Oktober Film Fest: 7th Annual Flagstaff Mountain Film Festival
Flagstaff, AZ

Picture left: Karen Custer Thurston, Rachel S. Thurston, Heather Roberto, and Steve Abbey. Picture right; Volunteer Ayala, two of the Flagstaff Mountain Film Festival Directors Chris Becker and Ron Tuckman, and Filmmaker David Thanh

God I love Flagstaff!
Mama Chihuahua (MC), the Beloved Badger, and I (the Fire Kitten) all share a love for adventure travel and documentary films. Thanks to MC, we've now made it an annual tradition to attend all four days of the Flagstaff Mountain Film Festival set in historic downtown Flagstaff where she lives. For the past week, we've watched 18 hours worth of movies from around the world.... saturating ourselves, immersing, processing, drinking hot cups of chai, munching on popcorn, then going back for more….


The film festival punctuates our year now with its inspirational, moving, and occasionally hilarious short and feature-length documentaries. This year the Festival offered 49 films highlighting all seven continents. I can't recommend this festival highly enough. I've been going to the Banff Film Festival series of winning films that comes through Santa Barbara for the past seven years and the Telluride Film Festival series for the past two years. I've also worked for a couple of different filmmakers as well as dabbled in documentary filmmaking. The Flagstaff Festival features many documentaries in the same vein: action-adventure films intermixed with socially and environmentally-oriented flics. For only $54 we each bought VIP passes which allowed us to see as many films as we wanted as well as the opportunity to have dinner at a gallery and meet other filmmakers visiting for the festival.

For the past several years, I've been wanting to blog more about this festival and give it its proper due! The five directors—Ron Tuckman, Chris Becker, Cameron Clarke, John Tveten, and Kristen Faxlanger have done another fantastic job at putting together a powerful line-up.

I've highlighted some of the more noteworthy films that were among many of my favorites. Several will be available to rent, one has been picked up by HBO, and a few others may be more difficult to get a hold of. For a teaser, I've included a few of their trailers. If any of these catch your fancy, check out their websites for info around venues where you can see them. And by all means, go check this festival out in Flagstaff for yourself!

There were many headlining films which I wasn’t able to make this year but of the ones I saw…these are a few noteworthy ones:


63 Marathons in 63 Days
USA, 2009. 102 min.
Director: Deborah Carr
Producer: Bradley Carr
Incredibly inspiring movie about a young endurance runner, Tim Borland, who decides to raise awareness for a rare, terminal, childhood disease that is affecting 500 kids in the U.S. by running not one, two, three, four, or five marathons in a row but SIXTY-THREE marathons around the country in sixty-three consecutive days with the support of his wife, kids, and best friend/coach as they travel by rv. The movie seamlessly weaves stories of families and children affected by A-T (which degenerates children’s bodies/muscles with each year) wih Borland’s intrepid mission to selflessly spread the word about A-T through the country. Truly inspiring and very well done.

Blast!
USA, 2008. 74 min.
Director: Paul Devlin
Producer: Claire Missanelli
Such a fun, light-hearted, and suspenseful movie about a team of astrophysicists attempting to build and launch a telescope carried by balloon above the atmosphere to record the beginnings of our universe and distant galaxies. Featuring gorgeous photography,Blast showcases a fun team of scientists that seem to keep their spirits up even when they lose their hard drive (painted white) in the snow along a 120-mile stretch of Antarctic ice. I also loved Blast’s brilliant soundtrack that truly captures the spirit and suspense of their expedition.


The Farm: 10 Down
USA, 2009. 93 min.
Director: Jonathon Stack; Producer; James McKay
The Farm: 10 Down is the perfect example of how you should never judge a documentary by its description. By the fourth day of the festival—and unlike Steve--I had little desire to watch a movie following the lives of several prisoners at Angola, the oldest and largest prison in the U.S. set in the Deep South. It didn’t sound like a fun way of spending my last afternoon at the festival…but I got chills in the first few minutes of being introduced to the characters when the narrator’s deep James Earle Jones’-like bass voice came across like a wise grandfather who’s going to tell you a story and lead you somewhere truly grand. And boy did it deliver.

