India: days 5-14

I slowly woke up to the thumping sound of local women beating the stains out of their laundry along the water’s edge. I peered from my window, looking down at the hardworking women and then out to a floating white palace in the middle of the lake. It was if it came from a James Bond movie and it had. In 007’s Octopussy movie, the royal palace was used in the film as well as other parts of Udaipur, an Indian city in south Rajasthan.

With its islands, boats and bridges, Udaipur is affectionately known as the Venice of India. It’s a beautiful city and numerous rooftop restaurants allow tourists to catch its spectacular scenery.

At street level, however, the city is a different story. Aggressive touts yell for your attention as you walk the streets, lined with beggars, stray dogs and unpredictable cows. It can be tricky to pass a cow along the narrow passageways, since they sometimes jolt their heads upward toward your body. I’ve been head-butted a few times already. One night, I dodged cows and touts to watch a cultural show with Rajasthani performers, which included dancers balancing bowls of fire on their heads and men dressed in drag.

After a few days of sightseeing in the romantic but hectic city, I ventured to the blue city of Jodhpur in a quite comfortable sleeper cabin on a bus. Jodhpur has a fort that seemed to be etched from the top of a hill overlooking hundreds of buildings painted baby blue. From a bird’s eye view, the sight is remarkable. The reason they are painted blue is uncertain but some think it relates to a certain caste class, who are closely associated with the color. No matter what, there must have been a strict homeowner’s association to enforce the color coding of the buildings.

While killing time in the maze of streets, I walked up to a rooftop restaurant that had Rajasthani entertainment. It was far less professional compared to Udaipur’s performers but still entertaining in its own way. The band, sitting on a rug, would play traditional tunes then stop abruptly. One time, the lead musician stopped while the others followed suit because he had an incoming call on his cell phone. The managers eyed annoyingly at him as he took the call. The dancers were fun, though, and even dragged me up in front to shake my hips along with theirs.

I eventually took an overnight bus to the western desert city of Jaisalmer near Pakistan. Camel safari touts are very aggressive here as they vie for tourist cash. Unfortunately, I couldn’t escape their wrath. Once I jumped off the bus at 4 a.m., at least 20 peddlers surrounded me. I agreed to have one drive me to my hotel but as we drove off, he insisted that I go to his hotel and take his camel safari. I kept saying no, so he stopped the jeep and said it was as far as he could go, which was complete bullshit. So, there I was, in the dark, empty streets about a kilometer or two from my hotel. I stuck to the main streets, with no idea where to go. Stray dogs then began to bark and pursue me. One of them would nip at my ankle, luckily, not breaking the skin. It took an hour or so to finally reach the hotel inside the city fort, where I would only pay $5 a night for an en-suite room.

When the sun was up, the view from the hotel was first class. I could see most of the so-called golden city, spread below the steep walls of the fort. I signed up for an overnight camel safari and left with seven others the next day.

Once I saddled up on my camel, he grunted and acted reluctant to port another tourist. For six hours, I weaved back and forth as the camel trudged the uneven terrain. Our caravan stopped for lunch under a large tree, then went through a nomad village and stopped at the edge of a long stretch of sand dunes.

As the sun set behind the rolling dunes, our camel drivers cooked up simple Indian dishes and belted out desert songs, with one of them using a water jug to set the beat. We all sat around a fire, enjoying the entertainment and the clear sky that was full of stars.

Following a 13-hour bus ride and a 6-hour train ride, I made it back to Delhi to complete the “Golden Triangle” circuit around Rajasthan. Delhi was inundated with crowds as India’s biggest holiday, Diwali, approached. On the first day of Diwali, I would fly out comfortably on a jumbo jet with many empty seats onboard.

India: days 1-4

It was a gorgeous view looking out of the balcony of my room in Pushkar, a pilgrimage city where Hindus come to bathe in the ghats along the city's holy lake. However, when I peered down to the nearest ghat my eyes caught topless Hindu women splashing water onto their naked torsos. The sight was far from a Girls Gone Wild video as the women were old and quite overweight. I then quickly changed my glance to the surrounding hills with temples adorning the summits.

