down on the pedestrians below. The weather's been absolutely gorgeous here – much less draining than Bangkok and perfect for walking and exploring.

Yesterday was far better than our first. We got up early and walked to Kathmanu's Durbar Square (each town has a Durbar Square). Just the street to the Square was amazingly interesting and, once out of the Hippie Thamel area, things were less hectic, or at least bearable. Hired a street boy as a guide – he'd learned English entirely from tourists on the street and spoke very well. We actually mostly just hired him to keep the constant stream of "guides" off us – it was about two dollars for an hour (though I'm certain you could probably just name any price you'd like). Tourism is so far down here because of the NY attacks that tourists are outnumbered vastly by guides and it can get annoying to be constantly riddled with questions and pitches.

A couple of ladies in Durbar Square selling flowers in preparation for the coming festival.

Wow! I've taken more photos in one day than I ever have, even in China. Neither of us expected things to be so un-modern (if that's a word). A few of the well-off children wear neat uniforms of a bright color and white shirts (each school has its own color), but most can't afford school. The modern world is definitely slow in coming to Nepal, which sure makes it interesting to see, photograph, and paint! Like stepping back in time.

Notice the cow sitting peacefully among the pigeons on the right.

Even with such a small percentage of people owning cars here, the pollution is thick since those few are mostly thirty years old and belch enormous quantities of smoky, leaded exhaust. It's hard to imagine the pollution getting worse, but as more people get cars, it seems inevitable before getting better.

After our morning walk, we stopped at a cafe and were soon joined by three German Medical students doing a sort of internship here at a hospital for several months. They were full of great info and were shocked that we were paying $30 a night for a room – said that $10 should get us the best. After breakfast this morning we will check out some other places or renegotiate at Nirvana Garden.

Some of the characters who we saw every day at Durbar Square in Kathmandu -- I did a profile pencil drawing of the man on the right while there (below).

Next we went to the top of one of the terraced temples in the square and chatted with a couple of the English-speaking guides. Both were really nice and very smart. It's amazing how in places like this with so little opportunity, the types of people who become guides – people with college degrees in language and history who would be professors anywhere else. After a few hours of relaxing, we went with our two friends to a little cafe overlooking the square. Without them showing us, we'd never have known there was a cafe there from the look of the place, which was really just someone's house. You even had to climb a latter to get to the seating on the second floor. We bought tea and pastries for five – total cost 80 cents.

We then hired the older guide (the one with the history degree and look of a professor) to take us up to the Monkey Temple. Couple mile walk through some interesting back streets and then over the river till the temple came into view atop a hill with a commanding view of Kathmandu. Wow again! Won't even try to describe it since will do paintings of this for sure! Exhausting climb up stairs – very steep! Scary looking down – slip here and you ain't stopping till the bottom for sure! Lots of monkeys. Exhausted, we took a cab back to room and slept.

10/12/01 Friday 6:00 PM

Patan very nice, lots of photos again especially two cute little girls in the square who followed us around.

Susan turned the screen of her video camera around so these girls could see themselves on it as she was filming them, which they seemed to love. Below is a pencil sketch I did of the little girl on the right.

Taxi there- choked on fumes- saw, photographed, ate, taxi back- more fumes- both starting to get sick from pollution- especially Susan – to Backtapur tomorrow and hoping for some fresh air. Oh, and we moved to Tibet Guest House- much nicer room and ten dollars a night less. Hurray!

10/13/01 Saturday

I woke up around 2:00am this morning and couldn't get back to sleep so at 5:30AM I took a taxi to Postpatinath. Very relaxing place, especially that early. The people bathing and washing in the river, and the lack of any tourists or the "Guides" and Hawkers that come with them, made for a refreshing time. There was a body draped in white by the cremation blocks for later in the day. Below in the water people dredged the river bottom for gold left over from previous cremations. A man told me that it is required for the body to have a certain amount of gold on it for this reason – a sort of ancient redistribution of wealth.

Returned at 7:45 and Susan and I had a great Breakfast at Northfield Cafe here in Thamel. Then the drive to Backtapur at 10:00. Even with bandana's over our faces the car fumes were nearly unbearable. It really made Sue's throat worse and I fear she's coming down with a cold.

Backtapur was beautiful but so touristy that it took some of the charm away. Tons of people trying to sell you things, children begging for money or to be paid to have their photos taken. When you have to pay $ 20 just to get in to the town, everyone acting like they're annoyed at your presence (unlike most other places here) wears a bit thin.

We told everyone that we didn't want a guide. Mainly, we just wanted to be alone and walk in quiet. While Susan and I were resting a very sweet little 14 year old girl named Rita sat down and talked to us, which was nice , but then she followed us around the entire rest of the time. Such conflicting emotions. You don't want to be rude and I'm sure the girl was starved for attention and conversation to practice her English, but we were just a bit tired after a while.

Susan and Rita

Susan nearly lost her voice from her sore throat so we headed back at around 2:00pm and have decided to rest tomorrow.

10/14/01 Sunday

Had a great breakfast together at a German Bakery place here in Thamel. I had a banana pancake, fresh squeezed orange juice, while Susan had a pot of hot chocolate and a sort of grilled cheese sandwich. While Sue rested in the room a bit I made my way through the grid locked streets to Durbar Square, hired a translator for 150 rupees for an hour to help me hire people to pose for photos. I took photos of about six people ranging from young to old. It was pretty hot today and so crowded that an hour of this exhausted me.

Been just resting here and we are about to go out for some lunch.

10/15/01 Monday

Was so exhausted yesterday that I fell asleep at 6:30 again and woke up and 2:00 am again.

Susan's cold is pretty bad today so after breakfast she just stayed in the room while I went to Postpatinath and photographed all morning. I just love sitting and watching all the interesting people in their colorful costumes going by. It's also funny watching the antics of the monkeys – walking from building to building across the power lines, leaping from the bridge into the river, etc. In fact the monkeys really do the same things as the people- drinking from the river, nursing babies, even grooming each other for ticks. There was lots of smoke in the air from several cremations going on next to the river.

I also went into a courtyard/ Temple that doubled as an old folks home. I talked to a man who worked there and said 100 old people live there – put up by the state since they are too poor and don't have family to take care of them.

4:20 PM-

I did a little sketching in the room after lunch and thought I'd take a taxi up to Bodinath Temple to catch the setting sun. Unfortunately the cab crept along slower than walking, sometimes things came to a complete stop altogether and everyone shut off their engines to wait. Oh well... Susan is still too sick to come with. I really feel bad for her and feel guilty seeing so much on my own. Luckily we still have plenty of time here.

Traffic – moving now – blind woman with a cane plunges directly across road –

children, bicycles, mopeds, motorcycles, bizarre tractors, cows, goats and an ever present sea of people completely fill the road, magically parting at the last instant before disaster. It's like driving on the sidewalk of Michigan Avenue at rush-hour, except most streets are about half the width of a regular sidewalk in Chicago and there's double the number of people.

Forgot to mention a strange event this morning – crazy lady was screaming and swearing somewhere (in English, American accent). I was standing in front of a camera store with some of the bicycle rickshaw drivers, chatting and waiting for the store to open. Suddenly, I realized the lady was screaming at me. She ran up to me and shouted some more – she was around 40, American, wild eyed, disheveled hair, cracked lips – "Don't ignore me you *****", she screamed in a hysterical fury. I, and the rickshaw drivers just stood there, staring at her in amazed silence. "Maybe this will get your attention!" and she lifted up her shirt to show us her breasts. Finally she stormed off and we exchanged looks that bridged any language gap we might have had. There's so much sensory overload here that even this didn't have much impact.

