#19 The epiphany on the bus

Occasionally, when we least expect it, we are presented with a sudden moment of clarity that makes so much sense you are left wondering why it took you so long to figure it out.

One such moment occured to me as I was bumping along the road from Bhakatapur to Nagarkot on a local bus. I was squeezed in beside the gear stick and three married women dressed in bright red sarees and sparkling gold jewellery with my back to the road.

At first I tried to position myself so I could see the bumps in the road coming and hold on before we hit them but after a while I decided it was easier to sit normally and face the back of the bus. It was then I realised that because I didn't know what bumps were coming I was having a much easier time handling them and was no longer in any danger of ending up in the red saree women's laps.

It occurred to me this was really a metaphor for life. If we learn to adapt to the bumps in the road, life becomes a lot easier to manage. If we are constantly trying to change ourselves to suit what might happen then we will have a much more uncomfortable ride.

If I come away from Nepal having learnt only one thing it will be that you must make do with what you are given and Nepali people are a living example of that bumpy roads and all.

Earlier that morning we had another bizarre experience in Bhaktapur that probably wouldn't make the guide books.

The previous day our guide, Roshan, told us where they sacrifice the buffalo early each morning and butcher them for meat. Being the curious cats that we are we decided to get up at 5am and try to catch a glimpse of this bloody spectacle.

By the time we had dragged ourselves out of bed the buffalo were very much dead and the butcher was in the process of skinning and carving one to be sold at the market. Two other dead buffalo were being covered in straw which was then set on fire to do something to the skin. CGAG, being the artist and photographer that she is, just couldn't get enough. I was done after a few quick snaps. So I endured being chatted up by the youngest butcher who wanted my number and to show me around and for me to cancel my trip to Thailand and come stay with him etc etc. CGAG was so caught up in her photographs that she was completely oblivious to the awkward situation I was in. Finally she was ready to go. Four missed calls from my potential future Nepali husband later and I was ready to get out of Bhaktapur.

My backpack was tossed onto the roof of the local bus to Nagarkot, the place everyone goes to see a glimpse of Everest, and I squeezed myself in next to the gear box unsure exactly how long I was destined to be perched there next to the three married women wearing the red sarees.

I tried to practise my Nepali with one of the ladies in red and her face lit up despite my terrible attempts. She proceeded to let loose a stream of Nepali none of which I could understand so I was forced to resort to my most favourite phrase.

"Ma Nepali ali ali Bolchu" - I speak a little Nepali with emphasis on the little.

I'm always mildly surprised when the person I'm conversing with answers in Nepali. Speaking it is one thing. Understanding it enough to answer is another.

I managed to communicate that I was going to Nagarkot to watch the sunrise and ask if it was a beautiful place. She said yes it was very beautiful "Dherai ramro cha."

Then she asked where I was from and I told her New Zealand. Unfortunately that was as far as our conversation could go. I was still pretty pleased with our efforts.

CGAG had gone to Kathmandu with the French guy who was flying home and she was going to see a Sharman who was hanging out by the largest stupa in Boudha so we went our separate ways for a bit.

She joined me in Nagarkot later that evening and we spent a pleasant few hours at a beautifully rustic rooftop resturant pondering life and trying the local 'wine' which is basically just moonshine made from rice. It was incredibly strong and we couldn't even drink half a glass.

The lovely attentive owner of the resturant sat with us to chat and ensure we had enough dal bhat. He also organised a taxi to take us in the morning to see the sunrise at the viewing tower which is where, if you're lucky, you can catch your glimpse of Mount Everest.

So at 4.30am the next morning we woke up and questioned our sanity.

"Why do we keep doing this to ourselves" we grumbled for exactly six minutes until the next more urgent alarm went off and we dragged ourselves out of bed.

The view was a little disappointing as it was quite cloudy. We couldn't see Everest but we could look at the spot where it was supposed to be and the sunrise was pretty alright.

With that my break from Kirtipur came to an end and my sinuses were being strange. My own diagnosis was either the beginning of a cold or too much pollution. When I blew my nose it was black and I had an annoying tickly and persistent cough. I spent the rest of the day in bed writing and eating chocolate. Bliss.

As this trip doesn't have any fixed plans I took a day off just like I would at home. Nagarkot is not going anywhere. Rest days are an important part of the journey. After all this is a working adventure and I need time to write!

Sunrise from Nagarkot viewing tower

#18 The slutty burqa and getting lost in 2074

Despite being physically exhausted we returned to Pokhara with high spirits.

