Nepal stories

With our hopes high that we'd love Nepal, we left Dirty Delhi on September 30, landing in the madhouse that serves as airport in drizzling Katmandu by very a familiar scene: dozens of taxi drivers, guest house representatives, pseudo- guides, wannabe-porters, cultural experts or simply "real local Nepalese" trying to lure lost tourists to their chosen guesthouses, giving them a free ride so they can cash in on a few rupees commission. 
Luckily, we were prepared: while we were getting searched and harassed by the Taj Mahal annoying security in Agra, some guys, who had just come from Nepal, recommended that we stay at the "Tibet Peace Guesthouse" just outside of Thamel in Paknajol. We had actually also already picked this one from the Lonely planet, so upon arrival, we ignored the shouting mob and hopped on a prepaid taxi to Thamel (250 rupees), entertained by the offers of our driver who seemed to have everything in store from guiding, trekking, rafting to massaging, cooking and of course marijuana... 

We immediately felt great about Nepal. It is an amazingly beautiful and diverse country with the nicest people we have met in a long time, all full of warmth, enthusiasm and genuinity, despite living well below the poverty line. Before entering the "Tibet Peace Guesthouse" we had a quick peek at the "Katmandu Peace Guesthouse" (as you can see, the Nepalese are also known for their ingenuity and originality in picking names!) down the road just for comparison sake. "Katmandu Peace Guesthouse" turned out to be very nice but just slightly more expensive then its Tibetan counterpart. 
Due to the Maoist problems in Nepal, tourism is at it's lowest in three years and the local economy, mainly geared towards foreigners, is suffering greatly. Competition has increased; prices have dropped, making everything not only readily available, but also dirt-cheap. After the customary two-minute negotiation, we agreed a price of USD 6.00 per night for a double room with attached bath and TV. Under normal circumstances, this room would probably have gone for USD 10.00. 
Having arrived quite early, we immediately set out to have a look around the city. It was love at first sight. Katmandu is a very busy city, loud, crowded, dirty (although not nearly as bad as Delhi), with randomly paved (and often pot-holed!) narrow streets stuffed with guesthouses, roof top restaurants, exchange desks, internet cafes, sport shops, rafting companies and trekking agencies. As with every new city we took our time to get used to the streets and see what's for sale. 
As we wanted to go trekking for 10-11 days and rafting for about 4 days, we decided to casually browse around the hundreds of agencies in Thamel, looking for the perfect deal and the perfect guide... Although we had read a lot about trekking in the Lonely Planet, we signed in for a slide show on the Annapurna area by Chris Beale, an independent writer & photographer trekking in Nepal since 15 years, to see if we could get some ideas and tips. The 2-hour slide show was well worth seeing as it gave valuable advice on routes, stops, guest houses, view points and ways to choose porters, guides or agencies. (If you ever think of going trekking in Nepal, don't miss this inspiring show, held about three times weekly at the Katmandu Guesthouse in Thamel.).
We finally only went past three agencies to compare ideas and prices but soon found they all offered about the same. We booked with Global Trekking & Adventure because we liked the guide a lot. For Usd 325.00 per person we were going to do the Annapurna Jomson trek, which is an 11 days journey going from Katmandu by tourist bus to Pokhara (7hrs) and then by taxi to Naya Pul (1.5hrs) where the actual hardship starts. 
It's a 9 day walk (average 6 hrs/day) to Muktinath and back to Jomson where a 15 seater would fly us back to Pokhara before returning to Katmandu by tourist bus (as opposed to local "chicken-and- suicidal-driver" bus). The price included a porter, a guide, all accommodations, food, showers (which we were promised would range from average luke warm to ice cold), drinking water (read boiled/filtered water) and hot drinks. 
With the trekking arranged, we decided to also immediately get the rafting out of the way. We chose a three-day raft on the Kali Gandaki river through Ultimate Descent (next door to Katmandu Guesthouse) for Usd 85.00 per person including food and thrills. (Although this was comparatively higher then other companies, we liked the sales people and felt they would be safe and fun. We have heard of people who booked the same trip for USD 70.00 per person and had a fab time. TIP: book your rafting in Pokhara as you have more negotiation power, closer to the departure date!). 