Finally reached Bodinath Temple – spectacular – huge, with a ring of flags and a wide street where all the Tibetan Refugees that live in this area walk around the temple in a clockwise direction. Many carry miniature prayer wheels – some spin the wheels set into the wall ringing the temple. For the most part, the old people are dressed traditionally and the young more modern.

Giant prayer wheel at Bodinath.

Well, then back in a taxi when the sun set – and more choking fumes, dust, and jarring roads.

10-16-2001 Tuesday – 12:00 Afternoon

Susan and I are sitting having lunch right now. She's doing better, but still very tired. I was really drained myself so just rested in the room as well this morning.

One interesting thing – nothing here is wasted. The cab I took yesterday was made in 1973 and it was one of the nicer ones! Each morning there is a man in the road next to our hotel sorting all the garbage by hand for recycling. Even all the old food is scraped together into a large tub (I'm assuming to feed animals). Many men walk down the streets in search of plastic bottles. Outside our room, a woman and man carefully recycle construction materials – every broken board, scrap of metal, etc. is taken apart and sorted. Even old bricks have the mortal painstakingly scraped off them so they can be reused.

Here's a pencil sketch I did from Bodinath while resting in our hotel room -- I'm hoping to do a large painting something like this with all the people in shadow at the bottom and the composition extending up to all the flags in the setting sun. Note that everyone allways walks around all temples in a clockwise manner -- the same for spinning the prayer wheels.

2:30PM We're sitting in Kathmandu's Durbar Square, relaxing and people-watching. I gave a few of the photos I took to the little girl, her mother, and some of the others I'd photographed the other day and was surprised at what a hit it was! I had them developed at a one-hour photo shop here since it costs half as much as at home and I don't have to worry about any of the negatives getting fogged from all the x-ray machines we'll have to go through flying home. I sorted through the ones I was going to keep for possible paintings and was going to throw out the rest, but, as an afterthought, decided to give them out at the Square. Now everyone wants me to take their pictures on the chance that they might get a photo. Rather than having people ask me for money when they notice me shooting, I can now photograph at will and even have kids and adults coming up to me and asking to have their photo taken! Poverty is such here, that for most, this is the first photo of themselves they've ever had. Seeing the expressions of joy on the children's faces as they stare at the pictures of themselves for long stretches of time is utterly addictive and I can't wait till I have more to pass out. I don't think any amount of money I could have given them would have had such a profound effect!

While I've been writing the above words in my journal, a little girl sat down next to me and watched intently over my shoulder. I gave her my notebook and pencil and she drew some pictures. Soon another girl joined us and I gave her my sketchbook and a pen. 

Here's one of the pages in my notebook that the little girl drew, along with writing English words for the subjects

And here's a drawing that the older girl did of the temple across the street from us.

One surprise -- every child we met in Nepal asked us sheepishly if we had an extra pencil or pen since they're so hard to come by there. Next time I'm going to load my suitcase up with pencils and pads of paper to give out. It would have been fun to have a little art class going for all the kids in Durbar Square!

Baswet Pabira is the name of the older girl and some of her drawings. This one is of the temple we were sitting in front of. It's so fun watching children draw – it's all joy and no critical thoughts. A 22 year old man joined us as well and I asked his story. He is from a remote farming village in the east of Nepal. He ran away from home when he was 8 and came to Kathmandu to live on the streets and beg. He said it was much different then – not as many tourists and less police hassling then. He learned English from foreigners and eventually began making a living as a guide.

That is really the best part of staying in one place more than the day or two the guide book recommends; namely getting to know some of the people and really absorbing the atmosphere. The second half of our trip with the tour company includes a half day tour of Kathmandu and all the sites we've taken a week to explore. If it wasn't for the pollution I could easily stay here another week or two.

10/17/01 Wednesday 10:00 am

Susan and I are sitting atop the hotel Tibet Guest House having our second breakfast of the day, relaxing and admiring the view of Kathmandu spread out beneath us with the mountains barely visible in the distance.

Susan is feeling a lot better but we've decided to get some fresh air and go to a higher altitude and do some hikes in preparation for the trek next week. I've got so many incredible photos! I can't wait to paint some of them and may start sketching out some ideas as well as doing some landscapes of the Himalayas in Nagarkot.

Susan is such an adventurer in spirit , if not in body. The other day while barely able to leave the room from her cold she actually was trying to book a whitewater rafting trip! To my relief the only one available was after we left for Lukla and the trek.

10/18/01 Thursday 6:45 am

Survived the 2 hour bus ride up to Nagarkot yesterday and met some interesting people on the bus. One older lady who had just finished two years in Morocco for the Peace Corp and the other a social worker, they were traveling around Asia for about 3 months. The windy road up here was barely wide enough to accommodate the bus so whenever another vehicle was coming from the other direction people would get out and direct the two vehicles past each other, with mere inches to spare to the steep drop off down the mountain. I definitely wouldn't want to try this ride in the rain. Nagarkot has a beautiful 360 degree view of the surrounding mountains, including the Himalayas, but by far the best part is our first breath of fresh air in over a week. The altitude here is 7,200 feet so it should also give us a bit of a head start on acclimating.

I've also got a cold from simple exhaustion as I've been so excited taking photos during the day and rarely getting much sleep. In fact last night was the first close to good rest I've gotten. I had forgotten what quiet was like. Since most everyone comes here for just one night to see the sunset and sunrise, all the staff comes around and knocks on the room doors so people won't miss the sunrise. The crowd of guests herd up to the top deck and chant ohs and ahs as the sun comes up, then they all go down stairs for breakfast then onto the bus and back down.

The morning view from our hotel window in Nagargot. The view is really the only luxury at Nagargot, since there is rarely hot water for showers, no TV and not much else to do there but sit around all day, which, at the time, was just perfect!

Since our room is just below the top deck we watched the sunrise from our large windows. The first room we had was $20 but had no view. Susan found the room she wanted and bargained the manager down from $65 to $45 and we moved. Everything here is negotiable, especially hotel rooms.

10/19/01 Friday 10:00 am

Sitting at the Naked Chef Restaurant waiting for a cab to take us to Backtapur – cab driver called and will be late an hour. Yesterday we moved to a $20 a night room but this one had a window, the rest of the day we just rested. This morning Susan read and I did a bit of sketching for painting ideas. Both of us are recovering from our colds but are still very tired out.

2:30 PM – Well, our couple hour trip to Backtapur has stretched out to an all day journey. The car we arranged to drive us there and back was late by 2 hours, but it got us there. As before, Backtapur was incredibly interesting and I took tons of photos of woman drying out wheat in a small square. 

Scott Burdick "Drying Wheat in Bakhtapur"  Nepal  oil  12" by 9" 

Also as before, it was unbelievably exhausting with so many people trying to sell you things, children begging, and the general mayhem of any such touristy spot. Once, when I opened my backpack to get out a roll of film, dozens of children surrounded me hands raised and shouting out excitedly, thinking I was getting something for them. Only when I took out the roll of film did they dispense.

After a couple of hours we headed back with our same driver. Unfortunately, on the steep uphill climb back, the car broke down every couple of kilometers, causing us all to get out of the car while the driver dismantled and then re-mantled various parts of the engine. Once started again, we'd be off for another spurt before breaking down and repeating the earlier process. At least we now have an explanation as to the two hour late arrival this morning. As I write this, the carburetor is in pieces and we are about 4K away from Nagarkot (which should mean approximately two more breakdowns.

Here's Susan talking to a brother and sister during one of our car repair stops.