The next morning Sanju, Razu, CGAG and I caught the bus back to Kathmandu as the Dutch girls were staying on in Pokhara.

I don't know if it was the good conversation with CGAG or the fact that I've taken much worse busses in the past, this bus journey went very fast despite the fact it was delayed quite a few hours. Kathmandu traffic is very bad at the moment due to major works on the road. And the dust. Oh the dust.

Later that night I returned to the Quest volunteer head quarters and went out for dinner with Sanju's other friends and volunteers. It was so nice to meet such a big group of lovely people and most of them I'd met briefly before. Most of them were dutch but it was such a treat to feel part of a group when you are so far away from everything familiar.

Sanju and his fiance kindly invited CGAG and I to come to their wedding at the end of April. We were both so touched and accepted immediately of course. A Nepali wedding is not something to miss if you get the chance...

So of course the next day we went Saree shopping. I bought the first one I tried on. Sometimes when you know you know. I wish it was that easy to make other more important decisions in life.

That evening it was Nepali New Years eve so CGAG and I explored the streets of Thamel. There was a huge techno concert in the street which wasn't really our scene so we moved to a quieter wine bar with more traditional live music.

At some stage during the night we saw a girl wearing what can only be described as a slutty burqa. Her head, face, arms and body were covered but the fabric stopped just passed her waist. It really was the most confronting political statement although she probably didn't realise it. Was it empowering, degrading or a perfect representation of the struggle between patriachy and feminism?

Later that night I met up with two of the other Quest volunteers who had the only key to the head quarters and CGAG and I headed for home. Unfortunately my taxi driver couldn't find the head quarters or understand the little map we had been provided with and we spent what seemed like hours driving around the city with me anxiously peering out the window looking for anything familiar that could direct me back home. We were unsuccessful and by this stage the other two volunteers were wanting to go home.

My phone decided this would be an ideal time to go flat so I frantically power walked around Thamel dodging drunken backpackers and Nepali teenagers looking for a cafe with a samsung charger so I could call the others and meet them.

Unfortunately or fortunately they had already woken up our host at the head quarters and she was coming to get me on her scooter at 2am. I felt so, so terrible but was just relieved to finally be home.

It was my first time being really lost in a foreign country with no idea how to direct the driver to my accomodation. It would have been fine if we hadn't been strongly advised not to walk home on New Years eve which in the end probably would have been safer, easier and much less confusing.

But all is well that ends well and I woke up early the next morning to meet CGAG and Sanju's volunteers to catch the bus to Bhaktapur for the REAL Nepali New Year Festival!

The ancient chariot of the Bisket Jatra festival that is pulled across town 

 CGAG, a dutch guy (there are so many Dutch, German and French people traveling everywhere!) and I, took the local bus from Kathmandu to Bhaktapur which cost us a whopping 25c to travel for 45 minutes out of Katmandu.

To enter Bhaktapur you must pay 1500 rupees which goes towards preserving the historic buildings so we sorted this out and then met the rest of Sanjus' volunteer group and proceeded to wander the streets admiring everything Bhaktapur had to offer.

It's a beautifully ancient place steeped in culture and history. We tried the famous King Curd first which is a yoghurt specialty and I can report it was delicious. Just the right amount of sweetness and usually served in a clay dish.

It was difficult to adjust to doing things as a group especially as we were all used to travelling alone but I made the most of it because these things come and go. One minute you'll be with too many people and the next you'll be wishing you had even just one companion.

The rest of the group left that afternoon and only CGAG and I stayed the night. We were so glad we did because the chariot pulling festival that happened in the evening was one of the most amazing experiences I've had so far.

Every Nepali New Year - it's 2074 now by the way - all the young men get together and have a tug of war where they vie to pull an ancient chariot across town which they call Bisket Jatra. I was dissapointed to learn there were no biscuits involved.

The crowds were huge. I'd never been in a crowd so big except for Holi and for the first time I understood how mob mentality worked. Thankfully everyone was well behaved and the Nepal Police force were on stand-by with their riot shields incase anything went wrong.

The crowd was mostly made up of men, a few women and very few travellers. Most tourists watched from rooftop resturants but CGAG and I opted to be part of the action. Where is the thrill in watching safely from a roof?

So we elbowed our way through the crowds and spent a happy couple of hours filming and photographing the spectacle.

