Day 80: 26 hours of travel to Varanasi

We were going to fly from Kathmandu to Delhi. But that meant a 6-9 hour bus from Pokhara to Kathmandu, and then a pricey flight from Kathmandu to Delhi, so we decided to take an 8 hour bus from Pokhara to the Indian border, take a 3 hour bus from to border to Gorakpur, and then take a 7 hour train from Gorakpur to Varanasi. Basically a little less than double the travel time for about a fifth of the cost? 

This made complete sense, until our first bus broke down on the side of the Nepalese mountain road we were on. Forty (I think possibly more) passengers climbed off the bus and sat on the side of the road and watched the driver assess the situation. Some passengers offered to help, pouring water on the steaming brake plate, or maybe it was the axel itself? Whatever it was, it was hot, and everyone was surrounding it, trying to help, or taking close-up shots (I have no idea why) of the conundrum. After about an hour, some got ansty and started jumping into passing buses, many of us needing to cross the border before it closed. We followed suit and ended up on another crowded bus. Women and children were kicked out of their seats for us, which made me feel terrible until I saw that they (along with the majority of the packed bus) got off at the next village stop less than ten minutes later.

We arrived at the border and saw everyone (except the two Koreans) who were on our original bus. We chatted and made our way through the Nepalese immigration and sighed with relief when they didn't demand we pay the $30.00 extension for being one day late on our visa. We bumped into everyone again on the Indian side at immigration, and then Andrew and I headed for the government bus to Gorakpur where we had tickets for the overnight train to Varanasi.

And then we see the Koreans. Their hired jeep broke down and they were waiting on the side of the road for the government bus we were on to catch the same train. We smiled, waved, but then lost them once we got into Gorakpur. Once we arrived at the train station, we were worn out and hungry, and not necessarily prepared for all of the looky-loos in the station. After living in Korea for five years, I'm a little familiar with sticking out… Sometimes being the only Caucasian on a train platform, train, or even in a whole part of Seoul. But living in Korea for five years had NOTHING on how many stares we received walking onto the Gorakpur platform. Unabashedly, people would just watch. our every. move. At one point, a man stood in between us facing the platform, and the platform itself and just stood two feet away, looking down on us, for about ten minutes. I have to admit, I was more amused by it than uncomfortable. I always am amused though, when I get attention for the color of my skin, size of my face, and shape of my eyes. Growing up in a 99% white community does not prepare you for these conversations, nor experiences of being the minority. It's interesting, and gives me a completely different perspective on life in a homogeonous society- be it Korea, or where I'm from in Kentucky.

Our Korean friends, and two others from our original bus showed up on our same train platform, and we all waited (miserably) through the hour delay before the train arrived and we crawled into our appropriate bunks for a cold, mosquito filled First Class (that did not feel like it) overnight to Varanasi.

Day 79: Paragliding in Pokhara!

In all honesty, we simply didn't have the experience in Nepal we were hoping for. We did not go (nor plan on going) trekking. We didn't have warm enough clothing, coats, boots… and I am positive my bum ankle/foot would not have survived without proper shoes. We were totally ok with this. We just went trekking in Laos, and I was all about sightseeing and taking pictures and drinking tea by warm fireplaces… Only there weren't fireplaces, there wasn't any heat, half of the time there wasn't warm water. We both got sick. We were ALWAYS accosted by travel agents pitching trekking tours to us. Coming from countries like Vietnam and Thailand, we were paying more for rooms in Nepal and getting half of the amenities. And then my polaroid camera was stolen. And there wasn't a nice view (nor nice hotel) in Nagarkot. And then the jungle safari was full in Chitwan because all of Nepal was off work and traveling around the country as well. It was just one thing after another for us. I wanted to fall in love with Nepal, but that simply didn't happen this time around.

So I decided we needed to go paragliding. We needed to do something fun and a little bit scary to help make up for being sick, being cold, being without electricity so many nights, and being a little disappointed with Nepal. Andrew was afraid going paragliding would be another bad decision (We even practiced how he would call my Mom if something happened. He was terrible. Let's hope nothing ever DOES happen on this trip to me because he will fail miserably if he has to talk to my Mom about it), but luckily it turned out to be possibly the best decision we made in Nepal. PARAGLIDING OFF THE SOUTHERN RIDGE OF THE HIMALAYAS as Andrew typed out in his Thanksgiving Facebook status was pretty fantastic. I can only hope that the video comes even a teensy bit close to giving the experience justice.

