Day 32

01/10/12

A night disturbed by car horns, barking dogs and loud music. Thamel’s not the best choice for a good night’s sleep! After breakfast I went out in search of a SIM card for my new Nepalese phone. I followed my nose ending up on the outskirts of Thamel and more inside the heart of “real” Kathmandu. It was really hot and dusty out here and a stressful but interesting experience wandering the streets. Some of the buildings looked ancient and were falling apart. You can see into most of them through open shutters and doors. Garages, carpet shops, food shops, tailors, craft shops, you name it, crammed into these narrow blocks. Rickshaws, motorbikes, buses and minibuses crammed full of people stormed past. Fruit and veg sellers displayed their wares on the streets alongside old balance scales and weights. School kids in uniform wandered around in groups. Sometimes beggars were sitting on the pavement, often with missing limbs or crutches. Shopkeepers stood outside their shops or sat on their steps, as the shops are so small.

How old is this building? Who knows – but all of these relics are still lived in.

Some street decoration…

Wow! What an interesting vehicle! I’ve never seen one in Kathmandu – I’d better photograph it because I’ve never seen anything like it!
It’s what the Nepalese call a tractor and they haul heavy loads around. They’re very noisy. Despite my initial interest, a few days later, outside of Kathmandu I’d seen hundreds and I’d be sick of the sight of them!

Within an hour I’d found a phone shop, collected the bits and bobs I needed for registration and my new SIM would be active within the day. Sorted. I made my way south, getting a bit lost in the process and wandered around the old town, coming across a nice temple where school kids were playing tag. At the Durbar Square I bought my ticket (15 quid, a lot for Nepal!) and wandered around marveling at the ancient palaces and temples. The light was too bright for good photos unfortunately. I went into a big courtyard and witnessed some seriously risky work by painters who had a wobbly bamboo scaffold to climb up to the windowsills they were painting, watching them shuffle along the window ledge two stories up with no safety rope. Gurkha soldiers guarded some of the courtyard doorways but were happy to have their photos taken.

One of the palace courtyards in Durbar Square

There’s no ladder, they just climb up that scaffolding as it wobbles dangerously

Gurkha guard

Some of the interior courtyards in the Square had lots of religious stone carvings inlaid in the every wall, and in the middle of each courtyard were big steps below ground level – in the old days these would have been pools. You couldn’t take photos here and signs warned you were on CCTV, guards constantly watched you. Outside, holy men (babas) wandered around with colourful yellow or red robes, sporting big beards and painted faces. You have to tip them to get a photo, with the bad light I didn’t bother. I got my ticket upgraded to a multi-day pass at the site office, where there were also rows of souvenir vendors in the yard selling all manner of “antiques”(good luck finding something older than ten years!). The empty chariots from Indra Jatra yesterday stood in the road.

Rows of “antiques” sellers outside the square

Indra Jatra chariot

I wandered back towards Thamel, tired, thirsty and mentally exhausted from the stressful streets. Again I got a bit lost. The area is full of narrow, unsigned roads which bend or become dead ends – there’s no logical layout. There aren’t even proper addresses for places in Nepal, they just have the name of the building followed by the area name. I had a late lunch and did some blog updates. I moved up to the restaurant’s roof garden in the evening as I continued to work. Roof terraces are a common and attractive feature in Nepal, looking out over the rooftops to the hills beyond with birds of prey circling the skies. They’re much quieter than street level. The full moon beamed down casting a silver light over Kathmandu. It’s a relaxing place to unwind. Late evening I returned to my hotel intending to sleep, but got carried away writing my diary and because of this combined with the heat and noise, I ended up going to bed about 4am! So much for adjusting to Nepali time!

In the old town

Day 31

30/09/12

With my breakfast I tried Masala tea, a Nepal staple. The leaves are infused with sugar and cinnamon giving it a very sweet, almost sickly taste.  I set out exploring Thamel, the tourist area, looking for cheaper accommodation. The streets were manic. It’s really stressful walking around the narrow streets as you need to be on constant alert for the vehicles trying to run you over, horns are beeping right next to you, people are plying you for business and you’re squeezing lots of other people trying to get along the same as you. There’s so much for the eyes and ears to take in, it’s a sensory overload.