Although this is a follow-up piece to the original film The Farm shot in 1997, it stands strong even on its own.
The Farm: Ten Down is a brilliant piece and one of my top favorites from the festival. Gorgeous raw, blues soundtrack and surprisingly, a really inspiring look at prison reform from within the walls of Angola where the warden is running a highly-esteemed model of a prison where crime and suicide rates are low and morale is relatively high and where prisoners are given the opportunities to “live” and to treat each other with civility and work their way through the ranks of the prison gaining degrees, playing sports, running a television channel, radio station, and a newspaper. The warden is also encouraging victim reconciliation with prisoners and believes with all his heart that some prisoners are capable of rehabilitation and wants to give them the opportunity to have a second chance and prove themselves as leaders.

These are hardened criminals with major sentences…no one with any less than forty years is sent to Angola. Many are murderers, multiple offenders with life sentences and either one chance or no chance at parole. Truly great testament to prison reform.

This is movie-making at its best: When you’re changed afterwards. When you care about the characters. And When you leave the theatre with a lot more questions than you have answers. And when you can’t stop thinking about the film in the days that follow.


Taking Root: The Vision of Wangari Maathai
USA, 2008. 80 min.
Directors/Producers: Lisa Merton, Alan Dater
This wonderful doc illuminates the lifelong heroism of Wangari Maathai, the Nobel Prize Winner from Kenya who developed the Green Belt Program which has planted forty-five million trees throughout a largely deforested Kenya. If you thought Wangari was just a glorified Janie Appleseed, the movie clearly shows how her tree revolution has played a part in her lifelong struggle to fight for human rights, environmental rights, civic rights, women’s rights, and democracy during years of rule under Kenya’s dictators. From encouraging women to grow their own food and replant their forests to leading a sit-in of women protesting (and consequently beaten) the imprisonment of their sons being held as political prisoners….Wangari has become the Nelson Mandela of her generation. Not surprisingly, she’s the first woman in East Africa to have received a Phd and one of many brave Kenyan souls who has risked her life to fight for her ideals. Two of my favorite quotes from this fiery woman: “Culture is our coded wisdom…” and, while addressing sexist remarks from belligerent adversaries in the political sphere, “We should be focusing on the only anatomy that is appropriate right now, the one above the neck…” Go girl! This woman is a force to be reckoned with.

Oil + Water
USA, 2007. 94 min.
Director/Producer: Seth Warren
Oil + Water is a fun, playful documentary about two unlikely bio-crusaders traveling from the north point of Alaska to the tip of South America in a renovated fire truck that’s been supped up to run purely on recycled vegetable and animal oils that they glean along the way. The two young kayakers remind me a lot of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure through North and South as they blunder their way through borders, police stops, clogged engines, and bad roads……laughing their way through the whole thing. Amazingly, enough press builds around their pilgrimage that, by the time, they make it to Chile, they’re meeting with the U.S. Ambassador and have appeared in multiple news conferences serving as educators and ambassadors of alternative fuels. It’s amazing listening to these guys that they manage to fix engines and navigate their way out of some bad places…and similarly, their lacksidaisical attitudes cleverly disguise their kayaking abilities and resourcefulness as travelers. I would have liked to have seen a longer movie with more details around how they converted their engine and planned for this trip. Although I loved the lightheartedness of the movie, I feel like it almost glossed over every challenge they had too much….leading the viewer to believe it was just one dang fun trip. Which it probably was but misery loves company and an audience, too. ;)


Sand and Sorrow
USA, 2007. 94 min.
Director/Producer: Paul Freedman
Winner of Best Human Interest Film
Although this was not one of my favorite movies at the festival, I feel I have to mention it as well. It’s been picked up by HBO and will no doubt garner even more press in the coming year. Narrated by George Clooney, Sand and Sorrow, is an utterly depressing look at the history of the Darfur Crisis with excellent interviews with leading scholars (including Pulitzer Prizer Winner Nicholas D. Kristof who will be lecturing at UCSB next week) ….who were so articulate that I found myself rapt by their eloquence and how well they nail the politics behind world governments failing to address contemporary genocides.

Although it was clear that Sand and Sorrow was made by people passionate about the cause and included thoughtful footage and history, I feel like it missed the mark on several levels. I’ve seen multiple war movies and have taken a keen personal interest in the holocaust histories of Eastern Europe, Cambodia, and Africa but the movie in its attempt to shock with photos and stories of atrocities went overboard to the point that all the stories just became one big blur and that, by the end of the movie, I felt completely numb. I would have preferred that they had humanized the victims/survivors by following just a few individuals in their daily lives in the refugee camps so we can actually develop a personal connection to them. It felt like the movie was very much intellectualized where the closest we get to any of the main characters are in interviews with scholars and two Africans who work in the refugee camps.

