Newcastle – Dhaka – Kathmandu

The shop I work in sells waterproof clothing. Some of which is made by a company called Gore-tex. At the beginning of 1997 Gore-tex ran a prize draw to see who could draw (sorry!) the prettiest picture – oh whilst buying one of their bloody expensive jackets obviously) Some chap in Newcastle drew the prettiest picture – he won a holiday of a lifetime! (though in reality it only lasted 3 weeks). Then the lucky chappy who served the lucky chap also won a holiday (Anywhere in the world up to £3,500.00). And that chappy was me! *

These are the Chronicles of that holiday.

Gillian and I are leaving to go to the other side of the world this morning. We are completely unprepared. It is reassuring to know that in a world full of change, some things can be relied on. Chaos surrounding our plans seems to reflect a constant in life! As Martin and Claire have offered to run us to the airport we are letting them run us to the airport. They arrive just as we are nowhere near ready to leave. We throw the remainder of what we have deemed necessary to cart over continents in any bags which are not already over-packed and leave. It is a bright clear day and filled with nervous adrenaline we bid farewell to Claire and Martin and head into the airport.

This is the first time either of us has actually travelled abroad without a responsible adult to do for us so it’s time to be growed up. But we haven’t got the slightest clue what we are doing! We agree to have our baggage forwarded right through to Kathmandu so that we don’t need to faff on collecting and re-depositing it at various airports. This means we don’t have to worry about what we should do with our luggage through out the journey. It means we have to worry about what somebody else is doing with our luggage throughout our journey. Great.

Being an aviationery virgin, Gill was understandably nervous as we took off and left Newcastle’s ground behind, but take off was smooth and as we banked over the Tyne we were treated to a beautiful view of the city lost in it’s early morning slumber! I suppose the charm flying holds is part wonder that you are free from the bonds of the ground but also abject terror that this may suddenly cease to be the case. Any fears regarding a sudden and spectacular demise however are soon eclipse by the more immediate horror of air-born hospitality. And the very real possibility that the plate of miscellaneous gloop belligerently peering at you from it’s plate lair will suddenly retaliate. Best bet is to stab it hard and bolt it down in the hope that it will stay there.

The descent to London, Heathrow was somewhat less than impressive as we landed in drizzle and mist but at least it heralded the end of the first part of our journey. At least we were on the way! Heathrow is a small city in itself. It is uncompromisingly ugly but impressive. Once inside and sure of our boarding gate number, we had a bite eat (to ensure that we weren’t entirely at the culinary mercy of Air Biman) and had a wee nosey round the duty free shops.

In the departure lounge we met Liz, a member of our trekking party – we swapped small talk and backgrounds and it was nice to establish contact with someone so early on in the journey. We boarded the plane, found our seats then sat back to watch the pandemonium of Air Biman unfold chaotically before our incredulous eyes:

The plane was arranged with double row seats by the windows (both sides) and a row of 5 seats across the middle. This allows roughly about 100,000 people to be accommodated, if snugly, on the plane at any one time. Indian extended families clambered down the aisles, bawling babies barely our of the womb shrieked and screamed, dangling from improbable neck slug hammocks, couples shouted to each other all looking for room to store ridiculously huge hand luggage. One old gentlemen who looked fit to drop down dead at any moment was being bounded about by his two sons, this way, then that – the old fella just going wherever his bumbling supporters saw fit to take him. Why they couldn’t just let him sit down I’ll never know! – and in the midst of all this and much worse, the face painted stewardesses barked and snapped at people to sit down, move along, move their luggage , stop crying and to be quiet. Worked for me. I wasn’t going to give those scary ladies any bother. No sir-ee. They frightened me. A lot.

But somehow, shambolic order prevailed and by and by the plane lurched into life. As we taxied down the runway there was a line of aircraft queuing to take off, each biding their time and waiting for the ones in front to vacant the horizon before commencing their own ascent. Watching this sky bound traffic jam, while we sat in our turn, I idly wondered if any daft cretin had ever been mad enough to take off directly after the previous craft, you know, really close to it!!! – God, how mental would that be!?

You can imagine therefore my surprise and trouser filling terror then as our pilot pushed our plane towards take off speed… WHILE THE PLANE INFRONT WAS STILL ON THE RUNWAY! All that remains of this heart stopping moment are these memories and a pair of irretrievably soiled underpants.

The flight itself was uneventful (ooh apart from the fact that we were flying 30,000 feet above the earth crossing to it’s further side at 800 miles per hour…how bizarre is that! – We are doing what our great grandfathers would have called Witchcraft – and all we can do is bury ourselves in a good book!) and uninspiring apart from three views:

The first was to watch the sunrise over the steppes of Russia – first just a slit of ruby light in the sky, then gradually layers of red, orange and kingfisher blue as the light became stronger. Absolutely beautiful!

Second was a view of Mount Everest towering over it’s Himalayan brethren. It was instantly recognisable – no one had to ask for confirmation. But what it difficult to emphasise is the size of the thing. It’s enormous, more than that, it’s ENORMOUS. Nothing I can think to write can fully clarify the memory, suffice to say though, I was deeply affected by it.

Finally the descent towards Bangladesh afforded us breathtaking views of the River Gangees . Gliding over this mighty stretch of water was more like flying over a small sea. The vastness of the river mouth was completely awe-inspiring. Only now can I begin to understand why the religions of this region place so much emphasis and importance on the holy mother river. It’s one thing to see the pictures on telly but to look down on this huge river lying gorged, banks oozing over the surrounding land as far as the eye can see becomes an emotional experience and was truly a sight to remember and treasure. Utterly awe inspiring.

A short stay (4 hrs) in Dhaka was mind numbingly boring but still bursting with experience. First was the heat – literally taking your breath away – the air tasted hot and used – half baked from the roaring sun outside, it glimmered off the roasting ground and blurred the blue sky. Outside vultures and buzzards soared lazily on the rising thermals – too tired and hot to fly properly!

Inside we sat in a visitors lounge seemingly reserved for foreign visitors. It housed plush leather seats, a beautiful bar boasting a wide variety of drinks while waiters flitted in and out of the tables bringing sandwiches and drinks – though we were a little unsure regarding what kind of bill we might get lumbered with at the end! The whole scene reminded me of some 19^th century colonial scene. Like a scene from A Passage to India or something we reclined in a ridiculously well decorated lounge while downstairs – the rest of travelling Bangladesh buzzed about in the scorching heat of the main lounge!

Following a heart stoppingly scary moment where the Bangladeshi authorities took all our passports and we though we might spend the rest of our lives as slaves to the upper caste of the Indian elite – they were returned to us and we were herded back onto the plane for the final hour or so of our flight!

The descent into the Newari basin in which Kathmandu sprawls was impressive (but then everything about Nepal is impressive) and shocking. My romanticised preconceptions of a land of Xanadu and rivers of honey were soon quashed as we circled over the polluted and truly enormous sprawling monster city. All the stunning temples and shrines of holy eternity in the brochures have to squabble for space with the extensive shanty districts and mud hut, tin roofed suburbs. If I thought Newcastle looked big from the air – Kathmandu completely dwarfs it!

The turn over the basin was steep and acute – in effect making you feel that you are actually on your side. Looking out of the window you don’t need to look down – to see the ground! Then we were roaring towards the town and screeching onto the tarmac. Once that alarming noise the engines make when they moan and shudder to slow you down, receded and the plane looked like it might NOT crash into the other end of the airport we relaxed and tried to come to terms with a new thought… Welcome to Nepal!

Having successfully negotiated customs and baggage reclaim with thankfully little fuss (although the authorities are precise!) we emerged into the Nepalese sunshine and while still blinking mole-ishly in the new light, a bedraggled little urchin magically appeared and relieved me of my bag, lugging it towards our waiting coach (the bag was bigger than the boy!!) and gaggle of companions for the next fortnight. I was impressed by the service and ambled easily towards our coach silently thinking what good care Exodus were taking of us. Then the little bastard turned around and held out his hand and squeaks ‘Coins – yes?’

How Naïve am I?

Just as I was about to go routing through my pockets for some change though, one of our group told me that we were advised not to give money to these little tykes pouncing on gullible folk because it would only perpetuate what was becoming a problem for the authorities. So… being the miserly bastard that I am, I gave him a great big smile and told him to bugger off! (obviously a barrage of heart-wrenching please ensured succeeding in making me feel like a really soulless villain but I stuck to my guns and eventually realising he was on to a loser, he cleared off to look for another touch!)

We were then driven by coach (Which was to become our second home for the next two weeks) to the Bluebird hotel, where after a quick introduction and welcome we were able to go and shower and rest before going out for a meal. Curry obviously. While we were chatting to a couple in our group we found out that they had one of Gils main fears realised… their luggage had been lost in transit. Nightmare! (It eventually turned up on the last day of the holiday) so they had to spend the couple of hours Gil and I had had to relax, bombing around Kathmandu buying some clothes for the next fortnight. Bum deal !.. still rather them than me!

The meal itself was fantastic for the experience of actually eating a food in the place of it’s origin and therefore as it was meant to be eaten. I noticed that people here, for example don’t actually bother with rice (surely a staple ballast for any curry in Blighty) instead the curry is eaten with the naan bread as the main filler. The curry itself was surprisingly mild – but I’m guessing that the restaurant probably had an understanding with the tour operators and as long as Exodus didn’t have to deal with lots of punters suffering the pangs of unfamiliar hot spices exciting their bowels, they would continue to send trade the restaurants way. Some things are universal however and Cobra and Tiger beer was of course the main drink of choice!

While the sights and sounds of the night time bazaars were both hypnotising and tempting a mixture of jet lag and travel fatigue dampened our adventurous zeal somewhat and the allure of the hotel bar and bed overcame the whim to explore. Plus Pemba, our guide assured us that we would see a lot more of the same and more over the next few days so we wouldn’t be missing too much. So with reluctance coated with gratitude, following our meal we decamped back to the hotel bar for a quick couple before submitting to the lure of sleep.

Therefore seemingly an eternity after leaving Newcastle (40 hours or so previously) we finally rested – snoring before our heads hit the pillows!

