Day 38

07/10/12

I was looking forward to a lie-in after the madness of Kathmandu. But Pokhara had other ideas. After 6pm the locals were already up and talking loudly, vehicles were driving around, and by 8pm the building sites opened up and the air reverberated with loud hammering and the rasping of buzz saws. Great. My hotel was conveniently right next to a construction site. I wondered if this was why it was so cheap here!

I met Christine for breakfast and we decided to visit the Peace Pagoda up the hill on the other side of the lake. At the lakeside were moored a lot of rowing boats and pedal boats. We hired a rowing boat and a boatman to take us across. He paddled us for about 20 minutes to the forested bank on the other side, passing other rowing boats and a little wooded island housing a little temple. We watched the paragliders swirling around, landing on a strip near the lake. Big pedal boats which could seat 10 people were moored around, but there were only two sets of pedals. Don’t want to draw the short straw on that baby! Motor boats are banned here so it’s quite peaceful, although you could still hear the beeps and building sites of Lakeside floating over the water.

Christine

We moored at a hotel on the wooded bank and followed a small path led behind it into the forest, heading steeply uphill. We continued for about half an hour up stone steps and dirt path. We spotted long-tailed macaque monkeys in the trees by the path and Christine with her fear of all animals legged it!

The forest was filled with twisting vines and occasionally a break in the trees gave us a glimpse of the lake and Lakeside beyond. The midday sun beat down upon on us. Near the top we suddenly heard movement. Out of the bushes, a big buffalo came charging down the hill towards us! It slowed when it saw us and and I saw it had a calf. I told Christine move quickly away – getting in the way of a mother in the animal world is a really bad idea. Thankfully the mother didn’t pursue us. More buffalo were running down the hill, crashing through the undergrowth through the trees and we heard men above them shouting. We saw them coming down the slope, herding the buffalo with sticks and shouts. One guy picked up a big football-sized rock and hurled it at one of the unfortunate beasts! No wonder they were mad!

We passed an old local woman carrying a traditional basket of grass on her back, wielding a sickle. She asked us “photo?” and we stopped to take pictures, giving her a small tip which is expected in these situations.

Up some steps past a hilltop restaurant, we were rewarded with a great view all around as we were now on the ridge. We walked up to the big white Peace Pagoda, a small garden sitting in front of it. From here you could see out over the Pokhara valley into the haze, the hills in all directions and the lake stretching out for miles. The Himalayas were unfortunately completely covered in cloud. Other tourists milled around. We walked up the pagoda steps and around the circumference, taking in the big golden Buddah statues inlaid into its white dome.

Further down the ridge we stopped for a cold drink at one of the restaurants, whilst Christine had a wee freak-out about the resident dog, who was very friendly. We got directions to a different the path down through the forest, which would bring us out south of Lakeside. It entered into some nice open forest, with a mossy floor. All you could hear were loud cicadas. We encountered more buffalo being herded along and the farmer helpfully pointed the right way, as the paths had petered out. Further down we followed three ladies carrying big bundles of firewood on their back.

We eventually emerged from the forest by some rice paddies and walked to a river gorge crossed by a suspension footbridge. Some locals were washing on a stony beach and women scrubbed clothes. A local guy approached us, asking me where I was from, which led to him offering his services as a guide. I took his number, noting it was a clever place to snare customers descending from the pagoda. We crossed the bridge and entered Pokhara’s streets, walking back to Lakeside in the strong sun for 45 minutes. Hungry, we dived into a nice Mediterranean themed restaurant called Byan Jan and I tucked into a BLT. Yum. The restaurant had a gravel garden with a nice view of the lake and would have been perfect if it wasn’t for the building site noise. Lakeside’s vaunted peace and quiet is completely shattered by the unchecked development, which locals tell me has been going on for years. It’s a shame the tourism industry doesn’t acknowledge the problems it causes to the atmosphere of the area and Lakeside is already almost a clone of characterless grey European beach strips.

It was so hot that we chilled out under the umbrella, eventually deciding to go out on the lake again before the sun set. We hired a boat and paddled out to the temple island (well, Christine did most of the work due to my shoulder, haha!). It was really busy here with hordes of Indian tourists and boats swarming the shores. The temple was being jet-washed by the police and there were pigeons everywhere. We boarded our mighty vessel again and went further out into the lake.

