Closer to the sky in the heart of Asia

After a vicious breakup I feel compelled to reach for the mountains and put my act together, heal the wounds through strenuous hiking while breathing thin, pure air.  Well, it was not exactly like that. The breakup was not nasty at all - not even dramatic - and the trekking in the Himalayas had already been planned. All the same, as I slowly make my way eastwards, long flights, long waits, I feel increasingly yearning to be on my own, in communion with myself, tiny and unimportant, surrounded by the immensity of Earth's highest peaks.


Bewildering impressions from my short break in Delhi, more modern and cleaner than the Delhi I experienced eight years earlier, are quickly left behind as I get in a Royal Air Nepal aircraft bound for Kathmandu, as I realize the so few Westerners and the so many Nepali and Indians taking their seats, surrounding me with their peculiar features, colors and flashing point-and-shoot cameras, recording their soon to start flight to the Mountain Kingdom, or simply home. For me, it is like regaining a lost feeling of bewilderment by the exotic, the mysterious, the assault on the senses that became ever harder to experience the more I traveled and saw. But for renovating the spirits, for an assault on the senses, there's always Asia to count on. And here I am in the heart of it.

And two weeks later... I find myself in a plane bound for Delhi.  Yes, the mountains are impressive, massive, solid, snow-capped, sometimes looking at us below, zealous, or simply indifferent, Pumari, Nuptse, Ana Dablan, standing as forever, oblivious to the movement of people, locals and tourists, the yaks, cows, asses and their cargo, all filling with life the numerous paths and passes that crisscross the Khumbu Valley. The scenery is breathtaking at times, changing from riverbed luxuriant vegetation to high altitude pines, bushes and flowers, then to barren land, where the only colors are the brown of the earth, the snow white of the mountains and the blue of the sky. Surrounded by beauty I was, but not simply a postcard, a slide landscape. It had to be attained, conquered after long and sometimes strenuous hours, trekking on rock and sand, going down 300, 400 meters, just to cross a river bridge and then go up again other 600, 700 meters, in a slow and never-ending pace towards the next village and night rest. The hard exercise, the submission to altitudes of over 5,000 meters were part of the plan, in my preparation of even higher altitudes in the Andes. They were welcome, they allowed me to be more conscious about my body, my physical strengths and limitations, and the power of my will to overcome exhaustion. And that's one of the appeals of a trekking or expedition. To know oneself better, to better oneself. The Himalayas fulfilled my purposes.

What a pity that the attack on the senses I yearned for was matched by an attack on my skin, caused by an underestimation of the effects of the sun at high altitude coupled with an allergic reaction to an antibiotic, resulting in skin burn on 2/3 of my body and an incredible swelling of my feet and hands, making me spend my first comeback days at a hospital in Bogota, needles, blood, serum, pills, bed, boredom. There was indeed a price to pay to be closer to the sky in the heart of Asia. Higher than I had anticipated, but nonetheless worth it!