Him A-Layin' 'Round 1

I have an urge. And I can’t seem to control it. Despite the fact that I’ve been trekking in the mountains for the last 10 days in a row, I can’t seem to stop myself wanting more.

So today, off I went again, up more almost vertically steep hills, to visit a little village called Methlang, which lies on the high ridgetop right behind my guesthouse. I didn’t go up there to visit the village per se, but just to get up and get another view.

My body feels so good. It completely fails to send me reminders that, in fact, I’m sixty years old. Well, sixty years young, I like to say. I feel like I’m in the sub-prime of my life - a sustained prime of sorts, maybe not reaching the ecstatic, unceasingly active and party/sex-filled heights of younger days, but equally as rich, and infinitely more un-self-conscious and content with exactly who I am.

Well, mostly anyway.

So off I strolled, first heading east along the southern part of the lake, and then turning right and heading up a tiny track into the bush.

It didn’t take long to get some stunning views.

From the sleepy village and completely quiet ridge top I could also see right over the other side of the small range that hugs the lake, to the magnificent peaks of the Annapurnas, views of which I’ve been admiring for weeks now.

They look just as beautiful as when I first saw them.

I chilled in the village, sat and chatted to a local ex-guide, had a hot drink, and soaked up the sun, before the evening cold set in.

Another vulture waiting for death. Sorry for the blurriness, they’re up so high.

Eventually I headed back down to town on another track, where I got new views of the wide expanses of the town - built up areas that didn’t exist when I first came here.

It’s so nice to be back in Pokhara. It’s a beautiful spot, and it’s got things I haven’t had for awhile. Like a huge variety of food options. Like open mike nights. Like warmer days, and less freezing nights.

Yesterday was my guest house owners’ 14th wedding anniversary. To celebrate, they cooked us five foreigner guests a Nepali feast, complete with sweets, fruit, and beers. So incredibly generous. This is before all five of us had turned up.

And we all had a super interesting conversation, as some of the guys had travelled to Iran, one of my intended destinations. Of course they had an amazing time there.

I bought Guzheng and his wife some jewellery, to celebrate the occasion, and for them to remember us by. They were so happy.

Yeah, Guest is God here. How beautiful. There’s even a well-known expression in both Nepali and Hindi about it.

Random street art

Standard food fare. Veg khanna (which basically means vegetarian food). It’s a plate of rice, dal, some steamed greens, some curries and chutneys, a papadam, a bit of salad (you know, a slice each of radish, cucumber and carrot), all for the huge price of NPR 120 (about AUD 1.60). A huge re-fillable bargain.

The same plate would cost at least 500 rupes up in the mountains, in any place near a more frequented trekking route. Understandably so. The villagers rely on that food to feed themselves and their families - to use it up on a constant stream of foreigners means they probably have to buy in more, which often has to be carried in.

But here there’s so many food options that the competition keeps prices down and quality up. Especially if you stay away from the real Western-leaning places, which tend to be wildly overpriced and not necessarily that great - at least not their Western dishes.

Over And Up

TIme’s been ticking.

Incredibly, it’s been over a year since I first left Australia, on this seemingly perpetual journey through Asia.

While a year is a long time, it’s also an instant. Yesterday I started cycling in Bali, and today I’m in Kathmandu, already two-thirds through my planned journey through the Indian subcontinent.

That is, if I don’t change my return ticket to Bangkok, which is always possible.

I left Pokhara reluctantly, I love it there. But I need to keep moving, time is money.

Oh yeah, no it’s not.

No, I had to leave Pokhara so I can meet my buddies in Kerala on time. Trivandrum, our meeting place, is at least six million Indian train hours from here, but I’ve only got exactly 2 weeks to get there.

And I couldn’t leave Nepal without visiting Kathmandu, just to see first hand how this city has evolved over the decades since I last visited.

So again, against my will, I set my alarm for too early! and headed off to the mini bus pickup area, to grab some transport to the Nepalese capital.

I had to wait approximately no minutes.

The relatively comfy local mini-bus, way quicker than the local big bus, and almost as cheap.

The first few hours were along a super dodgy potholed road, dogged by slow and almost machine-free roadworks. People breaking rocks by hand. Lifting large rocks up hills, to be concreted together into retaining walls by other slaves. Digging drainage ditches with picks and shovels. Laying wide plastic pipes.

Eventually the road improved, but it was all still oh-so-slow.

The scenery was grand though.

Kathmandu’s higher than Pokhara, with an average elevation of about 1,400m. Pokhara’s more like 900m.

Shit. Even more cold on the way.

Chai stop. This van had three live goats tied to its roof racks.

Overtaking a truck. Clear views of oncoming traffic are optional when it comes to overtaking at speed in Asia. And given that Nepal is mountainous, there’s always another sharp bend only metres away. Just go for it, it’ll work out. Even if someone has to veer off the road.

I used to walk home from school with my sibs, just like this. Once upon a time. Wearing pretty much exactly the same type of uniform.

The sun setting, as we reach the outskirts of Kathmandu at peak hour. It took forever to get in to town.

But we did.

And off I strolled, pack on back, to find me a bed.

Yes, of course I love you. Dealuxely even.

I wish I went to a precious higher secondary school.

Yay! A bed! But this room actually proved to be bloody cold. Without hot water no less. I had to fully layer up and disappear in the blankets to stay warm enough to remain human.

I bought what I thought were peanut cookies at a roadside stall en route. Instead, they turned out to be flat pebbles with peanuts concreted inside. They were impossible to bite. I had to break them with the full force of my hands (still difficult, despite my superhuman strength), and then suck the bits in my mouth until they broke into smaller rocks, which I could then eventually swallow.

While these smaller rocks were swirling around my mouth, I was totally hesitant to swallow, as I wasn’t 100% sure that parts of my teeth weren’t in there amongst the rubble, and that I’d have to retrieve them at a later date, in the most unpalatable and unthinkable way.

I eventually checked the Use-By date on the yellow sticker on the outside. It just said Nov.

So I know that the best-case scenario was that they were at least one year past their finishing date, and more than likely had been sitting there in the food stall, drying in that hot afternoon sun, for at least the life span of your average milk-producing dairy cow.

Yeah, about six years I reckon.

What a waste of all those lovingly donated cookie-filled milk products.

Guzheng in Pokhara gave me this traditional scarf, a khata, as I left his guest house. What a guy.

Kathmandoodling

This is a fabulous city.

Yeah, it’s busy, it’s a bit dirty, the traffic’s pretty bad, and there’s scruffy, dodgy dogs that sometimes look at you as if they’re not sure if they’re scared or just plain angry. So far, their barks haven’t graduated to bites.

But despite all that, the city is super interesting.

I stayed in the Paknajol area, to the west of the tourist district of Thamel. It’s an area of quiet laneways and local shops, with a few guesthouses dotted around the place.

As soon as I arrived I dived into a hole-in-the-wall eating place and had a Tibetan thukpa, a big noodle soup, and then headed to Thamel, to see what it’s like these days.

It was pretty dead, considering it was Friday night. Tourist season’s over. It’s too cold, and virtually no one celebrates Christmas here.

Thamel’s a very touristed burb these days, full of cafes, bars and restaurants catering for Westerner hiker-tourists, trekking shops, travel agents and tour guide shops, and, of course, the ubiquitous jewellery, craft and clothing shops.

Really?

http://buymeacoffee.com/krolesh9

Go to Part 2