Days 120, 121, 122 and 123: Highs and Lows

Day 120

Waking up in Manakamana, Lottie and I remained the only Westerners in the village. We had had great plans to leave early and avoid the suffocating midday heat, but the cable car didn't start until 9.30. By this point it was already well over 30 degrees and by the time we had heaved our bags up from the end of the line to the main road we were more sweat than human. As Mankamama isn't on the tourist trail we had to get a local bus for the three hour jaunt to Pokhara. The bus was crammed until bursting point and not just with humans! Yes, in between the throngs of passengers you could hear the bleating of goats. We began the journey sharing what were effectively 3 seats between 5 and my knees were consequently placed somewhere near by eyebrows. This slight discomfort was wholly magnified though by the unbearable heat. Even worse though was the smell. A combination of stale body odour, goat and raw flesh from the decapitated carcasses assailed our noses. Thankfully a couple eventually left the bus and Lottie and I were able to grab some window seats. By sticking my head out the window I could finally breathe without gagging!

(the bus at its later emptier stage)

Three hours later though and we arrived in the paradise city of Pokhara. Nestling on the calm waters of The Lake 'Phewa Tal', Pokhara is the laid-back, chilled cousin of Kathmandu's Thamel and in high season is notable as the place where trekkers go to relax and celebrate after their mountain adventures. The city is framed by the Annapurna Himalaya mountain range and whenever the clouds parted we were treated to some absolutely stunning views. That evening I went to watch sunset over the lake. I was eventually joined by a pair of Tibetan women who in the most polite way possible wanted me to buy their wares. I just cannot say no to an elderly woman and so ended up paying way over the odds for yet another bracelet to add to my arm. In a fit of sympathy I also offered them some of the food supplies I had saved up for the next few days. They demolished the bag in seconds. It was only then I realised just how poor and hungry they must have been. Nepal is one of the poorest countries on earth, falling in the bottom 10 of countries by nominal GDP per capita, and the average daily wage here is just one pound fifty.  

Consequently, it was in a somewhat guilty frame of mind that I ordered two dinners for myself that night (I was hungry after the women had eaten all my snacks). I started with some buffalo chow mein (buffalo is so much better than beef) and then followed this with some momos (the national dish of steamed dumplings).

Lottie and I then went to a bar with a couple of other English guys and played some pool.

Day 121
You can't live by a lake and not dive straight in. Well, maybe you can when you are told just how filthy the water here is. The next best thing though is hiring a boat. Lottie and I rowed our way out into the lake and passed a gloriously sunny morning investigating hidden mooring points and and an island in the middle. Near the centre of the lake the water is much cleaner and finally I got my chance to get in the water. Getting back in the boat was a little tougher and Lottie was forced to act as a precarious counterweight.

Mooring at a restaurant we then decided to attempt the mini-trek to the top of a hill nearby to see the World Peace Pagoda. One small hitch though, the afternoon monsoon rains started to fall. It was only then that I noticed that I was terribly sunburnt. How was this possible? I had reapplied frequently all morning. Then I remembered that I had been using a dodgy sun cream bought in a dodgy Thai supermarket. Damn. Oh well, at least the rain was cooling on my red-hot skin.

The World Peace Pagoda was built by followers of a Japanese Buddhist monk who, having witnessed the two atomic bombs at the end of world war two, decided to dedicate his life to spreading peace. In a small victory for him the rain clouds did part temporarily at the top, but the supposedly amazing views remained hidden behind cloud.

On the way down to the lake I felt a tickle on my foot. Looking down I saw to my horror that a leech had attached itself. I remembered that Lonely Planet had said that you should never pull a leech off as it may become infected. The solution instead was to pour salt over it or else use a naked flame. I had neither! Luckily Lottie had some antiseptic with her and it turned out the leech hated it, jumping straight off. The bugger had released an anti-coagulant into my blood though and annoying the wound flowed freely. In the process we then saw that Lottie had an even bigger one attached to her foot! We decided then to rush back to the boat and spent the whole time obsessing about our feet.

That evening we joined with a group of St Andrews students who had just completed a charity trek to Everest Base Camp and two friends we had made in Kathmandu to make a massive dinner party. I had yet another Nepalise Thali (set meal) and some cocktails.

Day 122
For breakfast I decided to try something more traditional than my normal muesli. Enter a mug of Nepalise Chiya (spiced tea), a pancake made from millet (incredibly healthy), some fresh fruit and, rather unusually, a bowl of chickpeas (chana

It is illegal to kill a cow in Nepal and it seemed that today they had the run of the street.

Returning to our hostel we realised that there wasn't much of it left. The owners had decided to expand and the demolition work was incredibly rapid. Thankfully our rooms remained standing!

