Some experienced (I suppose) traveler once said that it is important to keep the day-to-day routine activities to prevent home sickness. Although I've never been the kind of guy who gets up in the morning and does some push-ups or anything like that, that morning I couldn't resist the temptation of doing some rural weight lifting. Those homemade weights were so cool and the housewife who exercised them so fit that it came across my mind that it ought to be healthy. As healthy was to breath some fresh air before taking the first step of the day. Another bridge over the Marsyangdi, another picture. This trek is really not suitable for those high-phobics!, I though while I took one of the coolest pictures of the entire trek (in my opinion).We were cruising normally through the valley when a sudden roar penetrated our ears. False alarm, it was only a friendly stampede or local children running down the hill on their way to school. Among them I found one that drew my attention in a special manner, a little girl who somehow resembled the daughter of one of my cousins but with Nepali features (dark hair and skin). I don't know whether I resembled her Spanish cousin or not but the fact is that that little beauty showed us around her school village better than a professional guide.
Having seen the nursery, we headed off for the next village. Following the recommendations of the experienced traveler that I mentioned before we chose to get stuck in a traffic jam just as we'd do in Spain, Germany or Holland. There was only one main difference, the 'road' was crowded with a line of donkeys instead of cars. Another dissimilarity was the source of the traffic jam which happened to be some random set of explosions targeting peaceful rocks blocking the course of an upcoming road (I'm telling you guys, come to Nepal before it is too late!!!).A few blasted rocks later we were back in business. Rock, river, rock, river, rock, bridge, river, amazing rock, river, amazing river, rock, rock, river, lake, rock, river... wait! did I say lake? oh yeah, we had reached Tal! Tal (1700 m) is the name (which literally means 'lake' in Nepali) of a village that lies right in between two narrow gorges of the Marsyangdi valley. After the monsoon the whole area is flooded with crystal clear water stemming from the snowed peaks. This time of the year there was only a wide section of the river. I insisted on taking a dive but the Germans refused, they favoured some apple pie (which I didn't deny). With that extra energy the road to Karte was a piece of cake! (<- I know, bad joke). As expected, it took us 1:30 hours to reach our destination: Karte (1870 m). Freezing cold shower, download/upload of gastric contents, and sweet bed time!
Aqui un servidor empezo el segundo dia del trek haciendo unas cuantas pesas al estilo Nepali. Me parecieron tan originales, y la ama de casa que las usaba tan saludable, que no pude resistir la tentacion. Tras esto y una bocanada de aire fresco, comenzamos la jornada. Ibamos tranquilamente charlando cuando la primera estampida del dia nos sorprendio de manera inesperada. Falsa alarma, tan solo se trataba de unos niños corriendo ladera abajo de camino a la escula. Entre ellos habia una niña que me llamo la atencion de manera especial, no se, de alguna manera me recordaba a Ixane, la hija de mi primo Raul. La Ixane nepali nos enseño gustosa su pueblecito y nos despidio con un tierno Namazte!. Cual fue nuestra sorpresa cuando nos vimos atascados en un atrasco al mas puro estilo occidental. La principal diferencia fue que en vez de coches eran burros los que se apilaban en la carretera. Al parecer algunos hombres locales estaban dinamitando rocas en el camino para abrir paso a una futura pista forestal. Tras superar esto continuamos con nuestro camino. Roca, rio, roca, rio, rio, roca, roca impresionante, rio, rio impresioante, roca, puente, roca, rio, lago, rio, roca... lago? si, habiamos llegado a Tal. Tal es un pueblo en mitad del valle donde se acumula el agua que baja de los picos nevados. En esta epoca del año solo se ve un rio, en el cual me quise pegar un baño, pero mis compañeros alemanes me persuadieron para acompañarles en la labor de comerse una tarta de manzana. El dulce de la tarta nos propulso como motos hasta Karte (1870 m). Alli, una ducha helada y las labores diarias de carga y descarga de contenidos gastricos sirvieron de preludio a la ceremonia de meterse en la camita caliente (o algo asi).
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