One page proposal? Ha!

Garrison reporting on the activities of May 11,

We awakened at 5:00 am to the ruccous of a morning vegetable market that assembled below our 10th floor window (floor labeling system goes from ground to 5 then skips all the way up to 10).  The buildings of many of the towns of the Terai (lowlands) remind us of the old west with ornate fronts facing a dusty road while the backs and sides are drab and unfinished.  After inspecting the the market, we ventured onto the bridge for a view of the sunrise.  Although pedestrian traffic on the bridge far outmatched motorized vehicles, our porter/caretaker Naran soon arrived to escort us off the bridge to the safety of a nearby tea house.  Our drive continued northward as we left the scorched lowlands behind for the relative cool of the foothills.  The roads in this country seem to have little regard for the majestic topography as they scale mountains and plunge back down into valleys only occasionally keeping to a reasonable grade as they contour precariously along a valley wall.  Calling these ranges in front of the Himalaya foothills may be misleading because they are still proper mountains by North American standards rising really 10000 feet above the Terai.  Along the road we stop regularly for tea and cigarette breaks (Luke and I only engage in the former).  When we asked our traveling companions how often tea is served in Nepal the best answer we got was "a minimum of four times but no maximum".  As we have progressed further from the beaten path of tourism we have become more of an oddity.  So far our favorite example of this (there are a lot to choose from) was when we pulled up to a tea house along the road and before I could open my door a boy of about 14 holding a younger sibling came up to my window and looked in at me with the most curious eyes.  I smiled and looked out at him from two feet away but I could not match his penetrating gaze for long.  We had no less than four of these awkward consecutive staring contests before I was rescued by Naran who came over and opened my door for me (I couldn't open it with a person so close).   

The rest of our drive continued smoothly as we rode along a newly paved road with only intermittent stops to let the ubiquitous brightly colored busses pass.  As we approached our destination for the day in the town of Musicot we reached the end of the pavement and entered a whole region under construction.  With the new paved road there has been a huge influx of cement, aluminum siding and rebar for new buildings and the clank of heavy machinery continued well into the night.

Back on the first day we were introduced to our Nepali crew I was perplexed at how amusing they thought my name was but we didn't have the language skills to figure out what was so funny.  I thought Garrison must be a naughty word in Nepali but wasn't sure.  I recently discovered the source of the confusion while we were discussing supplies we need to purchase for our coming treks.  It turns out that, said with the right accent, Garrison is nearly indistinguishable from kerosine.  I still haven't dissilusioned them that there is a slight difference in the way we pronounce the two words so they still think I'm named after the fuel.