Katmandu and its Valley
After a fitful sleep until 5 am the next morning, which is about the time every Nepalese man, woman, sheep, rooster and dog usually gets up and starts making to most god awful noises, we decided to roam around the town starting with Katmandu Durbar Square (which means "Royal Palace Square" and seems to be replicated in every big city). Ktm Durbar square was a bit of a disappointment, as it was very cluttered with "guides", food stalls, tourist shacks, beggars, sleeping dogs and dirt. We however agreed to take the guide who was offering his services after he managed to convince us that the square was impossible to understand alone, that the information included in the Lonely Planet was totally false and that he alone would be able to explain to us the basics of Hinduism, Sabianism, Brahminism, Neoplatonism, Gnosticism and Buddhism. The guide spoke quite good English and the tour was very enjoyable, so it was a EUR2,50 well spent. 
We made our way back to Thamel through the extremely narrow streets of old Katmandu, making desperate attempts to follow the walking tours described in the Lonely Planet, constantly losing the way and finally just following our disturbed sense of orientation, reaching our destination more than 2 hours later... 

We however knew that there had to be more to Katmandu than this, so the next morning we set out with a set of mountain bikes to Swayambunath also known as Monkey temple (named for the thousands of monkeys which have made this place their home, and who are great entertainment for the visitors and a threat for the food and cameras...). The giant Buddhist stupa was very nice and again, we were clung to by self-made guides who wanted to give us a tour. We tried to hold out for as long as possible but gave in to one guy who was particularly friendly and off we went. By this stage we had become quasi-experts on Buddhism and Hinduism, knew all about Vishnu and Buddha, the story of the Ganesh's elephant trump, the vehicle of Shiva, the moodiness of Parvati and the punishment of Brahma...but the visit was well worth it. 
Going around on a mountain bike in Katmandu is something else: Besides the extreme pollution and the constant up'and'downs, the million of cars, bikes, motorcycles, goats, tractors, carriages and cows-on-the-run in the middle of the ring road make it quite a memorable and fun experience. Since the area is not that big it is a great way to travel, and see Katmandu and its valley in a different way. After the Monkey temple we cycled up to Chovar to visit a temple of Ganesh (Jal Vinayak), where Silvia did not have time to pay attention to the typical sight of the villagers having their daily Dal Baht meal in common as she was too fixated on the provocative erotic-come-hard-core ornaments on the temple ceiling...
The idea was to go all the way to the historical town of Kirtipur, but this turned out to be a 2-hour climb up the hill (which resembled more the Everest than a gentle sound-of-music-like hill!). 
As we were already sweaty and out of breath after our 20 minutes ride, Chovar seemed far enough. On the way out of temple, some locals advised us not to take the same way back to Patan but lead us to a short cut through the mountains. 
And what a short cut it was: to start, a super steep walk up a muddy path half demolished by what seemed to be numerous land-slides, earthquakes or Iraqi scud missiles, followed by a "cycle" down a rocky dirt road angled at 45 degrees (which Silvia raced down at the daring speed... of an aging turtle!)... 
But it was great though going through the small villages where obviously not many tourists came, and see the rural life around the city. Our next stop was to visit Durbar Square in Patan (the sister city of Katmandu). 
The all-red-and-brown temples were a big contrast in organization, cleanliness and impressiveness to the ones of Katmandu, but the guides were equal in their insistent and pushiness.... This time however they were 14-year old boys, who spoke superb English, and knew more about the Dutch Monarchy then we did. It was quite fun to see these little ones name all the Queens and Kings of Holland back to Willem of Orange, to know the Prime Minister (well they were a bit behind on that one but still...), or quote data on population, demographics and lifestyle. 
They had even solved the mystery of why Dutch people were so tall, explaining to us that given that Holland was as flat as a pancake on a bad day, its people had to be really tall, whilst Nepal, which was full with high mountains, could afford to only have short people. We promised them to present their theory to the dean of the University of Amsterdam upon our return. 
These guys took us around Patan a bit (the Gold Temple, Durbar Square) and kindly contributed to our overdose of Hindu/Buddhist gods, stories and rituals, until we solemnly swore that it would be the last time we'd take a guide. 

