The Himalayan Kingdom, now a Republic: Nepal.

On my last night in Kathmandu, I get to meet Rajan my trekking guide for the next ten days. He is the man that is going push, cajole, motivate me to get around the Gorkha region,  and a 5 day trek in the Mardi Himal region of Nepal, under the auspices of the two Annapurna mountains: North and South. Here he is wondering what he has let himself in for: 

I have spent the last afternoon in Kathmandu doing import stiff like drinking coffee, eating cake, and getting my hair blow dried. I go to bed at 8pm.  

Day 1:  Gorkha Tour 

My alarm goes off gently at 6 am on Thursday morning. I get last flask of hot water, from Koran, on the roof terrace cafe. 

I lug my two "trekking" rucksacks to reception, one is more like a handbag with sketching gear, the larger day pack contains clothing essentials , such as two towels. I haven't showered for a week in cold water in Restup. Rajann goes up to my room, and carries my 15kg back down, and puts it in the backroom, behind reception. I hope to be reunited with it in Pokhara, it contains my swanky laptop that I need for meetings. 

We get in a taxi to the bus station, a muddy plot beside the Main road to Gorkha. We eventually select a bus that has white headrests, and I have never seen so many people pack on a local bus, and I have been to Africa. The 6 hour journey goes surprisingly quickly. We stop at side of road for chai, and at another for the local veg thali : of rice , dhal, Green veg, a curry if local seasonal veg & french fries , if you get them before they're gone. This costs NR 200, about €1.5 . 

In Gorkha city I   spend a pleasant hour eating oranges, and getting some rays.  No opportunity to sketch.  when our bus is ready to depart, Rajan has saved me a seat at the back, my head bumping the luggage rack.  He signals to stop at the the top of the hill.  Rajan , my guide bags on the side of the bus for it to stop.  I am pleased to get off and walk through the fields atop a high ridge at sunset.  We are to stay in the village with his family.  First to meet the grandparents, who are fabulous , 89 and 94 years young, and they have been to California.  Then to meet the cousins who are also trekking guides.  After a simple supper of rice, greens, and dhal bhat, we  are  to sleep in Rajan's family's  spare room.

Day 2 : Gorkha

We drink black tea, say our goodbyes to the family, the women dressed in their striking red saris, red shawls, and red tikka.  I get a red tikka at my hairline.  We head to the bus stop where the unelected seniors of the village are gathered to discuss the day's business.  I get talking with the teachers: one retired, who has pertinent questions about Private vs. Publicly funded education.  the other is a young mum, a science teacher, who has very little English, but an adorable baby who likes playing peek-a-boo. I drink black tea with Rajan's trekking guide cousin: Darbar. The bus toots into place, and we grumble on.  Mercifully we stop within an hour for a toilet break, before dropping into Gorka City, where we check into the beautiful stone Gorkha hostel.  After a delicious dhal  on th eir terrace overlooking the Gurkha valley, Rajan marches me up the hill to the Gorkha Palace.  Which like so many monuments in Nepal is undergoing  renovations due to the devastation of the 2015 Earthquake with Gorka at it's epicentre, official estimates set the  Richter scale at 7.8.  Luckily the Hindu temple next door is open, nad I am blessed by the Priest, receive my Tikka, and some Prasad, which I leave behind.  I Namaste, , Ohm shiva my way away, and a temple Monkey steals into to eat the Prasad, they love it. 

We go back down the hill, and visit the Gorka museum, which tells the story of how a King from these parts nted the whole of Nepal into one Kingdom.  I forget his name.  There were also some models of the costumes of the various tribes of Nepal:  The Gorka, the Sherpa, the Kumars, the Newars, the Mukuli.  each with their distinctive costumes. 

That night we eat the excellent Dhal Bhat on the Terrace of the Gorkha hostel, and as its so cold we're in bed by 8pm, lights out by 9.

Day 3: Manakamana temple

We leave the hostel at 8 am, walk down the hill and get the winding local bus up to Manakamana.  I buy some oranges from a girl at the bus shelter.  

When we get up to Manakamana village/town, is it: 

• a) Saturday;
• b) there's just been a two week Covid lockdown announced for school children;
• c) it's Gangjol festival, a bit like harvest festival;
• d) a full Moon?  