The second way it falled short was in its failure to humanize any of the soldiers in the Janjaweed. If we are to learn from these genocides we must examine how it is that people are so capable of committing such brutal atrocities against their own people. The Janjaweed were never discussed…their ages, their backgrounds, their motivations, nor the culture of violence that has led to this brutal war.

Its final shortcoming was in its length. It was too frickin’ long. I felt like it became the never-ending movie. There must have been over four false endings where it would go dark and then it would flash back to another story line. The editors needed to be more ruthless and cut this movie down by at least twenty minutes. Minimum. I felt so beaten down by the movie at the end that I was annoyed and drained. Sure the interviews were great but there was a lot of redundancy. Sometimes passion in the editorial room breeds blindness and, when filmmakers are so attached to their project’s message, it’s difficult to “kill the darlings” and cut a film down to make it more powerful.

Lastly, any war movie has to leave the viewer with some hope. War Dance one of my favorite documentaries from 2007 and is a perfect example of how a movie so deftly balanced the themes of light and dark when addressing genocide survivors (in this case child war refugees striving to play in a national music competition). As viewers, we must feel that ultimately, although evil things may be happening, that there is hope somewhere and that there are people making a difference.

It’s a shame really. Perhaps I'm being a bit harsh but Sand and Sorrow just left me feeling that, in the Sudan, that’s mostly what remains…a lot of sand and a lot of sorrow.

Afghan Girls Can Kick
Afghanistan, 2007. 50 min.
Director/Producer: Bahareh Hosseini
An excellent look at two parallel stories…a grass roots school in Kabul designed to get kids off the street and into school and Afghanistan’s first all women’s national soccer team. The Kabul-based school empowers young Afghan Girls through education and encouraging them to play sports, something that is still disapproved of by many Afghans and a pursuit which was banned and consequently banished by the Taliban only years ago. One character who stands out is a teacher from the school who goes around Kabul herding kids she finds working out on the street into the protection/guidance of the school. Second memorable character is Roya, a highly disciplined, talented girl on the National Afghan Football (Soccer) Team.


Fridays at the Farm
USA, 2006. 19 min.
Director/Producer: Richard Power Hoffman
Winner of Best Short Film
Beautifully shot film which was really a complilation of 20,000 images that the filmmaker shot during several season working on an organic farm. I saw this one before at the Telluride Festival and really liked the serene beauty of it and the filmmaker’s poetic narrative on developing a closer connection to the food that his family grows and eats. Not an adrenaline or drama-packed movie but sublime and beautifully-done.

Tibet: Murder In The Snow
Australia, 2008. 52 min.
Director: Mark Gould
Producer: Sally Ingleton
Winner of the People’s Choice Award
Wish I could have seen this one! It looks riveting and was supposedly a very powerful movie. We had plans on the last night of the festival with some Flagstaff friends and couldn’t see this one. From what I’ve heard, it’s highly recommended. Check out the trailer here. http://www.tibetmurderinthesnow.com/story.html

Move of the Wall
Slovenia, 2008. 42 min.
Director/Producer: Igor Urtacwik
I’ve seen so many climbing movies over the years that I’ve found many of them--although filmed beautifully and with clever editing and musical touches--often assume that the viewer cares as much about climbing as the stars of it do.
This one seemed to explain why we should care. Perhaps b/c it was shot by Slovenians, but there seemed to be a different feeling to this one. Some excellent camera angles and beautiful tracking, unique use of Jimi Hendrix, and some great, cinematic moments such as two of the climbers sharing their philosophy of climbing as they play chess at a café in Lubjliana. I really liked this one and was charmed by it.


One Crazy Ride
India, 2009. 87 min.
Director/Producer: Guarav Jani
One of the festival favorites
Directed, filmed, and edited by Indian Filmmaker Guarav Jani who also came to the festival this year with another one of its stars, One Crazy Ride is a fun, romp through one of the most remote regions of northern India, Arunachal Pradesh, He and four of his fellow riders from the motor club 60kph, attempt to cross the remote region by motorbike with dodgy maps, roadmarkers, and questionable roads. The movie gains momentum the further into the jungle that the five friends go as they cross rockslides, rivers, and bamboo bridges and pass through tribal villages which have mysteriously gained unreasonable reputations for being fierce and brutal to foreigners.By the end of the movie, you find yourself cheering for the riders and amazed at the obsessiveness that Guarav Has in doing all the filming himself even when he’s riding alone.

