We took a beautiful drive over the morning into Pokhara, a brief introduction in the foothills of the Himalayas. The sunshine and moderate temperatures reminded us why October is one of the major tourist months in Nepal.

We  had a laundry list of things to do when we got to Pokhara. Find a hotel, book the bus to Birganj (see Part I), find an ATM, have lunch. We found a hotel lakeside, the touristy center of Pokhara, with ATM’s abound and a Canadian-Nepali restaurant serving us lunch, a good steak. Walking down the main street, we found a scooter rental place out of a laundromat, and got scooters for the evening and the next morning. It was my first time on a scooter.

We decided to ride up to the World Peace Pagoda at the top of one of the hills surrounding Pokhara. My first scooter ride ever was an off-road experience to the top of a mountain. We turned incorrectly, missed the Pagoda, and headed back down the mountain in fading light. Along the way, I almost killed myself in traffic, falling off the edge of a mountain, and a little girl (she was playing on the road!). We all made it back to the lakeside safe and sound to enjoy dinner at Boomerang. Lamb roast, apple pie, and Gurkha beer still sound amazing as I write here at IIT Delhi. A quick drink at the Busy Bee – first White Russian, verdict: obamanotbad.jpg – some shopping for snacks and postcards, and a quiet close to the first day in Pokhara.

We awoke early the next day to catch a glimpse of the sunrise at Sarankot, a beautiful mountain-top village northwest of Pokhara with a stunning view of the Himalayas. We arrived through an off-road trail, greeted by dozens of tour buses and endless hordes of tourists from around the world. This may be the first and only time I see someone with a multishot camera snapping madly away at the Annapurna range of the Himalayas. Everyone just wanted photographs, and I took my time getting mine. I did enjoy the ride up, the fresh mountain air complimenting the rising light of the sun and the joy of moving faster than a human body should go.

Here’s a peek.

The sun rising over the foothills of the Himalayas at Sarankot.

Annapurna Range at Sunrise, Sarankot.

Speeding away from Sarankot, we arrived at a little village called Kaskikot. We sat for chai tea at a small building on the side of the road, chatting with the local men about their lives. I met a man responsible for the agriculture in this region of Nepal, who had gone to school in the Netherlands. He was home for the festival, and it was surprising to me to find someone like him who had traveled around in the world in a small village like Kaskikot. The chai was delicious, by the way.

Further along, we met some kids who ambushed us and demanded a ride on the scooters. Children, it must be said, are endlessly energetic and that is one of the major reasons I will not have a kid anytime soon. However, when they are happy, they are good company, especially to show us to their temple on the top of another hill. We hiked up, elementary-school-aged boys holding our hands, to the summit of this hill. A stunning view of the Annapurna range opened up to us.

Annapurna Range from Kaskikot

Then the temple. Fresh blood had dripped everywhere, a remnant of the goat sacrificed for the festival earlier that morning. Walking around barefoot in a temple on a hilltop in rural Nepal with goat blood everywhere is not exactly what you would imagine when going on vacation to Nepal. But it happened! We took one last look at the mountains, and climbed down the hill.

Leaving the kids behind (NRs 100 richer, mind you), we scootered past the edge of our map for lunch at some sort of hotel. Nothing memorable, except the whole experience of going 80kmh on a scooter down the mountainside.

We kept going. At some point, we decided this was foolish and turned back to head to the Tibetan settlement before sunset. I’m riding out front, scootering along, and check the rear view. Nobody. Alex and Jerry had disappeared. I pull over and wait. No sign. I turn around and drive back. Still no sign. Around an S-curve, I see them. Jerry’s scooter would not start.

This started a 3-hour saga of many Nepali people crowding around us to see what was happening. We fetched a mechanic from the village a kilometer away, to replace the spark plug. No dice. A vacationing family of 12 came over to help us try to get the bike back to Pokhara. Bus drivers can demand exorbitant prices sometimes, and let’s just leave it at that. Finally, the mechanic assured us that he would walk the scooter back to his village and fix it within the hour. Jerry accompanied him, trusting that the work would be done.

You can’t trust.

Alex and I continued down the mountain, a long series of s-curves, to get to the Tibetan settlement. We entered the monastery where the monks were in prayer. My right ear lost some significant percentage of its hearing as the rag-dun blown repeatedly during prayer was seated to my immediate right. No pictures from here, unfortunately. A quick walk around the village brought out kids wanting a ransom of food to pass. I handed out one Digestive and found none remaining in the box, and we fled the scene. Back to the scooters, back to Pokhara, to the hotel to wait for Jerry.

He’d had his own adventure. Let’s just say he took a taxi with the scooter hanging out of it back into Pokhara to return to the store owner.

