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lifeafterten · 6 years

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RtN 08: Bhulbule Bhulbule it’s Rocky E’rywhere

Shut the hell up-- That title made you fucking giggle, I know it. Don’t worry I wont tell anyone you fell for one of my dad jokes.

We had to be up early. No skin off my nose-- I was already up. (Shocker, I know.) Another night of me painting mental pictures behind my eyelids as I waited for the sun to come up. Super fun. {heavy on the sarcasm}

I went down for breakfast--- the staff was ready for me. They picked up on my crackhead hours from yesterday, I wasn’t gonna catch them sleepin’ (literally and figuratively) again.

We were a bit on a time crunch-- Hannah and Maxine were to meet us so we can split the jeep cost amongst ourselves, so we needed to have our shit together, again, literally and figuratively.

There was some contemplation on what I should take and what I shouldn’t. I definitely needed my medical supplies (I was basically carrying a mini pharmaceutical on my back) because of my leg, so my pack was already filling up quick. I made some rough cuts-- not everyone can make varsity. Hopefully I was able to cover all my bases. Then again, it’s not like I’ve done this before so what the fuck did I know? Next to nothing. I hoped to Christ my rationale and my common sense was enough. The things we decided to leave behind would be stored at the Hotel.

Soon enough, we were loading our packs and getting ready to skedaddle. Off to Besisahar... God help us.

For the second time on this trip, I longed for a damned seat belt. I seemed to have welded my feet to the car floor and was gripping the edge of the seat. I was squeezing so fucking hard my fingers began to tingle while anticipating hard turns and rough stops.

I was not wrong in my prediction.

The driving is insane here. First off, the roads were not roads they were dirt trails that vehicles decided to drive on for what seems like funzies; shits n’ giggles; lapses in fucking sanity-- Holy cannoli-- Breathe Ashley, breathe...

That’s the fucked up thing about anxiety: it messes with you. Bad. I can look at something and think about a million and one things that can go wrong, like that (please insert finger snap here, thanks).

Our driver was not the friendliest of the friendlies if you can catch my meaning. And he was young. Real young. If the furry caterpillar he was trying to grow on his face was any indication-- yeah, he was definitely in his early twenties if not twelve.

The drive itself had me on edge, since we were so perilously close to the edge about 80% of the time. My nerves were just about threadbare at this point and we haven’t even gotten started yet. But it wasn’t just driving cliff side; it was the near misses, and the constant honking (holy fuck was this kid liberal with that shit-- handing out honks like it was fucking Tic-Tacs) as our driver over took buses, jeeps, and motorbikes alike. He was a very aggressive driver, which I was sorta thankful for. The trip to Besisahar was an estimated seven to eight hour drive. He was able to cut it down to six. But I was almost certain the ride alone had shaved off a few years off my life.

We stopped for bathroom and snack breaks along the way, but I was too tired mentally to muster up the strength to get out of the car. So I stayed in there, slumped at the backseat, reveling at the stillness of it before we went off-roading again. Yes, I considered it off-roading. During those times of rest, Adrian slid into the backseat with me. We talked about nonsense, but I had an inkling he was checking in on me. Well not really and inkling-- the dude literally asked if I was good.

I’ll admit there were moments where I allotted a small head to shoulder touch (meaning, my forehead to his shoulder), only to convey that I was fine. Sometimes I do these things. My actions these days are more honest than my mouth is. I don’t lie about a lot of things, but somehow when it comes to my personal shit and physicality status... lying about it came almost as naturally as breathing. My body status because I was tired of the hovering, and my feelings because I’ve been doing it for so long I don’t know how to stop sometimes. I’m working on it, okay? Half way there I was almost certain that our driver was trying to kill us. I was being dramatic, of course, but I swear to Christ the next time that little shit picks up his phone to talk to someone while he’s playing the Nepali version of Chicken with the other cars; while driving cliff side; while honking like a madman-- I swear I was gonna slap the puberty outta this mother fucker. GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE! I would have screamed if my heart wasn’t in lodged my throat; choking me into silence. My palms were sweating. The relief was palatable once we reached Besisahar.