10-20-2001 Saturday 8:40AM – Nagarkot

I have rarely been as exhausted as I was last night by the time we reached the hotel. After forcing down some food, I got into bed; my joints ached, my mind was beaten down, and I was even too tired it seemed to sleep. I remember thinking there was no way I was going to be able to go trekking. Even the thought of flying home seemed insurmountable. But I did eventually get to sleep and this morning I feel much better (despite some intestinal problems that are inevitable in Asia). Susan's cough is much better and she seems raring to go! She picked up a great book in Kathmandu that she hasn't been able to set down. It's called "Autobiography of a Yogi" by Paramahansa Yogananda. It's always nice on a trip finding a book on that region and Sue's been telling me lots of interesting things from it.

Wow! The highlight of this morning for me was hiking down the fog-enshrouded hillside to where eight woman of all ages were cutting weeds and grass to bring up in baskets for their cows. Their colorful dress against all the blues and greens were spectacular and I shot three rolls over an hours time.

When I first went down there everyone stared at me with great concern and seriousness on their faces. I went over to an older woman (who turned out to be the mother of three of the girls) and explained in my limited Nepali that I wanted to give her five hundred rupees (about eight dollars) to be divided between all of them for taking their photos. She didn't look that thrilled, but nodded and accepted the money, which is really quite a lot by local standards.

At first it was very awkward, everyone just stood still, frowning and apparently waiting for me to take my photos and then leave. After a while, though, when it became clear I wasn't leaving, they slowly went back to work, using their sharp, moon-shaped knives to expertly slash large sections of grass with quick, precise motions. As I wandered about, taking photos, the mood gradually loosened with them first talking back and forth and finally joking and laughing uproariously (I'm probably luck my Nepali isn't good enough to have understood!). Finally one of the younger girls who knew a small amount of English started questioning me, and in a combination of Nepali and English we carried on a conversation of sorts. Where I was from – everyone's names – who was who's daughter – she introduced me proudly to her "mero sathi" (my friend). This girl also showed me the knife she was using – I felt the blade, which was razor-sharp and she showed me her heavily bandaged big toe that she'd cut yesterday with it by accident.

"Morning Mist's of Nagarkot"  oil,  40" by 40"  by Scott Burdick

I was sorry I had to go at 8:00 to pack up to catch the bus back to Kathmandu. In contrast to an hour ago, everyone waved and smiled goodbye as I trudged back up the mountainside to the hotel.

10-21-2001 Sunday 6:00AM Kathmandu

The bus ride back to Kathmandu yesterday was very pleasant as it was a beautiful day. There was less traffic, being Saturday (and thus, less fumes from other cars), and we had a much less dare devilish driver than on the way up. The bus was mostly filled with a large group of young Israelis just as on the way up. For such a small country there are so many Israeli tourists here! We also met an interesting guy named Dave from England. He was very neatly dressed so we were surprised to learn that he was a truck driver (so much for our stereotype view!). He'd apparently decided to move to the US and become a driver there since the pay is about five times that of Europe. After moving out of his flat in London, he's taking five months to travel around the world. Then he plans on living in his Semi in the US and working five years, saving all his money so he can then retire to Indonesia where the cost of living is so low that you can live like a king.

Dave the truck driver.

Dave is definitely an interesting person. He mentioned that he'd been traveling with his girlfriend, but on closer interrogation, she turned out to be someone he'd met on his trip and hooked up with for while. She was from Denmark and neither had any notions of moving to the other's country so he shrugged and said he figured she wasn't really his girlfriend anymore, now that she'd gone back home.

When we got to Thamel, everyone just started getting off the bud on the street and we decided to do likewise since it was closer to our hotel than the bus station. For some reason, the driver didn't want to come to a complete stop, but kept rolling slowly forward as we all got out and the luggage on top of the bus was tossed down. The men on top couldn't figure out how I'd strapped all our stuff onto the side guards (which had been my intention to keep them from accidentally unloading it at an earlier stop) so I climbed up, unhooked our bags, and handed them down (the bus moving all along, of course).

When all the luggage was off the top, the bus took off and we found ourselves alone with Dave and two extra bags sitting in the street. "These yours?" Dave asked. "Nope, yours?" we replied. The tags were from France, but luckily there was a Nepal hotel sticker on them so we carried them on to our hotel and had the desk contact the hotel and bus company to try and return them to their owner. While we were carrying them, I couldn't help coming up with some movie scenarios that involved the police stopping us and finding the suitcases packed with opium and drug money or something and us trying to explain how we'd just found them lying in the street – honest! I can imagine what a horrible feeling it must be for the owner to arrive and find all their bags gone! They pack the busses so tightly here that you have to put your bags on top, but you really have to be alert at every stop and watch what's coming off the top. (I later learned that the hotel did find the owner of the bags and had them delivered to their hotel).

The rest of the afternoon Susan and I just walked around Thamel and checked out the variety of shops. Susan found some citrine stones she liked so is having them set into some earrings. Things are so incredibly cheap here, though you do have to do a lot bargaining. Finally I took a bit of time to e-mail off some answers to US Art Magazine for an article they're doing on Artist couples.

9:30AM – Sitting across from Postpatinath Temple as Susan gives me the play-by-play on a cremation taking place across the river from us. "Oh my gosh, he just flipped over a foot! Oh, and there goes a leg!" is a small sampling. Whenever the wind turns in our direction we're covered in smoke.

Cremation at Postpatinath.

10-23-2001 5:30AM Tuesday

Here's a sampling of the typical morning sounds of Kathmandu waking up.

Car horns, rooster, truck engine roaring to life – then dying – then roaring, dying... finally staying on, beeping as if to let the world know it is king of machines, and then setting of on it's journey. About every fifteen seconds a pedestrian hacks their lungs into their throat and spits (the source could be an old man or a beautiful young girl – no way to tell merely from sound). Crows complain loudly to each other, somebody is dismantling a brick wall nearby, lots of birds! Down the hall, the muffled coughs that all foreigners seem to acquire within a few days from the polluted air. Dogs bark, motor-bikes buzz by, people shout out greetings in various languages; beeping, spitting, chirping are the constant, underlying chorus of the Kathmandu morning symphony. By now I yearn for the mountains!

1:55PM – Yesterday we rested, ate wrote e-mails, sketched. This morning I went to the "Tibetan Refuge Camp", which is no longer actually a refuge camp, but a large building where woman sew large rugs on the downstairs floor and there is apparently a huge showroom above where the rugs are sold. 

Above and below are photos from the Tibetan Refuge Camp.

Then I went over to the Patan Durbar Square and gave a few photos out that I took of some kids before. Once again I was besieged by lots of kids who wanted photos of themselves. Took lots and will give some to them in a couple of days.

10-24-2001 Wednesday

In the morning Susan and I went to a water garden park a few miles outside Kathmandu. It wasn't a tourist place and was quiet and nearly deserted except for a few people coming to place offerings on a reclining Buddha statue.

Next we headed to Durbar Square and on one of the terraced temples to watch all the people preparing for the festival. Many buying chickens and ducks – butchering them right there on the street until the gutters were filled with blood. Lots of flowers, palm branches, "ghosts" (Susan's name for the fake "holy men" that beg from tourists) dressed in their finest. Many more tourists finally arriving in Kathmandu.

Back at the hotel we called to have our transfer arranged tomorrow to the Malla Hotel, only to find out the trekking company had misprinted our itinerary and we were supposed to move today! Rush to pack, a bit upset at the extra night charge since we were past check-out time. Saw Dave outside, getting set to head to the airport and then onto Bahrain.

The Malla is a plush, air-conditioned bubble, so removed from the smells and sounds of Kathmandu it hardly feels we're in Kathmandu anymore. Met our guide, Anna, who is originally from Hungary, lives in New York now and speaks many languages. She is tough and in shape – hope we can keep up with her on the trek! Her descriptions of the WTC bombing day was chilling, since she was at home in Manhattan at the time.