Boudanah and Pashupatinath:
So, true to form, we headed the next morning to visit one of the world's largest Buddhist stupas, and the most important Tibetan Buddhist monument outside of Tibet (Boudhanah, just 5 km out of Katmandu) where the soothing "Om Mani Padme Hum" melodies of the mantra allowed us to gather enough will power to push back on the many guides offering their services, and circle the impressive Stupa by ourselves, before heading to Nepal's holiest Hindu pilgrimage site: Pashupatinath (posh-potty-nah). 

In this amazing enclave of temples, cremation gaths, ritual bathers and half naked sadhus, we also managed to declined the extremely pushy offers of the guides and roamed around by ourselves for a few hours (accompanied by a dozen curious kids that followed us everywhere wanting their picture taken all the time). 
Pashupatinath, the Hindu cremation site along the holly Bagmati River, was extremely impressive: its intense colors and scents, the smoke emanating from the burning bodies on the gaths, the ritual bathing of the worshippers in the river and the spread of temples decorated by colorful offerings, all contribute to making it an intense and mystique place to visit... interesting to see is the way there was is a clear distinction between rich and poor when it comes to place of cremation, how cheerful everyone is around the burning gaths, and how Hindu surrealism in sexual expression is pushed to its extreme on 6-meter tall statues of Shiva and parbati in the state of yab-yum (sexual union), in temples representing the vagina of Shiva's first wife Seti or in Shiva's impressive erect member (Shiva Linga). 
Of all the places we have seen in the Katmandu Valley, this was certainly the most impressive. Barely recovered from the intense impressions of the previous day, we already had get on the bus to Pokhara for the start of our trek. 

Pokhara:
Pokhara is a lovely, quiet little town about six hours west of Katmandu and, My God what a difference! After the constant hassling in Katmandu, the noises and the small little dirty streets, Pokhara seemed almost heaven sent. The city is built around a gorgeous lake, with great views on most of the Annapurna peaks. We spent one night there at the Annapurna Lodge (which is a great place to stay if you don't mind being woken up at 4:30 by the whiny moos of cows, the eerie cries of kids and the noises of what could be an army regiment starting an early day by all clearing their throat and spitting at the same time... impatient to re-live this upon our return, we booked the same guesthouse for 5 days after the trek and until we go for the rafting)... 