We then passed the remainder of the afternoon chatting to the owners of the hostel. The father had grown up in Pokhara and told us how he had witnessed the lake turn from a reservoir of fresh drinking water in his youth to its current polluted state. He also lamented the political state of his country. Nepal has had a tough time of it for the last few hundred years. After losing Anglo-Nepali war in 1816, Nepal closed off contact with Westerners and until 1951 was characterized by autocratic and cruel governance from its royal family and extreme poverty. From 1951 things only got worse! Finally, in 2008 the Maoists took over and abolished the monarchy. Now everyone is waiting to see what happens next.


Day 123
At 4am, yes 4am, we woke up and caught a taxi to the top of a mountain called Sarangkot. From here in good weather you can view a breathtaking panorama of Himalayan peaks as the sun rises behind the mountains. However, this is monsoon season and so a lot was obscured behind cloud. Nonetheless the views were still impressive. 

After this Lottie and I parted ways as she was going to the Chitwan National Park and I was returning to Kathmandu to pick up my Indian visa. Our last breakfast together consisted of Nepali Chiya tea and a pastry. It turned out the daughter of the cafe owner was visiting from Switzerland and she delighted in introducing us to her mother and explaining the tea making process. In a nutshell, tea leaves are added to boiled milk which is then strained and cinnamon is added. The view of the Himalayas from the bus park was pretty cool.

(you can just make out the snow covered peaks in the background)

(the tea making equipment)

The 8 hour bus journey was sweltering. The rain just made it worse as what was akin to a dry sauna was converted into a moist steamroom. I had been warned to expect landslides and anything up to 48 hour delays on the road and Nepal didn't disappoint. As we waited for a truck to clear away a pesky hill that had collapsed onto the road I began to assess how long I could stay alive with my limited stash of biscuits and water. Thankfully the delay was only one hour!

The monsoon came out in full force though on my return to Kathmandu.

As happens every now and then, the combination of bad weather and a return to traveling solo made me a bit depressed. However, it didn't take long to meet Paola, a Kundalini Yoga teacher from Chile who I joined for dinner. We ate some Mismas Tarkari (mixed vegetables mildly spiced with onion, garlic and ginger) and Aloo Tama ko Jhol (a traditional curry prepared from fermented bamboo shoots and potatoes which tasted just as weird as it sounds). For desert I had Phalphul Ra Dahi (fruit served in a curd flavoured with fenugreek). Perhaps sensing my need, Paola spent the evening (in Spanish) teaching me how to meditate.In a further boost, just before bed I checked facebook and saw that Cini and Kim (two good friends from my school England) just happened to be in Kathmandu at the same time doing their medical elective and wanted to meet up. Things were looking a lot better than they had been a few hours earlier!

Days 116, 117, 118 and 119: Back to the Future

*Please also read previous blog post re birthday*

Day 116 
5am, I whack my alarm off and my bleary eyes focus on my Koh San Road dive. Little more than a grubby, bug-infested shoe-box on the sixth floor of a dingy condemned building right in the tourist centre of Bangkok, this was not a pleasant end to my lovely time in Thailand.

A short flight from Thailand to Kathmandu in Nepal and things just get worse. I arrive at an even dingier hostel in an even dingier neighbourhood in central Kathmandu and realise that I am the only person staying in the whole hostel. It is monsoon season here in Nepal and I knew the number of tourists would be low, but I hadn't realised they would be this low! The rain was pelting it down outside as I ventured out to explore the area. I was living in Thamel, which the guidebooks describe as a hyper-touristy, Bangkok-style backpackers' paradise. However, as I walked about I began to think I was the only Westerner in the whole city. The cafes were empty, the restaurants bare and internet cafes deserted! Would this be how I spend the final four weeks of my trip, alone and wet? I gave into despair.

(the signs that once upon a time there were other tourists here)

Eventually I went to a restaurant for lunch (obviously I was the only one there). Then miraculously a pair of Western girls walks in and sits down at the table next to me. I leap for joy, but realise I must play this cool. I bide my time until they have ordered then casually strike up conversation. I couldn't have been luckier in the pair I found. Lorna and Helen were two English girls my age who were embarking on a career in journalism and it turned out even keener bloggers than me (they use video). I ended up latching onto them somewhat and we arranged to meet for dinner. That evening we met a further English girl (Lottie) who, like me, had been despairing at the state of her deserted hostel and the general lack of Westerners in Kathmandu. We all ended up at an Irish pub, savouring the local beer (Gorkha) and some cocktails. It was there that we met another English guy and his Belgian friend who had been living in Nepal for quite a few months. They suggested we check out the local casino.

It is illegal for Nepalis to gamble, but foreigners (mostly Indians) are fair game. Consequently we had to convert our money into Indian Rupees to play and we whiled away a few hours playing disastrous games of blackjack while the casino owners plied us with free drinks.  

