Surprisingly, I have very few expectations for this unprecedented trip. Perhaps precisely because I’ve never set foot in Asia before and therefore have no firsthand experience of it. On the other hand, I’ve already poured my heart into it—especially the Himalayas. I’ve been looking at—it seems like forever—books about these mountains; I’ve read numerous accounts of expeditions to the summits and associate them with the cold, the vastness, the sheer scale, and the possibilities. In that sense, perhaps I’m going there in search of something. A confirmation of my place as a human being on this earth—of my smallness, but also of my worth; of my limitations as well as my potential.
Mountains
This trip sort of chose me; I signed up for it very spontaneously, almost on a whim. A year ago now, I received an email from my friend Sunny, director of Awe Expeditions—a travel agency specializing in mountaineering for women—announcing a new trek in Nepal. I have complete confidence in Sunny’s recommendations; I’ve already climbed Aconcagua with her, a 6,900-meter peak in the Andes. So I signed up without really looking at the itinerary in detail; I just took note of the description: “off the beaten path,” “high altitude,” “challenging and beautiful.” That was enough for me.
A Buddhist country
This adventure goes beyond just a mountain experience. Nepal is a Buddhist country, a place where temples are as common as churches are here, where little prayer flags are as ubiquitous as the “Beware of Wild Boars” signs in the Luberon right now. Here I am, two days before my departure, wondering if this will give me a sense of familiarity—or perhaps even a sense of belonging—thousands of kilometers from home. I’m curious—so very curious.
Wandering
Before my 26-day trek in the Everest region, I’ll spend a week alone in Kathmandu with no plans other than to let myself wander and perhaps visit the monastery of my teacher, Mingyur Rinpoche. I was tempted to sign up for Tibetan language classes to give my studies a boost; I took a look online and was surprised by the variety of options—and especially by their professionalism. But I’m in the mood for something DIY, for things that are a bit rough around the edges but authentic, for noisy, dimly lit places you enter through a small, somewhat hidden door.
The Open
I know full well that disillusionment and disappointment are part of traveling; but I don’t think I’m projecting any kind of redemptive exoticism onto Nepal. I know that the commercialization of trekking and mountaineering brings hordes of tourists craving thrills, pollution, cultural appropriation, and ignorance. But in every journey, there is much more than that; there is always a dimension of openness—to oneself and to the world—that never disappoints, even when it is uncomfortable.