Thursday, January 21, 2010

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Question: What has my ex-PM got to do with Neytiri and the WTC exploding?


Picture courtesy of Malaysiakini

Click for summary
Here for parallel story
Mahathir, only now you become aware of the 9/11 myth meh? Ya, too busy not retiring from politics for the past 9 years since right.

What? My vaccinations didn't protect me but just made some company richer??

H1N1 swine flu pandemic was falsified or exaggerated in an attempt to profit from vaccine sales?

“Greatest medical scandal of the century” to come under scrutiny

Steve Watson
Infowars.net
Tuesday, Jan 19, 2010

International Hearings Begin On Falsified Swine Flu Pandemic 190110vaccine

The Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, a 47 nation body encompassing democratically elected members of parliament, has begun hearings to investigate whether the H1N1 swine flu pandemic was falsified or exaggerated in an attempt to profit from vaccine sales.

A PACE resolution, passed last month, gave context to the hearings which began yesterday in Strasbourg.

“In order to promote their patented drugs and vaccines against flu, pharmaceutical companies influenced scientists and official agencies, responsible for public health standards to alarm governments worldwide and make them squander tight health resources for inefficient vaccine strategies and needlessly expose millions of healthy people to the risk of an unknown amount of side-effects of insufficiently tested vaccines. The “bird-flu”-campaign (2005/06) combined with the “swine-flu”-campaign seem to have caused a great deal of damage not only to some vaccinated patients and to public health-budgets, but to the credibility and accountability of important international health-agencies.”

Heading the hearings will be chairman of the Health Committee of PACE, Dr. Wolfgang Wodarg, a former German lawmaker, a medical doctor and epidemiologist. Wodarg has referred to the swine flu pandemic as “one of the greatest medical scandals of the century.”

Wodarg charges that the WHO altered the definition of a pandemic from an outbreak in several continents at once with an above-average death rate, to one where the spread of the disease is constant.

The Parliamentary inquiry will determine if a “falsified pandemic” was declared by WHO in June 2009 on the advice of medical advisors, many of whom have close financial ties to the very pharmaceutical giants – GlaxoSmithKline, Roche, Novartis, – that produced the H1N1 vaccines.

It will also look into the controversy surrounding the fact that two shots were initially advised when it was later revealed that one dose was entirely suitable.

Pharmaceutical companies are thought to have made a profit of somewhere in the region of $7.5-$10 billion on H1N1 vaccines. The worldwide death toll from H1N1 is thought to be around 13,500, just over a third of the number who die from regular flu every year in the U.S. alone.

PACE has noted that the alleged conspiracy could have exposed “millions of healthy people to the risk of side-effects of insufficiently tested vaccines”.

Many countries have begun offloading huge stockpiles of unused vaccines and canceling outstanding orders. The latest to do so is Greece, where the government had announced that it would make H1N1 vaccination mandatory.

PACE will also hold a debate next week entitled ‘Faked pandemics, a threat to health’, to be attended by representatives of the World Health Organisation (WHO) and the European pharmaceutical industry.


Monday, January 18, 2010

When I grow up, I want a facial makeover like this; but don't sue me



Below for video commentary and here for story on why the guy on the right threatens to sue for using his face as a template for Osama's aged face ...

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Thousands of Americans died from H1N1 even after receiving vaccine shots

Thousands of Americans died from H1N1 even after receiving vaccine shots

(NaturalNews) The CDC is engaged in a very clever, statistically devious spin campaign, and nearly every journalist in the mainstream media has fallen for its ploy. No one has yet reported what Mike Adams is about to reveal here.

It all started with the CDC's recent release of new statistics about swine flu fatalities, infection rates and vaccination rates. According to the CDC:

• 61 million Americans were vaccinated against swine flu (about 20% of the U.S. population). The CDC calls this a "success" even though it means 4 out of 5 people rejected the vaccines.

• 55 million people "became ill" from swine flu infections.

• 246,000 Americans were hospitalized due to swine flu infections.

• 11,160 Americans died from the swine flu.

Base on these statistics, the CDC is now desperately urging people to get vaccinated because they claim the pandemic might come back and vaccines are the best defense.

But here's the part you're NOT being told.

The CDC statistics lie by omission. They do not reveal the single most important piece of information about H1N1 vaccines:
How many of the people who died from the swine flu had already been vaccinated?