Who said the man has to row the woman?

As the sun went down light rays radiated from behind the clouds, and the hills became layered in shades of dark. Very nice. It was peaceful this far out and we only passed a few more rowers. A man on a boat of Indians shouted to ask to take our photo – weird for us to be the tourist attraction for once!

As it got dark, we paddled back. Later that evening I went to Moon dance to meet a girl called Stephanie, a French traveler I’d contacted online in my hunt to find some trekking companions. We talked over dinner. She wasn’t sure whether to do the Annapurna Base Camp trek I planned to do, or the big Annapurna circuit, which can take 2-4 weeks. Christine joined us later for drinks. Stephanie said she’d decide soon about the trek and I arranged to meet her the following day. Once again we stayed up drinking till the town shut down around us.

Day 37

06/10/12

A brain-numbing 5 o’clock start after a few hours sleep, as I had an early bus to Pokhara. It’s a city to the northwest of Kathmandu and is the hub for a lot of trekking and other activities, including the famous Annapurna mountain treks (which I’d never heard of before I came to Nepal!).

I met Bikrant, the younger guy from Fantastic Nepal at 6am in Thamel. He had brought my bus ticket and we took a cup of sweet tea from a street vendor before I hopped on the back of his motorbike and we rumbled to the bus stops nearby. Over twenty tourist buses were lined up at the side of the road. The street was lined with food sellers for the long journey ahead, tourists with huge packs and a few old beggars harassing everyone. I bought a hard-boiled egg and some extortionate fruit for breakfast and treated myself to a Snickers. I don’t think I’ve had chocolate for a month, it was gooood!

The tourist bus was basic but comfy enough, all seats booked, and we left Kathmandu’s outskirts within an hour. We climbed narrow roads up the green valley, past lots of terrace farming surrounded by wooded hills. The road was full of big trucks and buses. Traffic jams impeded our progress whenever other vehicles broke down, common on this steeper section, the narrow two-lane road getting easily blocked. The views across the valley became impressive as we wound up and up the forested hillsides. The road was occasionally lined with flimsy looking barriers along steep drops. I doubt they’d stop a bus at full pelt. We went through small towns and villages, and stopped at a shack for a loo break. I have the curse of being pee shy so despite really needing to relieve myself I couldn’t go! It’s something I am going to have to fix (no idea how) if I’m going to survive these long bus journeys!

A big river emerged from the trees to the right and we followed it, skirting the valley edge for the next few hours. At a rocky section we pulled to a stop. The bus had broken down. As the buses are old and rickety this wasn’t too surprising and I was already accustomed to “Nepali time” – things get done when they get done, you get there when you get there. Just go with it. We piled off into the baking heat, we’d stopped in a wee village with a shop and garage. The staff jacked up the bus and took off the left double-wheels, changing one of them out. The garage staff took off the tyres and beat away at the rims with a hammer. On top of the garage shack were scattered inner tubes of all shapes and sizes, clearly they get a lot of business on this busy highway.

Breakdown vacation spot

I walked towards the river, at the bottom of a steep bank was a stony beach below, the wide, fast river was dotted with big rocks and a cliff on the far side. Soon some local guys came running over to me and jogged down the slope. One of them dived into the river and started swimming across. The current was strong but he swam fast, making it over to the rocks on the other side. A big group of locals came over to watch. I wondered what was going on, and soon a large cylindrical object came floating down the river. The swimmer dived in ahead of it, swam out to it and managed to intercept it. He dragged it behind him with one hand, and clambered out. The object was a drum of some kind. Must have been important to be worth the effort, I wondered how it got there in the first place? The locals peeled away, the drama over.

You can see the swimmer at the other side of the river

I got chatting to a fellow passenger, a balding Israeli man in his 40s who was travelling with his 10 year old son. He was taking him on an easy trek up at Pokhara. We talked about the compulsory military service in Israel. This guy had been in plenty of combat, been under fire, sounded like he’d shot people himself, in the height of the troubles. He’d been an artillery officer. He was such a nice guy it was hard to imagine him dealing out death. He said he’d actively sought a combat role, you don’t want to see combat it’s easy to secure a desk job for your compulsory service.

