the Himalayas, bug bites on a whole new level, women's work, the weirdness of time

I returned several days ago from six days of trekking through the Himalayas after being persuaded to take the opportunity by two fellow volunteers, and unlikely sisters, from the states. Kelsey and Raina and I carried day packs with few changes of clothes, lots of granola bars and books, stopping each night at the numerous hostles that cluster in the villages along the trail. It was wonderful to hike for eight hours each day without carrying my entire house on my back, and then to pay less than a dollar for a bed at the end of the day. The food also proved to be amazing: Dahl Baht, Dahl Baht, and Dahl Baht, although the varieties of preparation were surprising, and i even managed to get my favorite snack, honey popcorn (which you should all try, it's exactly what it sounds like) one afternoon on a rest day at Poon Hill.
The trip had it's ups and downs (literally and emotionally), as it was monsoon season. The monsoon brings clouds and mist that obscure many of the picturesque views of snow capped mountains, as well as (unsurprising) abrupt downpours randomly throughout the day. Most horrific are the leeches, which are little bloodsuckers that come out during the rainy season to fall from trees or rise up from the trail, questing for your blood. They are attracted to heat and release a venom that is both an anesthetic and a blood thinner so there is no pain, only the horror of discovering one on you and being unable to stop the bleeding for several hours. Though they sound absolutely dreadful, and I met many along the way, i still managed to traverse the trails without incident, despite the fact that I wore Keens (which are like closed-toed sandles) without socks. My friend Raina got the worst of it, discovering one in her armpit when we got to our room the second night, prompting terror and the immidiate stripping off of all our sweaty clothes and full body searches. Poor Raina got another one on her heel the next day, though the effects were mostly disgust and a ruined sock. My horror came from a different source: at least a hundred (probably closer to two) bedbug bites in the last hotel, which over the first 24 hours swelled to twice the orignal size, reddened, and generally came quite unpleasant. Luckily they are finally beginning to fade off my arms, legs, feet neck and face...bleg.
I describe these things first because they in no way outweigh the wonder of the trip. The monsoons also made the trek much cooler than it would be during the summer months, and the trails were much less crowded with other hikers in off-season, which made the wilderness all the more beautiful. We stayed a day at the famous Poon Hill (almost 10,000 ft!) hoping to catch some clear weather as an hour climb from the town to the top yeilds a panoramic view of the Himalayas. The whole day was clouds and rain, though glorious relaxation, but we awoke to a misty, beautiful half-clear sunrise at 5:30, that slowly cleared off until we could see the mountains, like ice crystals, all around us. So amazing! The air, the small villages, the layers of peaks and mist against a blue sky... lovely, exhilerating and humbling.
After returning to Kathmandu I discovered that the issues with Sankhu resolved themselves while I was away, and I am now free to stay out at Sankhu for long periods. This is wonderful news, and I plan to head out on Saturday for a weeklong stay in the country, which I already miss. Another volunteer, Johanna, has planned day trip for the PA kids in Kathmandu out to the village home, and has arranged for a bus to take them there. I will therefore be part of the traveling circus (that so many kids on a bus represent), and i'm sure i will enjoy the fruit, cake and icecream that will be part of the festivities.
The only sad spot on this glowing horizon is that I am growing increasingly interested in the work of Raksha, and am discovering that a month is simultaneously very long and very short. If i plan on spending weeklong stretches out at Sankhu, there will be much less time available to work with Raksha. Menuka DiDi (DiDi means big sister) is a wonderful, vital woman doing amazing work that I'd like to be a part of. She continually offers her home as a place to stay and has let me copy a documentary they made last year to show when I return to Bowdoin. I do not want to dissapoint her, but worry about stretching myself too thin in the coming month. I will have to think hard about everything, and be sure that I communicate as clearly as possible what I am capable of giving to both organizations at this time. My desire to do too much at once has proven problematic in the past, and the last thing I'd want to do is create new complications for either organization.
In the meantime, I increasingly miss kitchens, peanut butter, vegetables, naked knees and shoulders, the novelty of drinking water from the tap, cold weather and, of course, Alaska. I also miss my family and friends, which is also nice in a way: a wonderful reminder to appreciate the people in my life.