Thank you again to the festival directors (Ron, Chris, John, Kristen, and Cameron), to the sponsors, and all the filmmakers!
We can't wait for next year!

"Trek to Everest Base Camp, Khumbu Region"
Kathmandu, Nepal
Thursday, October 17th, 2002

Second trip to Nepal: Letter Two

Greetings and salutations from Kathmandu-

Mom and I are alive and well...the Maoists haven't gotten us yet! We've returned safely to Kathmandu and feel rather pumped from our 13-day trek to 18,000 feet, the base of Everest Base Camp.

We've taken our first real showers after two weeks, our legs are feeling fully pumped, and our lungs are super-bionic with oxygen-enriched blood from being at high-altitude for an extended period.

After taking a twin-otter plane to a small Sherpa town in the foothills of the Himalayas, we hired two porters to help with our equipment load (I'm carrying two cameras, a tripod, several filters, lenses, and 40 rolls of film) which included full winter gear (down jackets, gortex, boots, long underwear) and our personal items.

We'd been told that although there's a Maoist problem, no trekkers have been targeted yet. (though it seems inevitable some will be in the wrong place at the wrong time sooner or later). The Maoists are renegade rural Nepalis who are fed up with a corrupt govt. that denies them basic services like clean water, education, and other democratic stuff like that. They bomb police stations and are rather rude to the army as well. There are also "Fake-Maoists" which only adds to the confusion. These "Fakes" are really thugs that sometimes hit up trekkers for money under the guise of being Maoists. They're not. They're just looking for a cheap way towards more "chang" (the Nepali home brew) and an unlimited supply of "Dahl Baht" (the Nepali dish of lentils, rice, and curry).

So Maoists aside, there aren't too many problems with the Everest trek which we were attempting, except altitude sickness and the occasional gastro-intestinal irritations...always an inevitability in the third world. Inescapable.

The Everest trek covers the most breathtaking scenery you could ever imagine. Steep pine forests plummeting dramatically into raging, glacial fed rivers. Tiny villages etched along mountainsides like swiss villages. High suspension bridges spanning lonely, wind-swept canyons, tattered prayer flags blowing in the wind...sending Buddhist prayers into the skies above. Highland pastures of lush grasses and grazing yaks. Tiny farms with fairy-tale like heads of cabbages, spinach, potatoes right out of Hobbit-ville. Handsome Tibetan-looking men and woman dressed in vivid waist wraps wearing turquoise and coral jewelry.

We spent our days learning the uphill mantra: Nepal has 6 directions instead of 4: North, South, East, West, UP and DOWN. We'd pop ibuprofen at night and down litres of tang-flavored iodine water (disinfected to keep off the bugs) in order to tackle the next day.

As we marched further into the Himalayas, we'd encounter yak trains decorated in red Tibetan sashes and chiming bells as they walked by with loads of rice, sugar, and kerosene. At a highland monastery perched rather inconveniently at the very top of a mountain (around 12,000 feet) we sat cross-legged on hardwood floors listening to young Buddhist monks chanting centuries old songs. Giant cymbals and gongs were rung, echoing for miles through the surrounding valley.

While trekking in Nepal everything has a smell. Mostly its yak dung and the wind. If you're lucky you might get a good whiff of incense in the morning (if you're at a nice lodge). You're amazed by the graciousness of Nepalis. Barefoot men carry loads of 80 plus pounds up mountainsides for as little as a couple dollars a day. Every villager you pass is ready with a warm smile and a "Namaste" and a few words perhaps in English.

Mom and I have decided it takes several trips to Nepal to really understand it. Nepal has layers, many layers. It's complex and mysterious and wonderful.

On one of the most euphoric points of our trip, we made it to the glacial valley and cluster of buildings called "Gorak Shep," located near the base of Everest and Llotse at around 17,000 feet. We saw a woman from Hong Kong get so sick from the altitude that she couldn't walk or talk, she barely remembered her name. Altitude can kill people rapidly if they're dehydrated and exposed or simply, if they ascend to rapidly. You can develop cerebral or pulmonary edema and die within hours. This particular woman was carried out on her guide's back across jagged glacial moraine for lower ground. He hoped she'd remain conscious until they could descend a couple thousand feet.