The Israeli combo

The bus wheel was changed and we got underway. The girl I was next to was a 24 year old Norwegian named Christine. She’s a travelling veteran who despite her age has already backpacked around a good chunk of the world in-between studying. She’s been to loads of cool places and was afraid of nothing travelling-wise except animals, her first trip had been solo around the Ukraine, hardly an easy beginners choice! We stopped at a buffet restaurant overlooking the river for a late lunch. The Israeli’s son, Rafi, was thrilled to hear about my background in computer games and thrilled in telling me everything he knew on the subject. I saw some locals along the road, dressed distinctively differently to anyone I’d seen in Kathmandu.

We continued, the valley opening out to big mud flats by the river. The towns we passed through were rural and filled with tractors chugging along. Painted adverts on building walls by the roadside were everywhere, reminding me a lot of Africa. Man-carved cliffs by the river stood alongside mining operations. As we entered Pokhara, the road got a lot worse and we jolted around all over the place. The city seemed busy though not as much as Kathmandu. The familiar vehicle horns and bustle of street stalls assaulted the senses. We arrived at the bus park and my Israeli friend suggested we walk to Lakeside, the tourist area, rather than get a taxi. Christine joined us.

I lumbered along behind the others with my bags and duff arm, as Rafi relentlessly babbled about video games. He’s a nice kid but he couldn’t stop! After 15 minutes we reached the edge of the Pokhara’s lake. Dense forest rose on the other side and rowing boats paddled around as the sun went down.

We entered Lakeside, a very long and busy tourist strip. In the distance you could see big hills and above them a cluster of paragliders, at least 20, swooping around in circles. By this point I had to ask Rafi to let up on his one-sided conversation, I couldn’t concentrate! It didn’t deter him much and he continued. I followed the others to their hotel, Rafi’s dad had decided to stay at Christine’s choice. We climbed to its roof garden and admired the sunset view. Over the rooftops you could see the Peace Pagoda, a big monument perched atop the forested ridge over the lake, and the hills surrounding Pokhara to the other side. Then the clouds beyond the hills drifted away for a few minutes and we got our first glimpse of the *real* mountains. The huge white caps poked out from the clouds and we were awed. It was great, my first look at the Annapurnas!

The Annapurnas reveal themselves

I said my goodbyes, this place was beyond my budget and found myself a decent hotel after an hour of hunting. Every side street off the main strip is packed with accommodation. The prices in Lakeside compared to Kathmandu are a bargain. I was in relative luxury for me, with a hot shower, carpeted floor, double bed and private bathroom. Lakeside was more chilled out than Kathmandu but there were a lot of building sites, wherever you were you could hear hammering and buzz saws, destroying the relative peace. Tourists were everywhere, most toting hiking gear. A lot of them were Asian. There were also a lot of Indian tourists who took particular interest in shopping.

I met Christine for dinner and then we went to a cool bar called Moon Dance. Lots of trekking parties were eating here. We enjoyed some good happy hour cocktails, but as everything closed down in the strip at only 10pm we were forced to go home early, arranging to meet in the morning to do some exploring together.

Day 36

05/10/12

At half 4 I woke up again to the sound of bells and a churning tummy. Maybe the hygiene disaster of yesterday’s onion balls were catching up with me. I couldn’t get back to sleep so squirmed around till half 6 when I met Decent for our morning hike. He’s in line to take over the guest house soon and as an extra form of income he plans to lead short hikes in the surrounding hillsides, only half an hour’s walk away. He had some routes in mind and wanted to use me as a guinea pig to get some feedback, and for free too! We set off in the rising sun and he led me through tiny alleyways, ducking through low doorways and into little courtyards to see the hidden side of Bhaktapur. No tourist would ever find their way here, some of the doorways look like house entrances but lead into little corridors emerging into hidden courtyards. In some of these were little shrines where local women were making their morning offerings. Decent had brought his camera and we snapped away, he said the locals wouldn’t mind. We passed a kid taking a poo in an alleyway, Decent said back here, times haven’t changed – that’s how people used to live. We shouldered by locals on their way to work or worship. It was a rare treat to see this “real” side of the city, away from the tourist trail.

