Another week, another year, another new experience - on Saturday, the troubles over, I took the bus to Pokhara. Not wishing to repeat previous bus journeys, I opted for the 'posh' bus. It was worth every rupee.
I am afraid I took an instant dislike to Pokhora. It was like Yarmouth sea front with better views. Admittedly, there was a two-day festival to celebrate the king's birthday and new year, so it was busier than usual. The little bands of local musicians and dancers were delightful, but the bars and shops blasting out pop music non-stop put me off. I had the worst meal yet, the local dal bhat with inedible meat. My soap bag fell into the toilet; luckily I had a spare airline toothbrush. The internet was slow and seven times the price of Kathmandu. Am I going to end up judging this trip by the standard of the email services?
Sunday started better as I had breakfast in a lovely spot at the lakeside. At midday until the evening an incredible thing happened: it rained - the first rain I have seen for a month. I used the time to organise (through the hotel) a two-day trekking trip. It was to be a taxi for about 10 kilometres, four or five hours walking, a night in the mountains and the walk to Sarenkot (which has stunning views for miles all round) and then walk down again and get a taxi back. It all sounded managable, and I was promised a good guide.
That evening I went to another Nepalese dance show. I only really went so that I could say I had been to the Fish Tail Lodge, a hotel on the lake that you are ferried to on a raft. Sorry Don, $100 a night is out of my league, but $3 for the show was OK. The audience this time were seven Nepalese young men and me. I kept my camera firmly zipped in my bag after last time. Never trust your camera to an American, they fiddle with buttons. Neither Alan, the American, nor I had a clue that he had taken a movie and I sent it off to the Guardian thinking it was a still. Imagine my shock when I visited the website. [Watch the movie] Oh well, just add it to the manic photos.
I have never been to bed at 10pm on New Year's Eve before, not that I got much sleep as the music went on until 3am and then all the motorbikes started up. By seven the next morning I was up and ready for my trek. However, bad news awaited me: there was another two-day strike across the whole of Nepal - so no taxi! Also, my guide had been partying all night and so had decided to join the strike as well. Either I had to make do or lose half the money I had already paid. I decided to go for it.
My new guide was recruited from the hotel staff. A young lad, five foot tall with a huge woolly hat pulled over half his face appeared. I was assured he was 17 and had done lots of trekking. He hastily stuffed a jacket into a bag and off we went, walking to the spot our taxi should have taken us. By 11 o'clock my hips, knees and feet were aching and we had only reached the place where we should have started. We walked across the whole valley, about 20km, and finally stopped for lunch at 1.30pm. Here a woman cooked the inevitable dal bhat (I opted for vegetarian this time), tended to the baby and chased the chickens off the table all at once. Another half an hour of walking, and Rajis, my 'guide', who had limited English but was very sweet, said "Now we go up here", pointing to a huge hill, the top of which I couldn't make out.
For three hours we climbed up rock steps. I was hurting quite badly by now, and somewhere on the way up strained a groin muscle. There were lots of rests. Bruce was tired too and had to have a lie down about halfway up. Every turn I hoped to see the top but it was just more steps. Things were not helped by a Nepalese man, who walked with us for a little way saying "English put their old people in homes. Do you live in one?" If I had had the energy, I would have pushed him over the edge. Finally, at 5pm, we reached the top and the lodge at Dhampus.
I fell on to one of the three beds and could not move for an hour, until I started to freeze. Hot tea and a meal that I didn't have much appetite for helped a bit. The nicest part was joining the lodge's Nepalese family in their kitchen to sit by the fire. There were five boisterous children and a mad puppy, all happily helping with the chores, dancing and amusing the baby. Gran arrived, did a little dance and went away again. Rajis then told me he was sharing a room with me. Although I had a sleeping bag, we both collected a heavy solid quilty thing (Carol called these radiation blankets), collapsed fully dressed and unwashed - there was only an outside tap and you can imagine the temperature - and were asleep by 7pm. I woke about midnight, sweating and feeling very unwell. The quilt was discarded and I did manage to get back to sleep.
Miraculously, I felt OK in the morning. Maybe it was the 12 hours sleep or the magnificent view of the mountains at dawn from the veranda. They were stunning, with sparkling sunlight and only wispy clouds. A sight I will never forget, and impossible to capture on film. We joined up with four Korean students from the next lodge. They had a proper guide, who took my little fledgling Rajis under his wing. It was easier walking with others, even if they could speak hardly any English. I took comfort that one girl was struggling even more than I was. A joke developed that I was Rajis' mother and all day he would ask 'Mommie OK?' and 'Mommie tired, I carry mommie's bag?' I took up the offer on the up bits, which I was finding very difficult. A couple of hours and we were down the other side of the hill and the going was reasonably level, until suddenly another monster hill appeared in our way. My heart and legs sank.
Fortuitously, an enterprising local offered us a ride to the top by road for 100 rupees each. I willed the Koreans to agree, which thankfully they did. Cheating? I don't care. It was great, and there was a delicious omelette and Tibetan bread at the top. Then another four-hour slog. The Koreans shared their snacks of chewy dried fish (yuck) and strips of seaweed (yummy). By 2pm we reached Sarenkot, 1592m up, with panoramic views of Pokhara and the lakes, 700m below, and the hills and mountains behind. Lunch and then two hours or so of climbing down stone steps into the valley.
By now we were all seriously suffering. One of the Korean's knee gave out, my groin muscle screamed in protest, and I developed a huge blister about halfway down. And this was supposed to be recreation? Even Rajis was exhausted, but he insisted on carrying my bag. Only the real guide was OK, but he had his hands full helping two of the girls.
By the time we reached the bottom I would have given the digital camera, my own camera, my new kinetic Seiko watch, even all of them together, for a taxi back. Instead we trudged the last miles back into Pokhara and the hotel. I didn't have the energy to point out to the proprietor that he hadn't had to pay for taxis and a guide and had therefore made a huge profit, not to mention the fact that he had nearly killed me in the process. It was a couple of hours before I could move enough to have a blissful hot shower and change into clean clothes.
Do I regret my trek?... long pause... No.
Would I do it again? NO.
On Wednesday, I was up at six in the morning to catch the bus back to Kathmandu. All the dal bhat and chicken shit finally caught up with me and I hastily swallowed an Immodium, praying it would work its magic before the six-hour bus journey. God bless the wonders of modern medicine! Breakfast and lunch were included in the ticket but I could not eat a thing. The mere sight of the dal bhat we were given for lunch turned my stomach. So, sore all over and feeling awful I was back in Kathmandu. It almost felt like home. I am now in the Holy Lodge and it is the best room I have had since the tour. It even has carpet and proper woolly blankets. I am only doing things that require no leg movement - it's Friday and I can still hardly walk. I have even managed to work out how to put the emails into folders by country so that I can refer back to them as I go to each place. There is some great advice coming in about travelling around Malaysia - thanks.
So on Monday it is back to Mumbai, and on Tuesday I'm off to Singapore. I have finally managed to contact my nephew who lives there. I do talk to people in cafes etc but it can get a bit lonesome at times. The emails from everyone really help. It will be really nice to see some family - even though we haven't met for about 15 years! I also hope to meet up with Felicity and Dave and Sophie for a meal or something. They have emailed in offering the lowdown as they live in Kuala Lumpa. I'll be in touch.
Anyway, time to hobble off for some coffee. Either these reports are getting longer or I am typing more slowly, as I have been here over two hours.
Will write next week from Singapore. Bye
