The Naked Sherpa

When I texted my mom and told her that Tyler's luggage had not arrived with him to Kathmandu, she responded in three words: "The Naked Sherpa!" Thankfully, I am happy to report that Tyler is not walking around Nepal naked, but I cannot speak for the Sherpas. They are free to do as they will. Maybe it would be better to refer to this ever-continuing saga as "The Adventures of the One Underwear Bandit." Because indeed, that is what this has become...

Tyler's baggage is still MIA.

But let me back up a few days to his initial stay in the capital city of Kathmandu, an ancient city that became Nepal's capital in the 15th Century. As already noted, the Bandit was retrieved from the airport by two men and whisked away in the dark through rubble and rabid dogs to an unspecified location -- aka the Sacred Valley Inn.

Well, it's not the Ritz Carlton, but it does the job.

Notice how the shower doesn't have any door or curtain? This was really common in Argentina, too. I could never shower without creating my own private ocean in the bathroom. Also, I see he left the toilet seat up. His civility has obviously gone to pot without me.

The views from the hotel.

Tyler called these men below his hotel "Day Laborers." That sounded like an odd way of describing them, almost like he should have said it with a British accent. I'm beginning to think I never really knew the man I married...

More views...

Breakfast on the roof! I'm sure it would've tasted even better with clean underwear.

All this photo is missing is a variety of passports and a pistol and it 

would prove to me what I suspected of Tyler along. 

$25,000 Rupees = $240USD

Well, if money could bring Tyler's luggage back from the deep, dark hole it crawled into, he'd have it by now. But alas, his backpack had still not arrived by the time he was ready to catch his flight to Janakpur, the closest airport to the small town of Lahan, where the eye hospital is located. Lahan is near the Indian border in SE Nepal.

So Tyler boarded a small plane...

...and then arrived in Lahan, at the Sagarmatha Choudhary Eye Hospital (SCEH). This hospital was started over 30 years ago by a German ophthalmologist named Dr. Albrecht Hennig, who moved there with his wife and two sons. Since then, it has grown into a network of two high-volume hospitals and eight primary eye care centers. The program has provided eye treatment to almost four million patients and performed almost 900,000 surgeries. During the busy season, the team at the hospital examines up to 700 patients and performs 300-400 surgeries/day. 

The hospital compound

Tyler is staying in a small room at the hospital compound, complete with a mosquito net. Now that is legit. Too bad his underwear still smells.

Now lest you think the Sherpa really did walk around naked, now is a good time to tell you that Tyler rode on the back of a taxi bike to the Bizarre to buy a pair of trousers. And the words "Bizarre" and "trousers" were the exact words of the German doctor's wife to Tyler, as she improvised a solution for his lack of clothing. Tyler noted to me that he never thought he would say those two words in the same sentence...

And so, in the company of a young Indian ophthalmologist, riding on the back of a bike taxi, Tyler headed to the Bizarre in search of his trousers...

Tyler said the bike driver was a "fairly small guy but he pumped us all the way back, probably 3/4 mile!" He was impressed to say the least. And I fully expect him to drive me around in a carriage on the back of his bike when he gets home. And feed me grapes.

So the One Underwear Bandit went shopping, but do not think for one minute that he bought new underwear or socks. No, no. He bought two shirts and two pairs of trousers. Now, let me preface the following picture by saying that when we were shopping for dress shirts for him to take to Nepal, I suggested a lovely green striped button-down. The green was a Kelly green, vibrant and clean. To me, it looked very presentable. To Tyler, it screamed way too loudly. And then this is the shirt he buys at the Bizarre:

Namaste, Tyler. Namaste.

As for his time at the hospital, he says it is insane. Tuesday (our Monday) was a holiday (the country celebrated Lord Shiva's, a popular Hindu deity, wedding day). So they actually only worked in the morning, from 9am to 12pm, and saw 50 patients! He said there are so many people there seeking eye care. He learned how to say "Look over there" and "Look at my ear" in order to do eye exams. The man who is responsible for him is named Chandra Narayan. He's been at the hospital for over 20 years and is sometimes hard to understand. Tyler said that his supervisor and the other people at the hospital "kind of manhandle the patients." Tyler guesses that this is because a lot of them are quite visually impaired. It was still weird for him to see. 

Amidst the chaos and the eyeballs, the student doctor eats. He said the food is "good." (Tyler is a man of flowery and descriptive language). There is a kitchen and serving area in one building with a cook. Rice is served with every meal. Often broccoli. He said they've had potatoes and peas. He had some meat with the first meal, but didn't really like it so he's been avoiding it since. I can only hope he wasn't eating a distant relative of dear Archibald. 

Another noteworthy item, should one ever be interested in staying in an eye hospital in rural Nepal, is that there is constantly background music playing. At the time he was iMessaging me, it was organ music, but usually it is the kind one would expect when in India (according to Tyler). He said he doesn't even know where it comes from, and that it plays all night, too. I'm going to make sure he has a steady flow of it when he comes home in three weeks. He will love it.

And so the One Underwear Bandit continues to live the dream. Most of our communication is done via texts since the internet is not strong enough to have quality Skype or Face Time conversations, but from everything that I gather, he is embracing the adventure of it all and even owning his extremely vulgar socks, which I witnessed hanging from a clothes line in his room, most likely airing out from the accumulation of three days of feet sweat. I shudder at the thought and breathe a giant sigh of relief in the pure air around me. As does Archibald, who, even as a dog who loves everything gross and putrid, would hunker down and cower at the stench. 

Until next time...Namaste.