We came out onto larger roads and passed more temples. Bundles of incense string burned at regular intervals. I watched as a crow pecked at one and took off with it – Decent says they get confused, thinking they are worms. Burning worms, brave crows! By 7am the streets were bustling and the temples and statues were busy with people making offerings, ringing bells and burning incense. The light was lovely and I wished I could get up early more often – but with my lack of sleep lately it was something I hadn’t done for ages. We passed rice fields squeezed between houses, and crossed the busy main road to Kathmandu, heading uphill into the countryside. Everyone else was heading the other way.

As the houses thinned to become woodland, we reached a road where I felt I’d wandered into a army camp. Groups of soldiers in full camo uniform and gear, some toting big rifles, were pounding along at full pelt, doing fitness training. Guys in shorts and t-shirts stood ran alongside and waited on the roadside. We were close to a local army camp. I didn’t want to openly take photos as the military can be touchy about that, but took a few on the sly (Decent said he’d talk our way out of any trouble).

Up this road the trees opened out to show what would have been a good view of the city – but unfortunately it was hazy and you couldn’t see far. We climbed a steep flight of steps to find ourselves on a wooded ridge. Some big birds with long tails and blue wings swooped gracefully past, dipping and rising in flight. We passed other people and I asked Decent why they were up in this quiet place. He explained there was a temple nearby which people visit on the way to the city.

At the end of the path a flight of steps led down the hill through the trees, and then straight up another hill to a small temple. It was busy and more unfortunate soldiers were lugging bags of bricks at a jog up the steps – there was reconstruction happening at the temple. We stopped for a breather at the top and the army guys were hanging around drinking water and washing, eyeing us curiously. I hadn’t seen any tourists this morning, and they probably get none up here usually.

We went back down the hill and followed a track circumnavigating the first hill, away from Bhaktapur, through the woods. We passed through the army camp and Decent was shocked to see a soldier hanging from a tree. It turned out to be a mannequin in a paratrooper pose! We saw a barracks, shacks and training grounds complete with crawl trenches covered in barbed wire. Armed soldiers watched us from the gates. Back in the woods you could frequently see big spider webs with yellow and black spiders which were 3-4 inches long. On the grass banks loads of small thick webs covered the area speckled with shining dew.

Occasionally breaks in the trees revealed a nice view to farmyard and wooded hills. It was peaceful out here. We spied a couple sitting in the woods getting some alone time. Decent had voiced his frustrations earlier about the family system here. Most families live together under cramped conditions (including grandparents) so getting privacy is almost impossible, and the culture is very gossipy. If you are seen out in public with a girl it’s going to get back to your parents fast. Public displays of affection between couples are frowned upon so getting quiet time alone you’re your partner can be really hard. As a result young couples are forced to come out to the countryside to elope, away from prying eyes. Which in this case literally means hiding in the woods!

At the end of the track in a field stood a little temple where two old guys were doing yoga. Decent said people used to come to this temple but since the army encamped here the people stay away – especially girls, as they can get harassed by the soldiers. It was quite hot now and we pushed on, up some steps carved out of the hill.

At the top of the hill was a big man-made cutting and through it was a good view of Bhaktapur – although the haze still prevailed. At the bottom, instead of heading back, Decent asked me if I wanted to try some local tea, so we went off down a nice road in the woods filled with crows, beams of sunlight filtering through the trees. At this point my camera battery ran out. I was gutted as I missed snapping some really nice scenes later on!

We arrived at a red building with a bench overlooking a picturesque view of rice fields and the city beyond. Locals sat around drinking tea and chatting. Decent went up to the red building and asked for tea through the shutter. You’d never know to look at the place that it was a tea house! We sat and drank the tasty sweet black tea and admired the view. Then we went down a slippery little path into the rice fields and past some cliffs. It was great down here – we walked past blankets of green rice, many propped up in little bundles to dry. Locals watched us with interest and the path was well used. I couldn’t believe we were just minutes from the bustling city, which we suddenly emerged into.

We walked down backstreets and through fields hidden amongst the houses. Various crops were being grown and little earthen paths wound between them, busy with people. Some fields were made into neat beds separated by earthen ridges, with straw laid out on them to protect the seeds beneath. A little temple was hidden here and we found the remains of another, now part of a field. Just then, Decent pointed to the distance. Beyond the hills, way above, the sky was clear for the first time and I saw the Himalayas for the first time. They towered above the hills, dominating the horizon, white-caps bright in the sun. I was awed. They’d been there the whole time behind the clouds but I’d never known you could see them from here. In a few minutes, they were hidden again.

