And the blog resumes, to my multitudes of fans who have been impatiently awaiting updates from afar. Here commences the Asian part of the programme, in tandem with my current traveling companion, I Schlee, who is piping up with her observations on Nepal’s culinary offerings.
My initial impression of Kathmandu was that it was a shitshow, and I mean that as a compliment. Isa and I were determined to take a bus from the airport which involved standing in the middle of a highway shouting our destination at overstuffed minivans until one eventually allowed us to squash in, sweating profusely. Most of the roads were potholed and muddy, there were motorcyclists and cars and buses and people streaming in all directions, and the occasional cow wandering around. Everything was extremely cheap.
After a pleasant recuperation period in the hills Isa and I relocated to a guest house in the grounds of a Buddhist monastery in a different neighborhood. We did two magical yoga sessions with a pregnant goddess called Pema. Afterwards we ate street food and drank beer and each bite and sip was explosive. Pema had worked wonders on our senses. And her general heavenly aura made me want to be pregnant too. Sadly a Buddhist monastery is not a place conducive to achieving this goal.
The guest house was next to a ginormous stupa, which is a huge white dome, around which buddhists walk clockwise spinning prayer wheels, fingering prayer beads and chanting. A few particularly diligent devotees went around it prostrating themselves fully on the ground every few steps. They were wearing special hand and body covers to protect them from the dirt and gobs of spit on the ground.
A couple of days later we joined forces with our friend Georgie in Kathmandu proper and continued sampling street food and admiring temples. Or in Isa’s case, avoiding temples in favour of coffee shops. Georgie and I nearly had the corncob stolen from out of our hands by an aggressive monkey as we attempted to view another stupa so maybe Isa was onto something.
Having been inspired by Pema to do more yoga, Georgie and I went to a class one evening, which would have been quite pleasant except the teacher kept laughing out loud each time I attempted to do a position. He was in shock at how a person could have such tight hips and kept trying to find an explanation: “Maybe you don’t drink enough water?” “I drink a lot of water.”
“Maybe you run a lot?” “I never run.”
“Maybe you don’t stretch much?” “I stretch daily.” He was flummoxed and amused.
Eventually we escaped the hazardous chaos of Kathmandu for the lakeside mountain town of Pokhara, which is the starting point for many treks, including all of those in the Annapurna region. It’s been my dream to hike here for years, ever since reading a harrowing and inspirational book about the first ascent of 8091m high Annapurna back in the day by Maurice Herzog and his crew. Because Georgie had to get back to England we could only do a six dayer but happily that included beholding the magnificent Annapurna and many of her sister peaks.
Trekking around here is basically glamping. Hot showers, fresh bread and buffalo butter for breakfast, beds, beer… It’s ridiculous and very pleasant. Every menu is exactly the same so we ended up growing rather weary of good old dal bhat (rice and lentils) and variations thereof but spirits were lifted by the fresh mountain mushrooms we added to every dish. And the stunning views when the clouds cleared. We were slightly traumatized by multiple leech attacks but it was all in the name of supporting the local ecosystem with our blood, sweat and tears.
After the hike we enjoyed a few days relaxation back in Pokhara, including splashing about on a boat in the lake. We were staying in the ecohostel of a really cool guy who used to work at IBM and then quit to learn how to do sound bowl therapy. He was unbelievably friendly and welcoming and calm, and we subsequently learnt he’s done multiple Vipassana courses (silent meditation, just sitting all day every day, minimal food), the most recent of which was 45 days long. He told us about how traumatic the 2015 earthquake was. How he and his friends were about to climb a tower but at the last minute decided not to, and that saved their lives. How he knows 90 people who were never seen again, no bodies recovered. How corrupt the Nepalese government is. How it’s illegal to build tall buildings with no earthquake protection but the owner of a future hotel opposite his hostel bribed the government and is building a huge building that will collapse and kill anyone in it and also crush his own building if there’s another quake. How rich in resources Nepal is but incapable of harnessing them (hydropower, minerals, gold) because the political party in power changes every six months or so so there’s never enough time to get anything done. How in the whole country there is only electricity available for 5-10 hours per day so everyone needs their own generator or solar panels.
To end this blog post I will type up the Ode to Breakfast that I wrote while on the trek. As some of you may know, I reap great enjoyment from that meal and wanted to let some words fall out in its honour:
I think about you last thing at night
And first thing in the morning.
Basking in the day’s first light
The joy of now is dawning.
If there is bread straight from the oven
I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.
Couple with fresh buffalo butter
My mind at last is free from clutter.
The most amazing thing to me
Is eating fruit straight from the tree.
Apples, figs, bananas, dates;
Pile them all straight on the plate.
Now I look up and meet the eyes
Of my dearest sister friend
We smile because we have the prize
Of breakfast breakfast without end.
emmaschlee 