All of the above.  There are a lots of goats, chickens, rabbits, expecting their doom, to bring luck for the next year.   And the town is heaving.  Rajan and I throw our rucksacks in the first guesthouse, and we get a  lunch of samosas. You can see he wants to eat a plate of ever-refilling dhal bhat, rather than two questionable samosas.  We pay and walk up the hill which is a chaotic riot of the most delicious looking orange vendors, 

 

we head on into the Hindu temple square 

The square is a riot of animals, children, masked and unmasked, shoeless,and shoed, rabbit poo, pigeon poo, smoke, blessed, and as yet unblessed waiting patiently up the stairs snaking back for a kilometer or so.  

Rajan and I escape the madding crowd , by making a few misturns to take a walk in the rice lands as they call them in Nepalese.  

We find a lovely abandoned ridge top cafe for a 360° Panorama  of the Manakama peak. 

The town is quietening out, and I spend a peaceful hour sketching from the hotel's terrace, until our dinner of dhal bhat for Rajan, and a spicy mutter paneer curry with rice, and a salad for me.  We are asleep in bed at 9pm.  

Day 4 -5:Pokhara

We ride the cable car down in absolute silence the next morning at 8 am, the first customers going down.  It's as good as Switzerland.At the road below, we get the local bus to pokhara, a  lovely ride into a warm, glacial valley with a lake surrounded by Himalayan peaks "just hills", the locals say. I like Pokhara immediately, the hotel not so much.  It's scummy with pigeon poo.  We wait  2 days here for my large backpack, and our Annapurna National Park license to Arrive.  I spend Sunday sketching Lake Pokhara, and eating Momos and drinking black coffee, items I'm assured will be unavailable in the mountains.  I withdraw large sums of money from the ATM, for the expensive mountain food.  I sneak out of the guest house after dinner, and spend a day's budget on snacks: Oreos ( I hate these), Snickers🍫🍫🍫 (I hate these), Bounty (I love these), dhal snacks, crisps, satsumas, spicy peanuts.  

Day 1:  Poon Hill Trek

My Annapurna National park  visa has arrived , and we jumped in a lovely smelling taxi.  My pack easily weighs 15kg:  7kg clothes, 5kg snacks & water, 3kg of essentials: sketch things; glasses;  We travel all the way out of Pokhara , under the watchful waiting eye of the the beautiful, Mansul, smoking in the early morning heat of the Sun.  The taxi driver dropped us  at row of shacks, and the guide dropped nimble as a goat down the step to the Gorkha built bridge across the Dhaulagiri river.  He checked us in at the police control point.  I admired the local produce in the local shop, laid out on a wall, the last shop we would see for a while.  I admired the new, new hydro-electricity dam, one of the greenest forms of power available in the mountains.  We made the easy climb up to Tikhe Dhalghiri where we checked into the Chanda guesthouse. Rajan showed me round the village, where the local (concrete !! How do they get it here?) school takes pride f place above the village.   There was just one other guest, an Australian, who had just completed Everest base camp: -10° by day, dropping to -20°C at night.  just no thank you.  I make friends with Milan, the guest house owner, and show him my sketch book.  He runs a really great kitchen, the food was delicious.   I sleep really well with the sound of the mountain stream below. 

Day2:  Ulleri

We wake at 7am, we breakfast 7:30 am, we set of at 8:10 am, on average.. Breakfast served in the mountain side restaurant is Tibetan bread: deep fried bread,  served with jam (from the supermarket ).  I'm hooked.  Rajan and I set off, saying our goodbyes to Milan .  Somehow I climb the 3,500 stone steps to Ulleri without blowing a gasket, or a fuse, and we alight 1 1/2 hours later on a sunny terrace in Ulleri, in front of Purmina Guesthouse hotel.  We only done 8,800 steps.  It's 11:30 am or so.   we eat a lunch of dhal bhat: prepared by dad, supervised by mum, served by son1 and daughter 1.  A truly family operation.  I spend a pleasant afternoon, sketching the looming mountain and catching up with Youtube stars with Son2.  They're on on-lining learning due to snap 15 day break from physical school.  I eat dinner of steaming vegetable noodle soup at 6pm, whilst Rajan stands over me like a sergeant major, 'cos I'm not eating Dhal Bhat. It's so cold I retire to bed by 7:30 pm, and read my book which is River Town by Peter Hessler, a teacher who spends 2 years living in Fuling, and his experiences of being one of only two waiguren (foreginer) in town.  

