Finally Em's miraculous self control against all things junk food is beginning to crack. While I have been happily snacking on Victoriabaking brownies and cake, chocolate bars and maple almond butter, Em has stuck to non-chocolate trail mix and granola bars. But the speed and consistency of movement with which we are walking downhill, the weight of our packs and dwindling snacks has driven Em to French fries, and for the first time today...bakeries!
The bakeries in Namche and other lower villages are something worth writing home about, and today we experienced our first taste. Following lunch we headed to Tengboche Bakery and proceeded to make ourselves uncomfortably full on cake and pie. Lounging on sunny picnic tables for two hours, life feels delicious and simple.
Tengboche with views of Everest and Ama Dablam in the background.
The Tengboche monastery.
Wandering through the famous Tengboche monastery, learning about ecological efforts in the Khumbu valley in the attached Eco Center, the swell of trekkers through this part of the world is brought into focus. Since trekking has become increasingly popular, so have the problems wrought by tourism been increased. Inefficient and polluting energy sources, litter and garbage choking wildlife, abuse of porters and the environment. Green saviors have initiated education and sustainment projects in various villages throughout the Himalayas to target trekkers like myself. We have been given everything we have asked for on this trek, a testimonial to Bishnu's ability...but should it be so easy to receive what we demand? Have we been properly thinking through the consequences of boiling water, eating whatever and whenever we please? Education is where the change can happen.
Photos were not allowed during the chanting, but here is the beautiful (but freezing) room where you can be swept to another world.
Running into Hilary, a young Canadian who we have bumped into quite a few times on the trek, she and I headed to the chanting session at the Buddhist monastery. Seating ourselves on the ground prior to the ceremony, we couldn't have had any idea the intensity that was in store for us. Along with about thirty other trekkers and guides, we watched as a line of monks streamed in, taking their assigned seats throughout the room. First draping themselves with robes of deep maroon, they stepped up and seated themselves cross legged on hard wooden benches. Waves of voices began to mount upwards, some deep and monotone, others higher with slight lilts. Suddenly the sound of the monks' voices were punctured by the sound of instruments. I could feel the electricity of the chanting coursing through me, my heart beating in time, as my pumping adrenaline heightening the intensity of the sound. A high clarinet-sounding instrument alternating between two notes, a gong thumping and pushing shock waves around the room, a deep horn (part didgeridoo, part tuba) blasting loud, pounding notes. It was at times frantic, and then suddenly soothing. Undoubtedly, I could not remain unmoved by the scene.
Snacks?
The 90 minute session was near constant chanting. A younger monk ran throughout the room handing out a strange collection of food (popcorn, cookies, prawn chips, hard candy etc.) to the other monks, which they saved and later bundled up to eat at a different time. Slowly, the cold and hard ground took its toll on the weary trekkers, and they slipped from the room. When only four spectators remained, the young monk shared some popcorn with us. Finally, just Hilary and I remained, totally taken in with this unfamiliar religious experience. It was beautiful and haunting, and I couldn't begin to tell you the first thing of what it all meant. I just know it had an effect on mind, body and soul.
Walking in the gathering darkness of late evening, Hilary and I returned to our guesthouse after the chanting for steaming bowls of soup before sleep. What a wondrous day, sugar and Buddhist chanting...I feel here, now.
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