After hiking back down from the big climb over the Manaslu Pass, we arrived at a charming little town tucked into a valley at 3700 meters.
The vibe was light and joyful: we’d reached 5106 meters and returned safely, and to top it off, the couple we were traveling with got engaged at the summit - reason enough to celebrate, I’d say.
Our rooms were freezing cold, and after a bracingly icy shower - yes, I do cold showers at home, but this was next-level Himalayan tap torture - I felt both frozen and somehow... exhilarated. Maybe it was the fact that the weather outside the shower was just as cold, or that the windows were essentially holes in the wall and the doors more crack than wood. But hey, I was clean.
We wrapped ourselves in layers and headed to the little “daining” hall (as the Nepali signs charmingly spell it). There, the fire was crackling, and it was at least warmer than our rooms. We sat down with our books, joining the newly engaged couple and Amanda, who was already there.
A Celebration
As we warmed ourselves by the fire, reminiscing about the hike and flipping through photos of the engagement, our guides decided to toast the successful crossing with some rum. They brought out three 300ml bottles and generously poured it into their glasses, topping it off with Coke.
We were happy for them - seeing them relax and enjoy their “night off” was genuinely nice. That is, until I looked up from my book and realized they’d already finished drinking. I had assumed they were only on bottle one.
The Aftermath
“Make Kima happy.”
He must’ve said it at least 12 times.
I didn’t even bother responding as it wasn’t a conversation - it was a monologue.
He was on repeat, and no new tune was coming anytime soon.
Jet, bless her, tried to engage. She nodded, smiled, and reassured him that we were happy with Nima, that we’d make sure Kima was happy too. But honestly? I’m pretty sure his ears were blocked.
Then he said something that caught me by surprise.
“It’s fine if you’re not happy with me. But be happy with Kima.”
At first, we thought it was him just being humble - wanting to lift up Kima, avoiding stroking his own ego. Sweet, right?
But that moment passed fast.
He went on, saying he knows we’re not happy with him, because the organizer told him I’ve been texting. That I said it’s hard to communicate with him.
Which he followed up with his entire resume.
How many jobs he’s had.
Where he works and has been working.
How much English he speaks.
I wasn’t impressed. He was drunk. Loud. Annoying.
I wanted to tell him I’d be happy to talk it over - but not like this, not when he’s been drinking. But before I could even finish my sentence, he was already cutting me off, talking over me.
There was no point. So I shut my mouth and pretended to read my book.
The rest of the group tried to tell him there was no reason to keep going - not in this state. Eventually, he gave up the rant and wandered off.
To Tip or Not to Tip
Then the question surfaced: should we tip him, after we're done?
Amanda and I weren’t feeling particularly generous anymore. Yes, he’d made improvements - thanks to our other guide - but seeing him like this made us question whether a tip was still deserved.
Brendan - the male partner - raised the idea of giving him a symbolic tip, but something too small, might actually insult him. We discussed it over and over.
I told them the backstory:
- How he was high on the first day of the hike.
- How, when I told him I had epilepsy, he said a “positive mindset” would do the trick, and that if I had a seizure, he’d wave a dirty sock under my nose to wake me up.
- How he’d dismiss our need for breaks.
- How he often wandered off to hang with his friends instead of guiding us at our pace.
- How he never once checked in on how we were feeling, didn’t ask about altitude sickness, didn’t brief us on plans, or bother explaining the areas we were trekking through.
All in all, he had been a bad guide. Sure, he improved over the last week - but turns out, he had just been smiling and pretending like everything was okay.
And now, here he was, drunk and blurting out bitterness.
So the question remains:
Do we tip him for the effort he eventually showed?
Or do we take a stance, and give nothing at all?