Many who died had already been vaccinated

The CDC is intentionally not tracking how many of the dead were previously vaccinated. They want you (and mainstream media journalists) to mistakenly believe that ZERO deaths occurred in those who were vaccinated. But this is blatantly false. Being vaccinated against H1N1 swine flu offers absolutely no reduction in mortality from swine flu infections.

And that means roughly 20% of the 11,160 Americans who died from the swine flu were probably already vaccinated against swine flu. That comes to around 2,200 deaths in people who were vaccinated!

How do I know that swine flu vaccines don't reduce infection mortality? Because I've looked through all the randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled clinical trials that have ever been conducted on H1N1 vaccines. It didn't take me very long, because the number of such clinical trials is ZERO.

That's right: There is not a single shred of evidence in existence today that scientifically supports the myth that H1N1 vaccines reduce mortality from H1N1 infections. The best evidence I can find on vaccines that target
seasonal fluindicates a maximum mortality reduction effect of somewhere around 1% of those who are vaccinated. The other 99% have the same mortality rate as people who were not vaccinated.

So let's give the recent H1N1 vaccines the benefit of the doubt and let's imagine that they work just as well as other flu vaccines. That means they would reduce the mortality rate by 1%. So out of the 2,200 deaths that took place in 2009 in people who were already vaccinated, the vaccine potentially may have saved
22 people.

61 million injections add up to bad public health policy

So let's see: 61 million people are injected with a potentially dangerous vaccine, and the actual number "saved" from the pandemic is conceivably just 22. Meanwhile, the number of people harmed by the vaccine is almost certainly much, much higher than 22. These vaccines contain nervous system disruptors and inflammatory chemicals that can cause serious health problems. Some of those problems won't be evident for years to come... future Alzheimer's victims, for example, will almost certainly those who received regular vaccines, I predict.

Injecting 61 million people with a chemical that threatens the nervous system in order to avoid 22 deaths -- and that's the best case! -- is an idiotic public health stance.
America would have been better off doing nothing rather than hyping up a pandemic in order to sell more vaccines to people who don't need them.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Hey, hurray? My country is now well known Internationally! We're famous!

And don't forget to listen up when the guy with the poor eye contact speaks ... he's my *Malay 'brader'


* In Malaysia Malays are all Muslims. If they are not Muslims then the Malaysian Constitution itself rules them out of being a Malay. They also think that Malay is a race and the more idiotic fringes think of it as a super race. Hence the term Ketuanan Melayu. (said Unspun)







Here to see this on Youtube

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Memoirs of my sisters's experience on Mt Everest (unedited)

Pain has a way of forgetting itself. It may have emotional memory attached to it but try if you will, to remember how pain felt? Maybe it’s my blessing or ignorance but my pain can’t remember itself.

A couple of months passed after our hike to the summit of Kilimanjaro 5,895M (19,341ft) and we were flipping through an adventure book deciding our next trip. Will it be an easy walk, baguette, cheese and wine trip like the one we did in Provence, or will it be another that will put everything we can endure to test? I quipped, “Base Camp Everest”.

Why base camp of Everest? Perhaps after working with some members of the Singapore Women Everest team I got very inspired and had the notion that if I, like the successful team who reached the summit , devote five years of obsessively working towards climbing Mt Everest that possibility could be a reality. Before I get ahead of myself let me start at the base. In addition, if those young ladies made it to the summit at least my journey to the base camp would be in some way paying tribute to their effort. To experience a sampling of what they went through.

Susan-Jan 2010

Cheryl did the research and contacted a Nepalese Outfitter company. She signed up for the Everest Circuit track. It was rated as strenuous by the company. Gulp. Erh that word did not sit well with me. It was not the classic 8 days direct route to base camp but the one that will whip your ass flat if you thought that getting there was just about walking.

Here I sit flat ass but not broken hearted as I remember my journey. A word of warning, this story is by me and how I saw my journey, if you, reading this is looking for description of stunning scenery, Geographical facts and technical information about the hike I suggest you find it on the internet because after the outline of the trip everything is about me ,me, me.

Outline Itinerary of Everest Circuit Trek :

Day 01 :

Arrive Kathmandu / dinner with cultural program.

Day 02 :

Explore Boudhnath and Pashupatinath / Trip preparation.

Day 03 :

Fly to Lukla and start Everest trekking.

Day 04-05 :

Trekking to Namche / Acclimatization rest day.

Day 06 :

Trek to Kumjung.