I also had my first near pick pocketing experience. Luckily I noticed a sneaky hand unzipping my bag before they had time to snatch anything. That taught me a lesson. Don't take ANYTHING into a big crowd. Lock it all in your room!

Finally the chariot came to a standstill. By this time we were starving and had had our fill of being pushed and shoved by smelly men so retired to our room before heading out with a French guy CGAG had met at lunch for some street food followed by a meal in a touristy resturant and then bed. We were both so tired after such an eventful few days and the mattresses in our hotel room were so comfortable. We slept like babies until late the next day.

On our second day in Bhaktapur we began a walking tour of the city. We soon realised we had no idea what we were looking at so caved in to the offers of a very eager guide who had been pursuing us since the moment we arrived at the main gates of Bhaktapur. CGAG wanted to visit a local family she had met on the plane to Nepal who happened to live in Bhaktapurthat afternoon so we had a quick guided tour before heading to her friends place in Thimi. We spent a few hours with this lovely family who had been living in Germany for two years and were back visiting their family before moving to Toronto.

It was fascinating for CGAG but I had already had a pretty good taste of ordinary Nepali life so it wasn't so interesting for me. However they really were a nice family and it was a pleasant experience.

We then attempted to see the remains of a colour festival in Thimi but it was all over by the time we finished at the local friends so we took another local bus back to Bhaktapur, ate more street food and then went straight to bed to dream about biscuits and burqas and all the other crazy things we had seen so far.

#17 Pokhara part 2 - Part of the plan!

On the last day in Pokhara I was very glad to meet our guides and friends Sanju, Razu, two of Sanju's volunteers from Holland and a German photographer/artist I will refer to for the purposes of this blog as Chic German Artist Girl or CGAG for short.

We would be spending the next five days together trekking up to Poon Hill to watch the sunrise over the Himalayas.

The first day of the trek included a van ride to Nayapul where we set off on our adventure. It was a beautiful little village and looked very similar to my original idealistic image of Nepal.

The first day we walked for around six hours and up the infamous 3000 stairs. It was hard work but we made it and the scenery made it completely worthwhile.

It's amazing what happens to your body when you push your limits. After food, water and a rest we were different people and even had the energy to climb a little further in the village to explore.

I had read that it's best to order dal bhat when trekking as you get free refills of rice and lentil soup and that's the only way you will ever get properly full. This was very sound advice. Even if dal bhat is the last thing you feel like eating it's the only thing that will really fill you up.

We spent the evening playing a card game Sanju and Razu taught us called Shithead. It was good fun. A lot like Last Card but slightly more complex.

The next day we woke up to stunning views of snowy peaks and we couldn't wait to get started. We were so lucky that as a group of strangers we all got on really well and were a similar fitness level.

The villages we passed through were always so serene and the places we stayed were comfortable and served delicious food. They usually had WiFi and hot water although sometimes neither of these actually worked in practise.

The food was nourishing and the chiya tea (chai) was served sweet, milky and hot. Life became simply about exerting energy and regaining it by eating and sleeping with plenty of laughs and games of Shithead in between.

The morning we climbed Poon Hill happened to be my 25th birthday. I told the others the day before because I didn't want to be one of those people who keep it a secret and then someone finds out later by accident and feels really bad.

The group was so sweet. They made a birthday hat and carried a candle and a slice of Apple pie up to the top of the mountain and sang happy birthday as the sun peeked over the ranges. Then the whole mountain top of other trekkers joined in as well. Standing on top of Poon Hill with the Himalayas in the background having a group of strangers plus my new friends singing happy birthday is an experience I'll never ever forget. Magical. I'll never forget the Apple pie either. Best I've ever tasted.

The rest of the day we trekked on to the next village and spent the afternoon exploring and looking for monkeys for CGAG who hadn't seen many before in the wild.

The day ended with a feast of dal bhat and an impromptu party at our lodge after all the guides and sherpas brought out some traditional musical instruments and had a few glasses of the local rice wine. It was the perfect end to a perfect birthday.

The next day we set off on our last day of walking. Sanju had warned us it was going to be long and downhill the whole way. He was right. There were a lot of steps and one of the Dutch girls wasn't feeling confident about it right from the start. Not long after we set off she strained her ankle on the most inncocent looking stones. It's always the least expected ones that get you.

As CGAG was fond of saying, "this is not part of the plan."

So she limped and hobbled her way down the rest of the steps for a good four hours like a total champion and refused to take the bus early.