Since our driver was part Nepali part fucking Speed Racer, we arrived earlier than we anticipated. So the plan to walk to the next location came into motion. “You guys just wanna walk straight to Bhulbule?” Bhulbule was about a two and a half walk from Besisahar, and since we’ve been cramped in a jeep for the better part of our morning... I was not opposed. I had a lot of nervous energy pent up, so some walking might do me some good.

The roads were dusty, but I liked that I was surrounded by green. I thought the rice fields were actually rather pretty. It could be the Filipino in me, but I don’t think my family grew rice-- I think it was pineapples?

I think this mini trek to was a pretty important learning session about the personalities of our group, which had expanded plus two.

Hannah had a very bubbly personality. Lani had dubbed her Hermoine, probably in regard to her accent and the unruly curls that donned her crown. She was short in stature, but her personality was definitely larger than life. She was an opera singer by occupation (amazing), and when she and Zach would break out into impromptu songs it was the sweetest thing. Apparently the girl had a penchant for nicknames for she went from Hermoine, to Hannah-Darling, to finally Hannahpurna. The last one tickled my fancy-- mostly because I’m a sucker for puns or any play on words, really. Hannah was a firecracker with the tendency to “wee” every fifteen steps (total exaggeration, but she did need a few stops, and it was cute). She was very hydrated. How to describe Hannah... She had these curls the color of light brown sugar, and big doe eyes that darted everywhere like she wanted to take everything; experience everything at the same time; all at once. She had a wonderful lilt to her voice that sounded almost musical-- whether it be because of her accent or her occupation-- either way it was pleasant, and made it even more hilarious when she would say some off the wall shit.

Maxine-- I had dubbed her Maxie, because... I’ve always wanted to call a someone that-- was from the Netherlands. I can’t say I know much about the Dutch, but Adrian tells me that they’re the nicest people. Next to Canadians, I imagine. From what I learned from Lani-- Maxine was involved in research for exoskeletons for paraplegics, and I am awed by... everything? Can I be awed by everything? Fuck, I guess I am. Max was quiet, but sure of herself--- The best kind of quiet confidence. I felt she had good energy. She was tall and blonde.. and apparently gets sunburned easily. I liked her high cheekbones and the strong, sharp angles of her jawline. At first she seems a bit severe, but when she smiles her eyes crinkle at the corners that’s when you really see her shine, and Max smiles a lot. Shit. We’re getting a bunch of bright people now. I’m getting nervous. Just kidding. ... Kinda-- ANYWAY!

Then we have Lani. Her optimism was infectious and you can just feel her excitement just to be here. And I’m glad we’re here-- glad I was able to see it with her; be here with her. I’ve never quite described Lani have I? Hm... She’s probably one of the most beautiful people I know. Her physical beauty is as effortless as the inner. She doesn’t need to try, she just is. She’s tall, she’s almost graceful in her movements until she remembers she has limbs and almost trips or hits something. (Why we’re actually friends.) She has her own demons to contend with, but she’s not like me and lets it fuck with her-- thanks to her optimism. It’s like she has a full reservoir of the shit. She drives me up the wall with it sometimes-- because I’m just allergic to things not fucked up apparently, but I’m glad I have her in my life. Perhaps when my bitterness dwindles as I fumble along this path of self-whatever-the-fuck maybe, just maybe, that optimism can rub off on me. Now onto the brightest of the bright-- dare I crown him the King of Sunshine, Zach. I have nicknamed him Zackerooie, because he’s just so damned adorable. Swear to Christ I have never met a more positive human being in my entire life-- and I was fucking surrounded by them back home. I appreciate the eye contact he gives when you’re in conversation with him. All smiles and bright blues just aimed at you. It’s neigh impossible to not adore him. He’s just a genuine person-- a rarity. Back home, genuineness appears to not only a be fallacy but an actual needle in a damned haystack. It’s like when someone calls themselves humble nine times out of ten they are anything but. When someone has to compliment themselves, that’s usually a huge red flag.

And alas there was Adrian. Adrian likes to pick on short people-- I’m not short by any means (pretty average for my ethnicity and gender-- thank you), just shorter than he is.