We drove up the mountain around nine in the morning, and when we arrived gliders were already running off the mountain and floating away. Andrew and I went our separate ways (me with a HOT Hungarian pilot, and him with a fellow American from Colorado) and while my pilot was fluffing out the paraglide sail(?) chute(?) all of a sudden I turn and see Andrew and his pilot running down and then floating away. 

"So, you're saying you want me to literally run off the side of the mountain?" I asked my hot Hungarian. (Andrew later said he was "keeping an eye on my pilot" during our flight. This made me laugh. a lot. He relaxed when I told him the hot Hungarian was married.)

"Yep." He replied, somewhat bored with my nervous humor. He goes paragliding three times a day. I'd probably be bored with nervous first-timers as well…

As it turns out, paragliding is probably the least scary thing I've done to date. You run off the mountain side and then when the wind picks you up, you sit down in your seat that is strapped to you and then it's kinda like sky-diving after your chute opens up. You just float around until your pilot asks if you want to do some ''acrobatics" over the lake and suddenly you're swinging back and forth and dropping in the air until he tells you it's time to land and you put your feet up and land safely on the ground not to terribly far from a flock of goats chewing on some grass in the same field.

It was well worth it. We might even do it again on this trip (although Andrew heard that it's the cheapest and best in Nepal). 

Afterwards, we finally caved and sat down at a Korean restaurant steps away from our hotel. It was tiny, dirty, and proudly displayed a "Dokdo is Korea" shirt on the wall. All signs clearly pointing to having tasty kimchi based dishes. We surprised the owner ordering three different kimchi based dishes in Korean. kimchi jeon, kimchi chiggae, and kimchi bokem-bab. I think everyone was amused (to say the least) when we left leaving nothing on our plates. The food was not only just like "home" but it was cheaper than it would have been in Seoul and it more than made up for the 78 days we've been without kimchi. 

We attempted to go to the post-office. (For the third time in Nepal thanks to The Festival, it was closed the first two times) And failed. Not any of the three people we asked for directions thought to mention that packages could not be sent from Pokhara. Thanks, Nepal. So instead, we carried bags of gifts and souvenirs with us to Old Pokhara, where we attempted to see what the fuss was about. As it turns out, Old Pokhara is not worth the trip at all. It's a deserted part of town with few storefronts and even less people milling about. We walked down the main road, and went back to lakeside for dinner and then "home" to pack up for our bus to the Indian border the next morning.

Sidenote: I haven't completely written Nepal off. I would like to go back. But if I do, you better believe I'm rolling into the country decked out in Northface GoreTex, sturdy hiking boots, and trekking tours pre-arranged and booked. Nepal in November simply isn't destined for either a "Round the World" trip to mostly warm countries with a budget of $50.00 a day. I'll go again, with more money, and maybe even a personal guide if for nothing else, to ward off anyone who tries to pitch me anything. Female trekking guides are available in Nepal. You know I'm going to get me one of them as well.

Day 78: Pokhara’s Peace Pagoda

As it turns out, Phewa (or Fewa) Lake is one popular spot with the locals. We walked down towards the lakefront and were stunned to see crowds of Nepalese, school buses lined up on the street, food and souvenir vendors lined up on the sidewalk. It was a zoo. And then once we got to the lake itself, we could see why. It was beautiful. Brightly colored rowboats floated next to the dock with the Himalayas in the distance. And the Peace Pagoda looked down upon all of it on the other side of the lake. Lonely Planet offered three different routes up to the pagoda. Having the whole day ahead of us, we opted for the longest route. 

That is, until we had to ask for directions. Twice, and still didn't understand where we were supposed to go. Lonely Planet: You totally failed this one. Not wanting a repeat of yesterday's failed attempts to find Old Pokhara, I opted to take a taxi halfway so we wouldn't end up walking up and down a mountain without reaching the pagoda. This was a fabulous idea, until our driver dropped us off at a small dirt path and said something neither of us could understand. The dirt path wasn't all that bad, but when it dumped us back on a main road, with little shade, lots of dust, and lots of traffic (stirring up said dust)… I grew weary of our decision. We've come to accept that most of our decisions in Nepal weren't good ones, but that doesn't make them any easier. By the time we reached the pagoda, we were covered in dust and a bit worn out.

