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.