The airports went by like a foggy dream -- MSP, LAX, BKK (Bangkok), and, finally, the destination, KTM. It was four flights, two movies, ample book-reading time, seven hours of sitting-up sleep, 9,000+ miles in the air, and over 30 hours of travel time. But I made it to Kathmandu!

Expedition Hanesbrands kicked off two weeks ago when Jaime Clarke, the lead climber, began a trek toward Everest Base Camp. Scott Simper, the expedition's videographer/photographer, and I played catch up on the Everest Trail last week. But before we left Kathmandu, Simper, our guide Min Magar, and I had a bit of time to explore the city.

First stop: The crazy alleyways and streets of the Thamel District. This is a shopping and tourist area, a scene that mixes beggars with trekking guides, tourists and locals. Stores sell live chickens, fabrics and jewels, and name-brand climbing and expedition gear.

Trucks and taxis push through people in Thamel. On the tight streets, motorbike drivers rocket and weave, roaring inches past your heels. They honk and accelerate, pedestrians leaping and fast-stepping to get out of the way. Kids thrust their hands in your face, begging for change. Incense and fried-food smells stream from stalls, thick smoke mingling with exhaust and garbage decaying in piles out front of book shops and places that sell beads.

We browsed the gear shops in Thamel. The knock-offs are plentiful, from "North Face" duffel bags and down pants, to "Mammut" shell jackets, "Columbia" fleeces, and assorted "Mountain Hardwear" gear. "Look out for rip-offs," Magar had warned. At one shop, I unzipped some climbing pants to inspect their quality. Thin nylon that looked sun-faded served as the outer fabric. "Waterproof! Good!" shouted the shop owner. He offered them for $35, a steal had they been authentic. But they were junk. The zippers were cheap. The fabric would shred on a climb. I tried them on but left without a sale. The shop owner shouted "$10, please, you buy!" as I walked away.

Scott needed some medication for the trek, and so we went deeper into Thamel for a pharmacy. Horns, shouts, pleas for money, and happy "hellos" or "namastes" overloaded the senses. Buildings propped high, precarious structures connected by electric wires and prayer flags. The streets are canyons below. Pigeons roosted, cooing on the wires, then taking off in group flutter as lightning started to crackle in the sky.

We ran back toward our hotel in the rain. The motorbikes were slower, drivers shielding their eyes from the big drops and truck spray. I wrapped my camera in a shirt and stuffed it in my pack, praying it didn't get wet. We jogged, stopping to dodge cars and play "Frogger" at each street crossing. "More dangerous than the trek to Everest," Simper yelled.

Rain increased. Tourists ran and hid. Locals covered goods with tarps and plastic bags. They retreated into open store fronts, rain streaming in curtains, roaring off roofs and awnings to sequester with water and seal off the sellers' yellow-lit stalls.

We changed clothes when we got back to our hotel, the Yak & Yeti. A cricket match played on a big-screen TV in the bar. We had dinner in the dining room. Rain pounded outside, lightning struck, and the electricity was killed for a minute in the hotel. All the rooms went dark. But the diners didn't mind. We sat and listened to the wind and the thunder. Windows were cracked to let the cool air in. Water washed the rooftop and shot off in a spout. Birds flew to hide on balcony stoops, ducking and cooing once out of the rain.

Scott and I toasted to the city as the lights came back on, life inside waking up again in a yellow glow. We were both tired and beat, time-zone agnostic on the other side of the world. It was 7pm in Kathmandu and early morning at home in the United States. Was it Tuesday or Wednesday? We weren t exactly sure. We ate and drank and drifted to our rooms. I sank into sleep without clearing the gear off my bed, eyes shut, fading on a sheet for a few hours' rest before another day in Kathmandu, in this other world.

Stephen Regenold is editor and founder of GearJunkie.com.