Although poorer than Bangladesh, Nepal’s geography makes it a tourist hot spot. Still very much a developing country, westerners are plentiful and, for us at least coming from Bangladesh, the anonymity of that is liberating.
After a total farce arranging visas on arrival (word of warning: take USD with you. We were allowed through to get cash from the one ATM in the airport. It was broken. Leaving blonde girls as collateral, Chris went off in search of an ATM in the city, and a place to convert rupees into USD), we raced to our respective hotels then to New Orleans Cafe where we literally drooled over the menu and wine list. ‘A bottle of your pino noir please sir, quick as you can, it’s an emergency here!’
Giddy with excitement we fell to bed that night with bellies full of salad, crusty bread and red wine. The following morning we met for breakfast. Breakfast that didn’t consist of curry. Rather, real, really bloody good coffee and mushroom toast. Sitting in the courtyard of the bakery, soaking up some early morning sunshine, sipping our coffees, grins from ear to ear, Lyrian spoke what we were all thinking ‘I never, ever want to leave’.
Ready for a full day, we set off, Lonely Planet in hand to do a walking tour around the city, ending in Darbur Square. Blessed by a holy man (and then cursed when we refused to pay him for the ‘service’ we didn’t request) we didn’t quite follow the route, but we did find our way to the Square – although it took some convincing on my part that we were there. I gave up in the end. I think, in hindsight, we were there. But that map was confusing. Anyway, wherever we were, it was nice and had some really old stuff in it ;)
Chris and Lyrian in Kathmandu's Darbur Square
Desperate to cram as many meals into each day as possible, we found a quaint garden restaurant on Freak Street for lunch, then made our way back to Thamel, via the many shops on the way. Quick stop for an afternoon coffee and apple pie, then home to prepare for a night on the town.
Carly and I had time for two cocktails before Lyrian could drag Chris out of the shower and into the bar. Then, on to OR2K – a fantastically fabulous Middle Eastern vego restaurant whose felafels will almost certainly forever be the best I’ve ever had. Two bottles of red, more humus, tahini and felafel than I care to remember later, we stumbled out onto the street. The sound of live music at an upstairs bar beckoned and next thing you know we’re crowded round a sheesha pipe with another bottle of wine.
Carly, Chris and Lyrian at OR2K
Chris, Lyrian and I at the Sheesha Lounge
The next morning didn’t start well for any of us. Taking comfort behind my sunglasses, I sipped my ORS and waited for my greasy fry up to arrive. We hired a driver and decided to see some hotspots outside of the city. First stop: Monkey Temple. Gladly there weren’t too many crazy monkeys running riot and we enjoyed the almost 360 degree views of Kathmandu from the top of the stupa. Next stop: Patan. Just south of Kathmandu Patan has its own Darbur Square, which looked very much like the one in Kathmandu. Next stop: Pashputinpath. This place irked us all before we even got out of the car. Nestled on the river, this is where funeral rites are carried out. Including one while we were there. Creepy. We high-tailed it out of there to Boudna, home to the largest Buddhist stupa in South Asia. We arrived close to sunset and in time to watch monks perform their afternoon ritual (circling the stupa three times, clockwise). We decided to stay to soak up some peace and quiet on the rooftop of a lovely cafe.
The Boudna stupa
That evening, famished, we met at La Dolce Vita for a feast of pasta and, well, steak. Still reeling from the night before we decided to have desert instead of drinks and found a fantastic, darkly-lit cafe that served up cheese cake, apple strudel, a range of mouth-watering deserts.
Lyrian and Chris left Kathmandu early the next morning for Pokara and some serious trekking. Carly and I were also up early to catch our mountain flight along the Himalayas to see Everest up close. Although the flight was delayed an hour and 15 minutes into the flight we were informed there was a ‘door indicator’ problem and that we had to return to the ground, where we waited another hour for a new plane (’10 minutes maximum’), it was a fantastic trip and as close to Everest as I’m likely to get.
The Himalayas
We spent the afternoon shopping. Shopping as though I’d never have the chance again. It was fun. At one shop (where I bought a gorgeous purple skirt that jingles as I walk!) the owner sat us down for Nepali tea and told us a story to explain Hinduism. It was an interesting story, even though it took a good 30 minutes to tell. The moral was that by putting in a little bit of work, rewards will come. But the highlight was his summary. Turning, with all seriousness to Carly, he said “so, because I feel you, I own you. I feeeeeel you.’ Snigger snigger. To Carly’s absolute credit she remained straight faced. But she might have been nervous that he would demonstrate how he feeeeels her...so fair play.
Anyway, that night we went back to the cute darkly-lit cafe to a traditional Nepali meal and rakshi (Nepali rice wine – which tastes like petrol, I imagine). Then we went to find a gig that a bunch of (rather cute) Aussie guys we’d met earlier that day invited us to. Plans for an early night, before our big trek in the morning, evaporated with each beer. Then the sheesha came out and I continued to taste it as debate continued as to whether it was apple or apple and mint, or in fact liquorice (I’m going with apple and mint, but I’d need another puff to be sure...). Sometime after midnight we managed to unentangle ourselves by promising to meet up the following night, post-trek for drinks and dancing.
So the next day, up early we met our guide – Diamond (I managed not to say ‘diamond geezer’ even once!) – and began the drive to Sarku to kick off the 12km trek to Nagarkot. The first 5km were easy, lovely and shady. The next 2km were hellish and hot and steep...they were probably also beautiful but I wouldn’t know, I was engaged in a silent battle about why on earth people trek anywhere when motorized transport is so easily accessible. The last 5km were also steep and rocky...but I’d summoned some inner peace and we were at the top before we knew it. We celebrated conquering the mountain in 2.5hours (more than an hour quicker than usual groups) with a cold beer and buff chilli (chilli buffalo...why the heck not, we thought).
Beautiful Nepali children at a village outside of Nargakot
On the drive back to Kathmandu, Diamond showed us around Bhaktapur – the most ancient city in Nepal. Totally knackered and sunburnt we had a sleep before heading to OR2K for our final dinner in Kathmandu. Carly felt progressively worse over dinner (not even able to have a glass of wine!), so we decided not to brave the thunderstorm to find the Aussie boys, but go home until she felt better, the storm calmed down, or preferably, both. However, I promptly fell asleep (what a party animal) and Carly spent all night running to the bathroom.
The next morning, bright as a button, I went out for my last real coffee and crusty bread breakfast, leaving Carly with her ORS. Returning to the hotel at 11, discussing when we should check out to be at the airport in time for our 6.45pm flight, I noticed with absolute horror that the air ticket said our flight was at 12.15. Panic stations. In a mad dash I ran to reception to ask what time the GMG flight to Dhaka was due to leave. ‘Yes 12.15pm Miss. Don’t rush. Leave now, or in 30 minutes. The plan is always late. No hurry’....fuuuuuuuuuuck.
Ran to the internet cafe to check. Shit. Fuck. Crap. Bollocks. Arse. Yes. 12.15pm. Ran back to the hotel room. Grabbed bags and Carly who was madly chewing down Gastro Stops. Jumped in taxi, tried not to scream at the driver who should ‘bloody fucking step on it buddy!’. Jumped out of taxi, pushed through queues, ran to check in desk. 11.55am. We made it. They let us on. Carly was positively yellow. But she made it. We made it. And now we’re back in Dhaka and its bloody fucking hot and humid. It’s no Nepal, but it’s home and I love it anyway.
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