Anna had just returned with a group of three from a trek to Everest Base camp. Only one had reached it, the others became sick from the altitude. After talking to them all about their experience, we went back up to our room filled with anxiety. Would we be able to handle the grueling ten hour days of hiking, combined with the primitive conditions and the high altitude? What had we gotten ourselves into!

From our group, only one other woman (named Gail, from LA, who I'd estimate in her early sixties) showed up, the rest canceling because of the terrorist attacks, so our group is only three. Gail seemed a bit unprepared. She spoke of how upset she was when she arrived at the airport and didn't know she needed a visa. It turns out that she hadn't read any of the information the trekking company sent. I'm wondering if she really knows what she's getting herself into.

Went out to dinner with Anna, Gail, and two of the woman from the Everest trek – one a promoter in NY for Broadway plays (she's the one that made it to the Base-camp and was also the only one from their group who got here a week early – that extra acclimation at Kathmandu's 4000 feet probably helped her a lot). The other woman from SC is sweet, but seems quite overwhelmed by overseas travel. She had all her luggage stolen at the Deli airport so she had to buy all new things here. The more I hear about India, the scarier it sounds – maybe we'll go there next year.

One bit of concern was our talk with Anna about the Mani Rimdu festival at Thyangboche, which is the main reason we booked the Trek part of the trip through trekking company. (We'd actually planned to go earlier in the year for another festival, but it was moved so we switched to this one). According to Anna, the date of the festival that the company gave us could still change at the last minute, meaning we might even miss it altogether! In all our discussions with them they never mentioned that. Well, Susan and I told Anna that was why we were on the trip so decided we would simply have to wait and hope for the best.

10-25-2001 Thursday 7:30AM

Well, time to get our gear together. Lots of anxiety last night from talking to the previous group with all their various problems, altitude sicknesses, etc, but can't wait to be off! The trekking company has a city tour of Kathmandu that we'll be doing today, though by now we know the city quite thoroughly – but there's so much to see here, maybe they'll show us some things we missed.

10-26-2001 Friday 6:45 AM

Well, we're back at the Kathmandu Airport, preparing to get on our tiny prop plane for the 45 minute flight to Lukla. Yesterday we took the silly, two-hour "city tour" of Kathmandu – I hope I'm never again forced to do an entire trip that way. Having spent so much time in all those places, having explored, gotten to know all the people, etc., it made me cringe to think of the superficial impression you get from the brief, ten-minute walk through that is the usual tourist's experience of Kathmandu. If I only had one week for a trip, I'd much rather spend it in one place rather than try and cram in a dozen – we've even seen trips advertised as twelve days to see Bhutan, Nepal, Tibet, and China! What a waste that would be! You'd spend eighty percent of your time on planes or in busses, with brief breaks to take tours like the one yesterday.

With the festival going on yesterday the streets were wonderfully empty, with most of the people either off at their home villages or crammed into Durbar Square. I just wasn't up to the crowds yesterday so just did some last minute outfitting in Thamel, some e-mailing, etc. Got a nice e-mail from Quang (Ho) and Susan and I were both excited that he wanted to trade for a particular painting of mine he'd seen on our website. Can't wait to add one of his paintings to our collection!

As we sit here in the Airport, Anna is telling us stories about some of the different groups and treks she's led.

8:00AM – We're on our little plane, heading up the runway, with the distant, snow-topped peaks of the Himalayas in view to the north. The day is incredibly clear so it should be a spectacular view as we fly to Lukla. The stewardess is handing out cotton for everyone's ears, engine roars, propellers blur to fuzz, we're up – ears popping, no pressurized cabin on this flight! There's a little breeze leaking in through the window and door hatch edges. Beautiful view!

11:20AM – Been hiking north from Lukla for about two hours and it is absolutely gorgeous here! Mountains all around, snow on top, lots of trekkers, sherpas, yaks, farmers. The trail is pretty easy here so far with lots of little tea houses along the way. Susan and I are at the lunch stopping spot early so we're just relaxing here with our group's sidar, Nawang, and one of the Sherpas, Mohan, sipping hot Tang and watching the stream of traffic go by.

This is the only "road" from Lukla to Namche Bazaar (where dozens of trails then branch off in all directions, including Tibet) and the only way of transporting things here is to carry it on your back or to have a yak carry it. The tiny, one-runway airport we landed in is the only alternative to a seven-day walk up from the nearest road, and is a luxury reserved mostly for rich foreigners like us. The trail we're walking on is just a jumble of boulders and rocks for the most places – not even a four-wheeler motorcycle could run on it. Since anything not made or grown up here has to be carried in, gas-powered motors just don't exist up here since it would be unbelievably expensive to carry gasoline up from so far away.

This is typical of many of the doorways you see in the little villages along the way.

I picked up a couple of ski poles yesterday in Kathmandu and really like them for the steep, rocky sections since my balance isn't as good as Susan's. Gail was really struggling on those sections as well, so I gave her one of my poles to use until we get to Namche, where Anna said she'll be able to pick up some of her own.

Here's a sample of one of Anna's travel stories – She was in Asia once with a friend who especially loved animals. She saw a couple of puppies that were so adorable, she decided adopt them and take them back with her. She paid the lady and arranged for them to be delivered that evening to her hotel. Unfortunately the lady misunderstood and showed up in the evening with a huge meal...

5:21PM – At camp, halfway to Namche Bazaar. What an amazing day – such awesome beauty, clean air, and it felt so nice to get some exercise, even though the five hours of walking was mostly downhill to about 9,000 feet now. Anna tells us that tomorrow will be the real test – very rough terrain, long uphill, ending at 11,000 feet. Susan is doing great! Has even more energy than me and is having no problem at all with the altitude. I think she's finally enjoying the trip 100 percent.

Nawang, Gail, Anna, and Susan next to one of the many stupas and mani rocks along the way -- remember to allways pass on the left or it's bad luck.

It was fun watching all the Sherpas unpack the yaks (ours are really a hybrid between a long-horned steer and Yak, called a Dzopia – infertile like a mule) and then set up our camp. They are so expert at everything and I've never seen a tent set up so fast in my life! Susan and I are resting in our tent waiting for diner at 7:00. Unfortunately, Gail is really struggling physically and showing the first signs of altitude sickness. She said there's no way she could have made it today over such rocky and steep terrain without the pole I lent her. Seeing her conditions, our Sidar, Nawang, carried her pack most of the way. Hope she can at least make it to Namche since she can rest there as long as necessary.

After lunch, two children, a brother and sister around ten and eleven years old walked along with me. The boy spoke English pretty well and was interested in so many things. First wanted to know my country – became very sad and serious when he heard, shook his head and said "Afghanistan very bad". (The Sherpa people in the Everest region are Buddhist and were already up in arms against the Taliban before 9-11 when they destroyed the largest statues of Buddha in the world.) Then the boy wanted to know if I was afraid to go home and if I would have to fight in the Army when I returned. Interestingly, even when we were in Kathmandu, many people asked if we were afraid to go home, while everyone at home thought we should be afraid to come to Nepal – I guess wherever you are seems safer since it is the known.

Then he asked Susan and my occupation – my parents, brothers and sister's occupations, etc. What people did for a living in other countries seemed to be of utmost interest to them. The little boy himself wanted to be a helicopter pilot someday, which makes sense, since that must seem the most amazing and prestigious job to someone living here. Just imagine what it would be like, never having seen a car or any machine in your entire life and then having a helicopter land in your village! It would be akin to having a spacecraft from another planet land in our backyard.