12.10.97

Kathmandu

Woken by the early morning alarm call and lay a while trying to file the last few hours into some kind of perspective. Probably best to do all my reflecting later on – live for the moment. A shower later and we were musing over a cooked breakfast – almost instantly began to rue this decision as I could feel the mystery meat sausages swimming around and having a whale of a time inside me!

Then with sun block, shades, silly hats and rubber-necking hats firmly on we set out on a sight seeing tour of the city.

First stop was a monkey temple. The apes bound and play all around, zooming and spilling over each other, oblivious to the honour bestowed on them. Monkeys are a sacred animal over here and as such live the life of Riley – well for monkey anyway! If one of the little treasures runs onto the road for example, drivers will swerve, skid, sway, crash do anything rather than kill the holy creatures (the same applies to cows, the accidental killing of which has prompted mob murder before now).

Outside the temples all the stereotyped images of Nepal began to appear. Snake charmers knocking 7 bells out of a box then lifting it up and playing with the enraged cobra while it struck for death and vengeance (I take it dominoes never caught on over here!), of course stirred our interest. As did the perfect Nepalese stereotypes of old men face painted and nigh on naked – assuming the image of an ancient ‘Nadu’ (Holy Man) sitting perfectly still just accidentally right on the tourist path, obviously lost in cosmic contemplation and devout holiness – but yes, if we wanted to take a photograph, he would accede to our request… for a price!

A career far more lucrative than banking or bank robbing can be had here from either: a) face painting yourself to look like an old sage – (i.e. like you’ve far too many drugs and now look half like a cross between a troll and a decrepit rock star!) or b) putting on swanky golden robes and poncing about the place, graciously allowing your holiness to be photographed by the drop-jawed tourists all pathetically eager for a does of ethnicity – regardless how contrived it may be! Because this pleases Johnny foreigner (that’s us) but also allows them to fleece us for all our cash! – Cunning don’t you think?

Not that I’m bitter – far from it! – With rueful aplomb I put my hand in my pocket along with the rest of them! – After all that’s what we’re here for isn’t it. Feed the economy with our desire for pictorial memories!

As we descended from the temple we looked down on the river running through the city and we noticed platforms on the waters edge. On these platforms smoking piles of ash burnt and smoked while the nearby onlookers held a vigil. It was only after a moments wonder that I realised these were funeral pyres, the final rites of the Hindu cremation ritual. The Hindu belief is that burning the bodies on the banks of the Bagmati river (a tributary of the Holy River Gangees) and sweeping the ashes into the water will lead the deceased soul to heaven. Of course the pragmatists among you may also concur that the immediate result of tipping a load of ash into a river will be very ashy river…

It was hugely bizarre though to witness such a public event for something so personal. The whole spectacle, sight, sound and most strikingly smell (burning flesh and perfumes has a pretty acrid odour) made for a very strange experience.

More temples followed, some big and impressive – some small and less obvious - ALL of them full of tourists though, neck swinging this way and that cameras clicking and flashing capturing millions of photos of thing they may well never remember or be able to enjoy reliving because they were too busy trying to photograph the moment instead of experiencing it!

One of the main Bhuddist temples we visited had thousands of brightly coloured flags fluttering in the breeze strung from the bottom to the very top of the tower. Each of these flags has written on them a prayer or mantra and every time the wind ripples the flags the prayers are sent to God in Heaven. What a lovely thought!

For lunch we decamped to a restaurant for a traditional meal – yes okay then we had a curry but it was a very traditional one – not just another curry house affair. But they gave us a drink, a spirit distilled from the vapours of maize. This little tipple is called Racksy and it fair blows your hats off! The strength of said tipple: 80%… plus.

The rest of the day was spent sightseeing and resisting the urge to lose oneself in the myriad of markets that spill out of every door way and courtyard! Pemba assuring me that here was not the place to buy all my hippy clothes and that my patience would be rewarded – though I was VERY covetous of so many things!

Many of the temples we visited had beautiful cylindrical prayer wheels, each inscribed with a specific prayer, the prayer would be air-born when the cylinder is rolled or spun. The accompanying humming noises is delightful and the feeling of child like delight too blissful to describe!

In the evening we went out for a meal in the Tamil area of the city. Here all the stalls are open until about 9.30 and both trade and bartering is fierce! With so many beautiful clothes and trinkets on display I just had to have a wee looksy around those stalls near the restaurant – and yes – ended up some money the poorer and some trousers the richer! (Well when these trousers are £15.00 plus in Blighty and £2 here you’d be mad not to!) – by the end of these chronicles the discerning reader – should they still have the will to live, will notice that beer and clothes is pretty much all I spent my money on during this holiday.

All that and then your curry is just being served as you get back! – How fantastic is that?! – I think I could get used to Nepal!

13.10.97

Kathmandu

Having given the cooked breakfast a wide birth this morning, my stomach felt a lot more um stable. We spent the morning at a Monkey shrine / palace thing overlooking the city. The drive (10 miles or so) allowed us a vehicles eye view of the cities roads and houses – the nicer city houses gradually giving way to the tin tops huts we saw on our arrival. Certainly a thought provoking sight.

The Palace itself was impressive and beautifully decorated. All around monkeys leapt and sprang from statue to wall and then on to another handy sculpture! Heedless of the hushed serenity of the place – apart from bloody tourists – oohing and ahhhhing and flashing their bloody cameras at any and everything!

Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the temple however was it’s situation – over looking the whole Newari basin with the capital lounging in it’s craterous bed. The nearer aspects of the town sharp and clear the further points blurred in the simmering heat of the ground warming sun. Beautiful!

On our descent from the temple the bus was duly stopped for the trigger fingered camera crew to photograph the temple again – from a distance! But while they all faffed about with their toys I notice some big blackish birds, about 6 of them gathered in the field next to us – swooping and circling round each over. It turned out that these were some cousin of the Black Kite (Pariahs Kite). Having never seen a Kite before I was almost

Gibbering with excitement but as the rest of the group seemed more bothered about photos than beauty this was an epiphany I had to keep pretty much to myself

The rest of the day was given over to window shopping and more sight seeing, the temples and shrines begin to blur in my memory and only one aspect of the afternoon stands out, the temple of the child goddess ‘Kamari’. To be worthy of the honour of being a goddess (And the child is literally a goddess) the young child (prepubescent) must sit calmly in a room of carcasses and screaming men and prove her purity by remaining composed and not becoming frightened. If the girl remains unaffected and serene she is the chosen goddess… Don’t ask me ! – the jury’s still out on that one – it’s one way to appoint a goddess I suppose.

As the rest of the day seems to be lost on the open plains of my mind – I will bore instead with a few observations about the people in this remarkable country:

Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world. The people here while by and large – fed and watered have a pretty low standard of living. Yet despite all this, the people seem very happy. Even knee deep in dirt and poverty, they always stop and greet you with a friendly ‘Namaste’ – hands joined together in greeting and a smile belying real warmth in their greeting.

It’s easy to think that as the people here are very poor and we, the tourist, are rich – that they should become the target of our blind unquestioning charity – but as has been pointed out to us, it isn’t that simple. As with many aspects of charity the giving should be deliberate and if possible considered because otherwise your misplaced compassion will be squandered on nothing. Example: We have been told not to give any money to the scores of bedraggled little scamps stinging us for money all the time because they often end up begging for enough money to hire a scooter for the afternoon so they can go bombing round the streets! But that said everyone deserves a treat!

This brings into perspective the whole haggling thing as well. Being woofty foreigners we are of course woefully inept at bartering with these professionals – but maybe as tourists we should accept that we must pay a higher price for goods. They are still ridiculously cheap by our own standards and surely the main aim of tourism is to feed the economy? To the Nepalese – haggling is just the most obvious way to make what little money they have, go further. The trick is to haggle hard but to be light-hearted. Again, being idiot British we automatically take any dispute as a negative, as an argument. But here it’s just natural – I mean – why not question the value of what you are buying and offer a price you feel is right. What is so wrong about that? (Perhaps we are just too used to being ripped off day in day out by our good old capitalist system hmm ?)

The same applies to selling the wares. The Nepalese don’t just offer their goods for sale. They want to really impress on you how good it is and how much you really want it – regardless of what you may think! The customer service manual here is to badger the hell out of the customer until they are just too exhausted to argue any more! This approach, of course worked a dream on us. Example: Some old gyt hobbles up to you all full of cosmic peace and offers to anoint you with tikka (a mixture of rice and dye applied to the forehead during festival time – no not a chicken meal) to give you peace and harmony, you then smile, charmed and allow the application and then the little bastard won’t let you go until you’ve given him half your pension scheme. The understanding of the peace granted by the tikka is that you might just get some if you give him some money and bugger off sharpish.

About half our group were turned over this way – But that said, did they really think that old men wander around the holy squares, anointing people FOR FUN !!!? Hello?! And especially when certain members of our group are ignorant enough and daft enough to warrant it, I say fleece the silly sods for all they have. Up the workers!

Another aspect of Nepalese life worthy of note is that they work bloody hard for their money. Be it selling, haggling, taxi driving or in the most extreme case Rickshaw pedalling. For those

Of you who don’t know, a Rickshaw is basically a huge seated pram on the back of a tricycle. You sit (or roll around) flailing madly around in the back, lord of all you survey while this little fella about 2 ft high built like a sack of coat hangers bombs around the city taking corners on two wheels and scattering chickens, children and dustbins in their wake.

So… we figured rather than walk back to the hotel from our afternoon excursions we’d part-take of a Rickshaw ride. We looked around gawpishly for the two seconds it takes for some-one to bound up offering you something here, and asked the little hobbit if he knew where then Bluebird was. Of course he nodded furiously, and shooed us into his – and I use the word loosely – vehicle and off we set. The really painful bit is watching them get started. Having a fat piece like me weighing down a wrought iron bike with lead wheels and concrete tyres can’t have helped his cause. There is definitely a huge surge of guilt as you watch these figures half your own size struggling to gain some momentum – but by and by, we’re off!

It was after about 5 / 10 minutes and as the scenery was becoming more and more unfamiliar that we began to suspect that Ricky the Rickshaw man didn’t have the slightest clue where he was going. That and the fact he kept stopping to ask people. Who also didn’t know where he should head to sent him on somewhere! Eventually we flagged down a Policeman and got some real directions! – But the poor little sod must have covered miles with us in the back. (for the equivalent of under a pound) Still, it’s nice to get out and about!

