An extra month in Kathmandu,

 I have deliberated , procrastinated about writing this blog.  This is what I've got up to in my extra enforced month in Kathmandu.  

I get a taxi back from Nepali immigration to the Bodhi guesthouse, and immediately get my old room back.  It's huge, it has  red/orange painted walls, an attached bathroom, and three huge windows over looking Boudha.  All for $13 per night.  I'm grateful to the lovely staff: Robin, Rameshwar and the lovely Didi, who makes breakfast, cleans our rooms, and  does our laundry.  

I email the Lischa German NGO with my English teaching certificates, and offer to travel to Chapang to teach for free for Board and lodging.  Danni emails back several days later saying the school is closed, due to a two-week COVID lockdown throughout Nepal.   

Staying at Bodhi guesthouse are Sarah, a Buddhist nun form UK, now with American citizenship.  Sarah zooms around Kathmandu on an electric moped.  She agonises over the cost of this purchase for herself, but as there is no real public transport in Kathmandu, I think it's a sensible purchase, although I worry for her on the huge potholes in the Kathmandu roads.   There are also Tara, a psychotherapist, and Ruth, an octogenarian, both refugees from Capitalist USA.  Tara sold her possessions in California, and moved to McLeodGanj in Northern India, near the home of the Dalai Lama.  In the Covid lockdown when India kicked out all "foreigners" , and annulled their visas, despite her having a ten year multiple entry visa, she came to Nepal to study Buddhism, and tried to keep her patients, despite patchy Wifi here.  She's torn between staying in Nepal and returning to India.  Ruth left the USA years ago, has lived and travelled extensively in LATAM.  She is travelling around the world looking for a place to call home for her retirement.  She's 79 years young.  

So my days go like this.  Wake up at 7am, drink tea or coffee.  Eat a breakfast of muesli, bananas and black coffee and read  in the lovely sunny garden of the Bodhi guesthouse.   I've read 5 or 6 novels  in my time.  I'll list them & write reviews below.  Around 12:30 or so, I set off on the short journey to the huge Buddha stupa which dominates the area of Boudha.  I usually walk around  this several times with the Tibetan refugee grandmas.  They are so tough, and beautiful.  These would be my chosen trekking partners to circulate the holy mountain in Tibet, Mount Kailash.  Mount Kailash is to Buddhists what a trip to Mecca is for Muslims.  It's very hard to get there now, as China has taken over control of Tibet now.  Still the Tibetans here in Kathmandu seem happier than those I've met in the Tibetan compound in New Delhi.  They are in the Himalaya, they have a large, supportive community, and have thriving businesses here.  There are at least 8 huge Buddhist  Monasteries in Boudha, and you see young men, and old, and a few women too,  in their flowing saffron robes everywhere you go around here.  It gives for  a nice, calm environment after the frenetic craziness of Thamel, where most backpackers stay, initially at least.  

I'm a little bored of  eating veggie burgers at the Utpala garden cafe, an outpost of the Kanying Monastery.  It's lovely, but the waiters run around me, filling up my teapot every few minutes, rather than caring to all the guests *equally*. They have a bakery next door, with delicious vegan cakes, and divine blueberry cheesecake.  So I select a lunch place on : view of the Buddha stupa, prices, food, ability to sit and sketch the Stupa.  I've sketched it six times now.  My friend Tara recommends the Bod Thap restaurant , which actually just on first floor, but has great windows, where I can sketch the Big stupa and 4 or 5 mini ones from the windows.  I have to stop eating the delicious  fried saag and Thenkpa noodle soup here, as the  "Foreigner is here" greetings from the kitchen are a bit over whelming. 

So two days stand out this month.  

After being recommended to visit it, by both Sarah, and Feargal, a lovely Irishman also staying in Bodhi, I head south of the Stupa for Pashupatinath , a Hindu holy site for cremating the dead, said to have been visited by Parvati  & Lord Shiva.  I am singled out as a "foreigner" to pay the NPR 1000 (about €10) fees, which I don't mind, to support this World heritage site.  I also meet a Nepali tour guide, a young man who is studying Nepalese culture and history.  He's just completed his undergraduate degree, and is waiting for the result to see if he can enter a Master's programme.  We sit down on the walls opposite the ghat.  We watch a family bring their newly deceased relative for ritual washing of the feet in the Bagmati river.  We have a lovely few hours discussing Hinduism in Nepal, the environment and   English and education.  I give him NPR1000 to help him with his Masters.  I sit down to sketch the temple of  Pashupatinath, and am immediately surrounded by Nepali street kids, who are endearing, but saddening at the same time.  One little girl stays with me for nearly two hours, so I give her paper and a pencil to sketch with.  When her "friends" and what I take to be a gang leader return, the kids beg me for "books, books" , paper and pencils.  It shows they want to be in school, but are forced to out to beg.  I vow to return.  