The Annapurna Jomson Trek: 
The trek started in Naya Pul, a 1.5-hour 4x4 bumpy ride from Pokhara. The first day was intended as a smooth warm-up of four hours on hilly paths through fluorescent yellowish-green rice fields and pinkish buckwheat plantations. 
We thought this would be easy peasy, but after going up and down once, twice, sweating for bucket-loads, slaloming between piles of cow dung, going up again and then down, we were really happy to see the first guesthouse in Tikedhunga. 
The Gupta Guesthouse was pretty much a joke: even with the best will in the world, there was no way you could call the shabby wooden stable a "room". It looked more like a bicycle shed built in a left-over space in the back of the garden by a 5-year-old DIY-challenged kid from nothing but nails and low quality 3rd-hand 2mm sound-conducting plywood. 
The views on this first part were however amazing and so was the food, surprisingly enough. One of the great things about trekking is the amount of people you meet. The first day we met a really nice couple from Holland and a guy from Australia who were heading in the same direction. 
Although you usually don't walk together, as everyone has their own pace, you meet each other at night in the various guesthouses, where you have dinner together, play some games, and wish each other goodnight at what feels like midnight, but was actually nine p.m. Luckily the guesthouses got only better from there, and the food, although always tasty and fresh, soon became a bit monotonous after 5 days (the Nepalis having developed the fantastic art of making every item on the menu look, feel, smell and taste exactly the same. Their moussaka, lasagna, burritos, tacos or spaghettis would actually be one-and-only item, similarly, Tibetan bread (yummy!), spring roles, apple pies and pizzas would all look the same, and be made with exactly the same basic ingredients (which leaves you to wonder how good the apple pies were, no?). 
The second day we had a six-hour long super steep step-like climb through terraces and rain forest up to Gorapani, which was quite a struggle for most of us (except Chris who went up at his usual speed and was waiting for the rest of the group half way, where he had spent an hour, looking at pictures, and writing emails). 
Upon arrival in Gorapani we were so exhausted, that we were happy to see that the guesthouse was cozy, comfortable and had hot water! (Trust me this is quite unique on the way). We spent a really nice evening playing Klaverjassen (a Dutch card game, played with four people of exceptionally high intelligence who understand the obscure unwritten rules of the game. Having taken pity upon Chris, Silvia was kind enough to provide him with the many sheets of paper explaining point counts, card combinations and golden rules) but were in bed at our customary pathetically early time as we had to get up at 5 am to climb up to Poon Hill to enjoy the fabulous sun rise. 
Just to give you an idea we had just climbed from 1100m to 2700m to reach Gorapani. We then had to go to Poon Hill, which is at 3200 meters. Normally climbing 500 metres should not that much of a deal, but at 5am on an empty stomach, it can be pretty bad. It wasn't made any better by the fact that we had no bloody view at all. There were so many clouds that the sunrise was not visible nor were the so-called magnificent peaks of the Annapurna 1, 2 and south, the Fishtail and the Daulagiri (all 8000 metre mountains). 
Felling totally ripped-off, and not being able to claim a refund, we drowned our disappointment in a cup of Luke warm hot chocolate for which we paid the astronomical price of Nrps 180 (more than a night's accommodation!). True that it was all a bit disappointing, but we had good hope the weather would improve and we would have some good views from Kalopani, Jomson or Muktinath. 
After breakfast we had a long steep descent back down to 1200 metres which turned out a lot tougher then we thought. Our knees, calves, back and upper legs were certainly not too happy at having to go down step-like-paths for 8 hours and we were both in terrible pain when we finally arrived in Tatopani. 
Luckily for us, this village is famous for its relaxing natural Hot Springs, and our moods (as well as muscle aches) were soon bettered by hour-long soaks in the hot water pools along the shore of the Kali Gandaki river.
Chatting with fellow trekkers. 
The Dutch couple had in the mean time taken another -shorter- route back, and the Australian guy, totally exhausted, had decided to rest an extra day in Tatopani, so we continued our journey with two French women who were doing the trek up to Jomson as well, and we spent the next couple of days in their company which was great (especially for Sil's French). 
Luckily enough the long trail (8.5 hours) from Tatopani to Kalopani was more or less flat, which was fine by our tired muscles and knees. In Ghasa (about two hours away from Kalopani) it started to rain and we doubted whether to stay at the New Florida GH in Ghasa or go for Kalopani where we were promised another most breathtaking sunrise. 
Against the advise of our guide, we struggled our way up to Kalopani and arrived totally exhausted and soaked to the bones, longing for a nice warm long shower to make us forget the cold mystery of the past hours... 
An ice-cold 3-second shower later, we escaped our large freezer-like-room to sit in the common room where they had placed a nice charcoal heater under the main dining table (super handy to dry our soaked clothes). 
Corinne and Flo had decided to stay in Ghasa, after spending more than an hour at the Mustang police check point, and realising it was getting too late for them to come up to Kalopani. 
Our luck with scenic points being what it is, there was nothing in Kalopani that even vaguely resembled a sunrise, only black clouds dark hills and threatening skies, so after our 6am stroll, we decided to laze around a bit and didn't leave until 10am after we met Flo and Corrine again. 
It started raining shortly after we left, and the mood of the troops soon started sombering. 
With only two large borrowed plastic bags as protection (the fancy rain covers we'd bought had stayed in Pokhara), we walked under the pouring rain, praying at every step that it would stop. 
Flat landscapes soon became hills, hills mountainous terrain, and everything around us was transformed into one big slippery pack of mud! Due to a few landslides along the way, we were forced to take a slightly alternative route along the deep edges of the riverbed. Silvia's was already not having her greatest day, yet something in the air told us that things could get much uglier still... when we started going down the very steep, narrow muddy paths, Sil, who wouldn't be Sil otherwise, started slipping left right and centre, cursing anyone who'd be on her way, mumbling that she was having the worst day of her life until she fell no less then three times. 

