Just back from a great week at Lenzerheide in Switzerland. A picture paints a thousand words, so here’s a video – thanks for an awesome week to Jason at Snowmotions and Pete at Alpine Rides. Music is by The New Governors.
The ubiquitous rickshaw
Today Ali-bhai (-bhai is Bangla suffix meaning ‘brother’, more polite than just their name), M’s driver takes me on a trip to Old Dhaka. Just as we start off, the last two days of oppressive heat and humidity give way to a deluge from the heavens. Looking at the traffic and rising water levels on the road, I contemplate abandoning the trip, but am glad we continued – about an hour after setting off, we finally reach Old Dhaka (only a few miles away, but traffic makes it longer) and as if on cue, the rain stops. The downpour takes the heat out of the air and makes it all much more bearable. (more…)
Arrived in Dhaka at silly o’clock having changed at Hong Kong. The journey was interesting – certainly highlighted the differences between Japanese service staff and Hong Kong air stewardesses! After a bit of visa confusion at Sapporo airport, landing at Dhaka was a straightforward process – largely thanks to my ‘facilitator’ organised by M. He picked me up, whisked me thru immigration and sorted out my $50, 15 day visa, before helping me with my bags into the BHC Land Rover Defender and off into the night. I learn a teeny bit of Bangla and chat, before arriving in Gulshan – one of the nice diplomatic-areas of Dhaka. (more…)
Now that’s the sort of movie I want to make. Love it.
Stuff I shot in 2001-2002 from pierretube on Vimeo.
View from Helena's
A leisurely final day together – breakfast at the dizzying heights of Helena’s, some shopping and late lunch/dinner at Pilgrim’s feed n read. M leaves early the next day and I’m left on my own.
Thamel streets
The next day, I start with a tasty low-cholesterol breakfast at Pilgrim’s. I write and read a little, happy to have been recognised by the staff. Invited to music later. I wander Thamel and buy a bansuri, spend some time in the store playing guitar and thwacking drums. Wander off feeling blissfully happy and carefree.
Try to get an electric Safa Tempo, but get conned onto a normal tempo to Boudnath. 15 rupees later, having been squeezed into the low roof Suzuki, I spill out in front of Boudnath stupa. I pay 100 rupees for entry and get given a leaflet, before realising it’s free. It’s pretty, but no real connection, I spy a roof top cafe and seek it out.
Watchful eyes
The Saturday Cafe fills a spot and I sit, read and write, eavesdropping on conversations high about the stupa. Hours float by, soup and chiya. I wander off to find a gompa – the oldest in Boudnath.
Butter lamps
Wandering through narrow side streets, I sheepishly poke my head in and ask if it’s ok to look around. The monks speak great english, I slip my flip-flops off and slide through the curtain.
15 pairs of eyes swivel in my direction, still chanting.
I feel very out of place. Nervously namaste-ing, I creep in. A monk motions for me to sit just as a huge cacophony starts. The tantric drums pound through my body. I sit transfixed and gradually settle into the experience. I scatter rice as the monks perform full body prostrations. Then comes a point in the puja where something is poured into the monks’ hands, they sip it then wipe it on their shorn heads. A monk approaches and pours some of the bright yellow liquid into my hand. I follow suit and wonder what I’ve just consumed. Later they offer me bread (that is familiar to me as yau char kway) and some sort of hot drink – maybe involving yak butter. It’s sweet and warm, but looks like dish water. Unsure whether it’s right for me to take part, I decide to accept as an acknowledgement of our interconnectedness. Puja finishes and I’m swept into a sea of locals circumambulating the stupa. Dazzled and intrigued, I finally head back to Kathmandu.
Dusk at Boudnath
I visit Pilgrims’, intent on chilling to sitar music, but something doesn’t feel right. I reject the linen clad bearded hippies and head for Japanese food, contemplating the sudden influx of Japanese-ness into my life,
Dinner at O Fukuru No Aji is… spiritual and nourishing. I sit cross-legged, enjoying the calm, reading and writing – a happy closing memory of a great country to which we’re sure to return.
Goat on the roof of a passing bus
We probably didn’t do Lumbini justice, but we’re pleased to leave. The early morning mist and sunrise warm our hearts. We arrive early in Bhairawa and dodge bus drivers to contemplate our mode of transport. After waiting for it to arrive, we pay 750 rupees each for an A/C bus. Glorious luxury! Comfy seats, air conditioning, clean water, fantastic break stops. Overpriced, but worth it. Our bags were even in the boot!