Kathmandu shuts down at 11pm and as we emerged from the casino at 2am we faced a ghost town. The casino car drove us back to Thamel (the tourist district) and we separated for our various homes. Unfortunately, the rabid dogs rule the streets here at night and they would not let me get anywhere near the road for my hostel. In a state of slight desperation I paid a tuk tuk driver to drive me the 100 meters down the street and, as we passed, the dogs leaped at the side of our cart, barking furiously and flashing their teeth. This was the last straw, tomorrow I would change hostel!

Day 117 
It turned out Lottie was equally upset with her dive of a hostel, so the two of us decided to move to where the other two English girls were staying: the Kathmandu Guesthouse. Something of a local institution, this hotel has hosted the Beatles, Jimmy Carter, Jeremy Irons and, um, Ricky Martin. Lottie and I however were staying in the bargain servants' quarters in the roof of the building. Compared to our previous hostels, this place was luxurious though; the toilets didn't leak sewage!

The four of us (me, Lottie, Lorna and Helen) headed out for a walk around central Kathmandu, enjoying the scaldingly hot weather. Kathmandu is a loud, congested, crazy explosion of sensual overload. Within a few meters the smells can go from the sublime hints of toasted cumin to the overpowering and sickening smells of human sewage and rotting flesh. In this melting point of a city placed neatly in the middle between India and China, you can see peoples of every type and hue flying past in a mad rush of colour and noise. The local calendar may place us in the year 2068, but the city is more like the bastard child of the Middle Ages and the 1980s. One thousand year old Hindu and Buddhist temples are draped with washing lines boasting Michael Jackson T-shirts, while cars so aged that even Delboy Trotter would blush hoot and blare their way past scenes of biblical poverty. Nepal will certainly be a challenge!

Further things to note: (1) Nepal has an obscure time zone; 5 hours and 45 minutes past GMT. Supposedly this is to 'prove' Nepal's difference from India and China. (2) Nepal, especially Kathmandu, suffers from chronic power cuts in addition to electricity rationing. There are tens of power cuts a day, lasting anything from 5 minutes to 24 hours. Needless to say this has made trying to blog quite difficult! (3) It is perfectly normal here for straight men to hold hands and act affectionately with each other. It is taking a while to get used to the lines of macho men cuddling each other here. (4) Shaking your head means 'yes' here. Very, very confusing! (5) The Nepalese are some of the friendliest people I have every met. They just cannot refuse a 'namaste' greeting. We said namaste to a little boy who was running a race and he actually stopped to return the gesture before legging it to catch up again.

Any stroll around Kathmandu leads you to hundreds of hidden temples, reliefs and statues. The average street will contain more one thousand year old treasures casually littered around than the British Museum itself can hold. On our walk we passed a square containing the Kathesimbhu Stupa (below), a popular Tibetan pilgramage site dedicated to the goddess of smallpox! (It seems the locals love to deify everything and anything)

 (Along the route we saw hundreds of locals carrying more than their own bodyweight)

 

This is perhaps my favourite image of Kathmandu. In the middle of nondescript crappy stores, completely unsignposted or noticeable without a guidebook, lies a tiny Buddha statue dating from the 5th century. This shows both the absolute overload of artistic treasures this city holds as well as the casual way in which they are treated.

 

This lump of wood represents a shrine to the toothache god. Sufferers come here and nail a coin into it as an offering then place their head in the recess. Rather unsurprisingly the street was filled with more traditional dentists in case this appeal to the gods doesn't succeed.

After maybe an hour and a half of twisting and turning through Kathmandu's alleys we ended up at Durbar Square; the medieval heart of the city. The Durbar Square area is actually made up of three loosely linked squares containing the most important buildings in the city, including the royal palace and the town hall from which the city gets its name. The people were equally fascinating.

 

The Jagannath Temple in the square contained some absolutely filthy erotic carvings.

This giant pumpkin is actually a statue from 1672 of the monkey god Hanuman. Visiting devotees apply a coat of orange vermillion paste to its face.

The absolute highlight thought was visiting the Kumari Bahal. Not content with having more deities, holy statues and magical teapots than any other country bar India, Nepal also hosts a real living goddess; the Kumari Devi. The Kumari must be a pre-pubescent girl satisfying a strict set of 32 physical requirements regulating everything from the shape of her teeth to the quality of her eyelashes, and her horoscope must be appropriate. The suitable candidates are then placed in a darkened room and subjected to a terrifying assault from men dancing in horrific masks and walls covered in decapitated buffaloes. A real goddess would not be frightened by such things and therefore the girls who remain calm throughout will be selected to go through to the next round. As a final test the Kumari must correctly choose out of a selection the clothing and decoration worn by a predecessor. Once chosen, the Kumari is secluded into a palace known as the Kumari Bahal and only leaves about six times a year to undertake her ceremonial functions, during which time her feet must never touch the floor. Her every wish must be granted and, as she is omniscient, traditionally the Kumari is given no education. The Kumari's reign ends with her first period or any serious accidental loss of blood and with this she returns to a mere mortal. It is deemed unlucky to marry an ex-Kumari; probably because a childhood of being treated like a goddess could make one rather spoilt!