Day 3: Poon Hill 

I wake at 6 am, and watch the mountain outside my room window.  Rajan is down in the garden drinking lemon tea.  I want lemon water!   says my inner princess.  I get hot black coffee, and delicious hot Tibetan bread  and a pot of honey.  It's a good mountain, vegan breakfast.  We set off at 8 am, and spend 2 hours climbing steep steps that form this part of the trail to ghori Pani, the highest peak in this region at 3100m, with gorgeous views to the Annapurnas.  We trek through forest, criss-crossing the mudslide that is the new road that is coming eventually, some time, in a year, or two...no-one really knows.  There are numerous   land slides across our path, caused by the road works and tree falls above is.  We meet a French couple coming down from the top "C'est tout nage´" (it's all snowed in) they tell me.  We climb through the forest , and out onto a mini plateau with long , languid rice terraces carved out.  We pass through the pink (orange?) arch, and pass the police check point where they hand out masks, and take snap shots of us.  We climb gently through the    car-less village, on a stone path which also handily doubles as a culvert for the river that the path becomes in rainy season.  Mountain life is tough.  We climb the last steps to the Good View hotel with a clouded view of the Annapurnas direct north of us across the Annapurna valley, containing part of the famous 14day Annapurna circuit or ring trek. Snow is neatly piled up.  A dog eats his dinner of stew, and sleeps on his mat.   The lady is stoking a huge Kamin: wood fire inside an old metal oil drum in the centre of the room.  She asks us what we want to eat.  I get Vegetable noodle soup, and Rajan gets Dhal Bhat.  We spend a pleasant afternoon around the fire reading, chatting, catching up on Social media.  The Wifi is good, I have zero reception on either my UK or nepalese SIM.  The Lady asks what we want to eat around 5pm, and I plump for Mac n Cheese with onions and tomatoes.  It isn't vegan.  Rajan is pleased. I am so cold, I say my goodnights, and wrap up in a nest of two duvets, and all my clothes.  I sleep well. 

Day 4: Poon hill to Tikhe Dunga

I get up to stunning views of the AnnaPurna, imaginatively named:  1, 2 and 3.  

 After a breakfast of black coffee, Tibetan bread with honey we set off from Poona Hill at 8:10 am.  The unmasked Police officer comes out of his cabin to sign us out of their register.  A good system.  We drop down through the  forest , past rock falls, and can hear the stream in the valley below.  We drop out of the forest into the rice lands, where we can see blue corrugated iron houses and guest houses below.  I don't recognize Purmina from above, and we have lunch of veg noodle soup for me, and you guessed it, dhal bhat for R.    We take the next two hours carefully, and I meet a lovely French girl and her guide setting out for 11-14 day AnnaPurna ring.  Rajan tells me after this trek, the most popular, AnnaPurna ring is his favourite.  Message me below, I have his whatsApp.  My knees are like jelly by the time we arrive at the Sociable Chanda Guesthouse.  Rajan's cousin, Darbar is there, accompanied by a group of 4 young Belgians from Antwerp, with their guide, and two Sherpas.  They are tucking into Dhal Bhat , complete with fresh homemade coleslaw/  I order dhal bhat for dinner.  they set me up a chair outside, and I sketch the mountain, and meet the family.  I drink black tea, and eat dhal bhat at 6pm.  the Belgian boys are back from a nap, after having skinny dipped in the mountain stream at the Gorkha bridge 50M out of the village. I chat with the Turkish couple, who are "freezing" cold.  I go to bed at 9pm in Room 108.  