I asked what his parents did and he said they were both Porters. Then his sister asked a question in Nepali and her brother translated. "My sister wants to know which is the better artist; you or your wife." No doubt this is the question that occurs to most people who find out we're both artists, though only a child would be uninhibited enough to ask. The sister was very pleased and impressed to find out that it was Susan who was the better of us two and I could tell they looked over at Susan, who was walking further ahead, with great respect and interest. I took his and his sister's photograph and they asked if I thought Susan might paint them from it. I told them that she might and they were very pleased.

10-27-2001 Saturday 9:37AM

Susan and I have been hiking out ahead on our own for about two hours now, through unbelievably pristine mountains, following the emerald river to our left higher and higher toward the distant, snow-topped mountains that look like scoops of ice-cream. There are lots of tiny villages and huge waterfalls along the route. Slept great last night (both of us) and all the pollution-induced coughs and problems of Kathmandu are falling away with each breath of clean air. Thank god we aren't in the tea houses that many of the trekkers are staying in. Houses here don't have chimneys; their yak-dung cooking fires fill the room with smoke and everywhere you see smoke pouring out from under the eaves of the roof, making it appear that they are on fire.

Morning starts with a Sherpa bringing some tea to your tent, followed a little later by a couple large bowls of hot washing water (duhne pani). Once we're up and all packed, we have breakfast that our cook has prepared and then we head out while the Sherpas break down camp and pack up our two yaks – about half the gear is carried by the yaks and the rest on the backs of our crew. Watching them all work so smoothly and efficiently together is something. It's pretty cold at night and in the morning due to the altitude, but as soon as the sun hits, things warm up quickly and the layers of coats and sweaters go into our backpacks. Warm clothes, rain gear, and water is the main thing we carry in our packs, with me also carrying my cameras. Everything else you need goes into a large, waterproof duffel bag that the sherpas and yaks carry.

11:05AM – Been sitting in a town called Monjo at the entrance to the National Park, chatting with Anna and petting some cute cats and puppies. We have to go through the entrance as a group so it could be a while yet before Gail gets here as the terrain was a bit steep. The "National Park" is pretty much just a line drawn around the Everest region on a map since it is not any different than all the other areas around here – the hope is that by declaring it a National Park they can conserve it to some extent for the future, but, for now, it's mostly just a gate on the path where they charge entry fees for tourists. There are two military guards carrying automatic rifles, making me think of all the police that have been killed and kidnapped by the Maoists in the Western part of the country. It seems inevitable, unless the government starts passing reforms, that the uprising will spread over to this area as well, and I can't help wondering what might happen to these men in the future.

10-28-2001 Namche Bazaar 10:00AM Sunday

I'm sitting on a mountainside overlooking Namche Bazaar. The town seems to slide away below on the side of a steep, terraced hillside, surrounded on all sides by towering, snow-shrouded peaks. At the center of town is the largest level area serving as the market, with a small stupa next to that. At around 5:30AM the market was willed with tents, cook-fires, and yaks of the Tibetan traders who'd made the trek across the Himalayas to trade their goods in this crossroads town.

When I awoke, our tent and everything else was covered with ice and frost, but the moment the sun topped the eastern peaks, all warmed up quickly so that, as I write now, I'm in a short sleeved T-shirt. The altitude in Namche is 11,200 feet and you can really feel it when hiking up a hill. About every one-hundred yards on my way up here I had to stop to catch my breath and allow my racing heart to slow. Once again, I'm struck by the remoteness of this place. Even when in tiny villages in China, you felt the modern world quickly taking hold since roads and cars and tractors were at least there. But here it seems that the rugged mountains have delayed the process by at least a few decades.

After getting through the National Park entrance yesterday, we stopped for lunch just beyond a particularly rickety suspended bridge that spanned a vast chasm. Tons of waterfalls, rushing rivers, and yaks. After lunch the grueling section began – four hours all uphill; rocky, gravely, with steep drops to the side all the way. There was barely enough room in the sections for the yaks going the other direction to pass so we made sure to hug the mountainside of the road as soon as they appeared, their long horns brushing inches past our bellies. And all the while the Sherpa people trotted passed us with these insane loads on their backs and heads – even the children!

Toward the end of this Susan was getting a bit tired so I carried her pack as well as mine. When we caught sight of Namche we were exhausted but elated. Two hours later Gail made it into camp just as darkness was setting in, only enough energy left for her to collapse into her tent. She didn't even have the energy to have dinner. The long day was hard for Susan and I so we were unbelievably impressed at the determination she must have to make it this far!

Today is a rest day so we can acclimatize to the altitude so we're all going to take it easy, Susan and Gail doing some shopping (Susan is looking for a yak bell since we've become so used to their sound on the trail). I'm going to go up a little farther to the top of this mountain to check out the view, then relax. Oh, forgot to mention that we saw Mount Everest yesterday. How amazing to think that every climber that's climbed that highest of mountains (from the Nepali side) has walked the exact same trail we have the last couple of days!

I'm down in the market with Susan. I was just looking at a beautiful bowl that I thought was a tortoise shell – the outside curve is carved with intricate designs and Tibetan writing, while the lip and inside curve is adorned with beaten and polished silver to make it into a drinking bowl. It was so beautiful that I was definitely going to buy it even though I mostly leaving the shopping to Susan. I asked the woman about it and she informed me that it is not a tortoise shell, but the top of a human skull – the carved words on the outside actually include the name of the woman! So much for my brief foray into shopping; I think I'll stick to my camera and leave the market to Susan...

Mani stones like these are everywhere, sometimes stretching into long walls.

10-29-2001 Monday 4:30PM

We are literally in the clouds! About half an hour after reaching Thame (an eight hour hike from Namche) the clouds rolled in. The elevation is 12,400 feet here and I've had a bit of a headache all day from it. Susan isn't having any problem with altitude, but is exhausted from the walk. The trail went through a beautiful pine forest and followed a picturesque river , many sections reminding us of National Parks like Glacier – except when you looked up and saw the unbelievably towering peaks all around that dwarf anything at home.

Crossed over another awesome gorge with powerful waterfall on our way here. All the bridges are suspended, most with rather iffy wooden planks that you walk over. If you look to the side you can see the previous, wreaked bridges that have gone before. Apparently you know when a bridge need to be replaced when a Yak (being the heaviest thing around) causes it to collapse – I've noticed that everyone here is pretty careful not to be on the bridge at the same time as the yaks.

Yaks are everything here. While their main function is carrying heavy loads in the absence of machines, there are many others. We had a yak burger yesterday at lunch, very chewy and I could only get a couple bites down (because the people here are Buddhists and wouldn't kill a living animal, any yak meat eaten is from an animal that died of natural causes, so I'm not sure if the chewyness is due to the age of the yak we'd eaten or simply a trait of yaks in general – I think I'll leave it to other, more inquiring minds and stomachs to determine this!). Ate dinner here in a room heated by yak "paddies" (they are collected off the trail and you see them flattened against walls, roofs, and just about everywhere to dry since firewood is scarce and the winters harsh. Even the wool that they brush out of the animal's thick coat is used to weave clothes and rope.

Here's some of our yaks resting after a good days work.

All in all, I'd say yaks are a most useful creature! One note of caution, though; yaks are incredibly docile, but they do have wickedly pointed horns and when frightened are likely to start flailing their head about vigorously. In fact, I saw a yak the other morning eating some porridge that one of the herders had given it, when a crow boldly jumped down and started eating from the dish. The yak was so terrified of the crow that it bellowed and was trying to pull free of it's rope, lashing its head around so violently that even the herder kept a close eye on it as it shoed the crow away. This drama took place merely ten feet from our flimsy tent, mind you.

Here's our yak herder and his fifteen year old daughter, who carries loads along the trail about three times the weight of my backpack with ease.

10/30/01 12:00 Tuesday

We're stopped for lunch on our way back from Thame- my headache is gone and I feel fantastic, but now Susan's stomach is rebelling against the spicy food, so she is getting a lot of cramps, which is making it hard to hike.