From Gorak Shep, mom and I hiked for several very slow excruciating hours to the Everest Base Camp at 17,500 feet. Our bodies were in the process of creating more red blood cells enriched with oxygen to make up for the paucity of it at altitude. Every step you take is an effort. Dehydration is a danger in the icy wind. You develop peculiar ailments. I couldn't stop sneezing for three days. Mom couldn't stop talking about chocolate and she refused to take off her "Oscar the Grouch" Sesame Street earmuffs, even when we were inside from the cold.

We reached the Everest Base Camp and were welcomed by the Brazilian Climbing Expedition which will attempt to Summit the highest mountain on earth in a matter of mere days. Base camp is skeletal at best. A cluster of tents scrapped together on top of a glacier in an alpine desert of rock and snow. Every now and then you hear some small explosions and and see rockslides plummeting into small glacial lakes. The glacier is alive and always moving. The base camp is a place where humans can visit but they can't stay. It's a graveyard of ice and snow and geologic forces.

At sunrise we climbed to 18,000 feet to watch the sunrise over the Himalayas and to catch a glimpse of Everest. Everest is elusive, always hidden behind clouds or Llotse or strange weather patterns which only add to its omniscious presence. The sky turned an electric blue and the clouds were a cotton candy pink. Our fingers and toes were mind-numbing cold in this subzero temperature. A giant avalanched erupted on the face of Llotse right beside Everest...an incredibly beautiful display of such awesome power...an explosion which wiped out a good section of its south face and which we were thankful we were far from.

One by one, each mountain was illuminated in the morning's amber light. Except one spot were a prism occured. A triangle of rainbow light just to the left of Llotse that grew and shifted and warped and hinted at something majestic and ethereal. The clouds melted away until only the rainbow crescent edged the mountain below. The summit of Everest appeared and the porters began jumping up and down. "you very lucky! you very lucky women! people come for many days and never see! they never see!"

Even the dogs with us were excited, leaping and snarling and rolling in the snow. We just stood there in awe until the pain in our toes and fingers was unbearable and I began weighing the choice: hot chocolate and all my digits or more Everest views and frostbite.
I chose the former.

We made our way down to 17,000 feet and warmed ourselves by the yak dung fire.

Only a week later, we're back in the "civilization" of Kathmandu surrounded by the endless chaos of rickshaws, minivans, beggars, trekkers, internet cafes, and carpet dealers.

I hope when we return that some of the slides come out and we can do this experience some justice and share just a little of what we've experienced with you all!

We're blown over with the graciousness of the Nepalis here, their absolute material poverty compared with ours but their absolute determination to live good lives, to love each other fully, and to do the best for themselves as they possibly can.

there are no words.

Namaste,
Rachel

This morning our porter, Pasang, presented us with white scarves, or 'pujas,' as a tribute to our friendship and the end of the trek. It was an honor coming from a Nepali and the perfect finale to a trek that actually topped the trek last year.

"Return to Nepal..."
Thursday, September 29th (more or less), 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal

Second trip to Nepal: Letter One

Namaste to you all!

We've arrived safely and happy in the Himalayan Kingdom of Nepal and are happy to report the Maoists haven't gotten us yet...

Mom and I are amazed after 36 hours of plane travel across Asia and the Pacific that we find ourselves in Nepal once again. As we landed, the steep terraced mountains were exploding in emerald green from the monsoon rains and the air as clear as ever. We've eaten our way through Kathmandu feasting on Indian, Middle Eastern, Nepali, and Italian food. My Nepali is slowly coming back to me; just enough words to make people think I understand what people are saying to me. An especially useful word being "hajur," meaning "sure" or "okay."
Hajur this, hajur that in between sentences and smiles and they think you're following the whole story.

The Maoists attacked a police post in the East but Kathmandu and the rest of Nepal seems largely unaffected. Many Nepalis we've spoken to feel quite complacent or conflicted about the attacks largely aimed towards the Nepali police. One Nepali man explained how "mean" the Police are towards the citizens and described frequent abuses of their power. Fortunately, tourists are not targets of the Maoists.