Day 5:  Return to Pokhara

we get up at 7am, and I eat a breakfast of Tibetan bread, honey and black coffee, and say my goodbyes, to Milan and the family, and the Belgian group, and we head off down the hill for out of the National park.  At sight of the beautiful rice lands, I  realise I have left my phone and charger at the guest house.  Rajan runs back to get it for me, whilst I chat to a local about Covid, tourism, ecology...We follow the beautiful river back to the Dhalgiri river crossing, built by the Gorkas, bless their hearts & souls!.  We check out of the National park.  I buy some panni (water), and we climb the steps to the road.  there isnt time for a chai, we jump on the local bus, and climb to the top of the ridge where we get black sweet tea, and a ring of fried local bread.  We get back onto our local bus , and head back into  Pokhara, through the rice lands.  the road is really good, like a three lane highway.  We are are dropped  at  the local bus station, where our friendly taxi driver picks us up.  I am sad to be  back in the big City, with all the noise and pollution.  the fruit looks yum though.  The driver drops us at the Himalaya Inn where the  receptionist leers at me.  I get my back pack back, my laptop is still in it.  Thank God.  I  arrange to meet Rajan at 2 for a late lunch. I move down the road to Gauri Shankar, where I have a cosy Private room, ina private hostel, with a garden.  I have to wait for my bathroom to be cleaned before I take possibly the best hot shower in the World after ten days not showering. I discover that the Euro40 I was going to give him as a tip are missing. who could/would have done that? Rajan is waiting for me in the garden, and we go for the most delicious slap up meal at Pokhara Thakali, just down the road from my new hotel.  Rajan has : you guessed it: Dhal Baht, and I have Mutter Anneer curry, with roti, pickles, and mushroom soup.  It's yum: 

He walks me back to my hotel, and I fall into line behind him for the last time.  

 we say our goodbyes, and I am surprised at how well we got on, how useful it was to have a translator, a fixer, a companion.  Rajan has one night in Kathmandu, and then back to his family on the hillside in Gorkha on Monday morning, on the local bus.  On that broken, muddy road.  Being a Trekking guide is a calling.

I in the meantime have 5 days to spend touristing in Pokhara: sketching the Lake, exploring, shopping, taking a boat ride, before I have to be in Kathmandu, to get my new Visa for my return to India... to get my Yoga teacher license at the Sivananda Vedanta Yoga ashram , nr. Gudur in Andhra Pradesh, South India.  Chennai is the nearest airport.  I plan my trip south:  55 hours on a train from Delhi?  Or 8 hours in an airplane.  I spend the days in Pokhara testing all the Korean, Japanese, and Chinese restaurants in Pokhara lake area, and sketching from their terraces.  On my last day I change my routine slightly.  I eat a breakfast of Japanese Ramen soup at one of the lakeside restaurants.  I have got used to all the beautiful terraces in Nepal! I then go home to shower at midday.  Most of Nepal's hot water is from Solar, and so it's best to wash at midday, when the sun is up, and the water is hot.  And then I walk along the lakeside to the "seeing hands" massage place.  I get a massage from Chieran, a blind person, who works all the knots in my post trekking bod.   We talk about the benefits of Apple's iOs versus Google's Android for blind people.  All in *perfect English*.  After this, I walk along the lake one last time, and meet Pepe, a semi-pro footballer from Mali/Cȏte d'Ivoire in Africa. wee talk in French , and laugh about how the Nepalese look at us, shout "Foreigner" and ask us where we're from.  His parents fled from Mali to Cȏte Ivoire because of Boko Haram.  He's a got a two year working contract and visa with the Nepalese national football team. He promises to call me when in Kathmandu, but never does.    After this I decide to eat at Pokhara Thakali restaurant, not Dhal Bhat, but a spicy bean and potato curry for my night bus ride back to Kathmandu. I leve my Nepalese hat behind in the restaurant.  The luxury tourist bus is somewhat special.  It has huge red puffy armchairs.  I want to get an anti-bac wipes and give it a thorough clean.  The roads in Nepal are terrible, in fact some of them can barely be called roads: more like rivers of mud in rainy weather.  I manage to sleep an hour or two.  We keep stopping for half an hour here and there, but when we reach the "bus station" in Kathmandu (the muddy side of a commercial road), the conductor wakes me, and speaking in Nepalese  has a puzzled look on his face "What to do with the foreigner? Send her to Thamel?" I stagger down, have my pack thrust at me.  Luckily, there's a lone taxi on the strip of mud, and I explain to him that I'm going to a guest house in Boudha, the area near the famous Buddhist stupa. I am booked into a Buddhist guest house, the Bodhi Tree guest house, to get away from the noise, pollution and hustle bustle of Thamel, where I stayed last time.   He has no knowledge. He tries calling the Guesthouse, but as its 6am they are not awake.  He asks fellow taxi drivers where this guesthouse might be.  Arms go out in all different directions. After an hour for a fifteen minute ride, using my GPS, we arrive at Bodhi guest house, the kindly people there let me in, show me to my large, cold room with 3 windows, and even give me a choice of breakfast: muesli, porridge or omelette and toast.  I detest porridge, and select omelette and toast.  I can no longer call myself Vegan.  