Sil: "Now I was already in a foul mood, due to the aches in my feet, calves, ankles, legs and back, the rain certainly did nothing to improve this. Falling however was the final straw and for the next three hours Chris stayed well clear of me, as I was muttering obscene language to myself and those nearest to me (luckily enough, no one spoke Dutch, so I pretty much just spoke to myself).

Chris: "I could quickly see that Sil was not having the greatest of time walking under the rain, I did make numerous (failed) attempts to cheer her up and make sure she would not get unnecessarily wet... to no avail. 
When we got to the slippery slopes along the edges of the ravines, I knew that hell was about to explode. Small slip here, big slip there, loss of balance everywhere! Although it was pouring with rain, the only lightning I could see was coming from Sil's eyes when she looked at me, making it very clear that she blamed me for all this, for the whole trekking thing, the whole travelling thing, and making me understand that my smart-ass comments and advice on how to place her foot or her stick were not welcomed at all!!! For the next 45 minutes, I walked 300 meters behind, worryingly listening to the thunder of insults and damnations coming from my sweet darling angel Silvia..." 

By the time lunch came things were getting a bit better as it had stopped raining. Also the prospect of going to the Dutch bakery in Tutchske and eat a to-die-for-chocolate-cake with warm chocolate milk immensely improved Sil's mood. Although we would have loved to stay at the Dutch bakery for dinner (they served Sate+Nasi Goreng and Wortelstampot), the schedule forced us to move to Marpha where we stayed in a nice lodge and tried to massage our little sore muscles and egos (to very little avail). 
The next day we went to a small town called Kagbeni which is only a 5 hour flat walk from Marpha, past Jomson, but was one of the least enjoyable walks, not only because it went over rough terrain in a very plain and monotonous landscape, but also because it quite clear that Sil had bruised her left foot, so walking became increasingly difficult. It is then that the decision was taken to take a horse up the next day for the last climb to Muktinath from 2800 to 3800m). 
Kagbeni was very impressive as it seemed to have stood still for the past 600 years! We were thrown back in the Middle Ages with medieval ruins and terra- cotta Buddhist figures everywhere in the streets, cattle, troops of donkeys and hundreds of dogs freely roaming around the narrow muddy streets of the village, deliberately soiling the few stones that made up the path with their colossal droppings. It was incredible to see that people actually lived in houses that we could barely distinguish from cattle barns... The weather had fortunately cleared up in the meantime so we were treated to a great sunrise the next day and some beautiful clear peaks. The trip up to Muktinath went extremely smooth with the horses and the view was one of the nicest we had been treated to so far. 
Since we had started the trek, the landscape had gradually changed from lush green to rough drought, but on the way to Muktinath it turned to a typical autumn landscape, with beautiful red, yellow and brown colored trees with thick carpets of fallen leaves and a dark blue sky. 
We arrived in Muktinath, on one of the most important religious sites in the Nepal Himalayas early, and had plenty of time to go up to the temple and have a look around. 
It is actually a very strange experience to have such a lack of breath and energy at this altitude, so the walk to the temple took a lot longer then it should have due to the lack of oxygen. Once we got there, we were treated by a real fairytale garden, filled with colorful prayer flags, fallen leaves, old temples and a mysterious looking water stream flowing down the garden. As our batteries had gone flat the moment we wanted to take pictures, Silvia decided to walk back the next morning, when there was no another soul around and wait for the sun to rise properly to get some good light. 
In the meantime Chris walked with our guide Janardan towards the Thorong La pass, where they reached the upper camp (4800m) before casually walking back. 
The last night of the trek was spent in Jokjart, just 20 minutes walk from Muktinath, in yet another medieval village who's guesthouse was barely better than the first guesthouse in Tikedhunga. After a cold night on our 2-cm thick mattress, we headed down to Jomson to catch our next morning early flight to Pokhara, damning ourselves for having moved from the comfort of our guesthouse in Muktinath to the shit hole of Jokjart. 

