Now that I’m clear of being jinxed I can safely say I’m lucky I never got sick or ever sprained anything during my travels. Now I wonder if I was overly paranoid, but I imagine nasty, little crawly microbes waiting at every turn to infiltrate my tender immune system. I was in the habit of washing my hands and supplementing with hand sanitizer, and I got out of my habit of picking up and eating used candy (or whatever those colorful clumps were) off of the sidewalk. Another important habit for some people to break (though I would never be so uncouth) is biting their nails or rubbing their eyes. I was careful about the fresh fruit and vegetables I ate too. Thankfully I only ate at restaurants that already go to great lengths to keep a good reputation so they only used treated or bottled water. The only real threat was the Lama in Pangboche who offered each of us some holy water from Mt. Kailash directly in our bare hands. I was quick to swipe out and douse my hands in alcohol just before he turned to me, but Richard took it straight up and swallowed a gastric time bomb. I don’t think the water itself was all that bad, but at any given time our hands were swarming with bacterial mayhem.

The other great fortune is that with all of the very rocky trails we traversed through the Khumbu I never broke any bones or even sprained any joints. Well, let’s not forget that I’m lucky to have kept all my limbs in tact while I was crossing the streets in Kathmandu. It’s about the same feeling you get if you ever try to cross a very busy interstate freeway (I don’t recommend that, by the way, but just helping you visualize). The thought crossing your mind as you step out is, “Well, I need to cross the street, but I’m probably going to die. Oh well, it beats just standing here or turning around and going back to the hotel. Hmm, I’m not sure about that. Oh well, I’m already stepping out onto the road, I hope those cars see me and that they stop. I guess I’ll just close my eyes and keep walking. Wow, I’m not dead yet.” Either all of the defensive driving classes sponsored by the Maoist donations really paid off or I was just extremely lucky. Out on the trails my high-top boots really paid off because my ankles were constantly under strain from the jarring terrain. The Sherpas must like their walkways as jagged as possible because it seems in places that could theoretically be smooth and level they brought extra rocks to clutter the way. Every step took some mental calculation to mitigate my legs bending in various un-natural directions. Just walking out to the squatter shack at night was a dangerous tactical maneuver. Of course the alternative of slipping off the rocky trail to the steep drop far below was usually less attractive.