Liaison and a big headache

By Dr. JASON FOUGHT
SPECIAL TO THE VINDICATOR
As we sit around and wait for good weather, here are some random thoughts.
Every expedition to Mount Everest has a Nepalese liaison officer. Supposedly, this person comes to Base Camp to ensure that the expedition runs smoothly. He (and it's always "he" in Nepal) makes certain that your permit is correct, ensures that your oxygen bottles are in place and in general promotes tourism in Nepal.
In reality, this unethical government leech is here to extort everything that he possibly can.
Since your climbing permit already incorporates a "liaison officer fee," the liaison officer -- always a government official with his hand in the pie -- already has his money. Most liaison officers just meet the team at the airport, take their money and are never seen again.
Ours, an airport employee, was an overachiever and made it all the way to Base Camp.
After arriving, he complained of major headaches, so we didn't see him much for the first week.
I offered to give him medicines, but he declined, realizing that it's harder to blackmail someone who has helped you in the past.
Our expedition leader, Paul Giorgio, successfully befriended him by giving him American magazines, predominantly with pictures of people with healthy physiques. Paul has done this in past years, keeping one liaison officer in his tent for the majority of a week looking at the pictures.
If this doesn't work, the officer can bust us for our satellite phone, (which is supposed to be used only after we pay $3,000 for a permit, which nobody ever does) and if he finds us using it, can threaten us with a big fine.
In other words, we have to give him a bribe. Gotta love the Third World.
In addition, he can get us for having more radios than our permit allows, as well as hit Paul up for large amounts of money if he sees Paul is involved in excavating Sir Edmund Hillary's camp, which was used in the first successful summit in 1953.
Thankfully, everyone is treating him as if he has the plague, including the climbing and cooking Sherpas. He talks only with other out-of-place liaison officers, and they collectively commiserate about their headaches.
He'll hopefully leave as soon as Paul summits Everest.
In the end, harsh reality
I dream of regular toilets and am sick of the 60-gallon barrel we have to use for a bathroom.
While Paul anxiously awaits weather that allows him to climb, a close second is waiting for the toilet Sherpa. The toilet Sherpa is the best-paid job in Base Camp aside from the climbing Sherpas.
Why? The cooking Sherpa told me.
"Nobody ever wants job of toilet Sherpa. Can't find enough money to pay me."
Our toilet has gone from disgusting to the level of port-a-potties at the end of a Grateful Dead concert, and our Himalayan Toilet Paper (the actual brand name) is about as harsh as the mountain.
Many people think of the majesty of the mountain, but to see the majesty of Everest, you have to endure the majesty of Himalayan Toilet Paper. The toilet Sherpa is supposed to change the barrels occasionally. Ours was to be changed today ... surprisingly the toilet Sherpa didn't show up.
Games and gambling
Otherwise, we spend our time reading, playing cards or "Risk," which is hotly contested and brings aggression out in people.
The Sherpas spend their time gambling in a small tent, playing a version of hearts. It's amazing how many Sherpas can fit into a two-man tent ... it's similar to college kids cramming into a VW bug.
They claim that they're just playing cards and that no money is changing hands, but the reality is that many Sherpas gamble away their earnings, which is about $7,000 each, before even ascending Everest.
Good guys, but not too terribly smart with their money. This is especially bad for our Sherpas, who are mostly in their 30s and nearing the end of their climbing careers.
Rock stars
Other than gambling, the Sherpas occasionally break out the pick-axes and shovels to move big rocks, supposedly to keep them from rolling onto tents like, well, mine.
The reality is that they're bored, and like most guys, they like tearing down things if they can. After helping them topple an especially big rock, I taught them how to throw snowballs at the Italian tents 200 feet away.
Shy Sherpas?
All of the Sherpas eat separately from us, although we've repeatedly invited them to join us.
We thought they believed we should eat separately, a sort of caste system.
I learned the reality later, speaking with Ming Ma, one of the kitchen assistants who looks at me and my shoes, saying "same size." This is a not-so-subtle way of saying, "I want your boots when you leave."
Regardless, Ming Ma told me that Sherpas can't stand the food we eat and prefer eating dahl baat, -- lentils and rice -- twice a day.
Weather woes
As far as the expedition, we remain in a holding pattern because of the weather. Paul's original summit date was planned for today or Monday but now is pushed back to the Friday or Saturday.
He was to climb to Camp II again today and will, with his Sherpas and the Indian/Nepal Army team, summit when the weather allows.
XTo follow Paul's team and see pictures, go to www.trekeverest.com.