Each year, hundreds of thousands of die-hard Hindus cram into this sacred city to wash in the waters of the beloved lake, which legend associates the creation of it to Lord Brahma. Even Ghandi's ashes were spread onto this lake after he was assassinated in Delhi.

Because of the strong Hindu ties, Pushkar has a tame nightlife. I had to buy an overpriced bootleg beer, poured into a coffee pot, just to get my hops fix. Though Hindus don't drink or eat meat, I was still offered ganja on more than one occasion. I assume the wacky tobacky helps enlighten the pilgrims.

Before Pushkar I worked my way through the confusing New Delhi train station to take an uncomfortable ride to Agra, home to the Taj Mahal. It's impossible to sleep on trains, even at night, as groups of Indians talk loudly to each other without consideration to others. Indians, on the other hand, have mastered the art of sleeping under distractions, which can include dirty sidewalks on busy city streets with mice scurrying close by. Train rides can be very intriguing, though. Various food items and girts, such as keychains and snowglobes, are peddled in the aisles. Perhaps the most memorable people were these gypsy women who would clap their hands and say prayers to passengers for a few rupees. On closer inspection, the women were actually drag queens and I'm sure their prayers were not that genuine as well.

Once I got to Agra I shared an auto-rickshaw with an Aussie who informed me that we both came on the wrong day to see the Taj Mahal. It was a Friday and it was closed off to the public so Muslims could take part in their weekly services. We decided to head to Agra's massive fort instead. Afterward, our rickshaw driver, a young man who kept jamming a key into his ear to scratch a deep itch, drove us to a park on the north side of the Taj. From there I snapped some good shots from across the river, less than 100 feet from the Taj. I felt bitter about not being able to enter the historic site but I got over it when an impromptu ceremony passed us on the road. We followed the lively Hindu procession that stopped at the river's edge. I later discovered that the small parade, with a band and a Hindu statue being pulled on a cart, was for a child's baptism.

Later, while waiting for a late train out of Agra, an older Indian man who claimed to be a medical doctor came up and began to speak to me. We spoke of pleasantries for a few minutes until he switched topics and asked if I could help him land an American girl for sex. For the next awkward 15 minutes he pressed me for my contact details while he tried to commission me to be a pimp for his hunt for American girls. I told him that he'd have to visit the U.S. and find his own since I couldn't even get one myself. Finally, to get rid of him, I said that I would look around for him. Any takers out there?

This brings me to my initial assessment of Indian men stuck in a sex-deprived religious society. Often you will see Indian men rubbing the inner thighs as well as hugging and holding hands of their male friends. Since public affection among men and women is forbidden in India, especially in this part of the country, it seems that men use men as an outlet to satisfy sexual desires. I witnessed the same thing in Iraq where Muslim men had photos of male bodybuilders in their wallets and explained to me that women are for babies and boys are for pleasure.

Now, I don't know what truly occurs at home with husbands and wives in these types of societies but it appears that strict religious laws worldwide put males and females in an odd place, at least compared to Western cultures. In India, pre-martial sex is a big taboo for devout Hindus as well as pornography. There is also much male and female segregation in schools. And once married, many women stay at home to do chores and rear children, and are rarely considered equal to their husbands.

Whether I'm right or wrong about Indian men being sexually frustrated, who knows or cares. I'm just telling you how I see it. Yet, there has to be a good reason why an older Indian man has enough courage to ask a complete stranger to search for an American girl so he can have unrestricted sex.

Nepal: days 16-22

The goat's demeanor said it all. His eyes had a terrified look as he nervously soiled the grass below his shaky legs. He had the right to be scared shitless. He was the unfortunate guest for an upcoming feast to celebrate the Hindu festival called Dashain. As part of the festival, animal sacrifices are common and I've heard from locals that hundreds of thousands of goats, sheep and water buffalo will meet their demise this holiday season in Nepal.