And yes we did tip him. My conscience insisted!

The art of driving takes on a whole new dimension here as well. The most widely used strategy seems to be to drive at absolutely maximum revs. Go on! – Let people really know you’re coming! Always corner on two wheels – it will save on wear and tear on the tyres. And bear in mind you’ll get less hassle from your passengers if you terrify them numb with fear so drive to scare!!

So in conjunction with the Nepalese AA (Agggghhhhhhh AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!), here is the extended guide to driving in Nepal - written exam guidance:

1. Ensure that vehicle looks very, very frighteningly old.
2. No vehicles will be granted public highway access unless they belch huge clouds of Carbon Monoxidous filth at every engine rev.
3. Brakes, locks, gear mechanisms, suspension, upholstery, dashboards and seatbelts are all optional at the drivers discretion however the horn must work.
4. If there is any doubt regarding right of way approach the issues at full speed and honk your horn
5. If there is no doubt regarding your right of way – honk your horn.
6. If everyone else is honking their horn – honk your horn. You may be missing out on something.
7. If you are in the middle of absolutely no-where and there is no need of any noise or disturbance to break the peace – honk your horn.
8. Honk your horn.
9. Honk it, beep it, squeeze it blart it, parp it, prod it, knock it, hit it, hug it, just make that horn sing baby!

That’s it. You are now fully prepared to enter the hellish madness of Nepalese driving! The beeping thing is weird! Being British, if anyone ever parps their horn at you, the instant reaction is to be all defensive/aggressive. Over here it’s a completely different kettle of fish. Beeping can mean anything from, ‘Coming through’ – to ‘after you’ to my word that IS a lovely shiny bicycle – isn’t that just smashing all gleaming and with a rather snazzy bell as well I see, how lovely – I’m still going to swerve trouser fillingly close to you and just clip the back of your wheels though’, but it never means aggression. That said when you are having to deal with cows settling down in the road for a nap (being sacred – they have the right!), monkeys darting everywhere, children scampering all over and bikes and rickshaws wobbling manically from lane to lane without a seconds warning, you have little time to get indignant about whether him the rusty truck cut you up at the last dozing mammal…

Aside from the providing the world with some of the most fears fighters in the world (the Gurkas) Nepal seems to have a very gentle culture. And the whole beeping horns, shouting, badgering, chiding, selling, thing seems to carry an ambivalence to any bad feeling. I Love it!

14.10.97

Kathmandu – Gorka

We set off early for the drive to Gorka, some 140 km north west of Kathmandu. The journey was absolutely breathtaking.

Rising up from the Newari basin and into the mountain passes, we quickly left behind the city beast and found ourselves in the Nepal of our fantasies! – Villages and small towns, basking in the Himalayan sun. Sun kissed imps running up to the bus everywhere we stopped to squeak for sweets, money or just out of curiosity. Around us the lush vegetation covered the mountain valley floors while high above the mountains peered benevolently down on our little beetle like bus tootling along the precarious roads!

The drive itself was interesting if only to watch the remarkable instincts of our drivers as various kamikaze trucks occasionally came rattling round corners with an alarming trajectory – i.e. straight at our bus! In general though they would swerve good naturedly at the last moment – either that or our driver would! The roads themselves – occasionally boasted a degree of flatness though in general favoured the pot holed rubble strewn look – maybe I’ll stop bitching about the roads back home!

Stopping at an idyllic roadside restaurant for lunch any thoughts of hunger were eclipsed by the wonder of the beauty around us. Humming birds flitted from flower to flower while the more serene (and frankly enormous) butterflies floated between stations – flashing electric blues and greens every time they flapped their wings. The mountains, the river sparkling through the trees, the constant chorus of bird song… Oh I’m SUCH a hippy!

A few hours more and we reached the hilltop resort just outside the mountain town of Gorka.

The hotel complex sits atop a hill overlooking a valley basin. Around and above us what must equate to sub Himalayan foothills tower to the north while to the west the terrace divided fields slope off to the distant hills. It is beautiful and bright here, the air is wonderfully fresh (though still warm) and the sky, a kind blue, after the polluted chaos of Kathmandu the serenity and blissful peace of Gorka is most welcome!

After dumping our stuff in our apartments (ours had the most evil looking wasp / hornet thing in it – it was ENORMOUS!) we were treated to a walk around the nearby village. Here the people very kindly allowed us to enter their houses and see something of the places they lived in. Obviously this kind act of hospitality was a cue for certain members of our group (who the discerning reader will note are becoming increasingly vexing to me) to start taking quite breathtakingly rude liberties. Photographing any and everything in- and outside the huts – prodding things, interrupting our guide with ignorant blurtings and idiot questions…

Sometime I have been ashamed to be associated with these people. They seem to think that Nepal was put here to amuse and occupy them. This stunning place awash with beauty and steeped in a fragile culture only recently being opened to the world, may as well be a holiday camp with the locals just extras in a performance soley for Exodus customers!…

These same irritating people were banging on about how dreadful it must be to live like this and how appalling it must be – completely oblivious to the guide explaining that this is what the people know and love – this is their culture and their life! Then Gil pointed out to me biggest ganja plant I’ve ever seen in the front yard. Well maybe happiness can’t always be bought…

With ‘Namaste’s’ exchanged we made our way back to the complex. Walking along the roadside we followed some people carrying baskets of leaves back to the village. I feel I ought to qualify this statement somewhat. The ‘leaves’ – (bedding we were told) were all about 7ft long! And there was a lot of them. So the image we saw was basically that of a walking tree – like a Ent from Fanghorn, easily ambling along the path!

Nepal has some wonderful wildlife – as I’m sure I will ramble on about later – and here in the mountains the extraordinary difference is awe-inspiring. For example in the hotel complex grounds there was a spiders web. No big deal you may think but this web was about 8ft high! – and there sat almost invisibly still in the nets centre was a spider with a leg span of about 5". It was a shiny black and yellow fella with spindly black leg and bloody ENORMOUS fangs! The bizarre thing is that both web and monster are invisible until you get your eye in. If you were just bumbling through the bushes you just wouldn’t see it – until too late…

Earlier on in the afternoon we were shown a pair of crickets (in something of an amorous clinch!) – but these were huge – even our guide seemed a bit wary of them! In the undergrowth little lizards scampered in and out of the sun, while out on the complex lawn Minor birds flit about (these are the equivalent of our starlings so there are always loads hopping about on the take for scraps of our food!) It seems bizarre seeing all these animals from world encyclopaedias in the flesh… but that’s what makes this holiday so amazing day after day

15.10.97

Gorka

Treated to a stupid o’clock alarm call to allow us to see the Anapurna mountains in the fresh predawn light – before the sun would haze the view. Sadly there were bloody clouds in the way!! – They cleared eventually though and allowed us the look on the Anapurna Mountain range – and also allowed us a view of the sacred mountain ‘Machhapuchhare’ -

‘Fishtail’ – This is one of the virgin mountains – never to have been climbed.

Stood there in the predawn light – the air seemingly as new as the first day – looking out over an unspoilt Nirvana –I felt as though I was looking out over Tolkein’s – Middle Earth. Below us in the valley floor dew clouds were beginning to rise with the days first light, the world around us was slowly springing to life while all around the Mountain, rising out of a sea of mist kept their constant benevolent vigil over us.

Today we set out on a cyclical walking tour of the area – cresting the mountain range visible from our complex and returning across the valley floor. The walk was tiring but worth while. It was a hot humid day and we were all into a fierce sweat before too many steps!

First stop was the village were those of us without, bought pairs of flip-flops as we will not be permitted to wear shoes in some of the temples we will be visiting throughout our stay here. Of course with every Nepalese person being all of 5ft, trying to get anything that fitted me was like nailing water to the wall! However I acquired some kind of foot attire and before long we were ambling past the goats and chickens whose peace we doubtless disturbed and heading out of the village replete with flip-flops and drinking water.

The initial trek was to gain access to the mountain temple of Kali - the Blood Goddess. This temple was about halfway up the hillside and looked out over the town and back to our own lodgings. We arrived at the foot of the temple knackered and smelly! Here we removed our walking shoes and resorted to our 30p flip flops to enter the temple. – My Englishness again came back to me as for a moment I doubted the safety of our belongings to be left outside the building – but Pemba was already waylaying someone else’s fears stating quite flatly that nothing would be taken from a holy place… and I felt a little ashamed as back home NOTHING is sacred any more. At least here they are.

The smell around the temple was pretty rife – this is because the temple is plays host to various blood sacrifices on holy days. And it just so happens that we are in the middle of a Nepalese holiday. Tonight, we were told, the temple, the very place where we were standing would be the scene of the slaughter of 108 cows, 108 chickens and 108 goats. All will be led through the doors and out to the alter stage where they will be sacrificed. (about which more later).

Lawks – If that’s what she’s like on a holiday I guess you wouldn’t really won’t to piss her off.

I can sympathise with the locals here – we used to have a dinner lady like that at school.

The bloody annoying woman who is really starting to stoke my ire was muttering that she thought there might have been some people in fancy dresses and robes for her to photograph! – I counted to ten very slowly and waited for the red mist clouding my vision to dissipate, and resisting the urge to throw her from the alter ledge suggested instead that maybe the people of Nepal had their own lives to negotiate as opposed to performing for hers. As she spent the rest of the day complaining however, I got used to her constant whining and after a while I managed to select a hearing wavelength that negated her to mere background noises. Where she belonged.

The rest of the walk was high and beautiful but tiring. While I doubt we are high enough for any one to suffer any really altitude problems, we ARE high enough to make walking - shall we say – more of a sport! ‘Ram’: our guide pointed out Vultures and kites and of courses more ever present Minor birds. Again more lizards, here and there but no cows, goats or chickens…

About half the group took the easy option and took the bus back once we finished our sky-top walk – as Ram was walking back to the complex however we opted to go with him and see a little more of the area. The walk took us right to the foot of the hills we had spent the morning climbing and once at the basin floor, we made our way through the maize and rice fields that just a few hours ago had looked like an organic miniature patchwork quilt!