On Monday  31st January, I take my India visa application to the Indian consular.  They accept my application, but not my passport and payment.  I go back to my old guesthouse , the Restup in T  Thamel, and have a lovely afternoon talking to the trekking guides there.  I go back to Blueberry kitchen and get Thukpa, a lovely spicy Tibetan noodle soup.   I hang out in Boudha.  Every day I take a walk around the Buddhist Stupa.  

I eat in Utpala, the most famous Buddhist (read Vegan) restaurant in Nepal. It's got lovely wooden tables and chairs around a fountain in garden.  All the Buddhist monks and llamas meet and eat here.   I eat veggie burgers and drink tea.  I chastise them for serving coke in one-use plastic bottles.  I need to get my PCR test for India, and after trying three, I find one who knows where the main teaching hospital in Kathmandu.  The laboratory is disgusting, I see a woman wipe her nose on her hand, inside the laboratory.  I'm not hopeful.  I get a NEGATIVE result within hours. I walk across the City to the Swaybanhu Buddhist temple, which stretches over two hillocks. We'd call them mountains, but to Nepalese they are just hills. I pick up a sack of plastic litter on the way up to it, and the street kids help me.  The mountainside is the most squalid with plastic pollution of any Buddhist temple I've ever visited. I can find nowhere to sit down quietly and sketch.  It's a festival, and the people have dressed in their National costumes for a trip out to Kathmandu.  I walk back to Thamel.  The rivers are disgusting with dumped plastic rubbish bags. These rivers run through India  and Bangladesh to the Arabian and South China seas.    

 The next day, I pack up my small-ish bags (compared with the size of the other travellers!) and head by taxi to the airport.  Robin calls me a taxi.   He has no change so I pay NPR1000 instead of 500 for the short trip to the airport, which is right inside the City limits.  I have my PCR test checked and approved and I'm into the terminal.  I'm asked if I'm carrying contraband, fireworks, knives, gas etc.  I have to fill out an Indemnity form that I won't sue Air India if I catch Covid-19 on one of their flights.  The man at the desk says "no visa, no travel to India". he encourages me to go on-line to find a Transit visa. I know that UK citizens can't apply on-line for Indian visa, we have to go in person to the Consular. A fixer called Quesin tries to help me, and is also surprised that UK is not in any of the  drop down lists on India's eVisa sites.  A senior Air India member of staff tells me that  there is no transit across Indian airpsace, until 28th February or the end of Covid. I am not going to Sri Lanka's beaches today. I will have to stay in cold Nepal for another month.  The fixer, Quesin offers to take me and my back pack to Nepali Immigration to renew my Nepali visa on his scooter.  Exhilarating but scary on Kathmandu's potholed roads.  He gets me to the front of the queue and I pay NPR11,000 (about $115) to reluctantly renew my Nepali visa for a month.  I am grateful that at least I am allowed to stay here. I give him NPR 1000 (about Euro10) for helping me. There are many westerners hanging out at the Bodhi guesthouse, waiting for new India visas.  One lady, who has sold all her Worldly goods in California, and now lives in McLeodGanj, and has a ten year residency visa, has had her Indian visa revoked, can't return home, and is hanging out in Kathmandu.  

Outside the Immigration office I get talking to a German lady who runs an NGO in the next valley to bring education and skills to one of the most deprived Nepali tribes, the Chapang people.  She says she always needs English teachers.  That very evening I send her my qualifications.  I'm still waiting to hear whether  or not I'm going up to Chapang at 3000M to do something useful, like teach English or just hanging out in Kathmandu for the next month or so!  Until then! 

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Namaste!