That evening I walk back to Boudha along the windy road, and  I find the Hotel Boudha Sichuan, a little way back from the Stupa, it has a great kitchen and good service, with really authentic spicy, Sichuan food, including a great noodle salad.  There's a group of young monks (llamas) with one older monk , settling down for their dinner, a special treat.  They order rice, steamed bread, veg and fried spinach.  They are the most well-behaved group of young boys I have ever encountered.  I tell the lead monk as much.  In the Monastery they don't have access to wifi, phones or TV, so they are all staring at the big screen.  There are some other kids running around after their large group has finished their meal.  I get talking to one of the older girls, who tells me they are from the Sherpa tribe, and are celebrating one of their sons, having won a place at the University of Sydney, and going off to start a new life in Australia.  They invite me over to drink Ghorka beer.  It's the only "night out" I've had in my time in Kathmandu.  I'm home in bed by 9pm.  

A few days later I set off for Thamel to buy books and notepaper, as despite it's craziness, Thamel is good for shopping.  I stop to sketch the smaller, but equally beautiful Buddha stupa Charumati.  After this I find another beautiful temple not destroyed in the devastating earthquake of 2015, with grass growing on its rooves.  A young man lets me inside to photograph, and then asks me where I'm going.  He is a music teacher , and offers me a ride through the midday traffic on his moped.  We get to Thamal and I thank him.  I top up my credit on my Ncell mobile phone, and find Rosemary kitchen.  There I meet a young Nepali who speaks good English, who has just got a visa to go and stay in Edinburgh for 3 months.  We chat and I make him a list of all the places he should try yo visit in the North of the UK: Isle of Skye, Lochness, Northern Ireland & Giant's causeway, Glasgow, York. He asks if there'll be Nepali food in Edinburgh.  I'm sure there will be if he makes it himself.  I explain that we have Chinese, Thai and Indian on every high street, and the latest food craze is Korean. I wish him the best of luck.  I get a lovely notebook and the Dalai Lama's Boddhistava guide form the Tibetan book store in Thamel and walk back home to Boudha.  I get lost in the Chahbil area of  Kathmandu, by the smelly, polluted river.  I pass a busy evening veg market , and a lovely Hindu temple.  It takes two hours to walk home.  Kathmandu is huge, and there is very little public transport.  I have a sad little picnic of cold mushroom pizza and tomatoes from the shop opposite in my bedroom. 

Two guests from Bodhi guesthouse get eVisas for India:  Tatiana a Russian yogini heads off to Rishikesh, and  an Austrian lady heads off to Coimbatore in the South for Sadh Guru's festival of Maha Shivarati on March 1st.  I'm not jealous much.  You can follow Sadh Guru on Instagram.  He's a super cool Guru, who speaks wise words, loves dancing, and he's an environmentalist too : "India time to clear up your sh*t!". His words, not mine.  He actually works with the Modhi government to get environmental projects up and running.  Cool dude.  

I eat at my favourite Chinese restaurant , Hotel Boudha Sichuan,one cloudy day, as it's all indoors, with noeo terrace , and no view of the Stupa. There's a guy at the other end of the restaurant watching me and commenting on what I'm eating, how I'm eating (spicy chinese noodle salad with chopsticks).  I go and tell him that we're all from one world, we all have one face, with two eyes, one nouse, one mouth. They get up and leave, and pay for my beer on the way out.  

On this day, a festival day, I plump for the overpriced Pho restaurant at the south of the Stup to complete my sketches from all the pints of the compass.  I have a lovely dining room all to myself.  When the bill comes , VAT and service are added, making a simple bowl of Vietnamese Pho , one of the most expensive meals I eat in Kathmandu, but at least I've got a sketch of  the Buddha Stupa from the south side, and in peace and quiet without the "What is the foreigner eating/doing".  

My Nepali visa expires on 5th March, and So my Herculean task to get a visa for India to complete my Yoga ITT at Sivananda in Neyyar Dam, Kerala from March to April begins.  I call the Consular a couple of times.  She says she will call me back.  I visit again on Weds 2nd March, and sit there for two hours.  Nothing. I leave at 12 midday and walk back to Boudha, 1 1/2 hours frustrated and angry.  Luckily in Boudha, I find my new favourite place to eat the quiet, discreet Kitchen garden, which has great wifi, and birds chirping away in the garden.  

 I have a break on Thursday and return on Friday 4th March at 10:30 am. At 11:30 I have to go to Standard Chartered bank to get more NPR out, to pay the NPR20,000 visa fee ($163).  I sit there until 1pm.  At least the kindly guy behind the counter offers to take my passport to the  Embassy next door, for "checking".  I apologize that I've delayed their lunch break, and withdraw to Carilo cafe directly opposite the gates of the British Embassy. I connect to their Wifi, and change my flights to India from 5th March to the 10th March, the third change I've made. Even I cannot face a 55-hour train journey from Delhi to Madras, now Chennai in the south.  I send emails to emails to Nepali immigration, as I will overstay my Nepali visa, inadvertently by a day, and to the Bodhi guesthouse, to extend my stay once again to 10th March.   I return to the Consular grounds at 4pm, they don't want to let me in, but I firmly insist.  I sit there until 5pm, when the guy and his briefcase return from the Embassy next door.  They summon me by tapping on the PVC window.  I don't believe my eyes: they've only gone and given me a 4-month visa for India!  Wow! I thank them profusely and I get a taxi back to Bodhi guesthouse, and everyone is super pleased for me.  I have tea in the garden and chat with Tara and Ruth.   It's positive news for everyone who has been hanging out in Kathmandu for months.  