The plantation fields are divided only by narrow ledges – about 16" / 2ft higher than the field floors and maybe 9" across. While Ram and Pemba were of course apt and comfortable enough traversing these avenues – their charges were somewhat less adept at negotiating these thin roads! Therefore the calm of the afternoon sun melting the day into an early evening peace was broken by constant – oohs and aggghhhhhs and occasional Wahhhhhhs of inept British tourists with about as much natural suppleness as a wobble of sumo wrestlers walked – or rather fell off the paths.

It was with no little satisfaction that I watched irritating woman wobbling like a weeble and complaining that the road was too narrow. Then we had to climb a verge – maybe 4 / 5 ft or so… and irritating woman had to be hefted up by Ram – and guy maybe 5 ft high and MAYBE 6 stone… Mind you there must have been some muscle in there to lift up that bloated Munter.

As we neared the village again people were outside there homes relaxing in the lazy early evening sun. The kids would run round us laughing and playing – and asking us for sweets – while the adults looked on both bemused and intrigued – a lot of them smiling and laughing at us funny foreigners!. Following Ram I noticed a woman with a monkey sat on her shoulder. Charmed and curious I asked Ram what the deal was and he explained that in Nepal there are very few cats – dogs yes – but few cats, so instead some areas keep monkeys! Woah!! How brilliant is THAT ladies and gentlemen?!

Tired but incredibly content, we arrived back to the complex just as the sun left us and the moon said hello. To the West the back of the sun tailed out the last of his warming rays over the white capped mountains – while to the other horizon, the clear moon flashed it’s nightlight over us. Here miles from anywhere, the stars are incredibly bright and sharp so the night light is a lot more acute than we are used to back home.

Once washed and refreshed we had an outdoor barbecue in the Nepalese balmy evening and kicked back to relive a fantastic day with good food and better beer! Pemba managed to produce a guitar from somewhere and we treated (inflicted upon?) the group to some songs. Which for me was especially nice as I love playing and never get the chance to back home! Somehow we managed to assemble a band as various members of the hotel staff came out to join us and before too long we had a quintet of wailing musician and some remarkable dancers as entertainment. Ram proved to be an especial hit – his dancing was breathtaking – half kossack kick dancing and half whirling dirvish – he really was a sight to behold. With the whole evening being so spontaneous and natural I had a fantastic evening – rounding off one of those days you never want to forget!

As we broke up the party and repaired – tired by happy to our cots we heard the sound of drums rolling across the valley from the far side of the basin, from the Temple of Kali. The place we had wandered around in perfect tranquillity just hours before was awake and busy – celebrating the holiday as I described earlier. It was surreal listening to the drums washing ashore our side of the basin knowing that as we were settling down – across the way the celebrations and rituals would continue late into the night…

16.10.97

Gorka – Pokhara

Up with the lark again and bags packed, beer bills paid (I was dead nervous – I had to do this alone and was scared stiff that I would actually have to communicate with the staff but thankfully there were no great issues!) and breakfasts bolted – we all piled back into the bus for the four or so hour drive to Pokhara.

The drive was once again beautiful and breathtaking but ultimately, 20 people bundled into bus on a hot day will make for a pungent outcome! The road was bumpy and joints were cheerfully jolted while backsides gently bruised then hardened! The dexterity of our Nepalese hosts never ceased to amaze me. While we wobble about uncomfortably and awkward, they jump around, switch seats, climb onto the roof with impressive grace and stand in the moving bus for hours – seemingly unaffected.

We pulled into Pokhara at the top of the day. And almost instantly were taken to lunch while our guides sorted out our accommodation issues.

Pokhara is a vast, sprawling merchant town nestling on the shores of ‘Phewa Tal’ (Lake Phewa). It is maybe twice the size of Newcastle (Gil disagrees and maintains it isn’t all that big) and everything is for sale here! If I thought that Kathmandu was a shoppers delight, Pokhara eclipses this easily. Pretty much every building, hut, table, piece of ground is a shop. The place is basically one huge market stall.

We had some lunch at a restaurant on the shores of the lake… I’ll try and describe it to you if I may:

It is brilliantly hot, we are sat under the cover of a series of thatched table sun shades – the shade IS necessary. Members of the group twitter on about whatever it is they feel the need to twitter about while you lose yourself in the moment and all the superfluous noises fade away.

Looking out across the peaceful water you spy fish eagles and kites gliding and swooping – occasionally stooping to pluck shimmering slivers of fish from the lake. Taking their cue the fisherman head out to the eagles playground eager to join in the good fishing.

At the lakes shore kingfishers perch motionless until a lightning strike later they split the water and zip off. A movement in the thatch above catches your attention: a gheko impatiently waiting for you to eat and leave so he can gorge on your leftovers! Taking another sip of deliciously cold beer, you see yourself amid all this wonder in Paradise and realise that back home people will be ploughing, heads bowed and unthinking through their working days. And you realise that right here, right now, life is REALLY sweet!

We were granted an afternoon off to pass as we liked, although Pemba did suggest that if we wanted to do any shopping while in Nepal – here would be the best place to do it. So with travellers cheques changes and our pocket full of pennies we ventured out into the cozy heat of Pokhara and had a wee shop. Well, a fervent shop. Well, frantic. Well, we nearly bought the whole damned town!… You start off innocently enough looking at a nice pair of pants or whatever and then the little ferrety fella dashes up to you full of ‘Ahyessir’ ‘Isveryniceyes?’ ‘Youlikeyoubuy?’ and just when you are about to say no thanks they give you a price. A price which you would be an idiot not to haggle about because they are asking you for a comparatively high price. But it’s a price which is still about 800% CHEAPER than we would pay back home and the stuff in very good quality…

Oh yes haggling. I’m not very good at it I’m afraid and Gil is even worse! (Sorry Gil!) We are too soft. Monty Python taught us all how to haggle in the Life of Brian – but Gill and I are just too liberal – While the normal bartering process ought to take 5 minutes – with much sucking of air through pursed lips and pained expressions etc - with me it goes:

Vendor: £2.00 – sir-is-good-price-yes?

Me: Um – oh is this the bit where we haggle? - oh, OK then – um £1.95?

Vendor: DONE!

Well maybe not that bad! – We’ve been told that as a rule, 30% of the vendors asking prices gives us a good deal and the vendor a fair mark up and like I said the prices are so cheap here anyway it seems silly to try and haggle too hard! Think of it as haggling for pleasure!

And then your wallet becomes a little lighter and your packing prospects for the return trip become a little grimmer!

So, if memory serves we bought roughly 8 million pairs of trousers, 200 shorts, 27 hippy hooded tops, a load of jewellery, hats, gloves, jumpers, a small holding on the border between Nepal and Tibet, two Yaks, a Bhudist temple, a rug weaving patent, and shares in Air Biman. Well nearly…!

The rest of the day was our own, as was the evening, so on returning, we tried on all our new clothes again – obviously – then ventured out to a restaurant called ‘The Moondance’ which Gil chose using that age old female tool…: liking the name. It was a lovely night though and the restaurants dog proved to be a huge hit! – As a pet I mean – not as culinary option… I mean… oh never mind!

Following an easy meal and some most welcome beer we retired for and early night…with our new friend…

When we arrived at the hotel after lunch, Liz had screamed when she saw a cockroach under her pillow! – Obviously we found this very amusing – OUR guest for the evening however was a small gheko which I didn’t even notice until we went to bed and what I thought was a wall hook with a funny shadow cast from the streetlight started running around the wall! – It took a minute to get used to the idea and initially we thought to remove it – but all told, I LIKE the idea of a lizard in the room. It kind of highlighted the exotic nature of our time here – so he was granted a reprieve! It was odd listening to the pitter-patter of lizard feet flitting around the walls as we drifted off to sleep though!

17.10.97

Pokhara

After the laid back approach to yesterday – we were back with an itinerary today! Following our breakfast (As the milk out here is fowl I’ve taken to drinking tea black and as the tea is that much more – um - local the difference in taste is markedly better than the freeze dried tat we get back home!) we piled into the bus for a run halfway up the nearby hills. They were making us walk today but bless them they saved us an extra 6 / 7 miles or so!

So – we were tipped out of the bus at a Monastery (the World Peace Padoga) – which was utterly breathtaking both for it’s beauty, it’s situation and the bizarre sensations of peace within the Temple and the juxtaposition of mercantile assault to which we were subjected when the locals got a whiff of tourist cash!

The sky pointing domes of the temple reached up to the vultures and kites soaring in the forever above the Himalayan peaks around us while the air pulsed with the echoes of the children within reciting scripture and praying to the Bhuda. Beautiful! – like I said though, until we were besieged by a sea of vendors all desperate to make a sale – ‘you come to me for your goods yes – you go now – you by later yes? – and you were so terrified and relieved to get away that you said yes!

Flip-flops ahoy and inside the temple the murmurs of prayer were constant as the periphery of young boys recited over and over in a constant echo of scripture! Around the wall a huge freeze showed the story of the Budha’s quest to find the middle way while in the centre of the main room a grand statue of Budha sat inside a huge golden case.

Back outside we were awash in a sea of frantic selling and pleading and general chaos – after 5 minutes benevolence, Pemba shooed the urchins and die hard merchants away and we set off on our walk to the hilltop. As it was absolutely boiling hot though – we set off very slowly! But the walk WAS beautiful. Here in the height of the Nepalese summer it is properly hot – hat wearingly hot – sun-block necessarily hot! As we walked we were accompanied by some guy walking our way – barefoot (while we were all booted up) with a rug thing thrown over his shoulder. Co-incidence maybe?

Until we stopped and suddenly he flung out his rug and from nowhere completely covered it in hats, gloves, rings, bells, trinkets, rugs, throws, watches you name it – it was there – Quite where he had been storing all these – um goods makes the mind boggle and the eyes cross! And as if men walking miles with us for a five minute opportunity to sell a cheap tin bracelet wasn’t crazy enough – we bloody tourists were actually looking round and buying stuff from him! As long as I live I will NEVER understand human nature!

