and then i flew to Kathmandu

May 11 -- 10:29am

I’m sitting in the Delhi International terminal, my stopover before I jet off on Jet Airlines to Kathmandu, Nepal. I’m excited about going to another country. After five months and three weeks, I’m India-ed out. Tired of the queues, tired of the crowds, really tired of the rickshaws. Seriously, I don’t ever want to see another auto-rickshaw ever again. I don’t know why, I just don’t.

I’m ready to go back to the states. Back to my American creature comforts. Back to rest. I’ve had a really good time at this end of the world, but I’m ready to go back now. Hopefully a short trek in Nepal will rekindle my adventurous spirit, at least for these last few days.


May 11 -- 11:45am

I’m on the plane, which is taxi-ing to the runway. Guns n’ Roses’ “November Rain” plays quietly over the intercom. Surprising choice, though not a bad one.


May 11 -- 12:25pm

More unexpectedness, this time in the air, as the flight attendants give everyone a Heineken. Free beer -- pretty cool for just an hour and a half flight.


May 11 -- 6:49pm

Customs at Kathmandu’s airport is challenging, it takes a while. Not because the lines are very long (in fact they’re quite short), but because I have to pay for a short visit visa to enter. It doesn’t cost a lot ($30 American), but they don’t accept my Indian rupees at the customs desk. So I go the currency exchange counter. They don’t take Indian rupees either, not even to exchange. They tell me there’s a cash machine outside the airport. So I go there and, with only a passing knowledge of what a Nepali rupee is worth, take out a fat wad of Nepali cash.

I walk back into the sparsely populated airport. Passing by the two bored security people, I start to explain my situation, telling them why I need to get back in even though my flight had already landed. They barely listen, instead just waving me in with a ‘yeah, whatever’ attitude. Works for me.

I go back to the customs desk to pay for my visa. Unfortunately they don’t accept Nepali rupees. In Nepal. They don’t accept Nepali rupees in Nepal. I’m taken aback, but I deal. There’s not really any other choice. So I go back to the currency exchange counter, exchange a few thousand of my Nepali rupees for thirty American smackers, use that money to pay for the visa and I am set to jet. Finally.

On my way out of the airport, I notice a clock. Apparently Nepal time is fifteen minutes ahead of Indian time. Where that extra fifteen minutes comes from, I have no idea. I’d originally wanted to trek by myself, to enjoy the peace and solitude of being alone up in the mountains. But everyone I’d spoken to convinced me that this was a bad idea, that I’d get lonely or get harassed (or worse) by Maoists. So I relented and tried to latch onto some group trek. But I couldn’t find one to latch onto, so I enlisted the services of a company recommended by a friend, Snow Leopard Trek.

One of the good people from Snow Leopard Trek meets me at the airport and takes me to the office. They really are good people. They're ever so friendly. And I honestly don’t think it has anything to do with the healthy sum of money I'm paying them. We discuss trek details, then I'm off to my hotel. My trek doesn’t start until tomorrow.

Snow Leopard had given me a choice of local Kathmandu hotels back when I made my reservation a month earlier. I chose the one noted as being comparable to a five star hotel since it was at a good location and only cost $70 (US). Yep, 70 bucks for a five star hotel. I'm always fine with a simple Motel 6 back in the states, but I'm not complaining now.

The Hotel de L'Annapurna is nice -- but not too nice. It’s got the standard doormen in funny hats and the bellboys to carry your bag to your room, but it’s not as fancy schmancy as other swanky hotels, like yesterday's in Calcutta. And I mean that in a good way. The carpet isn’t spotless and the walls are a little worn. It’s a little grubby around the edges. But it’s comfortable, and so much more my style than those uber-pristine hotels where they seem to encourage snobbiness among the staff. It’s like when I was a kid and I'd go to a rich friend's house. It would have all this neat expensive stuff, but it all felt so antiseptic, like you'd be afraid to touch anything because you might break it. I always preferred to be in the slightly messy house where you could throw a ball around until your mother told you to stop, which was handy since that’s the kind of house I grew up in. The Hotel de L'Annapurna is like that house. Except now I don’t have a ball to throw around.

I resist the desire to watch the second half of "The Queen” in the comfy confines of my hotel room. Instead I brave the on-and-off rainfall and walk to the nearby district of Thamel, looking to buy four things that could be useful for my trek: a rain poncho, a rain poncho for my backpack (it’s rained every day of my trip so far, monsoon season is rolling in), sunscreen and a big floppy hat (for the rare moments when it’s not raining). I actually bought a floppy hat back in Bangalore but it’s rather ugly (too orange). I bought another on the street yesterday in Calcutta but it’s rather ill-fitting (too small). So now I have two floppy hats I don’t want to wear while I look for a third. Yeah, I' m logical.

Thamel is very cool. Narrow, meandering streets packed with trekking gear shops, knitwear shops, Nepali tchotchke shops -- really just a ton of little hippie shops tightly squeezed together. I love hippie shops. This is a great place to buy my first souvenirs on this trip, but I can’t go pverboard buying stuff just yet. I have limited bag space. And besides, I should have a little time back in Kathmandu after I finish the trek. That would be a better time to shop. Right now, I just need to find my four things.

I find the backpack rain poncho and the Jeremy rain poncho in the first trek shop I enter. I'm halfway to my goal. After a few failed attempts, I buy some sunscreen. But the big floppy hat proves more difficult. There are tons of big floppy hats for sale (Thamel seems to be a leader in the big floppy hat industry) but none of them feel right. The patchwork ones are too colorful, the plain ones are not colorful enough, the ones that say “trek Nepal” are too touristy, the hemp ones are too heavy. I admit it, I' m a picky bastard. I end up not buying a big floppy hat. I guess I can wear my ugly orange one.

The shopkeepers in Thamel are similar to the ones in India. If you pause to look at anything, they spring into action, ready to assist and/or pester you. But unlike in India (generally speaking), the small shopkeepers are more polite here. They don’t keep badgering me when I walk away. They don’t act nearly as desperate for a sale.

As I wander, it starts raining harder and harder. I don’t realize just how hard it is until I'm completely soaked. I remember that I have a freshly-purchased rain poncho with me. Feeling a little silly since I'm already sopping wet, I put on the poncho. And of course the rain immediately stops.

Now I sit here at Nepali Cholo, a restaurant recommended by one of the trek company guys. I'm in my socks, sitting on a flat cushion on the floor, watching a woman dance with a candle on her head. Someone in a furry Yeti costume comes up to me and shakes my hand, then playfully squeezes my head. All in time to traditional Nepali music.

The food is excellent -- 12 courses (!), though each is very small. The local whiskey is strong and the entertainment is entertaining. It all makes for excellent background ambience as I write this (I can’t see the dancers most of the time anyway since my view is partially blocked by a wall). But I do wish I had someone to share the experience with. I wish she was here with me, instead of being back in L.A., going about her daily life. I don’t talk about it much (at least in my writing), but it really is hard being away from her for so long. I'm glad she's stuck with me as I quench my wanderlust. And I'm glad she'll be there when I return.


pix from Kathmandu: CLICK HERE