Day 07-08 :

Trekking up the Gokyo Valley and enjoy views of massive Cho Oyu.

Day 09-10 :

Climb Gokyo Ri / savour the stunning looks of Mt. Everest and pristine lakes.

Day 11 :

Trekking on the moraines of the Ngozumpa Glacier to Thangna.

Day 12-13 :

Cross the challenging Chola pass and trek to Lobuche: enjoy the superb beauty of Nature.

Day 14 :

Trekking Kala Pathar for views across Khumbu Glacier to Everest.

Day 15 :

Exploration to the Everest Base Camp.

Day 16-18 :

Trekking down to Lukla via Pheriche, Thyangboche.

Day 19 :

Himalayan flight back to Kathmandu / Rest day.

Day 20 :

Free day in Kathmandu.

Day 21 :

Trip ends / Airport transfer.

For the first time I truly prepared myself for a trip. With sleepy eyes and a headlamp at 5.40am, Cheryl and I would hike 3 to 4 times a week, doing at least 2 or more hours circuit around the highest point in Singapore’s’ 164 meters hill in Bukit Timah. Followed by weights training, 5 days a week in the gym, Evening runs with my dog around the neighborhood, some workout in my room instructed by some download in my laptop, sometimes its Pilate, Resisted Stretching workout or to the soothing voice of Rodney’s yoga. Proper diet, getting regular Chiropractic adjustment and even working with a life coach least I should lose sight of my goal. You would think that was good enough.

Well it wasn’t. What more could I have done? In spite of one year of seriously training in a gym I realized that was not enough. Not enough to do weights and build muscles. Although the muscle did help me lose some fats. What was lacking that I dislike doing was speed training. That means cardio with heavy breathing over long duration. Running with the dog one round around the neighborhood was not enough. 3 to 4 time a week, slow trekking around Bukit Timah, not enough. Ironically eating too healthy was not that good either. Up on the mountain the usual nutrient came in form of soft white bread, Rara (instant) cup noodle and most dishes cooked with stock bullion.

From flavor enhancing, msg (monosodium glutamate) to gut sticking bleached dough, all these food took some getting used to. My plans, if ever I do another mountain trip is introduce these food to my system. Doesn’t mean I have to eat it all the time but the practice would help. From now on before I turn my nose up on squatty loo like some up class city girl, I’ll think of the benefit of getting use to it.

The day before setting off.

Singapore, all packed and ready or not we were heading out tomorrow. That hot sweaty afternoon I set off to my favorite Nasi Lemak stall , As the din of the lunch crowd in the typical Singapore food court turned into drum rolls in my head ,I ceremoniously I savored my meal as I knew this would be my last tasty meal for a long time. With each mouth filled with juicy, spicy, flavorsome Redang (a kind of beef curry) mix with sambal (spicy chili base sauce) or the spicy, sweet, tangy Achar (pickled salad) I would commend it to memory.

After lunch, I left for Defence Science Organisation National Laboratories. To be a non military person and be part of a training program was such an honor and privilege. However, today would be the last of my seven days hypoxia training.

Katmandu.

When we got off the airport in Katmandu we were wide-eyed and dazzled, easy targets for petty crooks. The city was dusty, noisy, and dirty. Street filled with people, cows, cars, a million motorbikes all honking as if they were an important part of the street symphony. I saw a challenge between a women and a cow. She was inside her little Suzuki, with tight lips and jutted out jaw she honked at the cow to give way. Suzuki verses cow. I didn’t see who won but I suspect it was the cow.

Pot holes on the ground and possibly electrifying cables overhead. Heaps of garbage which seems to be haven for stray dogs. The smell of burning garbage intermixes with the smell of incense. Pigeons everywhere, flying feathers and bird poop were showering people as they weave by each other. We went about our last minute shopping for China made imitation outdoor gears. Genuine fakes of North Face to Mammut gear were selling between 1000 to 3000 rupees. Shopping requires a good eye for quality and a sweet skill for negotiation. At the end of our sensory overload day, we had a delicious traditional Nepalese dinner, courtesy of a local friend, Josh.

A final packing and night of good sleep at the lovely Shankar hotel and then early, 5 am, a short drive to the domestic airport. Blurry eyes and dazzled, again we looked like easy target for petty crooks but having learned for experienced we shooed them off after appeasing them with a couple of rupees.

