Sunday 2 October
We all had a rotten night. The beds were incredibly hard . . might as well have been on concrete. The doonas were so thick and heavy that we were all sweltering, and we all felt very queezy with altitude sickness. 3800 is high up. We both felt we had not snoozed a wink and were total non-starters. Paul got up and asked if we had looked outside? Snow he said. We expected he meant the distant mountains but hell it was everywhere and still falling. The roofs were loaded and the overhead wires were all swollen with snow. Getting downstairs was a major effort but we had a token feel of the great novelty and then retreated back to bed. J was quite sick. We had arranged to move to the place with the restaurant under the same roof and the bathroom on the same floor (Angela’s) but we had no prospect of getting our bags there . . especially the large one on wheels because by then the square was a great slush puddle. Walking along you had chunks of snow falling out of trees and off roofs. Eventually we improved enough to stroll over with one backpack each and Paul very kindly humped the big one on his back, including the 20 rung ladder leading up to the restaurant. So here we are, having some more rest and recuperation waiting for lunch.
We pretty much slept all day and didn’t make lunch at all. Constant and very loud hooters and massive air horns all day. Not sure if this is just passing idiots or part of the extended celebrations. In either case, it falls under the broad family of “what we are doing is really important”, which really shits me. Crawled upstairs for dinner. I could only stomach a chocolate brownie while J waited 2 hours for fried rice which they then said they could not make. Settled for carrot soup. The restaurant very popular with backpackers.
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