We've made immediate friends with several people from our flight and have enjoyed our time in the fast-paced city before heading out on our 18-day trek tomorrow. Today gave us an amazing opportunity to witness a "Woman's Festival" or "Teej" that took place at a temple complex along a river which flows into the Gangis. Thousands of women, largely Brahman, travel from throughout the region and descend on the river dressed in flowing blood red, tangerine, and golden-embroidered saris. These handsome women have hair as dark as black silk and gorgeous deep eyes. We walked amidst hundreds of these women waiting in a mile-long line to dip their legs and sprinkle water on their faces from the river. The purpose of this festival was to unite women through this ritual. These women, having fasted and sometimes not having had water, dip in the river and bless their husbands' long life. They gathered in circles and danced impromptu to drummers.

Just downstream of these bathing women were the crematorium shrines. Several funeral pyres with dead bodies burnt black and red, scattering ash and strong-smelling smoke into the air. The river which bathed these women and received the cremation remains also carried thousands of flower petals and fruits and vegetables given as an offering to the holy river. And further downstream a group of young boys were splashing and playing in the river under the sun.

We stopped and watched several women dancing. A small group of mothers and daughters surrounded us and made the motions with giggling that they wanted their photos taken with us. We must have been quite a site to them.

I'm smiling big right now thinking of the past couple of days and knowing that you'd have all been amazed at what we saw today.

We're finding on this trip that we're much more relaxed and happier and open to the nepali people than ever before. Most of the nepali people we've interacted with in the past several days have been incredible gracious and kind. They work hard to make an annual living which doesn't come close to what most of us make in a day or week. The economy is especially hurting as tourism has dropped in the past year. i encourage any of you interested in coming to do it! It's a magnificent and intoxicating place!

We have many more stories to share with you but i fear the computer will freeze before i'm able to send even this message.

I hope you all are well and savoring every day. I feel so blessed to be here with my mother and to be on this adventure. We'll be flying to a town called Lukla at about 9,000 feet and beginning an 18 day trek which, with good fortune, will lead us to 18,000 feet at the Everest Base Camp/Overlook and back. We'll be visiting Sherpa Monasteries and villages along way, and making sure to give the yaks lots of headway when we share the trail.

Be good to each other and Namaste-

Letter from King's Office Of Ministry and Tourism
Monday, February 19, 2001
Kathmandu, The Kingdom Of Nepal

Dear Sir Kozodoy,

The Ministry of Tourism would like to inform you that Ms. Rachel S. (they never tell us their real middle names!) Thurston has returned safely from the Annapurna Circuit before the hordes of trekkers from Europe descend on our little sovereign kingdom. Why she and her mother chose to trek in the Himalayas during the middle of the winter is something we can only attribute to poor reasoning we see often from those usually coming from Italy and Russia. Perhaps they are rare North American specimens. (A little talkative as well.)

We are happy to inform you that she will be returning to Santa Barbara shortly and quite happily--though she has very much enjoyed her travels in Nepal, she sees no need for her presence here any longer in Nepal as we're not keen on public massages nor do we serve "very tasty pizza" and we are lacking a store called "Trader Joe's," what Ms. Thurston has called "God's gift to this fine world second to chocolate."

We hope that you are in good health in the country of Amerika and that you and your compatriates now have a president you can trust. Though from our humble experience we see that as being doubtful.

Ms. Thurston is busy on the streets of Kathmandu shopping and stuffing herself with whatever delicacies she can't find on the other side of the planet and sends her regards. She's spoken of you fondly and of her much loved friends in the town of Santa Barbara which you call a “Paradise.”

If you like, we would be happy to send you any relevant information you and your kind friends would like if you are considering a trip to our proud Himalayan Kingdom.

Good health to you and your family,
Ram Shaba-Ratri,
Officer of the Ministry of Tourism,
With gratitude to His Highness Birendra Bikram

"Return from the Thorung La, Annapurna Circuit--midwinter!"
Kathmandu, Nepal
Saturday, February 2, 2001

1st Trip to Nepal: Letter Three

Hoorah! We've made it!

i hope you are all well and as saucy as ever...i've carried your spirits with us up into the Himalayas and back--sweet intoxication!

We have many adventures to speak of! We trekked for 15 days and managed to cross the world's highest pass at 17,766 feet in mid-winter. Why we chose to trek the Annapurna during the absolute coldest month of the year is beyond me.