Some people, especially Westerners, have veered away from what they see as barbaric acts. However, if the ritual is done correctly, the animal is beheaded with one slice, killing it instantly. Plus, for many Nepalese families it is the only time of the year they eat meat, so every part of the sacrificed animal is used. In Pokhara, a lakeside town with picturesque mountains in the background, I was invited to watch a few of the sacrifices. Afterward they fed me some Nepali delights, which included goat tongue and congealed blood that resembled black scrabbled eggs.

The sacrifices, which re-enact the slaying of an evil demon by the Hindu Goddess Durga, are quite interesting. It's a family affair as adults and children huddle around the animal. Once the animal is sacrificed, men rush in to secure the spurting blood into a metal bowl as well as wash out the throat. Boiling water is then poured onto the body, which loosens up the fur. It took roughly 20 minutes for the goat to be stripped of fur and ready to be butchered.

Thus far, I've spent about a week in Pokhara. The town is cheap and has a relaxing vibe, a complete contrast from Kathmandu. During my time here I rented a moped and drove to a variety of sights out of walking distance. One day I powered the small-engine scooter up to the scenic point Sarangkot, which overlooks the Annapurna Mountain Range. One of the mountains, Machhapuchhre or more appropriately nicknamed Fishtail Mountain, dominates the skyline where mountains ranging between 23,000 to 26,000 feet can also be seen. At the top of Sarangkot is a small army fort where the best views can be had but first you have to hike up hundreds of steep steps to get there.

The other popular lookout point is the World Peace Pagoda. One of 80 across the globe, the white pagoda was built on top of a hill above the lake and town as a symbol for world peace. (A nice concept but very unlikely to happen.) Nonetheless, the view from here is perhaps the best in the land. The lake and the roads strewn with hotels can be seen as well as the Annapurna range. Another sight I ventured to was the Bat Cave. No superhero in tights here, just a flock of the hairy-winged creatures hanging upside down and occasionally swooping down in front of you.

Another day I rented a row boat and a local fishing rod made from a bamboo stick. I paddled to the other side of the lake, placed bread on the hook and caught nothing but nibbles from minnows. It was still a tranquil setting to down a brew and listen to the iPod. I then rowed to a Hindu temple on an island in the lake. Crowds of Hindus with red "Tika" marks on their foreheads were paying their respects to the temple during the festival.

At night, Pokhara still thrives but after 11 p.m. it shuts down. The bars are the standard touristy places, except for the so-called dance clubs. Make no mistake, dancing does occur in these venues, but not by you. Basically you sit and watch dancers perform Nepali and Indian Bollywood numbers. If you're lucky, a woman dressed in some sort of belly-dancer outfit will dance on the stage alone; the closest thing you'll get to a strip club over here.

I'm currently preparing to head back to Kathmandu and catch a flight to Delhi. I expect more surprises from this part of Asia very soon.

Nepal: days 11-15

After a grueling trek, mainly due to a recent stomach bug, I made it to Gorak Shep, the last village located at more than 16,800 feet. To put things in perspective, the tallest mountain in the continental U.S. sits at only 14,500 feet high. So, it didn't amaze me that when I arrived to the lodge I could barely talk to my Canadian friends and almost fainted because of a lack of vital nutrients. I quickly gulped a salt and sugar supplement drink to get me back on track.

Following a short nap I decided to hike Kala Patthar, a scenic point that afforded views of Mount Everest and other goliaths. Since I was still a little dizzy and lightheaded I took baby steps up the hill that stood at more than 18,100 feet. I walked so slowly that I was even passed by an old German man who advised me to breath in with one step and out with the other. At high altitudes like this trek many people fall victim to Acute Mountain Sickness, which is caused by going up high too fast and can be fatal. It is said that there is less than half the amount of oxygen at these heights compared to sea level. In other words, you have to breath in more often to obtain a suitable amount of oxygen. I wisely pushed my ego aside, took the German's advice and made it to the top.

The summit had a 360-degree view of some of the tallest peaks in the world. The south side of Mount Everest peeked from behind another mountain and the clear blue sky made it easy to capture great photos.