The World Peace Pagoda is an initiative for peace and a Buddhist stupa built by Most Honorable (as it stated on the information plaque at the entrance) Fuji, a Japanese Buddhist monk. The 80 (possibly more) pagodas around the world were inspired by Most Honorable Fuji's meeting with Gandi in 1931. The pagoda was peaceful, the view was breath-taking, and then there was the descent down the mountain.

One of the NGO workers we met and lunched with in Chitwan said she climbed up and down the Pagoda in a pair of flip flops. We followed her lead, and then cursed ourselves for not asking specific questions about her shoe choice. The trail we descended (although easier to find, less dusty, and full of shade) required hiking boots. At least a pair of shoes with more padding than our worn down flip flops! By the time we got to the bottom of the mountain and crossed the lake, we were not happy campers.

A little advice if you find yourself in Pokhara anxious to climb up to see the Peace Pagoda: take taxi the entire way there and back (although it'll cost you at least 1000-1200 Rs) or cross the lake by boat (300-400 Rs each way) and take the trail from the lake there and back. Wearing the proper shoes, of course!

Day 77: I’ve been wanting to try one of these huge bamboo swings…

I've been intrigued since we got here by these giant bamboo poles tied together at the top. I wondered if it was an old Nepalese teepee or maybe it was staking out the four corners of a garden? And then I saw some kids FLYING in the air on a swing strung up on a pole balanced on the bamboo poles. It. looked. Awesome. and I wanted to try it. 

We were on our way (or so we thought) to Old Pokhara. Andrew expected a similar Kathmandu old city vibe, while I was unsure what we would find, as Pokhara felt more like a spread out suburb than compact city. We asked for directions, and were pointed in a general direction with various time estimates. We were told to take a taxi or a bus, but we prefered to walk (you would too, after an entire day on a bus). So we walked. and walked. and then I came face to face with a bamboo swing. (kinda) A handful of children were playing on or near it and they waved when they saw us. I pointed to my camera and to them and they screamed "Yes! Come play! Come play with us!" 

And so I did.

When a handful of Nepalese children at the side of the road with a big bamboo swing scream "Come play with us" you do not say "No." I hopped on the swing and they pushed, told me not to bend my legs (in Nepal you move the swing with your torso only- I'm still not sure if that would be effective for me though) and they all took turns watching. Half of the street took turns watching the white girl on the swing. It was super fun, but I got a little stage fright with the crowd that was forming, so I slowed down, hopped off, learned a little bit of Nepalese and thanked them for sharing their swing with me.

We didn't end up finding Old Pokhara. We asked for directions several more times. We got different answers. We walked back and forth on the main road. We ended up waving our white flag and taking a taxi back to Lakeside (where we were staying). I'm convinced the Nepalese have an entirely different sense of time and direction. I know you might be thinking it's a language barrier, but believe me, it's not. 

Day 76: Chitwan to Pokhara

Andrew talking about our bus from Chitwan to Pokhara is definitely more entertaining than the actual bus ride itself. Because that bus ride was brutal. We made it to Pokhara just before dusk, checked into our guesthouse. Splurged on a $13.00 room. I know, what you're thinking… Big spenders we are indeed. We ate, and then crashed, like we do after difficult journeys.

Day 75: Elephants Everywhere!

I was really excited to bathe an elephant. Seriously, who wouldn't be? Especially because the elephant conservation program we were thinking of doing in Thailand was fully booked (and the other was less hands on than I was looking for, and too expensive). I envisioned getting in the water, soap and sponge in hand, and having an elephant all to myself while I scrubbed and loved on him or her. Instead, the mahouts guided their elephant to the river bank, helped tourists on the back, walked the elephant out into the river for five minutes (at most) of the elephant spraying its guest with water. It wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want to get on an elephant's back (It's quite bad for them; you can read more about it here) and I didn't want to reward the mahouts with money for pimping out their elephants. 

Instead, I bought bananas (from a woman who probably used similar punishing methods to train a monkey to climb the tree to retrieve them, as Andrew pointed out) and fed one of the elephants. He was a 34 years old, and his eyes looked so tired. Every poster we saw in Chitwan was all about "freeing the Rhinos" but what about the elephants? I want to free the elephants!