Mountains, glorious mountains, brilliant people from around the world, endless mule trains, pine forests, waterfalls, buddhist stupas. We began in tropical rice fields and increased in elevation through alpine forests reminiscent of the American Rockies and then onto the Tibetan Plateau (yes, I know, the NEPALI Plateau) where the windswept valley opened up to glaciers and canyons and staggering mountains. (cause you nearly trip looking up at them). The east side of the circuit was nearly void of foreigners during that time of the year, we walked through one town that looked like an old West Frontier with only the sound of horse hooves on the cobblestone and wind barrelling down the valley.

The trek was a lot fricking harder than people admit. I've heard it said that instead of 4 directions, Nepal has 6 directions...North, South, East, West, UP, and DOWN. My legs are strong and we ate like mules the whole way through. I was haunted however, by visions of random cans of pringles being sold along the way (some outrageously ambitious marketer has cornered the market here) but managed to resist. We ate and drank copious servings of potatoes (much sweeter than our own at home), the Nepali dish Dahl Bat, tea, noodle soup, Tibetan bread, more tea, and a stash of snickers bars (really satisfies you!).

The culture is well...very foreign. We became accustomed to hearing the requisite Nepali hocking on the ground when we awoke, squatting over pit toilets (a rat ran out towards me one night), watching mothers pick lice from their childrens hair as they wave greetings to us, endless trains of mules delivering goods between villages, and streams of runny-nosed children running up to us demanding pens and chocolate.

Unjaded it is not.

We also saw great beauty but Nepal is a handful. The woman's beauty here should be illegal. They dot the verdant fields of mustard and rice with brilliant saris in blood red, magentas, and deep purple. The men are also handsome though less fun to look at and a whole lot more pushy.

Forgive my ramblings but there's so much to impart.

We rode on top of a bus with 40 men cause there were a heck of a lot more people down below...can't possibly estimate. A slimy (mom likes to say) greaser guy tried to kick us off the bus on our way to the trekking start. Like a champ after many a vicious word was said, she pushed her way like a rock star through the 30 people between me and her to our seat (really the cumulative size of an egg crate). A woman behind us throwing up, another woman beside me with a giant gold flower stuck through her nostril and the slimy guy on our tail, and a gaggle of men climbing the ladder to the top of the bus with our bags. We demanded the driver stop, we swam through the mess of people, fell to the ground, then scampered around to the back ladder and climbed to our blissful seats a top the bus. Forty sets of dark eyes looked upon us. We were the only foreigners around and the only women on top.

All was fine and the views were spectacular. Besides, the guide books point out, if the bus starts to roll down the canyon towards the river, you can always jump off from the roof!

On our way here we spotted two wrecks where buses had slid past each other head on and had sheered off tires and sheets of glass.

And we call this vacation!

We've landed safely back in Kathmandu and are relishing in eating pizza, shopping, and avoiding all the touts selling tiger balm, fruit, and shoe polish.

As I hate getting email from people on vacation who appear to be self-absorbed for more than 2000 words I'll cut this message off at its knees.

We've had a spectacular trip. Last night, we fell asleep to the sound of elephants bugling and wild peacocks...and ahem, nearby HIndi pop music and Mambo #5 playing at a local BBQ.
A true Jungle Beat I must say.

If you've read this far, have a most excellent time of day in your neck of the woods!
I can't wait to see you all!

I'm looking out on the streets of Kathmandu, it's a true zoo right now and quite delightful.

much love and thankyou to you all,
Namaste,
Rachel

"Heading for the Annapurna Circuit midwinter-"
Kathmandu, Nepal
Tuesday, January 23, 2001

1st Trip to Nepal: Letter Two

Greetings you sun-lovers!

I meant to write much sooner and have run out of time again.
Must make it short as email is very expensive.

We're headed for the Annapurna trek tomorrow morning, a hellacious bus ride awaits us! and then three weeks of spectacular mountains, buddhist temples, villages and vistas.

We spent last week in the Terai, a lowland subtropical savannah. It was surreal. Slept in a mud hut listening to elephants bugle at night, wild peacocks calling to one another. Spent the days tracking rhino and tigers. Saw crocodiles and rode elephants.

I swear to god it's the truth!

Hopefully the pictures will make it back!

I think of many of you often and hope you are all well in your lives...thankyou for making me feel connected to life in the states, it feels so far away!

I can't wait to share more stories!