Next day I eat lunch at Garden Kitchen with my new friend, Elke, from Nurnberg a mum of two sons, who studying in Berlin. We take Erna, a Dutch Septuagenarian who is 78 and suffering from cancer and chemotherapy through the rinzen monastery to Garden Kitchen, and for a few tours of the Buddha stupa.  As she was n English teacher in Boudha everyone know her and stops to offer her tea.  We stop at the local hairdressers for  sugary chais and the beauticain tries to sell us masagges, waxing, sugaring.  

I've delayed my journey south until 10th March, so I spend my last days visiting my favourite restaurants, and my last lunch, alone at the fabulous Hotel Boudha Sichuan: spicy home tofu, and a fabulous veg noodle salad.  I sit in the garden with David and Ruth and listen to her stories about travelling in Mexico, Guatemala ,and Belize among the shaman, and her trips to Japan and Philipines, travelling by boat.  I say my goodbyes to Feargal, the Buddhist Irishman, Tara, and  Sarah the Buddhist nun.  

The house taxi takes me to Tributhan airport, and this time I have no trouble getting through Nepali immigration.  There's absolutely nothing to do in the airport so I read my book:  The Autobiography of a Yogi, which is a book I've meant to read for years, downloaded for only 0.37¢

. We set off at 3:30, long queues to board Air India, as they do extra bag checks and temperature checks.  The kindly air steward , Ajay, moves me to a row of my own, as I'm surrounded by a party of unmasked Indians.  Delhi Indira Gandhi airport is something to behold, it'd actually be quite beautiful if it weren't an airport.  I can't find a working ATM, so I buy Haldiram's Bel puri snacks.  In the end, I buy a veggie Whopper, as I can pay by card.   

And so we set off to Chennai, 2 hours 40 minutes south.  It's hot, hot 28° when we land at midnight.  With no cash, no ATM working, and ₹the prepaid taxi rejecting my card, I set off with Swami, an illegal taxi driver.  We stop at ICICI bank on the way onto Chennai, where there's a French guy who has spent his Covid lockdown in Sri Lanka, also trying to find an ATM that will take"International cards".  I get ₹2000, about £20, but the French guy is not so lucky.  We speed onto Chenania, where cows are eating the waste from the local market.  I'm staying at Royal Plaza hotel for 3 hours until my bus for Pondicherry leaves at 5am right outside.  It turns about to be a really good idea to get a couple of hours kip.  I pay by Santander card, knowing which machine works by now.  I sit in the security guard's box until the Orange Sleeper bus arrives at 5:10pm.  Tamil Nadu people are friendly, smiling, accomodating, and no-staring.  I get an upper bunk sleeper, and I'm off within minutes. I'm woken at 7:30 am, and we are in the countryside outside pondicherry, it warm, there are coconut palms everywhere.  The rice has just been planted, a lush bright green colour. In the fallow rice paddies. We arrive in Pondicheery& I negotiate a tuc tuc Downton to my OYO hotel.  The manager is very apologetic, but Oyo hotels can't take foreign tourists, as they can't process our cards or  the state bureaucracy of registering foreign tourists with the police.  HE offers me a chilled water in compensation.  I use their Wifi to book the  MiCasa hostel just around the corner in Mahatma Gandhi street.  check-in is 12:30, so I use the time to go and buy an Airtel SIm card.  I eat a breakfast of Idli and sambal and coffee in the Veg restaurant below the hostel.  

See what happens at Sivananda yoga teacher training in my next blog post...

Ohm Namaha Shivayah!

Books I've read in my extended stay in Kathmandu: 

Red Notice by Bill Browder.  Browder started the Hermitage investment fund in Moscow.  He tells the story of how Putin refused his visa, and he was forced to return to the UK, leaving behind a skeleton staff. It came to their notice that Russian government officials had bought some of their companies, completely legally, and then reversed the taxes paid, effectively stealing from the Russian people.  His clever tax lawyer, Magnitsky was arrested, thrown in jail, and denied medical care.  Magnitsky died in a Russian jail from his injuries and neglect, motivating Browder to pursue the MAgnitsky Act in the USA in 2012, and a similar law in the UK.  We have the laws to sanction these corrupt Oligarchs! 

River Town by Peter Matthiessen.  Peter and his colleague are the first foreigners to live and work in Wuhan as English teachers as China opens up.  He records his experiences living in China as one of the first "foreigners".  

Slow Boats to China by Gavin Young, a former Observer journalist.  In 1980 Young travels from the UK to China via boat only, mirroring my journey to Asia.  He tells of the hurdles he has to overcome in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, to travel down the Suez canal; of the different kinds of boats he travels on.  He enjoys the  junks and the 

Autobiography of a Yogi by Yogi Paramahansa Yogananda (don't buy on Amazon!)