After "bathing" elephants and lunch, Andrew and I attempted to bike to the lakes outside of Chitwan National Park. We thought this would be a great way to see some animals from afar, and some good scenery without having to spring for the park fee that has tripled this past year. We were wrong. We've come to the conclusion (mostly after Chitwan) that all of our decisions in Nepal have been the wrong ones. Not exactly sure where we were after two hours of biking, and having little Nepalese boys make improper gestures at us, we gave up.

We biked back to the center and then made our way to the elephant breeding center. Lonely Planet described this journey as  "an easy walk or cycle along the road past Jungle Lagoon Safari Lodge." Lonely Planet can suck it. If we would have walked, we would not have made it to the breeding center before sundown. It took us twice as long to get there from our estimates. They also made it seem like it was possible to interact with the baby elephants- which was also misleading. 

The Elephant Breeding Center was like a zoo. A zoo for elephants only. That made you feel terrible for the elephants chained up to a post. They get out in the park in the afternoons, but I don't understand why they can't enclose the area for them instead of putting heavy chains around one of their legs. It was fun to watch them eat treats that the mahouts made for them, but mostly because many of the elephants figured out they needed to unwrap the grass around the sugar, molases, and salt and pour that into their mouths.

Day 74: “Did he just say peacock fetus?”

After an unsettling (squeeky brakes, road on the edge of a mountain) bus ride from Kathmandu to Chitwan, we arrived to the National Park. Chitwan was not what we had expected. At. All. It's a town centered around the National Park boasting jungle safaris, public elephant bathing, bike rides around the outskirts of the park, and we thought, a more town-like atmosphere. It felt a little like Nagarkot, except with elephants. 

Many tourist agencies offered two-day/three-night packages, but we thought we could do it on our own. After scoring a guesthouse room for 300 Rs (less than $4.00), we thought we made the right choice. We had lunch with two NGO workers from Kathmandu, and then set out to find the Elephant Breeding Center. Without a map. With dusk approaching, we gave up. I did a little bit of work, while Andrew booked us for the Tharu Cultural Program at night.

The Cultural Program was packed. The dancing and druming was fun to watch and listen to, but the people walking down the center aisle to stand and take pictures and videos were not so much fun to have block the performance. The announcer was adorable, and over-zealous in his intonation. At one point, he was introducing the dancers that were going to dance with "drums made of yak skin and peacock fetus!" I paused. Unsure of what I had just heard. The older Canadian women next to me errupted in giggles.

"Did he just say peacock fetus?" Andrew asked. Yep. That's what I thought I heard, and I errupted as well. 

"Feathers." I tried to whisper. "I think he meant feathers."

"You caught that too?" The Canadian woman whispered after she caught.

Half of the program seemed to be geared towards a Nepalese audience, with inside jokes and skits that the foreigner crowd didn't quite know how to appreciate. I think the program is performed every night, and I have to say, it shows. Not in a good way, but in the way that you can tell some of the dancers were bored and/or didn't really want to be there. It was no Battambang Circus, that's for sure. I mean seriously, walking, instead of dancing off-stage? Being late for different numbers. Oh no. My childhood dance teachers would not have that. at all. 

Day 73: a lazy day in Thamel

And by lazy, I mean sick. Really, really sick. Only it wasn't me for a change, and this time it was me trying to convince Andrew to drink some electrolyte water and eat some vegetable soup. Needless to say, it was a quiet day, and we didn't venture far… We almost didn't venture at all, until I convinced Andrew that a short walk would be better than no walk at all. Getting sick in a foreign country is not fun at all. We were expecting it to happen in India, so I guess we might have a little preview of what's to come. Let's hope our stomachs have toughened up at least a little bit for the next month. If not, we have some back up Nepalese electrolyte mix!

Day 72: It’s Newari New Year!

In addition to Kathmandu celebrating Tihar Festival (Diwali to most), Newari New Year was celebrated today by the Newari (or Newa) people. This has been a little confusing and hard to follow which holiday is being celebrated by which group of people, but interesting nonetheless. We were on a mission to get a taxi to a smaller town in the Kathmandu valley, but had a hard time finding one for a decent price, and then had a hard time finding one at all… So we ended up staying in the city and following the Newari parade inadvertently throughout the day. The Newari parade was originally a motorbike rally (An Australian married to a Newari man told me at a coffeeshop). She said that the parade of trucks must be the follow up to the motorbikes. It was mostly a lot of young men drinking rice wine, dancing to drums, and blasting pop music while skeptical Kathmandu locals watched. And by watched, I mean humored. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought a group of youngsters were being a bit cheeky, but the holiday checked out, and let the minority group celebrate. 