At one coke and tea stop, as we were being sold at, this little kid had a new way of selling his tinkly bells… He rang them. A lot. In my ear. Constantly. Apparently there are laws in Nepal preventing tourists from inserting bells into enthusiastic sellers so instead I had to just ignore him. That’s not being horrid but if you make eye contact with a Nepalese vendor they will not let you go until a sale has been made! – In other places this is probably called extortion!

Breaking out at the hills top, we stumbled across a small bogged outcrop where locals were churning the sludge with huge Oxen and saddled plough. It was like some Nepalese Turner scene – except for with fantastically blue skies, Oxen, little men in pointy hats … OK maybe not Turner… I’ll just go and stand over here…

It took us an hour – maybe two to reach the top of the hill and to find our lookout lunchtime destination. But the walk was SO worth it! In the midday blazing heat the sun burning eagerly (though not painfully) on our backs, we looked out across the huge lake dominated valley, at ‘Phewa Tal’ tinkling sunshine diamonds, at the hazing sprawling mass of Pokhara tailing off into the distance, all this in the silence of our own wonder and the wilderness peace before us. Around us vultures used the hillside thermals to soar and climb for height. And we just sat back and took it all in!

What goes up must come down, however and in our case this meant a couple of hours of descending steps. To which our knees registered a more than mild complaint!

Dropping down from the hilltop we walked through thick forest – maybe not Jungle but certainly sub-tropical The air was thick with the sound of monkeys chattering and crickets (ENORMOUS crickets) – chirping from every tree! The cover of the trees from the sun meant that although humid, the descent was less hot than our ascent – never-the-less we were glad to reach flatter ground. Turning to look back up the hill the seemingly eternal stairs seemed like an insurmountable challenge although in effect we were only 2 hours coming down them at an easy, un-rushed pace.

The bus was waiting for us here though we were capable of a little more walking and as time and distance allowed (we were only about three miles from the town) we opted to circumnavigate the lake shore and walk back to the hotel. It seems somehow a shame and a waste to go everywhere in the bus when there is the option to see and experience this on foot so any chance we got – we tended to walk and get as much out of everything as possible. This proved a piece of inspiration as the walk back was heavenly – not only generally (which made the trek worthwhile in itself) – but for two reasons. The first was a beautiful view of a Pariahs Kite which glided effortlessly over us and then circled – seemingly aimlessly, slowly away from us holding us and me a particular in an enchanted spell. The second point was to watch the sun as it sank into some cloud, illuminating the sky around it and throwing a blanket of rays down to the lake, like some epiphany scene from a movie!

An hour or so’s amble and we broke the rural suburbs once more and re-entered the town. Ten minutes on and we were enjoying a well earned beer on the veranda, looking back out to the lake, the Kites and Eagles circling over it and the hillside in the haze which had housed us all afternoon!

A quick shop (You can never have enough shopping here!) and a meal later, we spent a few hours sitting up with Pam and Gil drinking, laughing and probably keeping half the hotel up with our alcohol fuelled mirth!

18.10.97

Pokhara

Woke up with the squits. Nice! Bunged it up with a selection of Nepal’s finest razor-wire toilet paper and loads of chemicals, before joining the group for the day’s adventure! Had I not been in such – um dire straits and therefore concentrating really hard on the things inside me instead of around me, I would doubtless have enjoyed the beginning of the walk more than I did! However it still provided us with some breathtaking sights and views.

Walking though light forest clearings – and grassy hills we were out and about before the sun reached blazing temperatures and were therefore comfortably warm, Had to dash off to the bushes once though – much to the groups amusement. After this though – um ‘things’ settled down a little and I was able to appreciate the stunning surroundings a little more. Around us the sparse trees began to thicken – overhead buzzards and hawks started usurping the rising air to circle higher and higher. As we ventured deeper and hit the actual tree line the forest enveloped us and hijacked the worst of the sun from us!

In the forest we stopped to watch a troop of monkeys foraging and playing in the trees nearby and also to look at a squawk of parrots cutting the increasingly humid air with their rude cacophony.

As the morning wound towards midday and my stomach was no longer twitching my body decided to gift me a new sensation: Prickly heat. Oh my God how bloody irritating is Prickly Heat? What started as a mild tickle took about half an hour to turn all my legs bright pink with huge blotches of burning irritation flaring painfully whenever it came into contact with anything. It got so bad that I resorted to cutting my long shorts into 1970 short – shorts to try and reduce the pain. Though it passed within a few hours it was one of the most unbelievably annoying things I have ever experienced.

At midday we reached our lunch time destination, an old Japanese temple – picturesque but ultimately just nice to look at, but it was here that I witnessed one of the most bizarre sights in this strange country:

A little way up the hill, construction was underway on some huge concrete monstrosity. On the edge of the little outcrop where we sat looking out over Pokhara and the lake backed by yesterdays hill, there were some bags of concrete waiting to be moved up the hill to the building site. As we sat munching our lunchies two men and two girls arrived and set about doing something with the sacks – Idly looking on we wondered why the two strong looking men had brought the frankly willowy looking girls along…

The two men stooped and with much huffing and puffing managed (just) to lift one of the huge sacks of concrete. Then one of the girls stepped forward and wrapped what looked like a huge ‘Alice band’ round her head which hung long down her back about as far down as her waist. Then to my bewilderment and horror the two guys hoisted the sack onto the back of the band – securing into the base of the sling, and then with a pat on the back sent her staggering off up the hill towards the building site. This process was repeated with the second girl. While they waited for the first girl to return they shared a cigarette and idly passed the five minutes until they had to repeat the whole thing again.

How bizarre! I know the working practices here are different to what we know back home but bugger me!, this was just too weird to understand! I knew the women worked bloody hard over here but never fully understood the extent compared to the idleness of the men. Now that’s what I CALL social gender equilibrium in the work place!

Not quite fully recovered from the culture shock of seeing such a astonishing gender role reversal, we set off on our descent from the cliff top lookout, through the steep forest path towards the lakeside. On route Pemba stopped us to point out a leech – just a little chap - walking along the ground – I never realise how fast they can move – I always bracketed them in with slugs and snails – but this little chap was really going for it.

Within an hour we had reached the bottom of the hill and were all taking it easy in an idyllic garden restaurant – captivated by the beautiful butterflies and zipping hummingbirds. Then Roger approached Pemba and asked what he should do about ‘this’ – and pulled down his sock to reveal the biggest slimiest leech in the world (aren’t they all!?). So Pemba peeled the offending vampire invertebrate off Rogers foot, leaving behind a gruesome carpet of blood to a chorus Eeeeeeeeee’s’ and Euuuuugggghhhhh!s’ and treated it to a salt bath – end of leech. It certainly gave everyone a huge shudder though!

After lunch, we were all herded into a fleet of canoes – three to a boat – and we were punted back to the town side of the lake. Well, just. I’m learning more and more to be alert to everything over here – always question anything you don’t understand and if a man says yes - , he invariably means ‘I’ve no idea but I want your cash!’. So when the canoe captain (!?!) gave Liz a mug to hold she naturally just assumed that she was the chosen carrier for his special mug.

As we left shore side and ventured out into the lake proper I was impressed by the guys show of strength – he was certainly putting a lot of effort into getting us back to town promptly. Mind you when the boat you’ve just weighed down with250 kg’s of people has a zonking great hole in it, I guess the impetus to reach dry land becomes a tad more urgent! So over to you Liz – and why do the think the man gave you a cup to hold??? – So you could bail of course!

So we got back to land nearly dry with most of our gear only marginally drenched! Then the cheeky little sod wanted paying as well! I am a gentleman however, and as I am over here where I feel I am beginning to understand the gender structure, I let Gill and Liz get the fare! – Well when in Nepal…

We had a run out to a lovely waterfall on the town’s outskirts and tried to go to a museum which was closed – so we went to another and managed to get some incite into a few of the cultural issues of Nepal… like some of the holidays… In Nepal there are a couple of holidays specifically to celebrate the men. No really! The deal is that the women – more so than usual – apply themselves to treating and spoiling the men – um because they want to or something. I’m just waiting for the revolution to hit the UK!

On our return to town we did a bit more shopping and picked up some trousers we’d had tailor made (Nepal isn’t really used to 6ft monsters and so I had a couple of things measured up for me!). Then following food, we treated Liz to a drink to thank her for saving us from a watery grave this afternoon! Then as we are on the move again tomorrow packed our bags and stumbled off to bed.

19.10.97

Pokhara – Chitawan borders

We said goodbye to Pokhara and hit the road once again and headed back along the river scored valley. Stopping periodically for photographs, obviously. We are tourists after all. After a 3 – 4 hours drive along the river valley – with the sparkling water leading us on beneath the azur skies topped by the beaming sun smiling down – we were eventually dropped off and the river shore for the days entertainment… River rafting!

A brief bite to eat while we watched foraging troops of monkeys on the far shore making their way along the forest top roads and then we donned our less than groovy looking life jackets and helmets and made our way to the inviting looking water. Our guide got us all in the two dingys and after some initial explanations about what to do if you get thrown onto the rocks and have your head dashed open while the currents drag you under… (the answer seemingly being: Not much) we set off.

The first 20 minutes or so were very quiet, allowing us to practice ‘forward’, ‘Back’, ‘Left’ – ‘Other Left’, ‘fast’, ‘faster’, ‘not that fast’ etc. But it also allowed us a while to take in the breath-taking beauty of our surroundings.

The stunning, awe-inspiring affect of what we saw probably doesn’t translate very well to the page but I’ll try regardless. We floated carelessly downstream, comfortable in the rivers easy pace. Occasionally large pied kingfishers would dart from shore side boughs or would bomb into the river. Impossibly high over-head, Mountain vultures circled – looking like mere specs on our eye lenses!

The water winked and shined all around us, lapping soundlessly on the shores to either side of us which rose steeply on both sides disappearing into the magnificence of the mountains topping out snow capped and perfect impossibly high above us. The peace of the river seemed to be imperceptibly acknowledged by us all simply by our reverential silence – reflecting the serenity of this mighty natural cathedral. Indeed perhaps the omnipotent beauty all around us as we floated through paradise brought us closer to God than any man made shed could ever do.