We’re dropped rather unceremoniously on the outskirts of Kathmandu and after wandering around in the dust, pollution and noise, we find a tempo to Ratna Park for a mere 15 rupees. We find the Horizon Hotel and breathe a sigh of relief. O fukura no aji for dinner as we can’t see to find Koto.
Sal tree
Turtles peeking out
We start with a pleasant, if protracted breakfast. A hippy guy nearby is playing the bansuri and all is peaceful. I silently vow to learn it and wander Kung Fu style finding nice spots to play.
Monks in Lumbini
Beautiful morning spent at the Mayadevi temple where Siddharta was born. We find the Sal tree that has become a shrine.
Several monks sit guard, prayer flags fluttering and butterflies drifting past. Propping ourselves on a meditation platform, we watch the world go by. I peek at the turtles in the pond and they peek back. Playful chipmunks race around chasing each other before pausing to namaste.
Even the chipmunks are at it
Unfortunately the serenity soon fades as noisy school groups and loutish kids come through. We both search for sanctuary, but fail to find the promised peace that we’d hoped for. Late lunch back at the 3 Foxes and we’re ready to leave Lumbini – our room begins to feel like a prison and we long for Kathmandu.
Crowds at Lumbini
What had looked like a straightforward solution of a bus from Lumbini dissolves into bus strikes. Our mood makes this feel like a major barrier, but the reality is that an overpriced taxi to Bhairawa connects us to a bus out East.
We contemplate the Crane Sanctuary and Japanese food, but it feels like too much of an effort and we’re fed up of being ripped off. Sweetcorn soup suffices and we sleep.
Machapuchare in the morning
Early start, Mustang bus station, conned into sitting at a nice cafe by a guy whose daughter is a Gurkha. Masala chiya and random pastry in the morning sun. Indian video coach showing Hindi films.
More random roadside curry – mixed with rice, potato, onion, some sort of round yellow bean (chickpea? mung?), chilli powder, coconut powder and possibly lemon, all served in a newspaper cone with a piece of card as a scoop. Yum! First time I had it was on the way back from Beni – 5 rupees and your life in your hands. A wiry Indian-looking guy with a tray balanced on a cushion on his head and a stand weaving in and out of buses, setting up before whizzing everything up in a dirty plastic beaker!
EDIT: I’ve since discovered that it’s called chat and is a mix of soya beans, radish, chilli, salt and lemon
Our chariot
Dodgy roadside stops, meet Prince and friends – helps me buy some yummy clementines – 30 rupees for a big bag. He gives me his card and invites me to look him up in India.
Our trip comes to an abrupt halt as we are almost ejected at the edge of Bhairawa, which turns out to make life easier getting to Lumbini – decision made then!
Staggering through the dust and noise we somehow find a bus just leaving for Lumbini and jump on the roof – M loses a shoe and a Nepali-style rescue mission sees a random guy on a bike throw it up, just as we move off.
Dusty roads lined with mango trees – terrifyingly narrow, but refreshing in the heat. Feels much more Indian – the people, the heat, the food. 60 rupees gets the 2 of us to Lumbini. We hop off onto a dusty crossroads and stagger into Lumbini Bazaar and the Lumbini Village Lodge. Too tired to decide otherwise, we go for it. 2 cold showers later, we feel almost human and wander out for food. It’s a pleasant and quiet village and feels very homely. The 3 Foxes restaurant entices us in and lots of food emerges, including banana custard! Fearsome number of mozzies even though I’m coated in Deet. Pleasantly full and satisfied with our day, we drift off to sleep under the safety of my mozzie net.
Glorious lie-in before a gentle breakfast sitting in the garden. List of things to do, most which were sorted before we even left the hostel. General mooching about, then a last-minute splash about on Phewa Tal – sunset over the Annapurnas, fish splashing about, me doing my best Cornetto singing. Then out for dinnner, bought some travelly type clothes and ate steak at the Everest Steak House!
Early start. Again! But glad to leave Tatopani behind and move closer to Pokhara. A long day, boring because a road has been put in, so a long slog over dusty tracks, avoiding buses and lorries. Some nice moments and sights and fun chats, but by the time we reach Galeshwar, we’re bored and opt for a taxi or bus. One does not appear, so we slog on, eventually finding a taxi and negotiating hard for him to take us 5 mins down the road to Beni. We end up sharing with 2 kids who just stare all the way.
Hopping out at Beni, we avoid taxis and crawl onto a local bus. Exhausted but happy. Long bus ride to Pokhara with a kid on my bag/M’s knee. Finally back to Baglung bus station. Irritable haggling gets us a ride to the Gauri Shankar, sharing with a random Dutch guy who now lives in Spain. Fortunately Judy kept our room and we end up with a much nicer double. Korean food and penny pinching seal the day.