Pokhara:
Back in Pokhara, we treated ourselves to 3 days of early morning cow-moos, kid- whines and cookooreedooz at the Annapurna Plaza, spending our days trying out the breads and croissants of the many like-side bakeries in Pokharas, enjoying the mountain views and the warm sun, reading our books and undertaking other such highly stressful activities... We met back with the ozi guy (let's call him Tim as such was his name!) and spent some fun time with 4 newly found dutchies who were as inspired as we were to do... nothing! 

Camels & sheep:
As we were making our way up the mountain to the voices of children screaming "namastee-school-pen", we witnessed the beginning of Dashain, the largest Hindu festival in Nepal. By the tens of thousands, goats and sheep were coming down the mountain (not voluntarily I might add) from Mustang or Tibet to Pokhara where they would eventually end up as party meal for some "lucky" family. It truly was a sight to walk between these multicolored creatures (painted like some Mohican in bright yellow, orange, pink, red, blue and green to show their belonging to a particular herd) making their way through narrow gorges, steep mountains and very high suspended bridges. Chris briefly anticipated this as his next career move (being so talented in making the panicky sheep cross bridges and move away from the tiny paths) but soon realised he could not stand for long the smell and sight of their excrements! Once back in Pokhara we luckily were saved from the sights of the mass slaughtering. Instead we went to a cute temple in the middle of the lake where men and women in beautiful colorful dresses made their offerings of flowers, rice and incense to the gods. It is unfortunately also in their tradition to take a huge slap of red-coloured rice, stick it on their forehead and call this a ''tikka''. In the beginning we figured a horrible skin disease had come up in Nepal, but from close up it was all relatively harmless if gross... 

Camel on the river:
Rested from our week-long bakeries-hopping in chilled Pokhara, we set for three days of adrenaline-filled rafting on the Kali Gandaki River with our sixteen new-found temporary friends from Spain, UK, Israel, Germany and Canada. While the rafting in itself was a bit "tame" to our taste, the trip turned out to be just as advertised in the brochure -none stop action:
A long downhill bus ride through the steepest, narrowest mountain roads. Lots of carrying, boat loading and rope tightening. Waves of ice cold water flooding the raft when descending the rapids. Setting up camp under the poring rain while cursing the inventor of the tent. 16 people trying to keep warm and dry under two square meters of fabric. Helping to prepare dinner and breakfast. Two sleepless nights on mattresses no thicker than a double folded Kleenex. Icy wake-ups by the roaring sound of the river. Cold water. Stunning sceneries of deep gorges, 300-meter high walls and incredible vegetation. Waves. Splashes. Lots of laughter, fun and silly Ping-Pong drinking games with hangover-inducing warm rum-punch...

