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Nepal
The Land of the Sherpa
After three hours sleep I was questioning whether I should have bothered with a hotel. My bags were packed – I was going to Nepal! I only had a ten dollar note which I thought they would accept due to it being worth more than the equivalent in rupees for a taxi to the airport. I was wrong but was able to change it at the hotel. I asked them to order me a taxi but they dismissed my request and wanted to send me over the bridge from where I came to get one. After my initial arrival I wasn’t keen on returning so I asked why they couldn’t book a taxi for me, at which point they did. It was one of the much newer white taxis although it still didn’t have seatbelts in the back. The driver was friendly and chatty with overtones of a salesman. He wanted me to come back and stay in his recommended hotel that I assumed is where he got part of his income. He got me there safe and in reasonable time. I’d set my alarm late so that I would get at least a little sleep the night before so once I’d checked in I went straight through to my gate. I was given tags for my bag and tripod, which were later stamped and I had to go through more sets of security men than I ever had before.
I was expecting an Asian version of Ryan Air but I had to revoke my irrational preconceived ideas once I was on board. I sat down in the correct row but on the wrong side of the plane so as I got up the nearby stewardess said:
“Are you alright there sir?”
“Yes, I’m just sat on the wrong side of the plane” said I.
“Don’t worry sir, both sides of the plane are going to the same place” she joked. It was nice to see a sense of humour. The meal came quickly and was of reasonable quality though the bottled lime juice tasted more like something from a swamp. The seat was comfortable and the entertainment system was better than BA so I was impressed and pleased I’d booked with them. As we descended I saw thick cloud cover at varying altitudes so I wasn’t expecting the best weather on arrival.
I was glad I’d already got my visa from London as immigration was quick, then I headed through to collect my bag. I saw the sign for my hotel and wandered over but we had to wait for four others to arrive before we left. The drive from the airport to the hotel was a perplexing one. I struggled to put my finger on why Nepal felt so different to India or Southeast Asia. In some ways it felt like Burma, in others like Thailand but with more Indian people. It didn’t have the colonial architecture like Burma or Malaysia perhaps it was the people that made it seem different. It didn’t matter as I would have time that day to work it out as I wandered around collecting the essentials I needed for my trek to Everest. We arrived at a gated six storey building where a smiley man with an oversized hat greeted us in the traditional way.
“Namaste” he said as he bowed slightly with his hands together. Inside, we checked in with the friendly lady at the desk. I was offered a welcome drink which I sipped watching a man painting ethnic scenes on the reception room wall while I waited for my room to be cleaned. When it was ready a man lugged my heavy bag around while the lady showed me the hotel and explained the protocol of staying with them. I felt bad for the man carrying my bag as it was a long way up to the sixth floor but he didn’t want a tip, it was all just part of the service. It had only been a few days but I was eager to get online using the free Wi-Fi to check my emails, send some and upload my first blog entry. I was wasting time. I was tired and not ready for a day’s walking around and making plans. I needed to get going though, before the day ran out. I hired a taxi to take me to get my plane tickets from the airline office, to a cash machine to withdraw some Nepali money for my trek and to the Tourism Board to purchase my TIMS card. The TIMS card is necessary for any trek as it allows the government to keep track of who is in the mountains and what their itinerary is to allow a much more efficient rescue attempt should one be needed.
I was dropped in Thamel, the tourist heart of Kathmandu which was near my Hotel, Ganesh Himal. Walking down the street was an enriching experience. Seeing all the locals pass by going about their daily business. I liked the shops in the area because they were so varied in stock and not just for tourists. There were many shops which stocked trekking equipment, like mini Ellis Brighams scattered every few metres. I liked that, though, and wanted to buy much more than I needed. I perused several shops before settling on one to purchase from. I needed another walking pole and I found one almost identical to the one I already owned. I bartered and managed to get it for just £4. She was very friendly and willing to be helpful, she even told me what in the shop was a fake from China and what was original. I said thank you and goodbye and continued looking in the windows of the shops down the road to see swords, brassware, ornaments, kitchenware and products made from yaks wool. They seemed to sell almost anything and it was fun to watch the goings on that took place inside. Within minutes I was approached by two Nepali men about my age, one doing a degree that wanted to know what I was up to that day. They seemed very nice and we chatted away as I walked down the road. They stopped me and pointed down an alleyway to a temple. The taller one then started reeling off a nonstop verse about the history of it. I was disappointed as I thought they were genuine but they were clearly just after my money. I had to interrupt to tell him that I didn’t want a guide and that I needed to be on my way. They were alright with that but still wanted to talk. Before long we approached another temple and the same happened. I maintained that I didn’t want a guide and walked away. I was followed a short distance before they started to get unpleasant.
“You give us tips, we have told you about some important places in Kathmandu and now you owe us. We have expensive education to pay for and now you need to give us tips for our service.”
I rejected their claims as I’d told them that I did not want, need or appreciate their information at which point they became nasty.
“You beggar, you beggar” they shouted close to my face. “You come Nepal to steal our money…” they went on but I walked briskly away ignoring them completely. They were gone but the whole experience was not very nice and in my eagerness to escape I became lost. I walked for over an hour trying to find the hotel but the map was of no use as I’d no idea where I was. I tried asking people but they either didn’t know or they wanted money for giving me advice. Eventually I found an Italian lady that had lived in Nepal for five years and was very helpful indeed. The incident was fortunately an isolated one and the majority of people that I met and spoke to were very nice. On my way back I found a map shop where I spent forty minutes choosing the map I wanted. The lone shopkeeper lasted about twenty minutes trying to help me before he gave up. It was about half past four by the time I got back and I still hadn’t had lunch so I ordered a Nepalese banquet from the hotel restaurant. It was very nice indeed. I retired to my room as it had started to rain. I was disappointed that I hadn’t had time to visit Durbar Square, the main tourist attraction of Kathmandu, but thought I should get an early night and pack before my exciting flight to Lukla early the next morning. Before going to sleep I measured my heart rate and got some water from the water cooler as it is unsafe from the taps. My resting heart rate was 52bpm and completely normal for me. I wanted to measure it as I progressed on the trek to see how the altitude affected me. Going down six floors to the water machine was like creeping downstairs at night when at home. It was a family business, all the doors were locked, the lights off and a little unnerving. I hoped the glugging of water didn’t attract too much attention before I crept back up the staircase to bed.
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