It's a question of squatting or sitting. My first journey into the Everest region of Nepal was in 1986. Like everyone else, I went on a trek supported by a group of Sherpas and slept in a tent. Our bathroom facility was a hole in the ground (Asian toilet) with a blue tarp draped over teepee poles for privacy. We westerners trudged to the latrine tent clutching our private rolls of toilet paper because Sherpas don't use anything that soils the environment. The left hand is reserved for cleaning and the right for eating. As a visitor, one must quickly learn never to offer food with the left. Sherpas are also quite disgusted by our habit of blowing our noses in a piece of cloth and storing it for future use. They simply cover one nostril and blow from the other into the wind.

The other method of travel was trying to find shelter in a Sherpa home, first come first served. If you didn't rush ahead of others on the trail, you were literally out in the cold. A Sherpa friend proposed building a series of huts that travelers could book from abroad and be assured of a place to sleep at night. I helped raise the money, chose locations, and decided how they would be outfitted and run. In 1990, we opened 18 huts in the Everest region, the Sherpa Guide Lodges, which included a novelty-outhouses with toilet paper holders! Eager to please westerners, the Sherpas constructed the funny, little buildings directly over rivers for efficient waste removal, much to the chagrin of those dwelling downstream. They later discovered that human fertilizer was a valuable asset in the production of cabbage. So if you ever go there, make sure your cabbage is boiled.

I was leading treks to the region at this point. Knowing westerners wouldn't like the Asian hole in the ground, I had each of my clients transport a camping toilet with aluminum legs and a seat. With curious expressions, the Sherpas carefully placed them over the holes. My clients were quite pleased that fall trekking season. However, after we left, the Sherpas were perplexed by these odd contraptions. They climbed onto the seats and positioned a bare foot on either side using them as an elevated Asian toilet. The result? Soiled seats and broken legs. By the time I returned in the spring, the camping toilets had disappeared and the hole prevailed with a cup and bucket of water outside the door for cleaning. We had to learn to squat and love it.

I'm the author of the first fiction about the Sherpas of Everest. Beyond the Summit is available at most bookstores and on line.

www.beyondthesummit-novel.com