The flight to Lukla is scheduled to depart at 6.30am. We sat in the dingy airport listening to the monotonous female voice over the PA expressing her insincere regrets of inconvenience caused for the flight delay. 6 a.m. changed to 7, 8, 9, and 10 then to 11 a.m. For hours everyone and everything was moving slowly, suddenly as if the dam was broken, there was a mad rush to exit the doors and hop onto a small bus that ferried excited passengers to their respective plane. Inside our DHC-6 Twin Otter turboprop 14 seater, the solo flight attendant walked down the aisles with a tray of sweets and round marshmallow, I took a candy but decline the … wait a minute those are not marshmallow, they are cotton balls!

30 minutes into the flight our plane began its descend onto the airstrip of the infamous, probably the world’s most dangerous airport in the world, we all could see through the windscreen of the cockpit our landing takes us to straight into the face of the mountain.

Upon touchdown I instinctive knew we had about twenty seconds of runway. If our plane took longer we would be kissing the side of the mountain. I counted 15, 16, 17, 18 and our plane made a sharp turn and came to a stop. Another plane just behind us landed the same way. I can imagine this is what it would be like to be landing on the landing deck of a frigate.

Suck in the cold air.

Had lunch at Lukla and without fanfare we started our epic journey; ok it’s just going to be 17 days. No big deal, not an epic journey. We were at 2,860m(9,380ft) I was feeling fine, surprised how easy to take deep breath, while Cheryl was having slight difficulty breathing. My hypoxia training was paying off or perhaps I was walking so slowly that everything seems easy.

We were heading for Namche bazaar, the last town before Everest. 3,440m this town you can get just about anything. Inside the general store you can find everything from Tampax to shampoo. Wet wipes to hiking and mountain gears. Peanut butter to fruits juice, Vitamins tablets to all sorts of medication, Ciprofloxacinno(Antibiotic) Acetazolamide (Dimox). No prescription needed. A true meaning of “buying off the counter”. Mars bars, Snickers bars, sweets and candies, Nalgene bottles to Imitation Croc sandals.

With the strict 15 kg flight baggage allowance you could very well be under the allowance and buy whatever you need here. Are the things expensive? A roll of toilet paper cost 50 rupees. (S$1.00) Medicines are cheaper as they are from India or Bangladesh. A one liter Nalgene bottle cost 250 rupees. Down jacket about 2500 rupees.

The next few days was a series of climb high and sleep low. This helped with acclimatization. The nightly challenge was getting into the sleeping bag. I have never been torture with a straitjacket in my live and I am sure I never will, but scene from TV gave me the notion my sleeping bad is like a straitjacket. This was when I found the value of having practice some yoga. I like to think the art of getting into or out of the liner and the sleeping bag requires perfect asana ( yoga pose )that is from the ascendency of Astanga yoga, precision , patience with slow deliberate breathing anything else would have drove me insane.

I am a bitch and here are my puppies.

After getting settled into the sleeping bag the next thing is laying out my “puppies”. That’s right, I felt like a dog that just gave birth to puppies and I got to make sure I don’t squash them as I lay down. Let me tell you their names, and I had a few. There was Banana-boat; she is quite tough but still I don’t want to wake up and see her white SPF 50 all squished out of her belly. There was Sanitizer, she tough too. Wet wipes, she was a little frail. Once I squashed her and all her juice came out leaving her quite dried up and not very useful after that. Lavender-oil, she was tiny and such a joy to have.

Then there are the very important, twins. Nalgene 1 and 2. They give out heat all night so I would place one by my feet and the other somewhere in the middle. They seem like tough “puppies” but still I was always careful not to squash them least their content spills out and we’ll all be frozen by morning. Then there is Headlight. He was a toughie and will make it clear if I sat on him. Then there were the “strays” that joins us some night, Socks, Sarong, and Buff. Quite a tight squeeze for all of us and just imagine, I had to get in and out of the sleeping bag about 3 times a night and the process to checking on the “puppies” repeats itself each time.

To remain positive, most evening before arriving at the lodging I think of the lyric of a song by Black Eye Pea and modify the ending line , “I gotta feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night, That tonight’s gonna be a good night. That tonight’s gonna be a good, good night (x3) And tomorrow we’ll do it all again”

We wake, every morning by 6.30 and as our brain slowly thaw into functionality we would have manage to get dressed, packed up , stuffed sleeping bag into its stuff bag while receiving our daily dose of tiny cuts from zippers to abrasive Velcro, Then the perilous trip to the common shared latrine.