After breakfast Gail and Susan set off on the trail with one of our sherpas while Anne, me and our Sidar Nawang, did a fast hike up the steep mountain to the town's monastery. The altitude there was 13,200ft and I felt no affects, so I guess I'm pretty acclimatized now. The monastery was awe inspiring, small, but meticulously decorated. One of the monks also unwrapped a large prayer booklet from a wall that contained about 100 prayers.

Here's the monastery just up the mountain from Thame -- the sun has already melted the previous nights snow.

I almost forgot – it snowed last light! our tents were covered with a dusting of snow and everything looked like a winter wonderland. The stars at night are unbelievable. When the moon is out, the towering peaks glow as if lit from within.

Then Anne and I hiked fast (or at least fast for us ) and caught up with Susan and Gail. Two little girl's carrying sacks of potatoes walked with us, they were between 7 and 10 years old. I moved over to let them go by , but they wanted to stay with us. When we stopped with Gail and Susan I tried to lift their packs and estimated them between 35 – 40lbs for the younger girl and 45 – 50 pounds for the older girl! And this is on incredibly steep mountain trails, mind you. I think that if Susan and I trained hard for a year, we might be able to work our way up to the level of the youngest girl... maybe. The loads that the adults carry up here is not even conceivable to me – I really have no idea how they manage it. I let the little girls look through my camera and take some photos, they loved it.

Scott Burdick -- "Carrying Potatoes" charcoal
click on the painting to see an extremely larger version.

5:10 PM- We made it to Kumjung- Susan is utterly exhausted and collapsed into her sleeping bag, but not before she sent me to the bakery who's claim to fame is that it is the highest bakery in the world (or so their sign says). I got some chocolate doughnuts and apple tarts which she ate down as her dinner. Kumjung is absolutely charming, it is wide and mostly flat with the famous Hillary School, founded by Sir Edmund Hillary who was the first to climb Everest. Way off on the next mountain we can see Thyangboche, it's looks so magical and close, but that's just an illusion, at least the close part.

Kumjung in the morning.

Saw a sherpa woman using a yak with a rope tied to it to tow her up a hill.

Gail is struggling a bit more; her cough is worse and she is getting more tired everyday. But, it is just amazing to me how much of a will she has. Sometimes as we reach the top of some particularly exhausting mountain, I wonder how Gail could possibly manage such a thing, but every evening, long after we're all resting comfortably in our tents, she arrives. She is an inspiration.

10/31/01 2:30 PM Wednesday

Got up this morning and deposited Susan at the bakery while the rest of us went up to see the monastery with the "Yeti Skull". It is just the top of the skull and pretty much looks like an oversized coconut.

Then the excitement began. The locals reported that the Festival date had been changed at the last moment and that it was starting today! So... Anna and I hiked ahead, skipped lunch and did the normal 7 hour hike up the mountain in 4 hours. I'm really feeling good now, no longer loosing my breath on the uphill and getting into better hiking shape each day. I really feel into the rhythm of the daily routine as well and would love to just keep going for a few weeks more. As we neared town, we ran into a very dejected Australian going the other way who reported no festival today, as he'd also heard. He'd been told that it will start on the 2nd, which is the day we're supposed to leave, early in the morning!

A Himalayan Tar we saw on our way up to the Monastery.

Got to town, checked in at the visitor center and was told by the girl at the desk that the festival will start tomorrow – yes! But then she said to check back closer to the actual date. How much closer can you get than the day before?

Then, about an hour later I learned that even though tomorrow is the first day of the festival, they only do the rehearsal dancing in the monastery and no one is allowed in. Damn. I'm half tempted to just stay here on my own for a couple of days and hike back alone, catch a later flight back and meet Susan and the group in Kathmandu since we're staying there an extra 3 days anyhow. Will have to talk it over.

Thyangboche is very pretty, well kept up, with a view of Mount Everest and high peaks on all sides.

You can just see Mount Everest here -- it's the little hump in the center, peeking out over the closer ranges.

11/1/01 8:50am Thursday

We found out that the High Lama changed the dates of the festival once again because it wasn't a "lucky day" – maybe tomorrow, we're told. That would mean if I was to photograph the dancing, the earliest I could leave would be the 4th (if the date wasn't changed again) which would be way too late for me to risk getting back in time, so that is that. I'd been looking forward to this festival for at least a year, probably building it up in my mind more than it would actually be, by the looks of it, but even so, I was pretty dejected to learn that after coming all this way, I'd miss it by just a few days...

As I sit on a rock watching the strange mixture of people go by, I can't help but looking back over the past month here in Nepal. Even though we have three days hiking back to Lukla, then four or five more days to get home from there, this feels like the end of the trip. The festival that brought us literally halfway across the world and into such a remote and beautiful place has eluded us. And yet, as I reminisce, it's all the unexpected moments and people that stick in my mind like cherished gems, those things that could never have been predicted or planed for. The girls cutting grass in the early morning mist in Nagarkot, the families and children who were so overjoyed with their photos in Durbar Square, the little girls carrying the incredibly heavy loads of Potatoes here in the Himalayas, and even our Sherpas and porters who've taken such good care of us. Would I have traded those moments for the impersonal view of strangers dancing at the festival? In the end, I'd have to say no.

We all went into the monastery in the early morning and sat quietly around the edges of the main chamber as the monks chanted. Huge drums, carved wooden beams, colorful cloth hangings, incense, candles... The older monks were in the center, very serious and calm, while the younger monks were further and further out. Many of the young ones were pretty fidgety, giggling and whispering to each other and sometimes getting up and coming and going. The older monks were utterly unconcerned about this and in all the time we were there I never saw one of the youngsters scolded. It was pretty cold in there, so when our feet were simply too frozen, we headed back outside.

As the sun warmed things up, an acrobat/juggler appeared and monks of all ages as well as townspeople and trekkers ran over from all directions to watch the spectacle, which lasted about fifteen minutes.

Some of the monks in the large ring of people watching the juggler.

Susan Lyon "Sisters at Thyangboche"  Nepal  oil  12" by 9"

Then everyone went back to their routines. Sherpas packed up yaks, trekkers shivered in Gore-Tex coats, fleece gloves, hi-Tec mountain boots, while locals walked around in light coats and sandals without socks. Prayer flags fluttered in the wind, sending up a prayer with each breeze. Yak bells jingle.

3:55PM – After an easy half days hike, we're relaxing in the guesthouse next to our campground. The daughter of the owner chopped up some yak pies and got the stove going so it's wonderfully toasty, though I won't be able to stay in this room too long due to the smoke. Our Sherpas made us some hot chocolate and all there is to do is wait for Gail to reach camp. Our normal itinerary had us spending the whole day up at Thyangboche and hiking back to Lukla in two days. That would obviously have been impossible for Gail and pretty hard for Susan as well, and since there wasn't any festival, all were in agreement to leaving early and stretching the homeward march into three days.

11-2-2001 – Friday – 12:00 noon

Watching the full moon rise over Ama Dablam last night was awe-inspiring. I guess it's because of the high altitude we're at and the lack of any city lights as well, but I have never imagined that the moon could be so bright that it would hurt my eyes to look directly at it for longer than a second. A Japanese woman who'd gotten altitude sickness and had to stay here while her group went on, did a traditional moon-dance while the rest of us stood around drinking hot milk and simply absorbing the unbelievable transformation of the snowy giants all around us. The quiet, the sense of magical solitude of that moment, the sensation of timelessness and being so small a part of so vast a universe will stay with me the rest of my life. It's impossible for me to convey clearly with simple words, but, even now, sitting at our lunch spot the next day, I get a chill writing about it. It was as if, at that moment, I had a profound insight beyond intellect. I was reminded of the Zen saying, "Those who speak do not know; Those who know do not speak." Some truths can only be felt.