I will concede that we certainly have our similarities (insert your “no shit, Ashley” here). Which makes sense on why I found him to be so infuriating. We bickered. A bit. A lot. Fuck you, fine-- we bickered most of the time. It wasn’t too bad. I only half joked / threatened him with bodily harm. Then he’d say some stupid shit like I was too small to do dick, which made me actually want to punch him in the daddy bags. Repeatedly. In rapid succession. Just to make sure such assholery will not dare procreate. But during my observations I found that he is a lot more... thoughtful than I had initially pegged him to be. And let me tell you, my initial thoughts of him were not very flattering-- he kept picking on me, okay! It’s 2018 goddammit, no bullies allowed! In any case, we can safely say that Adrian is blunt; that Adrian is opinionated, but I found that his actions didn’t often match what his mouth was saying. There was a lot of “who cares” or “I don’t care” or “that’s someone else’s problem” or my personal favorite “whatever”. These things weren’t easy to spot, but when you’re trailing in the back of the group or existing in corners... You tend to catch on to how people really are relatively quickly.

But I started to note these things and the more I learned, the easier he was to understand. But then again he has probably the longest eyelashes I have ever seen-- which switches me back from understanding the guy to being annoyed by him.

I finally crossed my first bridge. I was anticipating/dreading, actually. Had a thing about heights, even though technically I’ve never really put myself in a situation where I would have to deal with heights. So does that mean I was scared if the idea of heights? Interesting thought. Well we were about to test that theory considering now I was looking at it dead in the face.

“You good?” Adrian asked me.. again. “Fine. Just panicking internally.” I found myself admitting honestly. Wow, that made my mouth feel weird. I don’t know what made me say it, but It felt strangely freeing, but considering I was still panicking I didn’t dwell too long. I’ll fuck with that shit later.

My ears were full of the water flowing under the bridge. I concentrated on putting one boot in front of the other, just look straight ahead. Don’t look down, if I stepped in shit (seemed to be... everywhere) I would dutifully scrape it off on a brick, or a rock, or an Adrian if he continued to piss me off. Or a Lani that kept smirking at my plight. Plotting which person to rub my just-in-case shitty boot on helped me across. I don’t know what kind of person that makes me, but it fucking works.

Zach was the captain of our merry band of misfits. He had the book. He had the map. He controls the futu-- Okay, sorry, that’s too much I know. But we basically followed his lead. He was great at getting the skinny from the locals (he has one of those faces). But we appeared to be following the Book (context: he purchased a trekking guide through the Himalayas from Lonely Planet. So when I say “The Book”, I mean the guide book-- not the bible, I didn’t finish Sunday school-- don’t know how to read it). The Book suggested we stay at two places: - Thorung-la Guest House - Heaven Guest House

It was getting late, so we went to the closest one:

Taking a shower was... Interesting. I couldn’t get my leg wet (as was my only requirement from my wound care doctor for her to give me the green light to fly), so I was basically doing some weird lean in butt fuck cold water (until I figured out how to use the heater) while keeping my leg elevated and away from the spout. Which is why my right leg is great at balancing. It felt nice to wash off the dirt. Took me a while to dress. My body and my leg.

I don’t think I packed enough warm underclothes. Just a few thermals and a rain jacket. I still had my down, but hardly think I can trek with that shit on. During the day it’s relatively warm, night is what kicks me in the vajeen.

In any case I walked down to beer and Dal Bhat.

I had brought a notebook down to write in (it was Lani’s diary and while she took pictures I wrote) and sat down. Everyone was already finishing up their plates-- considering the size of the plates-- considering the size of the plates, they were either hungry, or the food was bomb, or I was slow af getting dressed. I would guess the latter.I was already cold as shit. During dinner I was shivering and clenching my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. Although the teeth clenching could have been me biting my tongue whenever Adrian would remind me, for what seemed like the billionth time, it would only get colder. Or how he couldn’t believe I was already feeling that cold. Dude. I’m an island girl. The lowest the temp goes is 70 and that’s only if there’s a storm a’brewin’. So you bet your sweet ass this bitch was cold! Although I could not complain about the dude too much... He did try his best to keep my Island Popsicle ass warm throughout dinner by rubbing my arms. Maybe he’s not a bastard... still an asshole. A warm asshole.It was about seven or eight when everyone started turning in. I was reluctant because one, it was early, and two, I don’t sleep. Adrian was commenting that he couldn’t sleep too early because he’d wake up in the middle of the night. So it felt normal to agree when he asked me if I wanted to stay downstairs longer. One: it was early. Two: At this point I had buried myself under his arm and merged myself into his side like some weird warmth parasite. God that man was so warm. So we stayed up talking shit--bickering--whatever. I saw my first firefly (one of many firsts on this trip). I know what you’re thinking-- it wasn’t fucking romantical. Gag yourself. In fact I felt rather silly for admitting I haven’t seen something as apparently common. We don’t have those bugs on the island. Adrian kept his teasing to a minimum-- thank Christ-- and we eventually made our move back up stairs. Zach and Adrian’s room was across the hall from Lani and I’s.