If there was danger on such hiking adventure, one to reckon with, would be the trip to the latrine, the wooden, sometimes ceramic floor of the squatty potty is often iced up with yellowish ice patch. There is no flushing because the water in the bucket is frozen. From the evidences of speckle of frozen turds and the pattern of the spray one can only deduct with high probability it was from western travelers who have zero aiming skills or explosive trajectory from their behind.

As I tried to distract my breath from the sight I also took comfort with a knowledge that bacteria cannot grow at this fridge temperature. Err, no bacteria? How come it stinks sooo bad?

Eat Chilies.

Most day we were on the road by 8 am. Walking anywhere from 7 to 10 hours, each day I had plenty of time to ask myself over and over again in unlimited variation, “Why am I doing this? Why do this? Why do I want to do this? Do I like doing this ?” It’s been said, if you ask the question enough time you’ll find the answer. I did or maybe I was delirious thinking of hot spicy food. One day it dawn on me in a Forrest Gump kind of way. The fascinations of long and painful hikes up mountain are like eating really hot chilies. The pain of the fire has a certain rewarded that cannot be explained. But if you never do it you cannot find that magical moment. Soon the pain is forgotten, leaving a satisfaction rumbling in your tummy. And like eating chilies you can only get better and better at it. One day, all you’ll get is all the pleasure and none of the pain. Maybe you’ll get some admiration from others, maybe not. Maybe you can write about the flavor beyond the pain. Whatever it is it a personally journey and a private experience that you can share or bite your lips in silence. This way no one will know how much you wanted to scream, “Ahrrrr, oh my god, painfoooo”

Bum of steel

Everything from eggs to construction tiles, beers to fire wood is being transported by people who are like workers ants. It’s incredible to see them carry loads, half or more their own weight. Steadily these “worker ants’ climb uphill and downhill with cargo strapped to their head or back. Once we saw a man fall and the sheer weight of his load pinned him down immobilized to the ground. It took 3 of us to lift his cargo up and without a scratch or a bleat he goes on his way.

What do these people have to be so strong? I think it’s not what they have but rather what they don’t have, for one they don’t have a fat soft ass like me. They don’t sit at home, on sofa eating bags of chips. They don’t eat fatty burgers they don’t have much choice. So all they have is the right altitude and bum of steels. I continued on my way with burning pain in my quadriceps, if there are Yetis out there I am begging for an intercept. With my bum, soft and fat, I’ll make a good Yetis’ wife or meal but please don’t make me walk any more.

Diarrhea Mountain

The worst nemesis for any hiker is having tummy problem. There is absolutely nothing worst. If you break a leg at least you will get a cast and it would be visible. You might even get some sympathy but what do you do if you have diarrhea? Walk around waving a roll of toilet paper? It’s a good thing I lacked modesty. When I needed to “go” I just yelled like 5 years old.”I want to shit, now! Find me a rock or I’ll do it here and now on the trail”. That would make my guide rather nervous and Cheryl upset with my shameless bucolic behavior. Once we were 10 meters to a village and after 5 earlier “deposits” I felt another blast coming. Cheryl stood up on a sloop and scream for me to hold it for another 10 meters. Behind me was the tinkling of a herd of Yupes (Cross between a yak and a cow) speeding up toward the sloop. I screeched to Cheryl, “I feel another diarrhea coming “. Other hikers caught in between this commotion ran a safe distant from me. Cheryl replied with a slogan I coined in my previous trip that she thought was motivation, “Pull yourself up or sit and shit “. Immediately she knew that was the wrong thing to say. I replied,” Shit”. My fingers pointed repeatedly to a small bush indication I am about to drop my pants and poop there behind the small bush that offered no cover at all. Turning back to the herd of Yupes, I had to make an executive gut decision. Yupes was closing in by the seconds. Their bells got louder and their hairy fur got closer. I had a flash of me squatting behind the bush that would hopefully divert the Yupes from trampling on me or worse, sniffing what comes out and trying to eat it. Nope, that’s not going to happen. I ran ahead of the approaching hairy cows. Anyone witnessed my sprint would have thought I was afraid of those cows but true be known I was running toward the nearest out-house in the village.