Thamel. Usually it’s a lot busier on the streets than this!

Most of the recommended budget places were fully booked, but I found Hotel Potala had space, it’s smack bang in the middle of the party area. It was on the second floor, below it was a shop and a bar. This is typical of Thamel’s buildings, multiple businesses crammed into each one. It was cheap and basic, but had everything I needed.I ate at the hotel’s restaurant which looked out over the street. There was no respite from the noise though. I ordered chicken Momos, which are Tibetan steamed (or fried) parcel dumplings – much Chinese dim sum or Japanese Gyoza. They had a spicy dipping sauce and were pretty tasty.

Momos, a wheel of tastiness!

Next order of the day was to find some bootlaces, mine were wrecked. Thamel is rammed with trekking gear shops as everyone coming trekking arrives here first. Most of the laces were weak and poor quality, I eventually got lucky in a shop that sold the exact same boots as mine and bought the very same laces! Score!

After chilling at a wi-fi café I met Bikrant, the marketing guy from Fantastic Nepal. As a gift from the company Bhupen, his boss, was sending Bikrant to me to show me the Indra Jatra festival that afternoon, which I’d wanted to see. Indra Jatra is a big festival running over a number of days, commemorating a local legend, celebrating the upcoming harvests and remembering the deceased. In the legend villagers capture the god of rain, Indra, who is up to mischief – on his release his mother promises to give the crops dew, and take the year’s dead to heaven.

One of the Gurkha shops in Thamel. If you’re a fan of big knives. this is the place for you!

Bikrant was younger than I’d expected, only a year or two out of uni. He seemed a friendly, stylish chap and had brought a friend along, Logan. I hopped onto the back of his rumbling Lee Enfield motorbike and Logan followed. Now we were part of the honking traffic, weaving in and out of tiny spaces and dodging people and vehicles by inches. As the airport in Kathmandu says, Nepali people express themselves creatively with use of their horns! Good fun though! We drove south a few kilometers along the narrow streets, heading for the Durbar Square – an ancient collection of palace buildings and temples where the festivities were starting. As we drove past looking for parking, the old buildings looked awesome and already there were loads of people standing on the high temple steps ready for Indra Jatra to begin.

One of the many temples at Durbar Square

We parked in a dodgy looking little courtyard with menacing dogs, Bikrant assured me was safe to leave the bikes there – in fact, one of the houses was a restaurant, though you’d never know from its appearance. In Durbar Square we found a place in the crowd and met another of Bikrant’s friends. The police were making preparations, dressed in their standard blue camo, holding big wooden sticks and some had riot gear. A drumming band was playing nearby. In the ancient buildings families peered from the ornate wooden windows, and each big step of the tiered temples were full of locals and clumps of tourists. A sea of SLR cameras could be seen held above the crowds whenever anything of interest occurred.

The first event was the appearance of the white “elephant”, represented by a painted tent with people underneath it running at full pelt. A group with crashing cymbals and drums followed it around with a guy holding a flaming torch. The elephant was running around randomly, it’s really funny because the guys underneath can’t see – they just charge in any direction and hope their minders aren’t guiding them into a wall!

Next a running demon surged through the crowd; a person with a red mask and a big red mane.  People jeered and shouted at it. Another group of drummers and cymbal crashers followed. Meanwhile on the far side of the square there was a large, brightly painted golden chariot which people were climbing onto. A young girl in decorative, glimmering dress and a white-painted face was placed on the chariot’s high throne, with men clustered around her. This is the Kumari – a living goddess who lives in a palace in the square. There were cries of wonder and happiness from many of the women when they caught sight of her. After a load of jostling in the crowd below, the tall chariot lurched forward at some speed, carrying at least ten people perched around the throne and on the lower segments. People pushed and shoved to clear a path for it. I’d assumed a car or something was pulling it and then to my amazement saw a big team of men hauling with all their might on about 6 ropes to power the chariot. They were yelling and chanting.