On the last day, while slowly navigating on a calm stretch of river, and instead of sunbathing or floating relaxingly on his life-jacket like everybody else, Chris took the brilliant initiative of throwing still-very-dry-Sil overboard, in what turned out to be an elegant ballet worthy of the most dramatic Italian composer: Push, pull, twist, jump to the left, double backwards salto, three steps to the right, push harder, fall, step on head, kick glasses in the water, put shoes in face, punch, scream, panic, clean blood, rescue from water, apologise...
Sunglassesless, hurting, bleeding slightly from the temple, Sil vowed to take her revenge one day...

Spiritual Camel:
The next three days were dedicated to a spiritual revival at the Yiga Ganzin Buddhist Centre.
In a relaxing Zen atmosphere, surrounded by tall banana trees and coloured giant prayer wheels, we slowly climbed the steps of touristy enlightenment under the guidance of our Lama Rapinoche.
Luckily, none of our 6 co-meditators (1x Israel, 1x France, 3x USA) were looking for a new religion or were in any way fanatical about the teaching or the theories, but instead were trying to satisfy their curiosity about Buddhism and better understand the mystical world of mediation, yogi, karma, reincarnation and spiritual enlightenment.
We thus spent our days in long discussions, debating about reincarnation and karma repercussions, solving the Israeli conflict and attempting to grasp the logic that led to the American moronic leadership of "Rambush".
Although our days were supposedly filled by a strict timetable (6am meditation, 7am yoga, 8:30am breakfast, 10am Buddhist teaching, 12:30pm lunch, 2pm Thai-Gong, 3pm Buddhist teaching, 5pm break, 6pm meditation and candle meditation, 7pm dinner), we had plenty of breaks to have a relaxed, no-pressure, pleasure filled 3 days.

The Buddhist teaching classes tended to be a bit on the long side, but we were conveniently being kept awake by the throbbing pains of cramps in our legs while trying to maintain a position that vaguely resembled a half lotus...
The mediation was an eye opener. Our first problem occurred when we were desperately trying to meditate by imagining a beautiful smiling Buddha Shakyamouni on a gorgeous lotus flower looking down on us with compassion, and all we managed to get into our mind was Casper the ghost flying around or the blue genie in Aladdin with the voice of Robin Williams.... We doubt we conjured up much goodwill that first time but we did gradually get better, thoroughly enjoyed the silent hours of introspection and relaxation and hopefully did our good deed for the world.

The daily entertainment was provided by our Yoga teacher: A cross between Aladdin's "Jaffar" and India Jones's wicked Sorcerer, he would instinctively command attention with his gruesome trembling low pitched monotonous voice, and would guide us through his simple Yoga routine or his candle mediation sittings repeating the following sentences as slowly as possible, in his perfect marabou-voodoo accent:
-'You compleeetely inclooose in dii eyyyez... also mowt... taka deeeep ibreath-in, breazawt, consatrayte, relexa dii mussel... also thirt, consatrate on candle wth tird eye, slooooowly normal breathing..."
At the end of each session, after we were allowed to unknot our feet from behind our ears, he would ask us to:
- 'Reepeeeat after me: Effryday... in efferyway, I am gettingg; or we are gettingg; better, and better and better. In bodyyy, and soul, also maynd"...

Before we started traveling Chris wanted to experience how it felt to have Sil shutting up for 10 days by checking us into a very austere meditation centre in Thailand. He has now realised what Silvia already knew since a long time: that that would really be too hard and not even worth this once in a lifetime privileged phenomenon of not hearing Sil blab for more than10 minutes. If we immensely enjoyed the three days, it was mainly due to the people we met and the discussions we could have during the classes. The 10 days of utter silence, rice porridge breakfast-lunch-dinner and lotus positions has now been definitely scraped from our program (1-0 to Sil).

Capital Camel:
With sadness in our hearts we left Pokhara the next day for Katmandu where we met up with Venkat (a colleague of Sil from Nutricia) who had just successfully made the journey to the Mount Everest Base Camp for a Gulf4Good a Dubai charity. We met him by chance as we were walking down the street near our hotel and he invited us to his 5-star hotel for a drink. Suddenly remembering what the 5-star luxury felt like, we could not refuse his invite for a yummy breakfast at the Yak and Yeti Hotel the next morning, where we ate enough to last us for a week (although we decided to meet up again for dinner anyway). It was great having our first meeting with a friend while on the road, and so nice to catch up on stories of the office and of Dubai... Venkat thanks a lot for the fun dinner at the 40,000 feet bar (and the lush breakfast of course).