It’s not the Destination…

Arrh today was a short day. Only 4 hours in the continuous uphill motion. Today, we arrived to a lodge or tea house that has an outdoor shower. It’s a little tent made of construction plastic sheets and zinc cladding. The almost translucent green plastic material was cleverly constructed to catch the sunshine. It was warm almost like a green house for plants except it for shower. We both bought a shower for 250 rupees each. The proprietor would filled the water barrel with two very huge kettle of boiling water, added some cool water and the barrel would be loaded with about five gallon of delicious hot washing water. First person in was Cheryl. I graciously let Cheryl be the first to go, unbeknown to her she was my “tester “. A few moments into her shower I heard a commotion. I heard something like;” I got shampoo on my head and no more water!!”

Then commotion was from the proprietor and his assistants scrambling and shouting to bring out more hot water and another would be franticly checking on the bucket and down spout diverter. An amusing chaotic scene of the outdoor shower tent scene from an old TV series M.A.S.H came to my mind. Radar, Private Boon and Major Frank running around to placate Major Margaret Houlihan yelling from the shower. My hands on my face, half a grin, wrinkle on my nose and a frown crooked my face. There is a saying, “It’s not the destination but the journey” Yup, quirky moments like this is what makes it memorable.

Then as steam became visible again from above the shower room the commotion fades down. Later emerged one clean and contented Cheryl saying that was the best shower she had. Next it was my turn. Armed with some clue to the working of the hot water bucket system I turned the tap to a slow shower, almost like a soft dribble of hot rain. Took my time to wash and had enough time for the “hot gentle rain” to sooth my body. The shower room remained warmed from the steam and sunlight. I could even take my time to put on my clothes without a shiver. I say it again, moments like this is what makes a journey memorable.

After shower the plan was to take a walk to visit the village‘s museum. There we could see the supposedly skull of a Yeti. Yeah, take a walk like we have not been walking enough,geezzz,. We both declined the kind offer and crawled into our sleeping bag. Call us uncultured, ignoramus, lazy, we preferred an afternoon snooze to debating about Yeti and bears.

All the days blurred into one.

Another day, another village, they all have one thing in common, common latrine, common menu, common stove where every evening traveler would gather, all hands extended towards it like it was a place of worship. Some would carry their socks, buffs, towels or shoes and place near the stove as if appealing for blessing from the mighty iron dragon that eats sun dried Yupes’ dun for fuels. Travelers would exchange stories in various tones and texture, some softly, humbly, excitedly, tiredly, hoarsely, while some obnoxiously in tone filled with testosterone.

On several evening I would quietly retreat to my cold, cold room forsaking the warmth of the fire in the hall. Not every lodge offered shower. Inside my tiny darken room I would have a small basin of warm water to wash parts of my body. The wipe down process has to be done systematically. Always start with face then hair, top to bottom, front to back , if you miss the order you don’t know what shit you might be getting ,literally. Then I would take the wet wipes and wipe down my jackets, collars, the zippers area, then the area where my bed would be next to , the latch on the door , the switch on the door , even the keys and padlock to our room. I sometime believe I am an accidental hiker because I am obsessed with cleaning I don’t belong to the category of people who call themselves the great outdoor adventurers. I belong to the clean, clean, clean, germ free borderline compulsive obsessive society. What then am I doing here? Perhaps, that is one of my challenges, “to just go with it- live life, fear no dirt”. I thought as I wiped the rim of my water bottle.

I became more successful with this challenge as the days went by. Perhaps the more tired I became the more I gave up being clean. I was brushing teeth only once a day, didn’t enjoy rinsing with slushy ice water. I began to not bother to change my clothes. I would place the dusty outer layers, my 4 or 5 days old socks, under my sleeping bag, this way it would be still warm in the morning as long as I put in on immediately. To me this was a breakthrough. I achieved new limited to staying dirty without going crazy. Wowho, there is hope for me yet.

Cho la Pass

After exploring the Gokyo valley, on the way to Everest base camp we crossed the Cho La Pass 5420m.(17,780 feet) We were told by our guide that we had to wake by 4 a.m to do this pass. Not everyone had to start early, only the slow and weak ones and I know he meant me. In the dark, illumined only by our head lamps and stars in the sky, we started this walk. It would involve a steep climb to 5,420 meters and down through the ice field. According to the company web page it was going to be challenging and it was rarely attempted by most trekking groups. The rewarded would be the fabulous views. We had two liters of water each in our Nalgene bottles. The temperature dropped to minus 15 degree and water turned to an icy slush. Again my stomach was churning up a storm. This made me exhausted and I did not even start the climb yet. To get over this pass would take a miracle. Slowly the guide and porters helped me over boulders and crevices. Every now and then we would catch up with Cheryl and she would say, “I am so proud of you, you didn’t give up”. Give up? I didn’t even know I had a choice of giving up? I thought if I don’t keep moving I’ll be left behind. Everyone from the lodge going through the pass had passed me by now. This gave me a panicky feeling of being left behind. This is not a trip where you get somewhere, take pictures and turn back. It’s up and over the pass to the other side of the mountain. Everyone is leaving.