The first chariot

The chariot rumbled into the middle of the square, sometimes stopping for a minute or two to deal with whatever obstruction or issue was in the way. Then two more big chariots came into the square holding boys dressed like the Kumari. They represent gods from the legend. Ten minutes later the chariots had started to leave, now they’d follow a route around the narrow streets of the old town. We walked north passing more amazingly old buildings and all manner of little shrines and statues.We reached a big colourful statue of a face where two women were planting tikkas on peoples foreheads. These are the red dots on the forehead signifying a blessing and represent the mystical Third Eye. The tikka paste was made from rice and red dye. Some people gave money as an offering to them. We went up to receive ours. My massive hair made it a bit difficult for the poor woman!

Bikrant and the women giving out tikkas

We continued north coming to a busy square filled with little temples and shrines where a band was playing. It was very busy. People were lighting little oil lamps and placing them by the statues. The guys led me to a little temple through a doorway with a sign saying “This temple welcomes all religions” said the sign outside. Some temples in Nepal only allow Hindus inside. This temple was really old and surrounded by little stupas. Small prayer wheels surrounded its base. The golden exterior was fenced and padlocked off as it was evening. Bikrant’s friend told me that in the old days there was no fence and the paneling would have been real gold, not just painted. No-one back then would dream of stealing from a temple. Sadly in more recent centuries people aren’t so trustworthy and a lot of temples and shrines go under lock and key at night to protect their valuables. At the courtyard entrance was a room filled with women singing hymns from books, whilst an old man tapped out a rhythm on his drum. Bikrant’s friend explained that most temples are the responsibility of a single family who live next to it and maintain it, and some of these people singing would be from that family. My sign language request for a photo of the singers was denied by the old man – here they sometimes don’t like you taking pictures of prayers and worship.

The guys led me to a street stall selling Lassi, a traditional Nepalese drink. It’s a bit like a milkshake but more yoghurty. It was ladled from a big metal bowl into glasses for us. Lassis come in a variety of flavours, this one had sultanas and nuts in. It was very curdy but surprisingly tasty and refreshing.

Sadly this kind of lassi is very poor at rescuing children stuck down wells

We arrived at another intersection full of people waiting for the chariots to arrive. It was too dark for photos now. There were families up on the roofs in the square and peering down from the windows. We heard the white elephant coming before we saw it, shouts and bangs echoing down a narrow street towards us. The police moved us aside. The “elephant” charged down into the intersection surrounded by shouting youths. Next the red “demon” rushed in, and further up the street you could see the first chariot, which barely fitted in the narrow road. The police made a more concerted effort to clear a path and soon the men pulling the chariot surged into view yelling, the chariot rolling behind them and a big press of people following it. The square was filled with shouting, chants and the crashing of cymbals and drums. People barged past left and right. It was madness but awesome.

The chariot stopped here and after a while the next one came trundling along. The elephant continued to cause mayhem randomly running into groups of people. Red Cross men with big flags walked around looking for the inevitable injuries that would be caused by this chaotic festival. The second chariot was preceded by three red “demons” who danced around energetically. One had a sword. People came forward to give them offerings of food and drink, presumably some kind of appeasement.

We walked up the narrow street which the final chariot was creaking along. As it approached a wall of police led the way, pushing people to the side. We had to stand on a shop step and loads of people crammed onto it in a great hurry to avoid being crushed. The throng of chariot haulers tore past, yanking hard on the ropes and the chariot came lumbering past inches away from us. It had a wooden stopping mechanism at the front which was lifted and dropped repeatedly to stop it running out of control. Behind the chariot a loop of policemen marched, arms locked to prevent anyone coming too close, and after them was a crowd people, drummers and a Gurkha band playing flutes. It turned out we’d stopped at a mobile phone shop and I wanted a Nepali phone, so Bikrant talked to the shop owner and found me a second hand Nokia for about 6 quid!