Day 71: Happy Diwali! -or Deepawali!

We were going to head to another town in the valley, but we decided to stay in the city and soak up the celebrations that were already starting for 'The Festival' as everyone has been calling it here. 'The festival' is the Tihar Festival that is celebrated for five days in Nepal; this year in November. I read a really great explanation about the celebrations in Nepal, here, if you're interested.) Diwali, or as signs have read 'Deepawali' in town, coincides with the Newari (Nepali minority group) New Year as well. The town is covered in lights and it feels a little like Christmas feels back home. Only, without the commercialism, or maybe there is a certain level of commercialism here, it's just not as obvious as things like 'Black Friday' back home. Regardless, there is an air of festivity that we haven't felt in our travels yet. It's really quite lovely to be a part of, even as a bit of an observer.

Diwali is also known as 'the festival of lights' because little clay pots (like the ones in the pictures I took in Bhaktapur) are filled with oil and kept lit throughout the night, in addition to cleaning the house to make Lakshmi feel welcome. Lakshmi is the Hindu goddess of wealth and prosperity. A friend of mine told me Diwali is best celebrated by wearing new clothes, lighting candles in your home, and enjoying time with your family. I chuckled at her directions. At least I could wear my new scarf, that counts, right?

In the morning, our guest-house owner apologized for the noise outside. (Not that we noticed it being any louder than it is normally) He explained that everyone was cleaning their houses for the festival. As we walked around, the entire city was cleaning. Water was being sloshed out on doorsteps, sponges were taken to garage doors, and garbage on the street was swept up and out of the way. How fabulous is that? A holiday to clean your house and fill it with light? I love it. And then you get to make a beautiful rangoli outside of your house to welcome Hindu dieties, or simply, to bring good luck. 

I told Andrew I want to celebrate Diwali from now on. "Oh yea, you're going to celebrate Diwali with all of the Indians in Alexandria?" He asked. "Yes." I responded, wondering if there are any practicing Hindus in my hometown. "I don't mean Native American Indians." He teased. "I. KNOW." I responded, and then told him he was not welcome to my Diwali celebration next year. 

Dogs and Cows alike had marigold necklaces and tikka powder on their foreheads. When we reached Durbar Square, one woman fed the cow and then touched its forehead and then bowed before it. She laughed afterwards in that "Oh cow, what are you doing with all of that red tikka on yourself?" But I can't be entirely sure that's what she was chuckling about.

We went back to our favorite Momo (dumplings) restaurant and then walked around admiring all of the rangolis and watching all of the children go from shop to shop singing and dancing and even beating on a drum for money. Like a much louder version of "trick or treat" that may last for all five days of the festival. I was in love with Diwali until I reached into my backpack for my polaroid camera to take a picture to give to a little girl next to her rangoli… and it wasn't there.

I knew this was going to happen sooner or later… My friends and I all unintentionally took turns getting pick-pocketed in Prague, my wallet was lifted the first weekend back in America after my last long-term travel jaunt, and one of my students in Korea stole my John Deere tractor keychain when I left my keys behind in a classroom. Getting my polaroid camera taken after seventy full days without a problem is probably pretty good odds, especially considering what kind of technology we're carrying around. I'm still bummed about it though. It has been SO FUN surprising strangers by printing out a picture for them to keep. Just this morning, I snapped a little girl's picture after her mom encouraged her to wave to me. When I walked away, the mother was showing other vegetable vendors the picture and had the biggest smile on her face. 

I came home frustrated with myself for getting so comfortable and not being more aware. Andrew hugged me, went back out to ask the restaurant if it had slipped out by accident, and came back with some Haribo treats to make me feel better. I have around twenty packs of z-ink paper with me that I figure I may as well hold onto. You know, just in case I rack up enough Thank You points, or see the same camera for sale in a fancy mall in the UAE, or maybe when we make it to England? OR If you're not sure what to get me for Christmas, a replacement Polaroid would be lovely.