I mumbled a quick goodnight to Adrian as I turned (left) into the... empty room. The room was empty. Where the hell was Lani?

I’ve read multiple books about a “sinking feeling” in your stomach when you mentally ask a question you already knew the answer to, but you hoped that maybe this bitch was in the fucking bathroom or something and, in fact, did not stay in the room across the hall leaving a now pretty sleepy Adrian bedless. I quickly pitter-pattered my way to the other room (right). My eyes had already adjusted to the dark enough to make out an Adrian standing in at the door way. He looked like he didn’t know what to do. Fuck if I knew what the fuck to do.

I had a belly full of Dhal Bhat and I had my fill of Adiran Warmth to last me... Just a couple more minutes if I didn’t get under warm covers soon.

“Lani?” I whispered at the dark lump I thought could be her. I don’t know what kind of Zombie/sleep cracked out Lani this was, but she moved fast. Like the zombies in World War Z fast, like I Am Legend Zombie fast. “Are you okay? I’m sleepy. I’m gonna go back to sleep. It’ll be okay. Mm, love you. Night.” She had said this over my, “What? Uh. Okay. Are you-- aaand you’re laying back down. Okay.” I stood there staring at the Lani-Lump. Incredulous; unsure; mostly confused.

This. Fucking. Cunt.

Deep breaths Ashley. This isn’t a huge deal. Except that I haven’t allowed anyone to sleep in the fucking same room with me for over a year-- besides my hospital stay.

That didn’t count.

I had drugs. I, at the moment however, did not have drugs. To his credit Adrian did ask if I was okay with us rooming together. ... Fuck it. Whatever. It was fine.

It was cold as shit outside; it was dark; I now (apparently) had an extra bed... He may as well use it, right? I mean, he wasn’t a complete stranger-- he actually seemed pretty cool when he wasn’t busting my balls.

I told myself I was fine with it. Actually, I told myself to stop being a little bitch. He wasn’t going to bite me. And if he did I’d have a reason to beat that ass. The possibility of violence made me strangely okay with it.

So we went to bed. It did not take me long to realize that usually bodies warm the sheets before it stays warm throughout the night. So whatever Adrian Warmth I had left dissipated once I slid under the sheets. Fuck. You. I knew I was going to be miserable the whole night. I rubbed my feet together in hopes the friction would help. No help. My feet were cold.

“You cold?” I heard the question from the bed across mine. Adrian. Didn’t trust my mouth to speak so I made a negative mouth sound of “nuh-uh.” Have you ever heard a silence that was deeper than silence...? Like someone was quietly judging your idioticy from across the room? Well, he as nice enough to not verbally call me out on my bullshit. Both he and I knew damn well I was cold as fuck-- but my stupid mouth still lied about it. Pride? Probably.

I saw his blanket open up, motions of his hand to hurry up and get in. I hesitated. Of course I did. I hesitate about everything. Fucking Pride... Stupid. But I couldn’t resist-- my bed wasn’t doing me any fucking favors-- so I did what Lani... and Kristin... and Jessie were always fucking telling me to do.

Go with it. (I had way too many free spirited friends..)

And fuck you, once Adrian dropped the blanket around me and I was immediately surrounded by that delicious, precious warmth, I swear that man could have asked me to kick a puppy and I would have done it gratefully. Okay maybe not-- but I would have heavily considered it. How the fucker got his bedding that comfortably warm in such a short amount of time I will never know. Or I didn’t ask. Fuck it man, I was just happy that I was warm. That’s his super power.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but it was the first sleep I’ve had since we landed in Nepal. I knew needed that sleep. So I’ll say this: Thank you, Adrian... You fucking asshole. What? Gotta keep it balanced. TBC...

#Road to Nepal Part 8 #Blog #Life After Ten #Travel #Nepal #Bhulbule #annapurna circuit

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