What struck me was the quiet assurance of our Rafting guide. He just smiled knowingly at our wonder and description defying sense of peace. It was obvious that he had seen this reaction a million times and would likely do so a million times again. But also he understood this peace which held us spellbound. This was his place and he knew its power and perfection. There was a whole big bad world out there bringing a whole host of different people to him and to which we would all return… but he knew that he was in paradise!

The spellbinding enchantment of peace was however gently dissipated as the river course began to assume a more lively aspect… and the rapids became an exciting distraction from the tranquillity of the easy currents. As the pace picked up and the dingy began to turn and lurch with the increasingly violent currents, riding the rapids actually began to mean something. There was a sense of community within the boat, a team of people all working together, all HAVING to work together to navigate the rapids and stay in the boat. As the river became angrier and more volatile, we had to struggle to stay inside our craft as it tried to jolt and throw us out!

Being right at the front of the raft I was unaware how roughly we were being flung about but Ron later told me what he could see from the from the back:

1. At times the dingy was bent at 90 degrees when in full toss
2. At times myself and Richard – the other guy at the front, were considerably higher than Rons head!.

The buzz to be had from this kind of activity has always baffled me in the past. I mean, what is the big deal about getting thrown about in a rubber dingy? – The answer though appears to be… It just IS a buzz OK?! – The adrenaline, the aforementioned sense of team-work, the sensation overload: blurred sights of river spray, sounds of water crashing all around, shouted directions from the guide your own breathing and great whoops as you receive a drenching from the river waves. The feeling of cold water slapping your face as you shake it off and paddle for your lives! The surge of endorphins flooding your system… Like I said it’s difficult to describe but in effect it’s a washing machine of emotions and feeling, but a terrific feeling.

One particular flow of rapids called the pinball proved to be very aptly namedand ensured that by the time we reached calmer waters, we were all soaked yet fired with exhilaration and glowing with irrepressible joy! – We also had a water fight with the other canoe in which Captain Hayton Horn-blower drenched all of the other boat and succeeded in wedging them again a rock! – Hoorah!

Eventually we were back at the serenity of the river shore – handing back our helmets all of us unable to stop grinning we gazed out over the sparkling diamond topped river winking back at us with the memory of our joint adventure a secret between only us and the river.

Then we were back on bus and within and hour pulling into the grounds of a very swanky hotel – I’m guessing that having put us through the mill all afternoon the plan was to give us some luxury to quell any rising voices of discontent – Mind you they weren’t going to get anything like that from me – I’ve been having a whale of a time.

First thing was first of course and we all jumped straight into the pool and splashed around to our hearts content – as if we hadn’t seen enough water all afternoon!

The day had taken it’s toll on us all and with another early start tomorrow there weren’t many of us burning the midnight oil tonight! – One thing that does stick in my mind however were the bowls of nuts they had dotted around the lounges – VERY spicey!

20.10.97

Chitawan

Very silly o’clocks in the morning are by now becoming the norm on this holiday but today we beat the dawn to the day and were turning off the main road and heading into the wilderness while the world was still in slumber… The hour or so drive to the Chitawan reserve centre was remarkable for the amazing road we followed. Never, EVER at any time does it EVER threaten to submit to the traditional flat ethos to which so many other routes (admittedly not so much in Nepal!) have submitted. So shaken and very much stirred we eventually pulled into the Chitawan complex and easing bruised bottoms and weary sores (from yesterday) we collapsed into the chairs on a patio and as the sun threatened to grace the day – waited for our breakfast.

I guess only the English would drive into the Nepalese jungle and plop themselves round a table and wait for some tea… meanwhile activity around us hinted at something about to happen…

As so it was that at 6.30 in the morning while the rest of the world was unconscious or just cranking open sleep gummed eyes, that we stepped off the edge of a 12ft balcony and into the cushioned baskets secured atop our Elephant rides and amid a chorus of ‘oooohs’ ‘arrgghhh’ and ‘Eeeeks’ ventured into the forest.

Sitting 10 feet off the ground on the back of the worlds largest land animal can probably not be adequately described. A feeling of awe, wonder, childlike curiosity and even more childlike gigglishness when one of the mighty beasts lets rip a 20 seconds colon cough – the world becomes a very weird and wonderful place! With every ponderous step the basket would shift a little first one way then the other – never enough to warrant the basket to be threatened but generally enough to worry you into THINKING the basket needed to be more securely fastened! However soon enough you get used to the rhythm of the walk and the wonder of your surroundings breaks the spell of looking down at the enormous flanks effortlessly negotiating the forest floor below

The beast wonderfully meek and gentle yet inescapably mighty and all powerful softly made her way through the trees and into the veil of the forest. Her breathing heavy but not laboured – the musty, dusty smell of what I guess all large animals must smell like – not unpleasant and in tandem with the thrill of simply being honoured enough to be carried by her – the whole experience awoke all my senses and instincts:

While the world plodded by under the unstoppable feet of our ride, the air was filled with new sounds (beyond the thunder of the Elephant’s steps) the high pitched trilling of millions of flitting insects all waking and taking to the air. It’s odd but there’s a sense of reverential silence when riding on elephant back. It seems just too rude to talk very much as that gets in the way of marvelling that you are actually on elephant back!

The first part of the trek was to cross the river which was one of the most surreal experiences ever! Simply because not only were we just getting used to the movements of the elephant, but looking down and seeing the fast flowing river rushing between these huge tree trunk legs and feeling the motion pushing against the elephants legs completely confused my inner ear and sense of balance! – All the time I felt like the elephant was toppling over or that we were falling – simply because I was sat still – on a strange moving beast, traversing fast flowing river – my senses were all vying for attention!

Here, just above elephant head height, one’s head is pretty much at lower canopy level – so you have to brush the occasional sweeping fond from in front of your face – however this being a jungle forest it means that bits of greenery aren’t the only problem… Long trailing, elegant wisps of webs from unimaginable monsters trail and catch the face and hair. Insects far too big and colourful for their own good stop to rest for a moment on your top – staying just long enough to prompt a full and complete bowel evacuation and then buzz off cutting through the warming air.

Sat astride the elephants neck, our guide would direct it by wiggling his legs and chattering endlessly to the beast… oh and by whacking it with a big stick! Watching the – I don’t know what you’d call him – driver?, Rider? Left just say guide I picked up the fundamental controls for driving an elephant pretty quick:

1. To go forward – whack it with stick
2. To stop – Whack it with stick
3. Left – Whack it with stick
4. Can you guess how he made it turn right??

OK! OK! so there was a bit more to it than that – waggling legs round the ears and gibbering at it etc – but the general premise to driving an elephant seems to be belt it as hard as you can with a big stick – which at first appears pretty harsh – but bear in mid that to an elephant being hit by a human must be akin to us being whipped by balloon! – With a hide and skin that thick I guess a polite prod probably wouldn’t even register in the animals sensory system!

Lumbering around the Nepalese jungle screaming only occasionally at whatever insect monsters just grinned up from your shoulder, but otherwise gazing dumbfounded at the paradise around you, the sights and sounds and smells, the tidal wave of new sensations and feelings, life seemed as though it couldn’t get much better. Then it did.

Hearing a call to our left our guide lead us in that direction. Breaking with gentle force through the bushes into a clearing, we came face to face with a Black Rhino.

Standing half submerged in a gooey mud pit he was contemplating the other elephant in the clearing and some people on foot also staring awe-struck at such a magnificent animal. It was a moment in my life were time stood still and all sound seemed to drain from the world. The Rhino stood impassive with supreme ambivalence while we tourists moaned and groaned in barely suppressed excitement. Indeed the only movement betraying signs of life were the occasional twitch of it’s ears – otherwise it’s unbreakable stare assessed us all and succeeded in making us feeling utterly insignificant!

Having seen enough, our guide took us away – leaving the Rhino in peace and while we craned our necks to get one last look we crashed on further into the forest. Further on the trek we saw spotted deer darting into the undergrowth and also a flash of wild boar careering out of the path of our ride! – oh that’s as well as hearing the monkey cries – the constant amazing insects and hawks and vultures over head and parakeets and other beautiful birds flitting through the canopy.

After an hour or so were lumbering back to the centre and clumsily scrambling back onto the balcony and collapsing gibbering with excitement into the chairs and tucking into eggs and toast. Then it hit me – what a wonderfully bizarre holiday this was: An elephant ride into the Jungle to go Rhino watching… BEFORE Breakfast !

Bonkers!!!

After breakfast and with thirty minutes to come back down to earth we were off again – into Hawaii 5.0 style canoes for a drift down the river into the forest. By the river-side, kingfishers darted from one branch to another – on the far shore wading birds stalked around mud flats like children on stilts – while above us hawks circled on the hot currents and all the while from the forest cover we heard cries and call from God only knows what!

Following a look around the Park’s Museum we were stood around waiting for the group to catch up when one of the most amazing things in my life happened.

From around the corner following a guide with a handful of fruit waddled ‘Kooma’, a two year old baby Rhino. ‘Kooma’ was orphaned at only a few weeks and had been taken in by the guides but wasn’t a pet. He was comfortable with humans but still very much untamed – he was still destined to be a wild rhino (His named come s from the Nepalese for Virgin!).

Enticed over by the promised of mushy fruit the little fella (Well half a tonne and chest height) came over quite fearlessly and allowed us all to feed to him and stroke him… I petted a bloody Rhino!!!

So, as this is a written journal how the hell can I adequately describe petting one of the worlds most dangerous animals?!? While two hours earlier we were hushed into stunned awe filled silence at the sight of one of these impossibly untouchable monsters face to face here we were actually stroking the face of one of the same said creatures and tousling his ears!

After some general petting and wondrous gazing, one of the guides motioned me to rub the baby’s tummy – jumping at the chance to be more involved I did as the guide did and rubbed his tummy – thinking nothing more of it than a wonderful chance to pet him some more. Then after two minutes the ‘baby’ in question keeled over and crashed to the ground sound asleep! – The tummy rubbing thing on top of a full stomach seemingly a fail-safe lullaby to hush big babies to sleep. The easiest way I can describe kneeling by this babies huge head stroking his warm leathery neck is like the scene from Jurassic Park where Sam Neil is stroking the Triceratops!