Day 70: Nagarkot: the zero trick pony

Everyone raved about Nagarkot. "It's so beautiful! You can see Mount Everest!" They all exclaimed. Good one. We couldn't see anything, and the "town" basically was one road that winded around the mountain tops. We woke up for the sunrise, granted I was pretty much awake all night with the "Kathmandu stew" as Andrew likes to call it, but there wasn't much to see through the thick haze that had not yet dissipated. I went back to sleep, Andrew went out to get water and then forced me to drink it, until I was well enough to eat a plain pancake for breakfast and walk around Nagarkot.

Nagarkot would have been nice, had the weather cooperated, the guesthouse owners not so pushy, and maybe I had been a little warmer and not sick. Despite all of this though, the town largely felt empty, run-down, and like a ghost-town. So few people were out and about when we expected having a harder time even finding a room, and no one was super friendly when you would pass them walking on the road.

The highlight of our visit was the local bus we decided to take back to Bhaktapur. A taxi to Bhaktapur would cost us at least 800 Rs "Ok, final price, very good for you!" one driver insisted. $9.00 isn't that bad, for the 22 kilometers to Bhaktapur, but I was just a little tired of the feeling I got in Nagarkot where everyone was trying to make a buck off of us. The local bus cost 40 Rs. ($0.45) and I knew it would be more of an adventure than the taxi. 

And it totally was. After the first three stops (all within about 400 meters of where the bus departed) Andrew and I made guesses as to how many stops would be made and how long it would take to get to Bhaktapur. It had taken 30-40 minutes by taxi the previous day. The local bus left at 12:15 pm. Andrew guessed we wouldn't get to Bhaktapur until nightfall. I guessed we would roll in by 3:30. Then Andrew's "more serious" guess was 3:31pm with 40 stops. I countered with 39 stops.

We were both off. way off. We got into Bhaktapur by 1:30 pm with a grand total of 23 stops. Men were on the roof, women piled huge bags of rice into the aisle, and the man collecting busfare stood in the open doorway jumping on and off with passengers and hitting the side of the bus everytime it got too close to the edge of the road. At one point we passed a much larger "Tourist" bus only holding two passengers. I wondered if they felt a bit silly as they looked in on our 30+ loaded smaller bus. 

We got into Bhaktapur, unsure of where the next local bus would drop us off in Kathmandu, so got a taxi back to the city, where the electricity promptly went out. Go figure.

Day 69: Bhaktapur to Nagarkot

I woke up with another round of stomach issues. This might be the new normal for the next month in India. I tried to rally (and for the most part did a rather ok job of it) and we walked around to the parts of Bhaktapur we didn't see the afternoon and night before. Then, we caught a taxi to Nagarkot for a Mount Everest sunset view. 

Bhaktapur sprung back to life in the morning and squares seemed more lively in the morning with the warm sun shining down than they were the previous afternoon. I can see how easy it is to adapt your daily schedule to the cycle of the sun. With the sun shining, there's no need for a scarf or even a jacket. One mistep in the shade however, and you might get a chill. I've started to bundle up and alternate walking or standing in the sun and then the shade. I inevitably need my scarf to cover my legs whenever we sit down to eat in the afternoon.

After sitting atop Durbar Square, we were greeted below by a group of school girls who asked for their picture taken. I obliged, and then we made one last loop through the city before finding a taxi to Nagarkot.

On our way out of the city, I stocked up on some Nepali and Masala tea. I'm generally a coffee kind of girl, but when in Nepal… I order the tea! (Lindsay, you would be so proud.) I've been alternating between the Nepali and Masala, unable to decide which one I like more. I was finally told the only difference is that the Masala is spicier! If I have to choose between the two, I'd say Nepali is my choice in the morning, and Masala is my choice in the afternoon. I've even graduated to ordering a large pot! Now I just have to get the directions on how to make it down!