After some time wandering through beautiful lush farm land along the river bank we finally returned to Nayapul triumphant. We made it!

As Sanju and the determined Dutch girl kept saying; "In Nepal everything is possible!"

One of the villages we stayed in on the way back from Poon Hill

#16 Pokhara part 1 - Hail showers and brownies

Next it was time for me to catch another bus to Pokhara which took half the day.

I bumped into one of Sanju's volunteers I had met in Kathmandu so we had a drink and then the rain started right on time and we scrambled back to our respective hotels.

The next day I hung around in the morning and shifted to a better hotel with a nicer atmosphere where I had a Skype interview for a teaching job in Thailand.

That afternoon I explored more of Pokhara and which mainly consisted of wandering up and down the main street looking in shops. I couldn't find anything else worth doing that didn't require spending a lot of money and as I was not sure I had a job lined up I was still in stingy money mode.

In the evening I found an outdoor movie garden. They were screening the film Gandhi which was really good and I wished I'd seen it before going to India. It gave a great background to the country. They also served amazing pizza and I completely forgot I was in Nepal for a good three hours.

Previously that afternoon it had started to hail. I've never been anywhere where it hails whilst still being so warm. To avoid the weather I jumped from cafe to cafe guiltily getting my fix of western food. Brownies, hot chocolate, you name it, Pokhara had it.
There were a lot of German bakeries and they served really good coffee. I'd even go as far as saying the best I've ever had. New Zealand included.

On my third day in Pokhara I got up early and hiked to the peace pagoda which is a large buddhist stupa on top of one of the surrounding hills. I took a boat to the start of the track first and walked 45 minutes up the hill where I got a fairly good glimpse of the Annapurna Range amongst the clouds. Clouds hide the surrounding mountains as soon as the air starts heating up so it's best to get up for the sunrise but I wasn't that keen. I figured I woud get good views during the Poon Hill trek.

I had decided to walk all the way back down which was supposed to take two hours but I stopped at a cave and Davis Falls which were named after a Swiss woman who drowned there in the 60s. Most peculiar. I wondered what they were called before that incident.

The caves were very interesting. You took a long flight of stairs spiralling down into the ground and then walked to where you could see part of a waterfall. I am now also in many Nepali people's holiday photos. I didn't really feel like obliging at the time but felt so mean saying no... So I humored them.

That afternoon I got a little lost walking back along the road and ended up jumping in a taxi back to the lakeside. Lucky I did because I was still miles away and I'd been walking for what seemed like forever. By this stage I was hot and hungry and annoyed with myself for failing my adventure attempt.

I found a cool cafe by the lakeside and chilled in there for the hottest part of the day. I ate a huge plate of nachos and made my coke and Apple cider last as long as I could so I could continue sitting on their comfy chairs in the shade. I really couldn't see anything else to do in Pokhara for free so I told myself I was resting and eating up in preparation for the trek...

Peace Pagoda - Pokhara

L

#15 The journey to Chitwan

My adventures outside the comfortable bubble of Kirtipur began in Chitwan. I took an early bus with another volunteer from Quest who I shall call Quiet Chilean Boy. It was so nice to leave the chaos and smog that is Kathmandu.

As it was my first proper time on a Nepali major road I was entertained simply by watching the traffic.

Many of the trucks were beautifully decorated. I spotted one with the most eclectic combination of stickers including Brazillian footballers, Buddah, a swastik - not to be confused with the swastika, Bob Marley, Che Guevara, a marajuana leaf, Michael Jackson, Slipknot and Metallica. These guys were clearly fans of just about everything!

Some were covered in ornate depictions of hindu Gods whilst others had 'Facebook,' 'Google,' Adidas and Reebok painted on them.

Obviously these websites and brands are right up there with gods in the truck decorating world. I guess it kind of makes sense. Google has provided me with more answers than God has so far. Perhaps the truck drivers feel the same.

I spent a good portion of the bus ride pondering about how a person decides what he is going to decorate his truck with - brand names such as Reebok, Adidas, even Playboy or religious iconography. It must be a defining moment in any drivers career. Capitalism or religion? Or perhaps Capitalism is becoming another religion?

I remember hearing my parents telling me stories about travelling in Nepal in the 80s and I'm happy/slightly dissapointed to report people no longer have to share the busses with chickens and goats.

The bus ride left me with so many unanswered questions which I noted down along the way.