While my new found friend dozed blissfully – I noticed some of the stranger things I never dreamed I would ever get to experience. For example the pads of a rhinos feet are incredibly soft – almost like a hot water bottle to touch – they give to the touch and I guess absorb a lot of all that weight – but I never expected a Rhinos foot to be soft and pliable. (but then again I never EVER thought I would get the chance to touch one – at least and still live to tell the tale!) The folds of skin around the neck were also very soft – especially on the insides of the folds – so gentle and delicate – and yet I would never have dreamed that would be the case.

It was difficult to associate this beautiful gently snoring lump of cuddle-some beauty with the wild, tank like knot of potential destruction he would one day become. On stringing out this remarkable experience for as long as I could – even bending forward to rest my head on his neck (– so soft I could have slept with him as a great cushion / bed!) – we eventually and in my case reluctantly decided to take our leave and grant our little baby some peace and return to our canoes. But the intensity with which those images are burned onto my memory is testament to the epiphanic nature of those impossibly precious moments.

Once back at the centre we were treated to another impromptu Elephant ride but not in the same style as this mornings, this one was a little more – hands on… Following a quick talk about the reserves elephants (the park boasts wild elephant as well as the rides we have experienced) we were all offered the chance to climb aboard one – Wild-Jungle-man style!… And no one seemed bothered… HELLO! – chance to ride an Elephant bare-back !!! – Well I was up like a shot and before you could say ‘hupsadaisy’ I was astride the biggest pair of shoulders I imagine I will ever get to sit on and being hosted high into the air!

Sitting there, feeling (– if not looking!) like Tarzan lord of the jungle I had a ride round the compound – marvelling all the while at this amazing beast bearing me – feeling the hunch of her shoulders sloping one side then the other as she took her ponderous steps around the yard. With a smile as broad as it probably was gormless, I sat in the Jungle sunshine, king of all I surveyed proudly perched a top my elephant! Fantastic!

After this and with the last hour or so of sunlight still available to us we hopped once more from the balcony into our elephant back baskets and lumbered back into the forest for another ramble around Paradises garden. A little more used to the movement of the basket not we were able to take a little more of the sights and sounds around us in.

We were lucky enough to spy more rhinos – one of which got bored of us and very rudely turned it’s back and wondered off without a by your leave! More deer leapt out of the bushes and squealing boar bolted from the covering undergrowth away from our transports feet! Once out in the open we saw wild peacocks sitting proudly gazing out over the brush and a never ending list of wading birds, egrets, hawks, vultures, stick insects, scary spiders, and colourful parakeets… sadly my memory fades were my wonder left off!

The journey back to the complex was illuminated by the most vivid, wonderfully violent display of sunset I have ever seen. Looking around the shallow river our rides were negotiating, I watched as the other elephants lumbered on fording the water as the forest behind them settled for the evening shift while above like a day time aurora storm, the sky rippled lava flows of light over this Paradise place!

Once back at the complex we finally had a chance to wash and change before dinner (A HUGE nosh up! And a few well deserved beers) and we were then treated to a traditional Nepalese stick dance. Oh alright then! – Morris dancing without the bells! – oh and significantly more violent!. Having seen it done perfectly by the experts we were all invited to get up and make complete arses of ourselves by joining in – which of course we did! Where artistic movement and dancing ability deserted us – hopeless enthusiasm and beer fuelled self-belief bridged the gaps!

Finally we stumbled back to our huts and for the first time got to sit down properly. The Jungle huts here are the only accommodation on the trip without 20^th century facilities so our light source was a fuel lamp and our torches – and as such this seemed very fitting – to have had electricity out here in a largely unspoilt nirvana would have seemed very wrong somehow.

Still overwhelmed and over-stimulated by the day events (was it really all just one day?) sleep took a little while to come. As I lay there in the Jungle darkness listening to both the soft pitter-patter of lizard feet scampering around in the thatched roof above and to the cacophony of howls, shrieked, growls and calls from the jungle world outside I tried to replay the whole amazing day back in my mind. Elephant rides, Wild rhinos, bareback elephant rides, cuddling baby rhinos!, a whole wild wonderland all around… I just can not get my head around all the incredible things I have seen felt and experienced in one day! Eventually in a vortex of memories, thoughts and inspirations, sleep came and tucked in and kissed goodnight to the most amazing day of my entire life.

21.10.97

Chitawan

Another early wake up call, and as the jungle around us came into dawns focus we set out towards the Parks crocodile breeding enclosure. On route as we followed the river we saw some wild crocodiles warming in the rapidly intensifying suns rays. Though I’ll save description for later on, the thrill of seeing crocodiles in the while made for a thought provoking wake-up call to blow away the sleep from puffy tired eyes!

Further along the drive we approached what we thought was a small crocodile– maybe 2 ft long, standing quite demurely on the far side of the stream we were driving parallel to. Closer inspection however showed it to me a mongoose! It’s odd, of all the animals we would stand a chance of seeing in the world I never expected to see a mongoose. Dust brown and bright eyed he regarded us for a while before dismissing us with a flash of his tail and scampering off into the undergrowth!

Another half hour’s drive and we were at the crocodile breeding centre. There are two types of crocodiles native to Nepal, the long thin snouted fish eating crocs and the man eaters appropriately named muggas. It seemed a little bizarre to see these astonishing creatures up close and yet enclosed! – but was a thrill all the same. Largely unchanged in designed since before the age of the dinosaurs (400 million years give or take…) these really are an awe inspiring sight. The sizes ranged from little cutesy hand sized ones to monsters up to 15 ft long – and ALL equipped with an unblinking ability to outstare the dead!

One enclosure we saw had about 50 or so large crocodiles all writhing and clambering over each other looking like something from an Indiana Jones movie, the thrill that ran through me was more excitement than revulsion – but I can see how these magnificent monsters might give people the willies. Especially if there wasn’t substantial cage wire to separate us!

Leaving behind the malevolent looking crocodiles, we went on to the Elephant breeding sanctuary where among all the huge beasts, stood a little surprise… Tottering around his cage while mummy looked on lovingly, wobbled a baby elephant, so young he hadn’t yet been named, gallantly doing battle with uncontrollable balance, gravity and a whole new world of sight smells and noise!

So treasured and precious was this little baby that other parties weren’t allowed to see – him but luckily Pemba our guide is friend to all and as long as we promised not to photograph the little guy (He is such a gem that the only photos taken of him just now are promotional ones for the park) we were granted access.

World like ‘adorable’, ‘cute’ and ‘oooooooooooooooooooooh’ are generally reserved for girls but the little chap won us over as soon as he heedlessly came staggering over to see what we were! – I suppose so young as to have not yet learned to be wary of man – he therefore knew no fear of us and came over quite independently, full of curiosity and eagerness.

Of course such is the nature of an elephants curiosity that the vast majority of finding things out is done with the prehensile trunk, the tip of which is surprisingly dextrous and wonderfully agile! More like a human finger than a Monsters nose, the tip explored us all – all but shaking hands and burrowing into our outstretched palms to understand what and who we were. All the while Mum kept a wary eye on us but she seemed comfortable enough as long as peewee was still visible!

Of course I started to get a little concerned when our new friend took a sudden and quite single-mindedly determined interest in the contents of my shorts! – whether or not he thought there was one of his own kind among us I don’t know but being touched up by a baby elephant isn’t one of those things I especially want to be remembered for! – amorous curiosities aside, the elephant proved a real heart warmer – stroking and petting him bringing back memories of yesterdays encounter with ‘Kooma’ – his skin was so soft and warm – feeling more like a freshly vacated duvet than an elephant!

Last strokes and doe-eyed gazes later we stopped for some brunch then dropped back down to the river where we got into canoes and pushed off into the rivers current. Drifting downstream we saw crocodiles in their real wild element – and when you are sat in a thin canoe, they suddenly seem an awful lot bigger! But the thrill of seeing them basking on the sandbanks or lazily snaking through the water was marvellous! The sun shone down and while giant dragonflies rested occasionally on us, we sank back and just took it all in. Of course the fact that a) our canoe wasn’t fully watertight and b) was bloody uncomfortable meant that when, two hours later we arrived back at the complex we weren’t too sorry to get out to try and rediscover the standing position.

After lunch – yes all that happened in just a morning!, It was time for something I’d been looking forward to all day… bath time with the Elephants! Without needing a second invitation I jumped onto the elephant’s back, dropped to a sitting position, leaned forward and hugging his beautiful leathery but soft neck received a right royal drenching! So many experiences have left me feeling lost for words, awash with feeling and childlike in the striking simplicity of the happiness this holiday has given me, but receiving a shower from an elephant is just the most delicious regressive therapy I can imagine!

In the blistering heat of the tropical afternoon sun, the splashing cool blasting from the elephants trunk was invigorating and most welcome! And the sense of playing with the elephant – that she was enjoying the game as well ensured that the whole experience was a treasure never to be forgotten. I couldn’t believe that some people didn’t want to get on and try it – This time, this feeling, this indescribable happiness and joy, this sense of ecstatic delirium that made me never want to stop and indeed unable to stop smiling like an imbecile! Such was the charm of this time I’m afraid words fail me…

We were granted 20 minutes respite before our afternoon trek on foot into the jungle. Some of the miracles we saw included getting to within touching distance of an adult wild Rhino (which in hindsight was probably a terrible risk- bearing in mind that Rhino’s account for more fatalities in the Park (over 80 at the last count) than any thing else (Tigers, boar, snakes spiders etc). But it was a huge thrill all the same.

Crouching on the riverside we saw the Muggas lying in ambush malevolently eyeing the egrets and storks preparing to roost in the river side boughs. One Crocodile we crept to within 2 metres of was fully 15 feet long and built like some primeval aquatic armoured vehicle! When I realised exactly how big it was and how near we were to it – and that the only thing between it and us was just a few inches of air – I was both thrilled and alarmed at the same time!

The thing that I will probably remember most about the walk however was looking down after we had walked through boggy bit of the trail and seeing a two inch long leech stalking up my trouser leg! – Doubtless making it’s way towards the soft blood rich flesh of my stomach – luckily we caught it in time and whipped the little sucker off before it had time to start feasting on me! Richard however was not so lucky and he managed to collect SIX leeches all in the same sitting and all which had started to feed on him. I was watching when he lifted his t-shirt to reveal one particular monster burrowing into his belly flesh, wiggling around like some freshly prolapsed intestinal tube all the while sucking and drawing on his blood! – Tigers and Rhinos be buggered, leeches were the main worry here!