Took me 8 hours to get to the top .It absolutely true, for how glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains. I was lost for words and out of breath, but I think that has something to do with me being exhausted.

When I reached the top of the pass I was “frozen”. Many time on my way up I thought I was going to fall asleep on my feet. Hypothermia or simply exhausted? A young Aussie whom we met the night earlier at the lodge, Jenny was sitting enjoying the splendid view. When she saw me struggling in the cold she dragged me over, pulled off my gloves and tucked my frozen palm and 20 popsicles for fingers onto her tummy and she kept giggling. She used her body to shield my face against the cutting blades of the icy wind. I think the embarrassment of my hands on Jenny’s tummy warmed me up faster than any other reasons. Whatever it was, I missed out being my usual drama queen and warmed up quite fast. Afterwards, I was grateful to Jenny like a stray dog to a new master.

The view was stunning, that is, I could see it after I was left sitting upright on my own. Found a moment to do my drama tears. Actually, I want to see if tears flowing out from the eyes will freeze by the time they reach the lips as I read somewhere that it would. I didn’t get to experience that maybe because I was stuffing my lunch at into my mouth at the same time. Have you ever seen a 5 years old crying and eating at the same time? That’s me, how real can you get?

The thing I said about pain, it’s true, even now as I recount my journey, my pain has no memory of itself, I have the urge to say, let’s do it again. Have you ever got beaten in a computer game? Fortified with familiarity of the game and a confidence that you can score better next time round, you have this urge to hit the “play again” button.

Reality is hitting the “play again” button is the easy part.

Khumbu Ice Fall

Rested and fed, two days later we trekked to our final destination, Everest base camp. 5380m (17,650ft). To keep my sprite up I imagine I was going to give, the Singapore Woman Everest team a surprise visit. Fact that they were already long gone was excluded from my imagination. It strengthens my determination when I am on a mission, even a self-fabricated one. Once there my imagination white washed away and replaced with sight of the Khumbu Ice fall. It is an ice fall at the head of the famous Khumbu Glacier .To me this was the sight I wanted to see.

Although it took me 5 hours to get there, it was actually easier that Cho La pass. 4 hours into the hike I crossed path with bubbling Jenny. She had already finished her journey to the Base Camp and was heading back to the lodge. Those damn Aussie legs. Maybe when no one is looking she turns into a horse. I don’t know what she saw but it made her stopped, opened up her tin of food supply and stuck a dried fig into my mouth and several jelly bean into my pocket. The “horse” left and I walked on, savoring the fig for as long as I could, tasting every grain, felt each seed and pulp of its soft flesh and transferred every bit of its sweetness into me. There, I made a promised. I will always savor and appreciate every nucleus of food that I take.

My guide forgot my second water bottle and the return journey from base Camp to the lodge left me dry heaving every 50 to 100 meters from dehydration. After 6 to 7 hours, it was already dark. I felt I was going to pass out. As I looked up in the sky I thought its quite nice trekking under the starlight. The silver sickle glowing in the sky with her ghostly outline of the rest of her lunar shape can be faintly seen. I was finally dragged into the lodge like a rag doll. Every tracker got in hours earlier. I like to think everyone around the fireplace politely averted their stares but really they could have been sticking their tongue out at me yet I wouldn’t know as I everything I saw was blurred. When Cheryl and Jenny saw me, they were fussing over me. In my diminished lucid state I thought I hear them say, “Granny, granny you made it

AMS

After Base camp it was like a race to get back to Lukla. Some days we walked for 10 hours. The terrain got easier as it was mostly downhill. Some days it was so flat and I felt I could run except for the ice patches that were like miniature ice skating rink everywhere. We came across a young American man, dazed, pale and blue lips. AMS - Acute Mountain Sickness. If this was not on a mountain he would have looked like a typical drunkie after a New Year’s Night party. He was with his porter who clearly didn’t know what to do. This is what happens if you don’t engage proper mountain guide. This guy could have ended up another statistic of AMS if our team did not help him. Our porter, half the size of this man, strapped the guy to his back and carried him down 2000 feets. Our other porter took on the load of two of our 15kg bags. He probably carried more that 30kg running behind the American who was being piggy back by the other porter. When they reached Pangboche, our guide had arranged for a rescue heliflight. I contributed to the poor fellow. I gave up my hand warmers that I kept in my bra. There, told you the story is about me.

