Back in Kathmandu

November 14, 2010
After a day and a half back in Kathmandu, I know that we've made the right choice. We've been travelling for five months, and we're tired. Our defenses are weakened, and we're having a harder time maintaining low expectations, staying patient, and keeping a positive attitude.
Don't get me wrong; I love Kathmandu. Even when I'm tired and impatient, I can still see those old medieval courtyards and corridors, and I know I'm someplace special. This is like no-where I've ever been before: it has a little bit of everything and yet, emulates nothing. This place isn't trying to be anything but itself.
But I'm tired. Haggling over taxi prices and necessities leaves me irritated. Ignoring touts makes me feel both rude and frustrated. The honking horns make me draw in my shoulders and cringe. We've run a dozen errands in the past three days, and with every shop and meal, I watch the rupees drain away. Part of me wants to hibernate, but our room is dark and a little bit smelly. The bed is hard, and when I open my book, the words blur on the page. I'm distracted and anxious.
Between errands, we seek out internet, wanting something familiar. I browse through job search engines, and the blank pages bring me to a fevered pitch. I am, as ever, frantic about the prospects of finding a job and being happy while doing it.
In the state I'm in, four more weeks of wandering through India might have felt more like an obstacle than an adventure. I feel a bit embarrassed that I'm not the unflappable, come-what-may sort of traveller that I admire. I wish I could compartmentalize my fears about the future and focus my energies on the moment. I wish I weren't tired and only excited. I'm across the world, and I'm getting to see and experience the most incredible things. Why do I feel so thread-bare?
The truth is that I'm relieved that we'll be trekking in less than 24 hours. I'm already craving the quiet hours on trail and the bed times that come with darkness. There's never any question of 'what shall we do next?' The map tells us. There are no errands, and there is nothing to buy; there are no shops. The money we spend is for food and shelter, nothing else. We're never bored, and hopefully, in Langtang, we'll never have to worry about the guest houses having enough room.
So there's some guilt that we're not stepping out of the familiar and taking India by the horns, but there's also quite a bit of relief.
***
This morning, the plank of wood beneath our thin mattress threatened to bruise my hip. I told it to shut up. When Joshua threw in the towel and went off to read in the garden, I rolled over and slept another hour.
A little after 8, we walked through Thamel. Kathmandu is early to bed and late to rise, so most stalls and shops were still closed. Some school children were tugging at their collared shirts and rubbing sleep out of their eyes as they walked to class. We made our way to the German Bakery.
Sitting at the same table we sat at four weeks ago, we ordered the set breakfast and nursed cups of hot tea. The weather has gotten a bit cooler, and while we're comfortable wearing pants and long sleeve shirts, it's nice to warm our hand with a steaming mug.
Once we'd finished breakfast, we headed to the nearest pharmacy and loaded up on some trail basics: ibuprofen, anti-biotics, foot powder, and water purification tablets. It was one of those rewarding experiences where you ask, 'how much?' and the man behind the counter informs you that two courses of anti-biotics will run you less than three dollars, while fifteen tablets of ibuprofen will cost less than 20 rupees (that's about 30 cents).
With our first aid kit refreshed, we hailed a taxi and asked him to bring us to the National Park Permit Office. He named an outlandish price, and we bargained him down to 200 rupees. We got in, but less than five minutes later, he drove us up to the wrong place and told us that he couldn't turn around. 'Don't worry,' he said, 'it's only a one minute walk to the office.'
We'd already been to the office, so we knew that this was the wrong place and we knew that walking there would take about 15 minutes. Too irritated to argue, we gave him 150 rupees and got out. He didn't even complain when we told him we wouldn't be paying the full fare; he knew he was screwing us over.
We walked the fifteen minutes to the office, and when we got there, we filled out the paper work for a Langtang National Park Permit and a new TIMS card. We showed the men behind the desk our passports, and for 4,800 rupees, we secured all the neccessary paperwork. As we left, we wondered why Nepal is the poorest Asian country. There are so many tourists here, and they make a fortune off of things like permits and visas. Where does it all go?
Following our map, we walked another ten to fifteen minutes to the Immigration Office. We filled out another form for another fifteen day extension, and then we paid an additional fifteen dollars to get the extension in fifteen minutes. Otherwise, they ask you to leave the passport and retrieve it after 3:30 PM. It would take almost that much time to walk to Kathmandu and back, and it would cost almost that much to get a taxi three ways, so we bit the bullet.
As we were waiting for our extension, a British couple asked us where they could find the permit office. We told them that we were headed back in that direction, and we would walk with them. The two were from Brighton, and for the next 28 days, they planned to hike in the Everest region. Last year, they hiked the Annapurna Circuit for the second time. In 1987, they had hiked it the first time, and although they had found the area much changed, they still loved Nepal enough to come back for more.
While we walked, we asked them a bit more about their lives. They travel every winter for four to six weeks, and although they can't be much past their mid-fifties, they're retired. They bought property in the 90s, and after the housing boom, they were pretty much able to live off their rental assets. They have two allotments, and they grow all their vegetables. They train and race in triathalons. They travel. Helen, the woman, smiled and said, 'we have a pretty wonderful life.'
At the permit office, we said goodbye. On the walk, Joshua's flip flop had broken, and although he tried to convince me that he could walk through Kathmandu barefoot, I told him to stay put. I had seen an open-air market down the road, and I thought I might be able to find another pair of sandals.