It is considered very good luck to even glimpse the Kumari and as we were walking round the square a rumour went round that her current 7-year-old incarnation would soon be making an appearance. We waited in the courtyard below her house with bated breath. When she eventually appeared it wasn't a goddess I saw, but a rather typically immature child. She swayed on the balcony from one foot to another obviously bored and then in a hissy fit ran back inside. Certainly not the serene behaviour of a goddess!

(her balcony)

 

(The Kumari - we were not allowed to photograph her, so I got this one from the internet)

(A Gurkha soldier guarding the royal palace)

 

Then the most wonderful thing happened. I went to a camera store in central Kathmandu and it turned out they could fix my broken camera!!! From now on I return to taking my own pictures. 

That evening I had the first of what would be many Nepalise set meals (or Thalis). This one consisted, going from left to right, of a milk curd, spinach steamed with garlic, a paneer (cottage cheese) curry, a mixed vegetable curry (amazingly delicious) and a green lentil dahl. This whole platter cost me about one pound fifty.

(Our lovely home)

Day 118 
Today the four of us were joined by two others from our hotel and we went for a walk to the Buddhist temple of Swayambhunath, situated on a hill overlooking the city. Our path there brought us over a bridge from which we could see groups of people wading through the utter filth in the river below, searching we presume for scrap metal. The rivers in Kathmandu are essentially giant, festering land-fill sites and the smell was so horrific that one of our group was actually gagging. These men though must have no other option.

 

 

We also stumbled across a charming animal temple filled with ducks, baby chicks and tortoises. 

The climb up the steps to Swayambhunath in the baking midday heat was challenging, but the sights of the mystics and monkeys lining the stairs afforded at least some visual sustenance. Buddha though was unimpressed (see the photo below). 

At the top we found ancient carvings jammed into every spare inch of space and the air was pregnant with ghee lamps and incense. Parts of the temple date from AD 460, but the highlight is definitely the central stupa (the gold thing in the image below). The piercing eyes are those of Buddha, while the thing underneath that looks like a nose is the Nepali number 1, representing unity. The white dome below represents the earth while the gold 13-tier beehive above represents the 13 stages that a person must pass through to achieve nirvana.

 

The views were amazing, though shortly after taking this photograph the monkey decided to attack me. Through the viewfinder of the camera I saw it leap at me with bared teeth. I luckily had time to jump out of the way. 

The monkeys were more successful with other tourists though and managed to rip this bag of candy floss out of the hands of a charming Indian couple. On the subject of which, though there were many people up there, there was only a small handful of Westerners. This is one of the benefits of visiting Nepal in the low season - everything is so much more non-touristy and authentic.

Afterwards I treated myself to Nepal's national dish - small dumplings called momos. These ones were stuffed with chicken and served with a super spicy sauce.

Our group then went out for drinks and shisha that evening at a bar in Kathmandu.

Day 119 
Today Lottie and I separated from the other two girls and the two of us headed to the bus stop to catch a ride to the town of Cheres. The morning fruit sellers were much appreciated.

On arrival at Cheres we grabbed a cable car up the almost impossibly steep mountainside to the ancient Hindu Manakamana Temple. Note the ticket board which states that tickets for goats to get in the cable car are a mere one pound!

(you can see the white peaks of the Himalayas in the background to this photo)

At the top we dropped our bags off at a hotel and immediately headed to the temple itself. The two of us were absolutely the only Westerners in the village around the temple. Indeed, as this is not on the tourist trail, we may have been the only Westerners there all year! The locals were fascinated and many just walked straight up to us and stared.

 

Now to explain the reason we came here. This temple is renowned as the place one comes to to get a wish granted. To seal the deal though one must sacrifice a chicken or pigeon or, if it is a really big request such as a male child, a goat. Walking around the temple complex the air was thick with blood and flies. However, I was not prepared for the scene that greeted me as a I turned a corner. There in front of me a goat was decapitated. The headless body carried on twitching violently for a good minute and blood was spurting everywhere. Those of a weak constitution may choose to skip the photo below. The lifeless bodies were then put in plastic bin bags and taken home by the owners to make a hearty dinner.

Much more pleasant though were the numerous mystics around the square. Lottie and I got blessed by one and the red spots on our foreheads made us even more of an attraction for the locals. We could barely move without another Nepali covertly photographing us.

 

As a post-dinner treat I tried a local flavour of Walkers crisps. It was so spicy I could barely eat. I'm sticking to cheese and onion in the future.