Dinner, drinks, bed. Tourist towns are great.

The next morning, we headed for the border, but you already know that story.

Although this is part 2 of the semester break series, it chronologically comes first. I am going to tell you the story of my travels to Kathmandu and Pokhara, Nepal.

We start at IIT Delhi, 5AM in the morning. Our flight was at 0730. The taxi was booked for 0545. I had a cup of tea, a quick pack of my bag, and off to the taxi with Alex, 5 minutes late. No taxi. I call the taxi service. 10 minutes, they said. 0600, we’re going to the airport. We get there at 0630. Check in, tags on the baggage, through to immigration. Alex gets a chatty old man; I couldn’t tell if the man was regaling Alex with tales of his past, or if the man was living vicariously through Alex’s stories. No matter, I pass through immigration quickly, into the shortest baggage scanning lineup. Alex makes it to the same line, 5 minutes behind. It’s nearing 0700. I pass security. I check the board, AI213 to Kathmandu, final call. The PA comes on. “This is the final boarding call for Air India Flight AI213 to Kathmandu, paging passengers Mr. Alexander Harmsen and Mr. Dominic Tong.” There’s a first time for everything, including a headlong sprint through the duty-free shop to reach the gate.

We get on the plane. The seat next to me is taken by a Chinese man, who was displaced by the Swiss French man who wanted to sit with his travel companions. The empty seat was somewhere at the front. Alex and I speak six languages of varying fluencies between us; this rotational swap of seats took three. The little things you don’t see when you sit at home in Vancouver.

A flight in, a visa application, USD $50, and a taxi ride through the winding, bumpy, unpaved roads of Kathmandu later, we’re at Jerry’s hotel. We’re meeting him here. I go to the ATM to get Nepalese rupees; Alex asks for the Malagasy, who is out somewhere in the city. Alex and I sit down in the hotel courtyard, outside, enjoying the sunshine and a cold soft drink. A plan is to be made for the day, just after noon. We order our food, I grab the $4 Lonely Planet of Nepal I had printed up, and off we went on our imaginary trip of Kathmandu. A walk would be good, we decided, down from the tourist center of Thamel to Durbar Square, the place where the city’s kings were once crowned. Then a visit to a temple on the east side of the city, and back to our hotel in Thamel for an early bus ride out to Pokhara.

Jerry arrived, we all ate, we all agreed it was a good plan. Step one, find a hotel. We found one. Somewhere. Unremarkable place, I don’t remember much other than sleeping that night. Then the walk down, wandering about, shopping for t-shirts (“My brother went to Nepal and all I got was this stupid t-shirt” for my companions’ siblings) and other miscellaneous things. This was the slowest walk through of a city I had ever done in my life, weighed down by the keen shopping eyes, eager to buy some souvenirs, and by the people. Traveling with Alex is like traveling with a novelty item, a constant source of amusement, consternation, and being in some other person’s scrapbook of “Look at the foreigners I meet!”.

What I remember of the walk: temples, everywhere. People, everywhere. Wildlife, everywhere. Garbage, everywhere. It was like the old Delhi, not the new south Delhi that I live in. Frustrating? Sure. But not a shock, not anymore. I wish I could put you, my reader, wherever you are from, into the Asan Tole, one of the main city squares. That is an experience to behold.

The masses of people, the smells, and the sounds are overwhelming in central Kathmandu.

We get to Durbar Square. A security guard walks up and asks for our tickets. What tickets? Over there, he points, at some booth. We brush him off, obviously a scam. Jerry checks his Lonely Planet. Nope, not a scam, we need to pay for this place. We wander to the tourist booth, and continue wandering. A guide offers his services. INR 1000, he says. Too much, too much, Alex fumes, over and over. We’d done a lap at this point. We get him to INR 500 and he tells us the story of Durbar Square as the sun sets. I honestly do not remember much. The sunset was beautiful, captured by Jerry’s camera.

A part of the Durbar Square, Kathmandu.

A quick walk back to Thamel, and into a travel agency to figure out the bus to Pokhara. All buses are full, and we are scared away from local buses at this point. (Ha! – see the previous blog post). A car to Pokhara, it would have to be, a pricey method to get to Pokhara, the town where we really wanted to be. Before dinner, I would buy a new backpack, a 50L fake North Face bag for use over the rest of the trip, my next south India trip, and not much else.

Dinner was a steak. Alex cuts his steak. It slips off the table. A quarter of a steak, gone. We talk about castes in India, a product of Jerry and Alex being in a sociology of India class back at IITD. Then, a history lesson about Yugoslavia and Tito, and some more about the Indian subcontinent. I have a lot to read about human history.

A quick cold shower, and that was it for my only day in Kathmandu.