We are about to have lunch right now and I feel physically great – no stomach problems, completely acclimatized, and my legs are in much better shape than when we set out. I love the hiking, but once we hit camp I've been getting pretty restless. There isn't much to do other than sit around and without the promise of the festival ahead of me like before, I'm increasingly longing to get home and back to some serious painting. I have so many photos and sketches I'm dying to work up into large paintings that I mostly just keep running through my ideas in my head.

11-3-2001 – Saturday – 11:50AM

Yesterday we made our way back through Namche Bazaar (stooped for some doughnuts at the German Bakery, of course), had a good night's sleep, and are now about to have lunch after four hours hiking up and down the ridiculously rocky roads as usual. I remember how out of breath Susan and I were at this "high" altitude on our way up. The 10,000 feet now feels so low that it's like a luxury and we both have no problem loosing our breath anymore, though Susan is simply exhausted from the total accumulation of days and miles and is looking forward to having this last day of hiking over. I trail behind Susan and Anna a ways, lost in my thoughts while their conversations mostly revolve around food and restaurants in New York.

When Susan and Anna aren't talking about food, they've been exchanging stories and tips on the various places they've both traveled to. Susan told Anna that, for some reason, she's always been a bit afraid of going to India. Anna tells her that it's not as bad as some make it seem and then proceeds to tell her a dozen horror stories she's heard or experienced herself – here's one sample; some restaurants will poison your food so you have to go to a hospital for a few days and then split the insurance money with the doctor. After a few ones like this Susan says to me, "Maybe we can go to India next year?" She is definitely the adventurer of the family, I just tag along to take pictures.

11-4-2001 – Sunday – 7:00AM – Lukla

We're all sitting in the little bar/guesthouse/restaurant/airport waiting lounge, having just had breakfast and waiting for our flight in approximately one hour. Luckily it's clear so we should get off ok. We also spent the previous evening in this bar, which is reminiscent of the one in the first Raiders of the Lost Arc movie. Singing, dancing, and lots of drinking of the local whiskey (called Chang). Lukla is filled with sherpas hoping to be hired on to one of the few treks or mountaineering expeditions since tourism is so low right now due to the NY attacks. It's sad to see how hard the events halfway across the world have effected this place, since this would normally be their busiest time. Everyone in all the groups are emotional at the partings, but also filled with a sense of accomplishment at having completed the journey.

Yesterday was hard, especially for Susan and Gail, the estimated 100 miles walking (most, either steeply up or steeply down on rocky terrain) has taken their toll. Thick clouds moved in after lunch, hiding all except what was immediately around us, threatening rain and giving the final uphill push into Lukla an Erie chill.

Lukla huddles around the tiny airstrip that is it's only claim to fame – if not for it, no one in their right mind would stay here. Cramped, dusty, and balanced precariously on the side of a mountain, it isn't much to look at. Our "campground" is just a couple of bare spots of dirt amidst frenetic construction (though I enjoy the opportunity to study the local method of house construction using minimal amounts of wood, no nails, and mostly all dry-fitted blocks of stone).

At night the sounds of end-of-trek celebrating went long past midnight. About fifteen minutes of calm, then the dogs started baying, barking, howling, and fighting; their bodies occasionally brushing the sides of our tent as they ran about. Anna told me that sometimes the weather can keep the planes from flying for days at a time and you simply have to wait in Lukla – not a pleasant thought!

Sitting here, I'm suddenly sad. As much as I couldn't wait to leave a few days ago, I'd like to stay now, hike off to some new towns and explore some more... Well, I think I hear the sound of our tiny plane approaching...

It was a helicopter. Maybe another hour or so, we're told. There is barely enough room for the airstrip on the side of the steep mountainside. It is steeply graded to help slow the landing planes as they come up the slope and to rapidly accelerate those taking off before reaching the end of the runway, which is simply a cliff over a vast mountainous drop-off.

With the extra time, I spoke to Tsering for a while – a tall, handsome Sherpa who was on our trip. Very nice, shy, speaks excellent English, extremely good sherpa and guide. This would be his only trek of the season – the one he was hoping to do after ours has been called off since the last two remaining people canceled due to the world events. Tsering will now hike down to the bus station – which is a three or four day walk for him (six or seven days for us). His Grandmother lives there in the house he grew up in, but the rest of his family has now moved to Kathmandu. He will then catch the bus to Kathmandu where he has a small bicycle repair shop near Bodinath. His younger sister and her son live with him right now since her husband has taken a job in Saudi Arabia working for a railroad. Jobs are very precious here and no one thinks twice about leaving home for months or even years for a good one that can put food on the table and possibly even pay for the most precious of all luxuries – school tuition for the children.

Our trekking crew. Tsering is the third from the left in back and Nawang is sitting in front, but they were all wonderful.

I also spend some time speaking to our Sidar, Nawang Tindu Sherpa. He has four children and I've noticed how respected he is all along our journey – all the guides and Sidars of other groups are quite deferential to him. Though not physically imposing, he is an incredibly strong hiker and has guided up all the major mountains in this area and knows every trail to every town for hundreds of miles stretching even into Tibet. Now that Susan and I know our way around here a bit and know some local people like Nawang and Tsering that we can trust, we will just simply hire them and a few porters on our own if we ever come up here again since we could then stay longer and simply go where we'd like on the spur of the moment and set our own pace.

For anyone interested in contacting either of them write to Nawang Tindu Sherpa at Gairidhara, GPO Box 5385 Kathmandu, Nepal e-mail info@shivatours.com They both come with my highest recommendation.

Epilogue:

Well, even though my journal continues on, that was really the last of our adventure. We took Gail around Kathmandu on her last day there so she could see a bit more of that wonderfully hectic place (and you really haven't experienced Kathmandu until you take the cabs!). She just didn't understand why all the "guides" and hawkers ignored us and latched onto her, following her around and trying to sell her their things despite the dozen "no thank you's" she repeated like a mantra. It had been the same for us when we first arrived, but after a while you just acquire a shell and aloofness that the vendors can read with almost psychic accuracy. They know that those that have been here for a while won't be buying so they don't even bother – their ability to size someone up in a split section is truly something to watch. 

Here's Gail learning the art of snake charming on one of the side streets.

Then we spent our last two days relaxing, watching TV, and eating in the best restaurants we could find. I handed out more photos and arranged for bus drivers and others to deliver the ones I'd taken in outlying towns like Nagarkot and Patan. The flights back were grueling as usual, but relatively uneventful and when we finally drove up to our quiet house in the North Carolina woods, it never looked so good!

Nepal was certainly one of our most interesting and emotional trips. Though it took us two weeks to fully recover from the exhaustion that set in soon after we arrived home, it was worth it all. Though I'd been reading the local Kathmandu Post on the Internet for the year before our trip and studying some of the language, the place was completely different than I'd imagined it. The people were both the same as people everywhere and surprisingly unique unto themselves. A few weeks after our return I've been saddened to see the political unrest expanding into Kathmandu and even up into the Himalayan region near where we'd trekked (around 300 people killed in battles between the Maoists and Police not too far from Lukla, while a factory was blown up in Kathmandu). I often wonder what is happening to all the people I met, photographed, and painted. I hope they are safe and I hope they will someday get the chance to fully realize their dreams, even though this will inevitably mean the loss of some of the innocence and charm that so drew us to visit there.

The places in the world that are still so untouched, and living in a traditional manner that stretches back thousands of years, are vanishing fast. Both Susan and I feel honored and lucky to have glimpsed one such place before it disappears. Hopefully, through our words and paintings you can share in that adventure and possibly seek out ones of your own.