The next morning I headed up to Everest Base Camp along a rocky trail that followed and eventually crossed a glacier. While on the glacier, every step had to be calculated since a wrong step could land you a freezing pond. Once at the camp a small avalanche came rushing down the entry point to Everest's south summit, leaving a plume of snowy dust in the air. Luckily no one was on the icy passage at that time. I ventured into one of the camps preparing to climb Everest when I recognized a New Zealand couple staying at the same lodge talking to one of the climbers.

To my surprise they were chatting with an American climber planning to summit Everest in the coming days. His name is Eric Larsen and he is currently on the famed mountain. He told me that he was conquering Everest as part of his environmental awareness campaign to highlight climate change. If he reaches the summit, he will be the first person to mount major expeditions to the bottom, the top and the roof of the world in one year. Earlier this year he carried out expeditions to the North and South poles. You can follow him on his Web site: www.savethepoles.com.

I thought it was an honor to meet such an experienced climber, especially at base camp. However, Larsen downplayed the Everest feat, saying that specialized sherpas, called Ice Doctors, do all the work along the passage beforehand. He made it sound like almost anybody could climb Everest. He forgot to mention that the going price for an Everest expedition nowadays is roughly $70,000 per person to pay for the manpower, supplies and permits. And since I couldn't find an ATM up there, I chose to skip the Everest summit this time around.

Nepal: days 6-10

With touristy Namache Bazaar behind me, I descended to a one-lodge village called Phungi Thanga. I stayed the night to acclimatize myself and prepare for a long, uphill trek the next day. There, I befriended the son of the lodge owner. He attends a Kathmandu university and has to help the family lodge every trekking season. I'm guessing his parents want him out there because he speaks English very well. I was pretty glad he was there since I only knew how to say "good" and "milk" in Nepali. Milk because I'm one of those unfortunate lactose-intolerant guys and the white stuff would plaque my trip if I had some.

The father had served 20 years in the Nepal army and collects a monthly pension. In Nepal, if you attend college you don't have to join the army - a two-year requirement for every Nepalese man. I suspect that the father wanted his son to go to college so he wouldn't have to endure the monotony of the service. I'm still unsure why the country has an army in the first place. If a country, say China, would invade, the international community would protect them. However, there is an active terrorist organization in the mountains called Maoists, who base their beliefs on Chairman Mao, the architect behind China's communist government. I'm sure that the U.S. aids the Nepal army to fight the commies because everywhere I went I heard men tell me that my U.S. Army rucksack is the same as theirs.

The next day I slowly climbed up to Pengboche. Once I got there I dropped off my bags and walked outside to stretch. I saw another lodge owner's son, but this one performing an unfavorable job. His hands were caked with Yak shit while he massaged the stuff into small pancakes and placed them under the sun on stones. At first thought I wondered if the boy was slow and enjoyed the texture between his fingers. I later learned that mountain lodges and homes use the dry manure as fuel for furnaces, which are conveniently located in the middle of dining rooms. Luckily the smoke stack shot any bad smells out and above the roof as we huddled around it.

The following days came with strenuous hikes to Pheriche, Thokla and Lobouche. In Pheriche, I met up with a Canadian couple that I first had dinner with in Namache. They were avid hikers who were traveling the world for a year before they get married. I told them, which I'm sure they've heard before, that the trip would either make or break the relationship. With about six months into their trip they still seemed like a very happy couple.

At Lobouche, we all stopped for the night to get ready for the last stop at Gorak Shep. Another couple from Israel joined us and we all played the card game President and Asshole, or simply Asshole. Who knew that this game would be internationally known, except for a few slight rule changes. The Israeli boyfriend and girlfriend met while in the army and were spending their time away from their job as private security guards. They told me that armed guards were required for many occasions, including school field trips to museums.

The Israeli boyfriend would always crack me up when he argued with me that everyone hated Israelis. I didn't fully recognize this problem until we all spoke of world policy toward his country, i.e. how the Allies divided the country after World War 2 and how the U.S. is more than happy to sell weapons to Israel but will never fight alongside them. On top of this, a Malaysian trekker overhearing us jokingly pulled out his passport, which stated the countries (plural) that he wasn't allowed to visit. The only country on the list was Israel. Now, I'm not condoning that the world hates Israel but there seems to be a lot of world leaders that dislike the country. That's one of the main reasons that Israelis often stick together while traveling, they told me. They feel safer in numbers.