We walked back towards Durbar square where another crowd had congregated, this time there were two dancers in masks and costume playing out a battle. One had a bow and arrow. The chariots were heading this way and the press of people was so close that even with a grip on each other we still couldn’t stay together. Big groups of youths yelling manically came charging through and the white elephant appeared again, people running to get out its way. Drummers and cymbals bashed as we were jostled around madly, pretty crazy!

The chariot rolls on past as the leading guy screams to the pullers!

We into the modern shopping district and through narrow back alleys back to the motorbikes. Bikrant said the alleys here were filled with restaurants. No foreigner would ever know about these, they just look like houses. As you walk past tiny doors you could glimpse a kitchen or sometimes someone eating. At the bikes we went into the house/restaurant there and went upstairs. Seating was traditional Nepali, with tables a foot off the ground and us sitting on the floor. The light was very dim. A few other people sat inside and I passed a guy playing on a PSP. The games console seemed at odds with the ancient looking surroundings!

The four of us chatted about life in Nepal and differences in our cultures. I learned about the castes in Nepal culture and their religious differences. Like in the UK, the past two generations has seen a change in the mentality regarding religion and class. Inter-caste relationships are frowned on (Nepal’s caste system is very strict and has been around for centuries),  but the younger generation are starting to ignore these social boundaries. All three guys had been to, or were at university and spoke good English, but they’d all remained in their own county to do good there which was commendable. Bikrant told me more and more Nepalese are getting uni education abroad but many don’t return, giving their home country no benefit.

Our snacks arrived. One was buffalo tongue, another buffalo brains and the last buffalo mince and egg pancakes. I haven’t tried brains before. It was fried up in pieces in a sauce. The texture was soft but not squishy and it was ok. The tongue in pieces had sauce and a tasty chilli dip. After dinner we said our goodbyes and Bikrant whizzed me back to Thamel on the bike. It had been a crazy but great experience and it was good to meet Nepalese people and experience their culture with them.

Braaaaaaaains

Back at the hotel there was a power cut. This happens a few times a day in Kathmandu. Due to Nepal’s limited electricity, there is a power sharing scheme in place, which basically means that for hours at a time there will be no power. Most places have a generator but this only powers a dim light in your room. Usually the wi-fi routers die in a power cut too. It’s pretty frustrating, and the poor residents of Nepal have to put up with it every day. When you need to send an urgent email or go to the toilet, having no power can be really annoying!

Day 30

29/09/12

Rudely awakened by my alarm at 4 am, I shuffled around in a zombie state, packing, before my minibus pickup at 5 am. I’m really not a morning person, especially after 3 hours sleep! Planes shouldn’t be allowed to take off until after midday in my opinion, then I’d never have to get up early again. At least I was finally wearing some dry clothes! The mini bus hurtled to the airport in record time, the roads were dead. I checked in and tried to sleep on a sofa, and then a chair, in vain. I accidentally picked up someone’s similar jacket to mine at security, when I went back to hand it in, the guy just told me to keep it! Very professional! I gave it to him anyway just in case, though I am guessing his daughter’s now sporting a nice black fleece….

The first leg was to New Delhi, India. I managed to get a little sleep and watched the vastness of India pass below as we got close to our destination. Delhi from above seemed a random mix of high-rises in clumps, slum areas and a lot of open ground. After landing I had to go through long queues to get through immigration and baggage check, even though it was just a transfer. Some Indians were living up to their reputation for queue etiquette and barging in ahead of everyone else – thankfully the staff were having none of it and sent them to the back of the queue. I also noticed that the Indian people at the airport had a different idea of personal space to us westerners, often standing extremely close to me. I guess that’s just how things are in this country.