We had planned to go down South to Chitwan National Park for three days but since there still was so much to see in the Katmandu Valley and since we had heard that the wildlife was not that abundant (particularly compared to South Africa where we had been twice in the past 12 months), we decided to rent a motorbike instead and just drive around the valley for two days, which is certainly the best way to explore Katmandu's surroundings.

There are a lot of beautiful wats, temples and villages, and we especially liked Bungmati, a small village that looks just like a Tuscan enclosure when you see it first from the hilltops, but once you go in, it perfectly portrays the typically Nepalese daily life, with all the people doing their work on the streets, the women beating the wheat to separate it from the husk, the children coming home from school in their blue and white uniform and running around everywhere, smiling at you, the goats, dogs, cats, sheep, pigs and ducks walking around between them all, apparently having a very relaxed life. It was especially the friendliness of these people that appealed to us so much. This is definitely a place worth visiting.

The next day, while Sil was recovering for a very bad stomach bug (after eating at Yin Yun, Katmandu's so-called finest restaurant!), Chris went out by himself, enjoying his first day apart.
The moronic Maoists having declared a General Strike and a driving ban in the name of the people's struggle for a new oppressor, Chris took advantage of his newly found freedom and the deserted roads to speed and  have a blast on the motorcycle, visiting monasteries here and there, wats hidden in forests and little villages...

Having arrived relatively early at the first monastery, he was lucky to experience a full praying, gonging and chanting ceremony by the monks, many of which were children no older than 8. Sitting on a pedestal, facing the monastery's high priest was a child of 7, the reincarnation of the previous Lama, who, obviously still learning his ways, spent the whole ceremony sneakily trying to mimic the complicated gestures of his older counter-part.
Once the ceremony finished, the little monks became kids again, running and laughing and throwing their slippers at each other...

Bakhtapur Camel:
We spent the last two days in Nepal in the well-preserved medieval city of Bakhtapur (where they  certainly understood the concept of tourism, as you have to pay EUR 10 just to enter the city). It was however extremely beautiful with so many old temples and statues to fill a day with just awing and taking pictures. At night, with 99% of the tourists back in Katmandu, the city turns into a typical Nepali scene with everyone comes out to the streets to eat and socialise until the extremely late hour of 8pm when everyone goes to bed and the city lights go out....

We had no other choice but to give in to their rhythm, stop our discovery of the city, go to bed at 9pm and wake up to the absolute gross sounds of a man dragging mucus and saliva from the bottom of his toes.
This by the way happens every two minutes as you are walking down the streets, but to have it as a wake up call at 4 am was a bit much... that is one side of Nepal were not going to miss as we made our way to Bangkok the next day...

And the moral of the Camel is:
One should never forget that behind the beauty and the magic of Nepal lies a country that is one of the poorest in the world, with terrible misery, beggars, glue-sniffing children, filth and an uneducated youth. While condoning poverty and child slavery (by giving in to the begging and the hordes of kids asking for school pens, chocolates and one-rupee) should never be done; being a stingy bastard and beating everyone's price down to nothing just because you can does not help either!

It is both easy and fun to participate in the local economy, to hire a porter for $8/day can not only be a door opener in local villages but can also get you cheaper prices in guesthouses along the way, hiring a "guide" here and there at a reasonable price will undoubtedly enrich you with some anecdote, and paying an acceptable price in shops will not kill you or prevent you from having a beer at the end of the day... All in all, we thoroughly enjoyed Nepal, a gorgeous country filled with friendly nice people (once you get past the touts), stunning nature, and action packed adventures.