We followed a stream back onto a main road. Here there was a big square where big poles; smooth tree trunks like telegraph poles were lying. Decent said they were used in the Bisket Jatra festival and showed me a circular stone holder in the square that they are propped in. Leading up from the square was a stone road with two parallel gutters in the middle. These are for the festival too; a huge chariot is constructed from wood up at a temple, and rolled down the hill using the gutters as guides for the wheels. Then after a ceremony in the square they haul it back up again, and at the temple two teams of men have a tug of war with it. Each team is from a different side of the city. Whichever side wins gets to keep it and glory is bestowed upon them and their district. It’s supposed to be pretty chaotic and violence often breaks out between the two sides, but it’s a spectacle!

Back in the centre we devoured a big breakfast after our 4 hour hike. We returned to the guest house and as I was about to go to sleep, Decent knocked on my door apologizing, pointing out that the checkout time was 11am. Damn. I packed up and moved downstairs, spending the next few hours on the free wi-fi.

I bade farewell to my new friend and caught a taxi back to Kathmandu. I really must video this sometime, once you get to the narrow streets every 5 seconds you think you’re going to hit a  pedestrian or a bike, but somehow the driver weaves and coasts and brakes his way in and out of tiny spaces. People jump out of the way at the last second and bikes lurch to a halt to avoid getting squashed. It’s a miracle that no one is hurt when you see wing mirrors flying inches from people’s arms and bikes cutting across in front of speeding buses. Of course the horn was in full swing being honked repeatedly every few seconds.

In Thamel I wandered around to find a guesthouse in a quiet courtyard, that I hoped might mean better sleep than Kathmandu’s usual noisy accommodation. I settled on a dingy but quiet hotel and caught an hour’s sleep before heading out to dinner. The Yak restaurant serves a lot of Tibetan food and I waited a while for a table, having to share with three others, a middle aged bald Aussie man, an Italian bloke and a Chinese woman. I ordered Thungpa, which is warm Tibetan beer. It comes in a towering wooden mug filled with millet seeds, and they pour hot water into it which you leave to brew, and drink through a tapered straw so you don’t get the seeds. The taste wasn’t bad, very wheaty and reminded me a bit of Leffe or those other super-wheaty German and Dutch beers. You get can get as many free refills of hot water as you like, but by the second the taste was quite sickly.

I ate rolls of sour bread with a buffalo noodle soup. We all got chatting and the Aussie was on some epic travels. As a long-serving public servant, he could go on extended holiday with half pay – he was renting out his house so he was basically travelling for free! The Chinese woman was here to start a business exporting pashimas to China, and the Italian man was a professional cyclist, sponsored by biking companies to do expeditions and go on adventures. He’d already been to Nepal about twenty times!

Tibetan beer

Mauro, the cyclist, had some funny stories of failed biking expeditions in Nepal, the best was when he smuggled a big folding bike in a huge rucksack all the way up the Himalayas – cycling is banned up there – in order to cycle all the way down… only to discover at the top he’d forgotten to bring the pedals and so had carried it all that way for nothing! He was here to do some filming about an amazing story which I hope he exposes. Here’s the short version. He met a guy at a Nepalese hospital a few years ago who was president of the Paralympic team in Nepal. At the London Paralympic Games this year, Nepal’s sent about 17 people, but only a few of them were competitors. The others had paid big sums of money to the Nepalese Paralympic team heads to come to the UK – and promptly disappeared from the radar in the UK after the games! They’d used the Paralympics as a way to get to the UK as getting a visa on a Nepalese passport is very difficult. Then the head of the Paralypic team (the guy Maurio had met) was found dead in the UK just after the games in suspicious circumstances. Maurio thinks he was in on the illegal immigration money deal and had some disagreement with the other culprits, who offed him. He had filmed the victim two years ago for interviews, and is now independently investigating the case, doing filming with people the man knew and building a story. He is thinking about selling the story and footage to a TV company to make a documentary. If it ever happens I’ll let you know. Crazy stuff! As Maurio is a veteran of Nepal he gave me some tips on my next destination and offered his advice at any time. Top chap. His website is selvatiko.com where you can learn more about his expeditions. We said good night and went our separate ways.