Delhi

Security seemed pretty tight in this airport, I got a second body check entering the gate, presumably just because I’m so sexy. Through the airport windows you could catch a glimpse of Delhi and a mix of ancient and new vehicles outside. An army truck was loading soldiers on board and all their packs were getting carried onto the roof. The Indians’ in the airport were almost all dressed smartly, something I like about their culture, and the colourful saris the ladies wore were a feast for the eyes.

After more failed attempts at sleep, it was onto plane two. I got stuck into Lonely Planet Nepal. I hadn’t done any research at all on my destination until now, only buying the book yesterday. I’d traded in my beloved Lonely Planet Travel Photography book for a pittance, as it was too heavy. Check it out if you’re into photography, it’s great.

Sadly no mountains were visible as we approached our destination, though there were some awesome cloud towers which must have been above some of them. We descended quite steeply and as we came down to Kathmandu we were getting a lot of turbulence rocking the plane. Even on the final descent the wings were swaying alarmingly and just before we landed it was rocking like crazy. We landed with a big bump but we were ok. In the news yesterday a small plane in Nepal had crashed just after takeoff with everyone aboard killed, including a number of Brits. The current thinking is that it was a bird strike. Actually in Nepal fatal air accidents happen every year or two, the conditions and small, dodgy aircraft aren’t a good combination.

Kathmandu airport is a very small and basic affair. We hustled into the visa area where the queues were long and slow as 2 or 3 flights of people applied at just two desks. I tried to pay with my Scottish pounds and got laughed at as usual. Take this as fair warning, nowhere outside of the UK will take Scottish bank notes. It confuses and scares them, even though it says Pounds Sterling on it. I’d arrived with a load in Thailand, not having time to change them in Edinburgh, and now they were travelling with me, unable to get rid of them. Twice in the visa queue there were brief power cuts, causing cries amongst the tourists. I’d already read about Kathmandu’s power problems – the city often has power cuts and the electricity is rationed around the city, called load sharing. Some places have backup generators, like hotels and restaurants.

After getting the visa at last, baggage collection was a free-for-all. Finding your luggage was hard as there was no information, and it was stacked up randomly around the area. Eventually I found mine randomly lying in a corner with the rain cover lying nearby. I went outside to be greeted by the usual mayhem – a wall of shouting people waving cards and offering taxis. I hate this part of travelling, it’s stressful and you’re always knackered when you step off a plane to get harassed – having to decide who you can trust. I was supposed to be getting a free transfer to my hotel and so I waddled along the row until I found my guy. He’d been waiting for over an hour, which sounded about right due to all the entry delays. In the distance I could see the sun setting over the shambling outline of Kathmandu city and birds of prey soaring above it. A little kite was being flown above the roofs. Big hills surrounded us miles away. I was piled into a taxi and the guy who’d met me demanded a tip, showing a 20 euro note. I was damned if he was getting 20 quid (after all I could have just got a taxi normally) but I didn’t have any small money on me, aside from some dollars, so I gave him the smallest, five dollars. He demanded another and as I was tired and stressed, I just wanted rid of him so I gave him it. Afterwards I felt annoyed for buckling and learned another lesson, keep small change for when you arrive so you aren’t scrabbling around for tips!

Kathmandu in the distance

The taxi was a little van with a back seat. The driver set off at a roaring pace and we hurtled around, outside the airport the road was bumpy and I lurched around in the back. The traffic was chaos with cars, taxis and motorbikes all over the place, horns beeping everywhere and random dangerous maneuvers taking place. On the streets outside, loads of people were walking. The roads were more like tracks, reminding me of my time in Africa, though I later found out this part of Kathmandu is undergoing road reconstruction and the normal roads are much better. All along the street were little stalls and food sellers and everything including the buildings seemed quite old and shabby. The air was hot, smoggy  and dusty. Everything was noisy, with horns beeping, engines roaring and the hubbub of people outside. It was quite stressful. We wound through some incredibly narrow streets, passing people and other vehicles by inches. My driver was determined to get me there as fast as possible, forcing his way into tiny gaps. There didn’t seem to be a rule for sides of the road, in fact in most places the road was barely wide enough for two cars anyway. As we got further into town the buildings rose in height and the roads were torn up, looked like some work was being done. Signs were everywhere, displayed in vertical stacks, and wires hung all over the place between buildings. I started to see tourists amongst the throngs of locals. The locals had a load of different stlyes, from women in colourful saris, men in suits and Nepalese hats, younger people dressed in jeans, t-shirts and black jackets, Tibetan people in colourful robes, the occasional monk – you name it, it was all there.