Phwoooooaaaaggghhhh – makes me shiver just remembering it!

While the rest of the walk was still marvellous and breathtaking, we all had phantom itches and ghost sensations of invisible leeches troubling our minds until we got back to the lodge. The first thing I did, on returning, was to take all by clothes off bar on piece of posterity saving grace (this was in public!) and check every, and I do mean EVERY, nook and cranny for any vampiryc hitchhikers! – Luckily there were non. Anya however found one on her person, pulled it off, threw it on the floor and stamped on it – at which point it exploded blood, HER blood, all over the floor. She almost fainted!

Another thing worthy of note was a Thunderhead forming as we lumbered back towards the

Complex. Like something out of a documentary I watched fascinated as a single huge slab of cloud like an enormous grey marshmallow in the sky, formed, thickened and churned into itself over the Tropical forest. Inside it, jagged forks of lightening and occasional flashes of electricity would illuminate the whole formation – all in absolute silence. Not a rumble of thunder!

Once back and showered at the complex we wondered over to one of the observation points overlooking the river and spied an ENORMOUS crocodile at least twice my size, basking in the fading Jungle sun. This despite the fact that we had seen assured that the dangerous Muggas never came this far down the river! – But it really was an impressive sight – and while some of our group were twittering about it being dangerous, I just felt so fortunate to be able to watch such an impressive animal at my leisure. Having this animal so close wasn’t a danger! – it was honour!

That night I dreamt that a huge 2 ft leech was stuck to my knackers, I woke up whimpering and curled in a foetal position – moaning and clutching myself! – Now I WONDER why I dreamt that?!

22.10.97

Chitawan to Nagarcot

This holiday has snowballed so much! – In the beginning, each day was just so perfectly slow and relaxed… now every morning is pre-dawn and the days have been so jam packed with experiences, sights, sensations and opportunity that my head spins to try and remember them all and my mind boggles at the short space in which it has all fitted in! So to spend the majority of the day back in the bus we’ve all come to regard as our second home, made for a bizarre alternative.

Leaving behind the beauty of the Chitawan National Park driving past an ENORMOUS Marabou stork sat hunched by the road side as we left, we headed back towards the Newari basin and beyond. The drive was long and pretty boring – but, I guess, gave us some time to relax and take things in.

The lunch time stop at a riverside café was welcome respite from the bus’s confined heat and also allowed us to relax while the most striking beautiful butterflies flitted by – some larger than my hand – and some blessed with electric blue and green colouring that in the Nepalese midday sun sparkled from the flowers petals!.

Then back on the bus and on through Kathmandu and up the far side of the basin where the monotony of the previous 6 hours drive was contrasted sharply by the trouser filling terror of the very sharp incline up the mountain passes. 180 degree bends around precarious precipices over rock strewn and crumbling tracks – the bus bouncing over the uneven road and then swinging round another stomach churning bend the charm seemingly being that with each turn and throat knotting sway you could see the endless drop down which your end could at any moment suddenly be! All in all I’d say terror wise on a scale of one to ten it was trouser clips time for a good half hour – the tension mounting as the road wound ever higher and therefore the floor below wound ever further away!

The views provided by this death defying ascent however were absolutely beautiful. Once we arrived at our mountain top refuge (Think ‘7 Years in Tibet’), we dumped our stuff and went out for a walk to some of the view points around us. Looking one way the failing afternoon light shone over the Newarii basin and impossibly far away Kathmandu – turning away to face the Himalayan Peaks of Langtang and friends reached to the sky the views and subsequent sense of wonder was utterly breathtaking.

The weather here is probably worthy of note at this stage. After the blistering heat of Pokhara and the equally if more humid heat of Chitawan – up here in the mountains the weather is a lot more volatile – and independent… let me explain:

As we wound our way back around the side of the mountain and only 5 minutes from our complex I stopped and allowed the others to go on, then sitting and getting myself comfortable I gazed out across the valley floor separating the mountain we were on from a nearby peak, about the same size – possibly a little higher. Our neighbouring mountain was boasting it’s own thunderstorm. Selfishly hogging it’s own climate, it sat immersed in lightening, thunder and rain - while I sat contentedly munching my chocolate bar no more than 500 meters away in the watery failing evening sun. This peculiar experience is I guess very typical of my time in this amazing country and as such doesn’t bewilder as much as makes me smile at the memories of miracles in Paradise!

Tired by a day of little activity and much travel – the evening slipped by quietly and another day went.

23.10.97

Nagarcot – Kathmandu

The 5 a.m. wake up call was specifically to give us the chance to watch the sunrise over the Himalayas and would be our best chance to see Everest from the ground. The sunrise itself was a religious experience in terms of the beauty and serenity of the silent scene before us. Bathing the sky a gorgeously soft tangerine before making its appearance, the sun slowly gave it’s blessing to the world and smiled on another day.

Everest eluded us for an hour however until after breakfast when the post dawn veils of mist cleared to reveal the mountain still towering over the other earth bound leviathans – even though we were over 70 miles away from it!

With bags packed and buses loaded we walked the mile or so to a nearby Japanese temple which looked out back over the Newarii basin and on to Kathmandu – our ultimate target for the day. Following photos and a look around we piled back into the coach and headed to the ancient capital city of Bhaktapur, basically the older more authentic part of Kathmandu. At this time it is basically festival time right across the country and today seemed to be the climax of this. All across the city dancers danced, jugglers juggled players played and huge Dragons – er dragoned… Well you get the idea! – In the central plaza dancing plays were re-enacted with heroes defeating dragons and good dragons saving the day and… Oh I don’t know it was all just a jaw dropping blur of colours, sound, sights, smells, children laughing and people eating noodles! – Utterly captivating though!

Following a couple of hours at Bhaktapur we then headed over to the other side of the city to the Golden Temple at Pantang – where we span prayer wheels and gazed at the monkeys jumping around on the temple walls!

Then like a bus full of prodigal sons – we pulled to the Kathmandu City central and fell into our hotel!

With a some pre-emptive packing completed (I had bought an extra bag at Pokhara such was the extent of our shopping) we ventured out into the Tamil part of the town for a last night meal and a last second shop (and yes I DID manage to buy another pair of trousers and another top!).

For reasons known only to Pemba our last night in Nepal saw us eating at a Mexican restaurant… - but the food SEEMED ok and presently, we repaired back to the hotel for a couple of last nighty drinks before closing our last day in Nepal.

24.10.97

Kathmandu – Home

I woke up this morning thinking and in turn wishing I was dead. Violent diarrhoea and equally explosive vomiting requires little descriptive embroidering and yet the emphasis of both can not be underestimated!

Needless to say I was in abject misery and inconsolable with the dread of travelling half way round the world. Pemba kindly bombed off to get some chemicals to stem the flow of my life force fluids erupting from me and although I felt I couldn’t bear it – we headed for the airport. Waiting in eternal queues – I lost both patience and reason and wandered off straight past the customs and armed guards without anyone checking anything although I dimly remember the guards calling me – I just walked off, found a corner and Promptly went to sleep! The rest of the group caught me up and woke me in time to get on the plane – whence I fell asleep again before take off. I was woken when we landed at Dhaka and stayed awake long enough to disembark and catch the bus to the Airports hotel where we were put up for the afternoon rather than hanging around the airport.

As far as I was concerned this was a Godsend as it meant I could curl up on the bed and sleep some more! All I remember about that afternoon was that Green Day were on MTV! – And the view from our Hotel window – looking out across the Bangladeshi Capital was all high-rise skyscrapers and little ant like people scurrying through their lives, far below.

Getting back on the bus – we had to walk through a man made tunnel of beggars all calling out for supplication, food and money – but around us the guards would push away anyone who got too close to us and we felt afraid to give anything in case we got someone into trouble. From the bus we passed out some food and change but still felt useless at not being able to help!

Once on the bus we had the joy of running the gauntlet of Bangladeshi traffic. The windscreen of our bus was patched to try and hide the BULLET HOLES that populated it! Our driver then proceeded to cheerfully try and kill a rickshaw peddler who then spent the next 5 minutes madly pedalling to keep up and between burst of what I imagine to have been pretty abusive shouting seemed to try and nudge us off the road!!! – seriously!

The evening air was less intense than the rest of the day and despite feeling indescribably ill, I remember noticing things like the large bats (about seagull size) gliding among the buildings high rafters – while our group looked to fritter their last pennies on inconsequential knick-knacks and flight reading materials.

Then we were herded back onto our flying shed and once more back high in the air – with the only points of interest being a brief stop over in Kuwait and later the view of the Alps from the air. Our descent down the Paris remains in my memory for the fact that as soon as the fasten your seatbelts light came on a stab of pain in my guts told me in no uncertain way that I had to go to the loo VERY soon. Seconds not minutes. So I bolted past the incandescent air stewardess’s and went into the toilets at 30,000 ft and came out at about 15 ft! I resumed my seat and we landed within seconds!

Spirits lifted by being so near home it was a minor irritation therefore to be delayed in Paris for one of those "10 minutes, no half an hour – no a couple of hours – no wait - call it an afternoon – well – I SAY an afternoon – make it a round 10 hours…" ah rats! So it was that Air Biman was absolutely THE last flight to ditch into Heathrow 25 minutes after the airport had officially closed and a full 9 hours after our connecting flight back to Newcastle had long since departed! Oooops!

We were put up in a nearby hotel (the cab journey being 1 mile and costing £20.00!) and after a day of hell – settled down to relax realising that I’d lost my passport… Some days life just hates you. It was after 2 then, when after ringing round airports and tour operators and airlines that I finally went to bed – still unsure that we wouldn’t have to get a train back to Newcastle the following day!

26.10.97

Up at 5 – so what’s new!? At the airport for 6 and THANK GOODNESS managed to get sorted for flights back to Newcastle with RIDICULOUS ease! One Burger King meal later (I actually dared try solids!) and a further two hours later we collapsed out of the taxi and back into the nest – with two weeks of adventure and a rucksack full of lively laundry and treasured memories our testament to two weeks in Nepal.

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