The worst is over.

Pheriche and Thyangboche. Two more villages, two more nights in sleeping bag, 4 or more meals of cup noodles or dhal bhat. (Rice and lentil) We were racing back to Lukla and just in time as I was beginning to hallucinate. Last night when we got in to the lodge I was exhausted. Rudely, I dumped myself next to the fireplace. Did not care to speak to the occupants and the proprietor sitting there. Across the room I thought I saw them turn back to the table filled with toffee in colorful wrappers. “Oh boy, are they going to offer me some? And yes do I, I do, want some sweet, sticky, creamy toffees” But they didn’t ask and they were not trying to speak to me anymore.

Maybe they felt I was rude, walking in and not saying a word. Then I looked around the room and saw the typical family photos all over the wall. Trying to make amends and small conversation I pointed to a photo of what seems to be a young man in thick fur hat. I turned a man I suspected was the male proprietor and asked, “You Sherper? Is that you?”Expecting a proud answer from him,” Yes, me on Everest.” An awkward silent and then a compassionate answer by the lady proprietor, “my son, he is 4 years old” Gulp, either my brains or my eyes needed to thaw.

When they did I realize those ladies were treading colorful beads and not counting toffees. The man in fur hat was just as the lady said, a child with thick baby hair. Tail between my legs, I crawled to my room.

We stayed our final night on this mountain. After 16 days of dhal bhat, spaghetti in tomato ketchup, cup noodles and Tibetan bread, covering 65miles and approximate 20,000 feet on foot, we are ready to hang up our stinky boots and leave.

Finally, the familiar sight of the gate at Lukla, the starting point. From a distant we heard the sound of airplane. Here we saw newly arrived trackers heading down the same way we just came from. I could not help but growl at some of them in a low demonic voice, “Fresh face, new blood”. They laughed at me, probably at the pitiful sight I was in. I didn’t care because we will be back to Katmandu and won’t be too long, we will be in Singapore stuffing our face in Chili Crab, Nasi Lemak and for some strange reason I had an incessant craving for Cod fish cooked in lemon butter with a slight hint of tarragon and cooked to perfection, a soft mount of spinach on the side, toasted with lightly roasted almond shaves. Ohhhh.

Our final and dramatic flight out of Lukla.

Climbing back into the DHC-6 Twin Otter our plane was ready for takeoff. The notoriety of this airport is that the airstrip is on an incline off the side of a mountain. You can even Utube it to see the crazy flights. Leaving, I can’t get myself to say, departing, would mean the plane would position itself on top of the sloop and tear down like a rollercoaster. You pray the engine picked up enough force to lift off the short airstrip else down the side of the mountain we would go. As the plane rolled down the airstrip it felt we spring board into airborne. Like a rollercoaster flying off its track! Wooha, I touched my dhauni (pale yellow scarf given by Sherper for good luck) around my neck and looked down and saw the tiny shadow of our plane tailing us in a straight line along the mountain side, leaving this village, the seclusion and all that is life to these people.

Here I sit, flat assed but not broken hearted as I conclude my story of another out-of-the-comfort-zone adventure. The journey has reminded me to appreciate what I don’t have. I don’t have to wake up every morning in put on unwashed, dirty clothes .I don’t have to consider taking a shower a glorious luxury, use an out-houses and cover my excrement with dry leaves or fetch firewood or carry heavy load till my body is crooked.

Today, I saunter off to find my oasis in the city to satisfy the food craving that was long gone but need to honor. I knew at the Four Seasons they served all the food I desired and cooked to my likening. I choose and sat in a quiet and private corner. As I put a fig into my mouth, I closed my eyes and shut out the world in an attempt to bring the mountain and it’s all of her element back. Sadly, I could only evocate a faint memory. Yet ironically, on the mountain my craving served as a sort of incentive. Now the reverse is served.