Interview Questions 11-2001 Alicia Bartz US Art Magazine – via e-mail from Kathmandu, Nepal
US Art Magazine was doing an article on couples that both paint and asked us to be a part of it just a couple days before we were leaving for Nepal so we did the interview via e-mail rather than over the phone like normal. Since the article itself was only a page long and webpages are unlimited, I thought it might be fun to include the entire interview below for anyone who is interested. 

Alicia,

It's Scott Burdick from Kathmandu -- just thought I'd start writing out some answers to some of your questions in the next couple of days and send them off to you little by little. Feel free to e-mail back with any follow-ups. I don't have spell-check here, so be prepared!

Susan and I met twelve years ago at the Palette and Chisel art club in Chicago. I'd just finished the American Academy of Art and she was starting there -- a friend of hers who was modeling for us at the P & C brought her over one evening and I fell for Susan instantly and we've been together ever since. I think that when you are so passionate about something the way we are about painting it would be nearly impossible to be with someone who didn't share that view. Both of us studied under the legendary Bill Parks at the Academy, who'd taught so many great artists over the years. In fact we were very lucky to have studied with him before he retired (Susan was in his very last full-time class). Timing was also on our side to have been there at just the right moment when the Palette and Chisel was going through a resurgence of its former glory with such great artists as Richard Schmid and Irving Shapiro painting there. The greatest thing then and now is being with someone who shares your passion and speaks the same language. When we travel there isn't a conflict of whether to paint or spend time with your spouse since we both love to paint together on our trips. Even to the point of choosing where we like to visit on a trip. Often times, in fact, when we hire cabs or guides in places like Nepal, China, etc. they are utterly confused by the requests we make since they can sometimes be places no "tourist" has ever wanted to go. Out of the way villages without any temples or attractions, factories where rugs, pottery, etc. are made rather than the show-rooms, these are so wonderful for us as painters and we can share the joy or discovery and exploration together. In fact, this morning was a perfect example. It was our last day up in a mountain town called Nagarkot. When I saw a group of eight, colorfully dressed woman with baskets down in the valley cutting grass to bring back to their cows, I instantly hiked down there
and took tons of photos for later paintings while all the rest of the people in the hotel went up to the roof for breakfast. I returned an hour later soaked from slogging through the marshy grass, but ecstatic at all the incredible images I'd captured. I got some strange stares when climbing back up the hillside, but when I described the scene to Susan, she was instantly as excited as I was.
As you've probably guessed, travel is a passion we both share. Susan researches and organizes all the trips we take and she is an expert at using the internet and getting incredible deals on airfares, etc. In fact, we tend to divide up all the business end of Art to whatever we're best at. I'm good with technical stuff so I do our website and photograph all our work, while Susan has a good memory for dates and organizing so she takes care of most of the show and travel arrangements. Sometimes Susan and I feel twinges of jealousy at some of our friends where either the husband or the wife is a non-artist and handles all the business end of things, leaving more time to paint. But there are always plusses and minuses to everything!
Our painting routines are pretty different. Susan is more of a steady painter, putting in a certain amount of time every day, while I tend to go in spurts, painting all day and night when I'm excited about something and then not painting at all for days at a time when I'm not inspired. We have two separate studio buildings a few hundred feet from our house, which always seems to surprise people, but neither of us could imagine not having our own painting space to escape to when we want to concentrate. We often paint models together though (usually in Susan's studio, since the north light windows are better).

Well, I'm starting to fade a bit -- probably from that jarring bus ride we had back to Kathmandu this morning -- so I'll call it a night and write some more tomorrow!

Scott Burdick

Alicia,

Well, here's a few more ramblings from Kathmandu!

4. Your painting styles are fairly similar. How do you learn from one another?
5. Do you also critique one another? (I know that doesn't work very well with my husband and me!)

Susan and I learn from each other all the time, both from critiquing each other's paintings directly and simply by watching what we're doing and pushing each other by getting each other motivated to paint a little more than we would have on our own. It's really a great thing to have someone who's opinion you respect when you need a fresh eye to look at your work.

Similarities stem from having studied under the same teacher at the Academy and the fact that we are often times panting similar themes and locations from our trips. We both love painting people, but Susan also likes Still Lives, which don't excite me very much, and vice versa with me and pure landscape painting (which Susan isn't that excited about for the most part -- when painting outdoors she is much more attracted to buildings and colorful villages).

As for our techniques, even though we both studied at the Academy under Bill Parks, the great thing about him was that he encouraged us to explore lots of different techniques so we all evolved slightly different methods. Susan generally does a large part of her paintings with transparent oil washes, really working these larger shapes as accurately as possible so that a lot of it shows through when she goes back and puts in the opaque refinements on top. I generally start right in my center of interest with thick paint and work outwards from there. I love working with the texture of the paint when working in oil and use watercolor when going for the kinds of subtleties that Susan achieves with her oils. In fact, I think Susan is a lot more versatile with oils since she really uses it to achieve all the range of effects where I generally switch mediums when I want to go for something other than thick, textural painting.

Opps, Power went out here, so I better send this before the backup goes out!

Scott Burdick

Here's some answer's from Susan -- she isn't much of a typist, so I'm being her secretary and transcribing.

6. Is there competition between the two of you because you have chosen the same career? For example, I know you often have shows together. Do you feel bad if one person sells a lot more work than the other? What if someone wins more awards or is chosen for an article and the other is not?

Scott and I are extremely hard on ourselves and our own work and are rarely very satisfied with what we do (always trying to improve and constantly striving to make the next one the best, etc.), but, as far as competing with each other, that just has never been an issue at all. Art just doesn't really seem like the kind of thing that is competitive between people -- it's so personal a journey and the struggle isn't so much being "better" than someone else as to trying to get what's inside yourself out onto canvas. I know that there are lots of competitions and the desire to give awards and judge this as best, this as second, so on, but all that is really a bit silly at times. When we have shows, it's obvious that every person has a different favorite painting, so if you had fifty judges you might have fifty different first places. It's so strange when something wins first place and everyone rushes to buy that particular painting when they weren't going to buy it before the award. People need to trust their own emotions since every person is as individual as every painting and artist. I guess what I'm trying to say is that the idea that I would be competitive with Scott or with anyone else is kind of strange. If one of us doesn't sell something at a show we of course feel bad, but not in relation to what the other person has sold. In fact, it's probably a bit less harsh if the other one sells something because at least we know we can pay our bills! But money is a completely separate thing and doesn't have much to do with Art so we try as much as possible to put the two sides of painting into their own compartments.

8. Finally, do most collectors know you are a couple? And how do you think that changes the way they look at or buy your paintings?

I'm not sure how many collectors know we are a couple at this point. Since I use my own last name it's not obvious and we've certainly met a lot of collectors who have bought things from both of us without knowing we were married. Occasionally a gallery has even called to ask me to be in a show and then asked if I knew the phone numbers of various other artists they were t

Oops, power out – later

Boy, they sure do have a lot of power outages here! At least two a day! Well, here's the last bit of that final answer from Susan.


8. Finally, do most collectors know you are a couple? And how do you think
that changes the way they look at or buy your paintings?

I'm not sure how many collectors know we are a couple at this point. Since I
use my own last name it's not obvious and we've certainly met a lot of
collectors who have bought things from both of us without knowing we were
married. Occasionally a gallery has even called to ask me to be in a show and
then asked if I knew the phone numbers of various other artists they were thinking of asking, with Scott's name as one of them. I remember when Howard Mandville gallery had done that I just said, here, why don't you ask him, and handed the phone to Scott. They were so surprise!

Well, I guess that's it -- just let me know if you need anything more.

Susan and Scott