A Rough Start
It was supposed to be day three of our trek. We woke up early, bags nearly packed, and ready to hit the trail. But before our morning even really started, Jet rolled over in our triple room - yes, like a cozy sleepover with friends - and quietly announced, “I’ve been throwing up all night.”
She couldn’t stand, let alone hike for eight hours straight.
So, Amanda and I made the decision: we’d stay an extra day, keep Jet comfy with a bucket by the bed, and enjoy a bit of sun while she recovered.
The Dilemma
As the day passed, we kept checking in on Jet. But she wasn’t improving, and worry started to creep in. What if she’s still sick tomorrow? What do we do then?
Alex's point of view
Alex and I started talking through the options. Her take was different from mine - more practical and rational, less emotional. As an experienced backpacker, who has been on the road for four years, she mentioned that we’re solo traveling for a reason. “Traveling solo gives you the opportunity to be flexible. These things happen.”
She made some fair points. At that time, we’d only known Jet for a few days. We just happened to be seated next to each other on the plane. If we were further into the mountains and acclimating, it would have been different as there would be benefits to staying there. But here, in a low-altitude village with nothing to do, the question was real: do we wait for Jet or keep going with another group?
Food for thought
Amanda's logic made me think.
Why do I feel such a responsibility to someone I barely know?
Am I that kind of traveler who would leave someone behind?
Or the kind who stays and "sacrifices" part of their trip for someone else’s wellbeing?
Could I leave her, sick and alone, in an unknown location, with a guide I don't trust and who we can't understand?
Complicating things was the fact that our guide wasn’t exactly… guiding. His English was limited, and when I tried to explain that I have epilepsy, he just smiled and told me a positive mindset would cure it. Thanks, but no thanks.
To make things more tempting, we knew another group from the same company was arriving that day - led by a young, flirty, yet very capable-sounding guide. He spoke great English, knew the trail, and (as Amanda pointed out) had asked for her number on the bus. Classic. It did make sense that she would want to tag along with that group.
Meanwhile, I got so conflicted with my thoughts and the dilemma... As my limited time in Nepal would be ticking away - and I already had tickets booked for the Philippines.
So yeah, I was torn.
Rats and retainers
That night, we went to bed still undecided. Amanda stayed up a little longer to journal and chat to our "new" guide. I climbed under my covers, hopeful a good night’s sleep would bring clarity.
I was reading until Amanda entered the room, ready to go to bed. I decided to turn off my flashlight and close my eyes, too. About 20 minutes after I had turned off the light, I heard it: rustling.
At first, I thought I was being dramatic - it must’ve been the neighbors. Thin walls, right? But the more I listened, the more I was convinced… something was under my bed.
Naturally, me being me, I went to the worst-case scenario. (Monster? Snake? A voyeur?)
I grabbed my flashlight and peeked under the bed. Of course, I didn’t quite dare stick my head all the way down, but I spotted a pack of cookies in the corner and wondered:
Did I leave those in my bed? Did I drop those? Am I being crazy?
Trying to be brave, I turned off the light and pulled on my eye mask - which didn't help one bit. The rustling came back and there was no way I was handling that solo.
So I whisper-shouted:
“Amanda… Amanda.”
She turned, half-asleep. “What’s wrong?”
“I think there’s something under my bed.”
At first, she thought I was being dramatic - but then she heard it too. “I don't think, I am sure that there is something underneath your bed.”
We grabbed the flashlight and bravely shone it under the bed, only to discover a little rat - adorably trying to shove an entire cookie package into a hole in the wall like it was prepping for the winter of its life.
Not some creepy, gross sewer rat either. This one looked like a hamster with fashion sense - multi-colored fur, a long tail, and a whole lot of determination.
Amanda took away the cookies, we laughed, and eventually managed to fall asleep. I figured as long as he had food on the floor, the rat wouldn’t have any reason to snuggle up with me in bed. Priorities, right?
And so...
Morning arrived - and good news: Jet was feeling better! She managed to eat a bit and said she was ready to hike. Not having to make a decision lifted a weight off my shoulders. Spirits were high, the sun was shining, and we were back on track.
Until…
Jet started packing her bag. Our guide had left her a plate of pomegranate next to the bed to help with her vitamin intake. It was, of course, gone. Clearly, our little rat friend had returned for seconds.
But that’s not all.
Jet suddenly froze and said,
“Guys… I can’t find my retainers.”
We turned the room upside down. Nothing.
Apparently, she had taken them out in a hurry the night before when she was sick and left them… on the floor.
The same floor where the rat had been dragging around cookies.
The same floor where it had devoured the pomegranate.
The same floor where it apparently found its new dental plan.
We searched everywhere. Nada. No trace.
So, somewhere out there in rural Nepal, there is a rat with an absolutely perfect bite alignment. He’s probably feeling fresh, minty, and ready to confidently chew through the packaging of his next cookie.
Go and try explain that to your insurance company!