Doug Thurston--can you let dad know i'm okay? he never gets on email. Thanks! can't wait to hear Amanda's Bangladesh adventures.

Chuck--you were so right about the tripod. I can't imagine not having it or the ungodly sack of film. Good choice--thanks!

take care everyone and enjoy the rest of winter and what your lives hold for you every day,

Namaste

much love, Rachel

"Entering the Kingdom Of Heaven..."
Kathmandu, Nepal
Sunday, January 14th, 2001

1st Trip to Nepal: Letter 1

Okay gang...

We flew past Everest yesterday. Carving a jagged silhouette against a sullen blue sky. Dwarfing the rest of the middle Himalayan hills like black giants.

When we descended, a brown smoke enveloped the plane til we could no longer see the mountains, even the buildings in Kathmandu were obstructed. The smog is worse than a hot day in L.A. and more bleak than an Indiana winter.

Nothing could prepare us for the poverty here. Most only hear about the romantic side of Nepal but the difference between Thailand and Nepal is as great as that between Manhattan and the Bronx or Laguna Beach and the ghetto. I'd forgotten that the third world is a spectrum and we're pushing the edge.

When we stepped out of the airport we faced a fence of nearly a 100 men who seemed to envelop us. We were passed from one to the next after having prepaid for a taxi.

I can honestly say I haven't felt that internally distressed or vulnerable as a woman in years. They all pushed against us and surrounded us or followed us. Not a single female or foreigner from our flight was in sight. We were led to a group of broken down cars, a couple of men took our bags and began loading them into the unmarked car. Another man asked us where we needed to go and said no problem. We got into the car feeling a little relieved until he disappeared and another man jumped into the driver's side and started to drive us away. The car kept sputtering and dying. We finally started moving through the hoard while an old toothless man hung onto mom's window gesticulating that he needed "baksheesh" or money for food.

For a couple of minutes the driver refused to acknowledge our presence. We felt like prisoners. We talked to him and he didn't respond. He didn't turn around or say a word. The road went from bad to worse until we were driving along dirt past crumbling buildings, rickshaw like cars and bikes, no foreigners in sight.

The city looked like a bomb had gone off. I haven't seen an area more poor since we drove through towns in Botswana, Africa years ago.

He finally spoke to us without turning around. Saying he would take us to another hotel.

I thought my mother was going to bite his head off.
"No!" she barked, "Pheasant Lodge."
The whole car shuddered and I winced, nervous that a woman showing such aggression might really tee the guy off.

The road improved slightly until we were in the right part of town...though the roads have no names, no stops, no lanes, and no obvious direction. very very disorienting.

He just stopped the car, told us he didn't know our lodge and said we could find it on our own. As soon as we were out of the taxi, we were again besieged by touts and beggars. Unfortunately, everyone here speaks and understand English very well so you can't talk to each other without being spied on. Spanish became our secret weapon as we stepped into a store to collect ourselves. The door seemed to be an invisible force field that kept the touts away until we stepped on to the street again to get our bearings.

We eventually found the hotel, dank, dark, and dismal as it seemed. "Are we in Russia," I wondered?

We're slowly getting our bearings and becoming more accustomed to Kathmandu. It's rich in sight and sound and the Nepalese are very friendly, very sharp, and have a most funny sense of humor. Unfortunately, you have to stay a little on guard.

I have no idea how to describe Kathmandu. Labyrinthine, dizzying, exotic, medieval. The streets are so narrow it feels the buildings are going to squeeze the sky out and collapse in on us, like something out of the movie "Brazil". There's no rhyme or reason to their direction. A million signs, vendors. It's all dirt and color and sound. Mopeds, tiny cars, bicycles constantly running inches past you. a steady stream of people, if you pause too long you'll be approached by more beggars or talked to by merchants standing in their doors. Alleys moving every which way. A million things happening at once. You could get very lost very fast.
The only place to really breathe is up on the rooftops where you can eat in restaurants or get a good view. It's such a strange anachronism to see internet cafes and westerners walking around wearing North FAce, or a random Italian restaurant in the midst of such strangeness. And the westerners don't seem to acknowledge each other on the street, we just pass by each other as if we were ghosts in a dream that we're merely passing through.

I must go out now before I write a novel,
we may be headed south to the Terai, a subtropical savannah in Nepal where we might ride elephants and see rhinos,
surreal isn't, it?

Namaste,
Rachel