The streets here were also full of rickshaws (bicycle taxis), food carts and people carrying big loads on their back using straps on their head. I noticed a lot of old people with amazingly weathered faces and people with disfigured faces, wonky eyes or sporting skin problems, alongside pretty girls and well-kept men. My senses were overwhelmed and it was hard to take everything in. We arrived at Potala Guest House in the heart of the tourist area, Thamel, somehow without crashing or taking anyone out.

Bhupen was waiting for me in the lobby. He’s one of the owners of Fantastic Nepal, the travel agency that was assisting me. He’d been waiting for ages and wondered what had happened to me. Bikrant, his marketing manager who I’d been in contact with had been worried when I didn’t show up at the expected time at the airport. I was lucky because Bhupen had been about to leave. I left my stuff in the hotel room, quite a basic affair but with a nice bed, and went off with Bhupen for a drink.

We wandered through the mad streets of Thamel, the tourist area. It was almost dark now. The streets were very narrow here and motorbikes, taxis and rickshaws were constantly passing by you by inches, honking in your ear. The streets were rammed with open-fronted shops of all kinds, souvenir shops, clothe shops, food shops, travel agencies, bars, hotels,  but each front was only a few meters wide. It was a riot of colour and light. Owners stood outside, sometimes trying to entice you in. Hawkers roamed the streets with little instruments, Gurkha knives or tiger balm, asking you to buy. Rickshaws and taxis shouted out at you for a ride. Sometimes men muttered “hashish, cannabis” or “need something?” as they passed you. The buildings towered above us on either side with shutters open, signs everywhere and upper floors visible, sometimes with bars or restaurants up there. After visiting an ATM (4 quid to withdraw L ) we went  down a side alley to a great little restaurant in a courtyard, an old building rose above us with lighting projected on it, and a tree shaded the courtyard. It was much quieter here and the tables bustled with people and lit candles. A nice atmosphere.

We ordered dinner and chatted about Bhupen and his company. They’ve only been going for a few years, taking their hobby into a job, and are steadily building their business and differentiating themselves – in a city of thousands of travel agents they need to! We talked about his plans for the future and discussed places and things I might like to do in Nepal. He was good company and understood my independent nature, being a bit like that himself.  He was honest with me about costs and recommendations, saying he wants to build his company’s reputation on honesty and service – relying on word of mouth for promotion. I thought it’s a good approach and his attitude was refreshing. The challenges of his line of work in Nepal were interesting, because of the infrastructure it can be hard to provide a reliable service to tourists who expect set times for things to happen – in Nepal things happen when they happen. Things like hot water or power can’t easily be guaranteed, so his company’s spent time to find reliable places and people so they can guarantee a certain standard. His job sounds challenging and hard work, but he seems to enjoy it. I recommend their company, I’ve used them for quite a few things now, they’re honest, reasonably priced and very helpful, you feel well looked after. You can find Fantastic Nepal Holidays on Facebook or I can put you in touch with Bhupen – and no, I’m not being paid for this!

We chatted the evening away and after a tasty steak he walked me home. The streets all look the same to me so I was glad of the assistance! I thanked him and we parted ways. I had some problems getting to sleep, even after midnight the beeping of taxis and motorbikes were still going.

Bite hell – my ankles each had about 10 really itchy bites from mosquitos, collected in Thailand, and god knows what other insects. They were swollen and the itching was driving me mental!