Sure enough, after a five minute walk, I found a little market filled with tables of shoes, jeans, and other odds and ends. It was the sort of place where everything has a brand name, but nothing costs more than five dollars. It was also the sort of place where absolutely no Westerners ever come. People looked so surprise to see me there, they didn't even harass me to buy their wares. When I finally found a table with flip flops, I picked out the largest pair and offered the woman 150 rupees. She shook her head and told me that she wanted 250 rupees. Feeling irritated, I said, 'No. I pay 150 rupees. That man,' I gestured toward a Nepali looking at another pair of flip flops, 'pays 100 rupees. See? I'm already paying tourist price.'
The woman looked at me and laughed a little. 'Okay,' she said. I handed her 150 rupees. She handed me the flip flops.
I walked back to my husband who was standing on the corner of a busy street, looking out at the racing autorickshaws and holding his broken flip flops in his hand. A dog came over and sniffed his bare feet, as if to say, 'dude, that is SO unsanitary.'
Handing him a new pair of 'Nike' flip flops, we made our way back to the heart of Kathmandu. Joshua went to go see if one of the ATMs would let him take out more than 10,000 rupees, and I waited on the other side of the street, watching a man weild a sharp peice of wood like a samurai. Other Nepalis watched too. It was clear that he had a few screws loose, but he looked like he could do some damage anyway. When Joshua walked out of the ATM alcove, I gestured for him to make a wide detour around the crazy samurai. A couple Nepalis standing next to me noticed our sign language and nodded in approval. I felt like I got an 'A' for street smarts.
We walked back through our favorite part of Kathmandu. It wasn't as busy as it had been during Deshain, but there were still wares spilling out of lovely wooden door frames and women selling spices on the curb. Although we had agreed not to buy anything, we spied one of the thermoses we love so much and broke down. Every Nepali family owns a lovely thermos. They are in all sorts of gorgeous colors, and they have pretty, flowered designs. They're much to big to even consider bringing back with us, so we went inside and bought one. Joshua reassures me that he'll be able to make it fit. I'm pretty sure that there's not a chance in hell, but I loved it so much, I conceeded anyway. For only 300 rupees, at least I could say it was ours until we left Nepal.
Back in Thamel, we conducted some super-secret errands that I'm not allowed to tell you about, and then we bought our bus tickets to Syrubesi. In the Lonely Planet, they say that the worst part of the Langtang trek is the bus ride to get there. Ours leaves tomorrow at 7. It takes 10 hours to get there and only covers 117 kilometers. I can't wait.
Seeking a little bit of refreshment and respite from the honking horns, we went to the Organic Green Cafe. There was free internet, and Joshua sat with me as we searched for jobs. At this point, it's a bit too early to apply, but I want the reassurance that there are jobs out there. Unfortunately, there wasn't much reassurance to be had. Fortunately, we discovered that Ellsworth is 18 minutes away from a 'Top 100 Historic Destination!' named by National Geographic - Red Wing, MN. And you know what? We can't wait to explore. They even had a cross country skiier on the front page. Sounds like our kind of city.
With nothing much else to do, we moved on to another cafe and ordered another pot of tea (actually hot chocolate) and a plate of our favorite, chips chilly. Now, I'm writing and Joshua's reading. Like every other man who loves to read, he's currently falling in love with Cormac McCarthy and All the Pretty Horses.
November 13, 2010
This is the seventh bus ride that we've taken in Nepal, and I can say, with a small degree of expertise, that they stink. The 'highway' from Pokhara to Kathmandu may be Nepal's central artery, but most other people would think twice about traversing this stretch of road with a hardy, four-wheel drive Jeep, much less a 30 passenger bus.
To bake a Nepali busride, first add switchbacks. Next, whip in multiple rest stops when all you really want to do is get the whole thing over with. Add a pinch of motion sickness, a dollop of heart-stopping cliff-side drops, and a healthy serving of dust. Serve it all up with a bus driver who has a death wish, and a radio station blaring non-stop Indian pop.
I can't read on buses, so I sleep, sort of. By the time I'm done, my hair always looks like a rat's next, and my neck is smarting from whip-lash. Joshua is cranky, and the two of us want nothing more than a shower and a bed.
When we arrived in Kathmandu, it was nine hours after we had left Pokhara. Once we retrieved our bags, the taxi drivers set upon us like hounds who've had their first smell of blood. Joshua growled and snarled back at them, but we eventually selected one who was relatively benign and agreed to drive us to Tibet Peace Guest House for a reasonable price.
Arriving at a little guest house tucked away on a side street, we happily deposited our bags in a double room. While Joshua sat down to calm his nerves, I ran off to the shower. It was the first truly hot shower I've had in a very long time.
Feeling a bit more human, we went in search of some food. At an Indian restaurant, we ordered curry and rice, and Joshua decided to be adventurous: he ordered the Special Taj Mahal Cold Drink. The woman taking our ordered looked dubious, and when the drink came, we understood why. It had crushed mint, salt, and savory masala spice mixed in with lemon soda. It was absolutely disgusting. The curry, however, was wonderful.
Back outside, we wandered around for a bit. In a little shop, we purchased tea and tang for the trek. I loaded posts onto my blog for the first time in a long while, and then we headed back to the guest house. Sitting in bed, we looked through our photos from Annapurna and selected the best ones. Then, absolutely weary, we fell asleep.