With world politics aside, we all shared a good coalition time together even though much of the time I was the asshole. I guess it's about time that an American takes its turn at the bottom.

Nepal: days 4-5

Woke up at 5 a.m. to only wait six hours at the Kathmandu airport when they finally announced that all flights to Lukla - the entry point to the Everest region - were cancelled. Apparently there was too much fog for any airplane to land at the one-of-a-kind airport. The next day I took the 45-minute picturesque flight in a tiny airplane, sitting right behind the pilots. I was able to see the hair-raising landing over their shoulders. The airstrip is short and abruptly ends into the side of a mountain. If the brakes went out I'm sure we'd be a blurp on the news about a plane crash with no survivors.

Once out of the aircraft and bags in tow, lines of Nepali porters, or sherpas, waited for me outside a chain-linked fence for my business. Since I'm trying to prove my manhood I'm choosing to haul my own baggage, and not just my mental issues. Hopefully I'll make it after days of strenuous hiking to the 17,600-foot Everest Base Camp.

The first day of hiking seemed a breeze. The scenery was remarkable, as expected, and I ended up as the lone hiker staying at a lodge in Monjo. The next day brought me back to reality. The three-hour hike was mainly uphill, crossing steep rocky steps and high suspension bridges over rapids. I decided to stop at one of the major thoroughways, Namache Bazar, located at more than 11,000 feet. It was probably for the best since I could hardly catch my breath at times during the hike, partly due to actively dodging Yak poo on the trail.

At Namache, I took a room for 200 rupees, or about $3. The room was basic with no toilet but the windows overlooked the village, which clings from the side of a mountain. I could even view a waterfall cascading roughly 2,000 feet from another mountain.

The village may be touristy but traditional life goes on. Sherpas transport goods in and out along the trail, locals tend to spinach crops and livestock. As for the children, who are too young for school, amuse themselves by running about outside. No video game generation here. I even saw three kids riding the same stick down the trail and having the time of their lives. I assume they were imitating riding a donkey or something. Let's see the chubby, couch potato youth of the U.S. enjoy simple outdoor surroundings like these kids.

I've picked up random supplies here, including a sleeping bag rental. I'm ready to move on. Not sure where the next internet access will be. The villages along the trail try to cater to hikers but they can still be primitive. Namache, however, is a bustling village and even has a sports bar playing football on TV. Too bad it's English football, though.

Nepal: days 1-3

I regretted why I didn't take out travel insurance once the tax driver hit the streets of Kathmandu. The streets were inundated with pot holes, cars, people and the occasional cow. Yes, a cow. Over here, a cow is a sacred animal not a T-bone steak. I read somewhere that if you killed a cow it'll land you 15 years in prison - the same punishment as killing a person.

The condition of the streets made Iraqi streets seem as safe as ones found in sleepy Nebraska towns. The 20-minute ride to my hotel in a rickety Toyota van was the equivalent of a roller coaster ride that has failed multiple safety inspections. Cars sharply turned within inches of moving objects. There are no sidewalks and the roads can barely fit two cars side by side. The only way that cars avoid crashing into things is the excessive use of their horns.

When you're out walking, it's easily to get annoyed by passing cars blaring their horns as their side mirrors almost scathe you. To counter the dangerous roads and not to mention the filth and smog that covers the city, (note: Kathmandu is one of the dirtiest cities in the world) hotels are a bargain. You'll likely to spend $5 for a room with a bathroom.

As for the local food, I was addicted to "mo-mos," a dumpling filled with yak meat. You can get 10 dumplings for 30 rupees, or about 50 cents. However, when you eat the local food there are repercussions. It seemed whatever I ate or drank went through me in minutes. I recall at least 10 potty dances to the toilet in one day.

But with any trip to a third world country, mudbutt is inevitable. As for the nightlife, there are plenty of touristy bars with touristy prices. Perhaps, the best part of the city was Dunbar Square, a historic Hindu site filled with palaces and the like. Here, there are many photo opportunities.