I've written from the road:

'Who paints all the trucks and why? Is it someones fulltime job? Or do the drivers do it themselves? If so why do they all paint 'Speed Control' on their front bumper or 'Road King'? Writing it on the bumper isn't going to help and there is something hilariously arrogant about everyone writing 'Road King' on their trucks. Also do they seriously think panting Adidas on their truck is convincing anyone? We all know Adidas don't manufacture trucks. And whilst I'm at it - how does everyone stay so clean? I'm learning to accept that I'm never going to feel as clean as I do at home. My clothes are beginning to take on a permanent grey colour.
So many questions! Helllp!'


When we arrived in Chitwan on schedule seven hours later the other volunteer and I went separate ways. He was doing a packaged deal and I was dead set on being an independant traveller again.

I was greeted at my hotel by a man who thrust a cool glass of Orange juice and a wet flannel into my hands. Such a simple gesture but so appreciated after a long and dusty bus ride.

He then told me if I wanted to do a jungle walk the next day I could tag along with two other German ladies which would make it cheaper for them and me. It was exactly what I wanted to do any way.

The rest of the afternoon I spent exploring and relaxing. I wandered down to the river bank and was lucky enough to see a wild elephant and crocodiles chilling on the bank. And this was without even venturing into the National Park!

I then walked to a tiny cultural museum in one of the surrounding Tharu villages. The villages were how I originally imagined Nepal would be. Chickens and goats wandering around thatched huts and women in bright colours working in the rice paddy fields.

That night I slept under a mosquito net for the first time in my life. I wasn't entirely sure what to do with it at first so I set it securely around my bed well before dusk as I had heard there was some malaria still in the area and I wasn't taking those nasty anti-malarial tablets.

As soon as I got comfortable in bed and switched off the light the droning began. It sounded like a small infantry of tiny helicopters had arrived and were hovering outside my net. They hungrily continued to drone on about, I imagined, how unfair it was that I smelt so good but they just couldn't get in for a taste.

Having outsmarted the mosquitos, I woke up early the next morning, and met the two other German ladies for breakfast before setting off on our jungle trek.

We began with a canoe ride which was very peaceful. We saw many birds (sorry Dad I don't remember all their names) and many crocodiles. We also happened across a rhino in the river and carefully climbed out of the canoe to wander along the bank for a closer look.

Later we left the canoe behind and hiked into the jungle where we happened to hear some wild elephants having lunch. Our two guides led us quickly away. If a wild elephant decides to charge there is very little you can do about it apparently.

Another volunteer told me; "If you see a rhino - climb a tree, if you see an elephant - pray."

During the hottest part of the day we slept in an animal hide. Once all the other tourists and safari jeeps had driven out of the park we walked along the road and saw a government owned elephant and two workers harvesting grass from the side of the road. This special kind of grass is used for weaving baskets, mats and beds.

We also came across an angry mother rhino with her baby as we were walking back. She started to run towards us and the youngest guide told us to run behind a tree.  Luckily the mother decided to run off into the forest instead. Afterwards we all, including the guides, dissolved into relieved giggles.

Every afternoon around the same time there was a thunderstorm so we had to hurry to get back to the hotel before it started pouring down. We almost made it but enjoyed the last few kilometres running in the big fat drops of tropical rain, listening to the almighty crashes of thunder overhead and soaking up that delicious steamy smell the earth gets when it rains after a hot day.

The next morning I went along to the famous Chitwan elephant bathing and after lunch I stupidly decided to rent a bike an explore the surrounding villages.

It was so hot in the middle of the day. I was very pink in the face and sweating profusely pretty quickly. Nevertheless I still had a nice time exploring and even had to overtake an elephant plodding along one of the roads. Quite a novelty. The locals are so used to elephants they are about as exciting as cows. After three days in Chitwan I too was getting pretty blasé about elephants which is something I never thought would happen.

That evening I went to a cultural dance and met the two German ladies. As we were walking home we heard a strange grunting sound and some one yelled "Rhino!"

Everyone scattered into nearby shops and again we dissolved into giggles as the Rhino casually trotted down the main street of Chitwan.

I had to pinch myself to make sure it wasn't some crazy cheese induced dream but nope this was all real.

Chitwan. What a crazy place.

Capitalism, communism or religion seem to be the choices when it comes to decorating trucks in Nepal.

Canoe trip in Chitwan National Park

Government elephants helping to collect the grass 

Every day the elephants trek down to the river to bathe