Day 124
Over a breakfast of banana pancakes I said goodbye to my yoga-instructor-friend Paola and then set off to the town of Patan (also known as Lalitpur), which used to be a fiercely independent rival to Kathmandu, but now is more equivalent to a suburb. I got a cycle-rickshaw there, but hadn't realised that most of the journey was up steep hills. In the fierce midday heat I could see my driver struggling and was overcome with a surge of guilt. I hopped out the rickshaw, gave him more money than I should have and said I would walk the rest of the way. In the town centre lies Patan's Durbar Square, which is an utter riot of Medieval temples and palaces.
(I was particularly shocked at some of the more erotic carvings)
(It would seem that horses have always been popular)
The square also hosts a statue of King Yoganarendra Malla flanked by a cobra above which sits a small brass bird. Local legend has it that so long as the bird remains, the king may one day return (even though he died in 1704) and accordingly the door of the palace is always kept open and a shisha pipe ready just in case.
Strings of buffalo guts are hung above the doorway to the royal palace in honour of Shiva.
Too much temple-ing works up quite an appetite and in the cafeteria at the royal palace I ordered some pakoda (deep fried vegetable fritters)
This week back in London my school had organised a leavers' reunion and, of course, I was missing it. I wasn't alone though because, as I mentioned in my previous post, in a massive coincidence two of my friends from school (Kim and Cini) happened to be in Kathmandu at the same time. We would have a reunion of our own! Some celebrating was therefore in order and we blew about a week's food budget by heading to a 'typical' (i.e. touristy) Newari restaurant in an old Rana palace for an 11-course banquet accompanied by musicians and dancers performing 'traditional' routines. Among the courses was wild boor which we all agreed was delicious. The night was incredibly cheesy, but the constant refills of rice whiskey plus several hours of catching-up meant that we had a great time. The highlight had to be the moment when the dancers ran up to our table and dragged us on stage to join them in some hilariously naff circle dancing.
(the giant dancing peacock)
(they gave each of us red dots, but mine looks more like a monobrow)
We knew it was time to leave when all the lights in the building went off and we left alone in the room. It was 8.30pm after all and most Nepali's at this time would be fast asleep.
Day 125
I met up with Kim and Cini again and, continuing our theme of opulence in the midst of a city of dirt and chaos, we headed to the wonderfully named 'Garden of Dreams', which truly must be one of the most calm and beautiful places in Kathmandu (although to be fair, there can't be that much competition). A Nepali Field Marshall visited Europe in the 1920s and became so enamored by the country estates he found that he decided to recreate one in his Kathmandu palace. Such was this man's Europhilia that he even changed his name to 'Kaiser' of all things. The three of us played at being minor European aristocracy all afternoon and early evening. The place became even more beautiful as the sun set.
(the ladies of the manor)
Day 126
In what has become a constant theme of my posts from these hot countries, I woke up very early once again and was out the hotel at 6.00am. Today I was attempting the epic journey from Kathmandu to Lumbini in the far south of Nepal. Arriving at the bus station with my ticket in hand, a crowd of people attacked each one shouting that my ticket was for their bus and that the others were lying . I had no idea whom to trust, but in the end one emerged victorious and I followed him. As this is low season there are no tourist buses running this route, so I was crammed into a tiny space on the bus and left there to stew in my own discomfort for the next 12 hours as we crawled our way south. Unfortunately, as I am a good foot taller than your average Nepali my head was perfectly placed to whack against the curtain rail every time the bus turned a corner or ran over a pothole (which was very frequent). Anyway, I eventually arrived in Lumbini utterly exhausted and checked into a hotel. To my surprise I found Lottie's name as I was signing my name into the guest book (Lottie was the girl I travelled to Pokhara with earlier in the week). Lottie was due to leave the following morning, but we had a fun evening together that night and she let me know where all the best places were to eat in the town.
Day 127
I wake up and the monsoon is pounding down. I had hoped that if I waited long enough the rain might cease, but by early afternoon I admitted defeat. Clad in my swimming shorts and waterproofs I rented an ancient bicycle (it reminded me of a penny farthing, so large were its wheels) and rode my way down to the entrance of the Lumbini Development Zone. It was here in the year 563 BC that Buddha was born and my guidebook spoke in terms of praise of the tens of temples surrounding the area built by the various Buddhist nations of the world.
The rain though was incorrigible (if rain can be incorrigible) and the entire 4km by 2.5 km complex turned into a giant muddy bog. Several times during the day my bike got wedged in the mud and I went flying over the handlebars. The Maya Devi temple, built over the exact spot where Buddha was born, was a massive disappointment. For a religion that has given the world such utterly beautiful temples, this was little better than a warehouse and a leaky one at that!
Buddha was born here
This pillar was erected in 249 BC and is the most revered thing in Nepal. I was less than impressed.
(A pretty Bodhi tree. More importantly it gave me a shield from the rain)
Even though the rest of the complex has been in the process of being built since 1978, the progress has been glacial and barely anything was more substantial than a building site.
Covered in mud and not in a good mood I returned to my hostel for a much needed shower. The evening though was salvaged by my lovely hotel owner and his family. We spent the whole evening talking about our aims in life, my travels and the various cultural differences between our countries. He even promised that he would wake up early the following morning to say goodbye to me as I began my long trip down into India.
As I conclude my time in Nepal I realise that there are several things I have neglected to mention so far. (1) There are swastikas everywhere. Obviously here they have a Hindu, rather than a Nazi significance, but at times you forget this and get a bit disconcerted. Even more disconcertingly, they also display the Star of David everywhere (apparently it is also a Hindu simbol), often interlinking it with swastikas. (2) Every few moments you hear someone make an incredibly loud phlegmy snort and then spit on the street. The government has encouraged this in the interests of public health. I fail to see why! (3) Nepal is incredibly cheap. Barely any dish on a menu costs more than one pound and you can easily survive on about five pounds a day.
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