When it comes to where we spend the night: We alternate between booking ahead of time and rolling into a city and walking around looking for a place. Usually hotels and guesthouses are in one area of town (backpacker districts if you will) and it's often not a huge deal to duck into a few to see a room before deciding where to stay. Sometimes though, the process of looking at different places gets frustrating. As was the case in Nagarkot. Lonely Planet suggested prices would be CHEAP. As in getting change back from a $5.00 bill for a room for a night! When we rolled into town, the first option was just that: Cheap. I thought we could get warmer blankets elsewhere, so we kept looking. Then we got the run-around at our second stop, and I was less than impressed with the third stop, but didn't feel like looking anymore. I was still not feeling well, and felt sorry for Andrew lugging both of our backpacks around (because sometimes he is too chivalrous for his own good). We got a room with a view. That's all there is to do in Nagarkot. Sip tea and look at the view. A view of a very hazy (nonexistent) sunset. I didn't mind, we were told there was internet, and I figured I could get caught up on the blog… Then the internet stopped working. 'Ohwell, I can still edit photos and videos' I thought… Then the electricity went out.

Day 68: Swayambhunath and Bhaktapur

We started our day off with a walk from Thamel to Swayambhunath, also known as The Monkey Temple. At first, I thought the nickname 'Monkey Temple' existed simply because monkeys happened to inhabit the hill. According to legend, the monkeys are holy. An enlightened being, Manjusri (who is associated with trascendent wisdom) was raising the hill that Swayambhunath sits on. For some reason (I don't quite get why) Manjusri was supposed to leave his hair short, but he let it grow. Lice grew and transformed into the monkeys that now roam the hill and steal offerings left at the stupa.

After 'Monkey Temple,' we traveled around Kathmandu Valley to the ancient Newar town, Bhaktapur. Another UNESCO World Heritage site, Bhaktapur held a (surprise!) Durbar Square and lots of temples. It's the third largest town in the Kathmandu valley, and famous for its wood, metal, and stonework. The most obvious was the wood work, and the pottery that seemed to be made and sold everywhere in the town.

Our walk to the temple felt very much like the walking tour we went on earlier in the week. I was happy to walk along taking pictures when I felt like it, that is, until I was a little bit overwhelmed with all of the garbage thrown into the river and watching people go about their daily routines (washing their hair, bathing, and getting dressed) right next to the waste strewn into and onto the banks of the river.

We are so lucky to have a developed sanitation system. Can you even imagine bathing in this water? This is just one of the many instances that I feel so very fortunate. I cringe when the water is cold, and after today, I feel spoiled for doing so. It's clean, it comes from a faucet in a tiled bathroom, and I'm cringing because it's not the perfect temperature? Obviously I need to re-evaluate a few things…

After climbing up a steep set of stairs, we arrived to the top of Swayambhunath. It was like a smaller – much smaller – version of Boudhanath – with holy monkeys. The stupa was the center of colorful waving prayer flags. Different groups were in prayer behind the side we climbed up to the top. Dogs and monkeys stole and ate the rice and fruit offerings around the stupa.

On our way back to collect our bags and a taxi to Bhaktapur, we took a bit of a detour and ended up walking with some cows who were not pleased to be sharing the road. Not only did it turn on Andrew at one point, but it started picking up speed at another, and I walked quickly to stand behind a bike with a Nepalese man keeping a safe distance. There are a lot of animals roaming the streets here, and most seem to be regarded with the same indifference we regard birds at home. They have all seemed pretty tame, that is until this one reared back on passersby with Andrew and I nearly in too close of range. 

Thankfully, Bhaktapur's animals (chickens mostly) were on the tamer side.

Bhaktapur offered more to do than we were told by our Kathmandu guest-house owner. It had a small town vibe to it, with lots of tourists milling around, or leaning up against pagodas in the Durbar Square reading or people watching. We wandered outside of the tourist areas, tried the custard that the town is known for, and hunted down more momos (think mandu in Korea or dumplings in China) to snack on while we sat above the town on a restaurant rooftop. 

We were intrigued when the town literally shut down between 8:00 and 9:00 pm. Because of our late afternoon snack, we didn't go out for dinner until it was too late to eat at any of the recommended restaurants. They were all closed, or in the process of closing their shutters and pulling chairs in. We barely made it to a corner shop to get a snack before it, too shut down for the night. Our room was so cold, I crawled directly into bed, still zipped up in my fleece just to keep warm… Needless to say, I did not get back out to take a picture of the room, which was so tiny, you're really not missing anything – except for the fake flower displays.

Day 67: Boudhanath, Pashupatinath, and Patan Durbar Square

After an hour and a half waiting inside the tourist agency for our $25.00 car and driver for the day, we finally set off to see the thre must-sees of the city. Seriously, an hour and a half! We went to this agency because they brought us into the city at a fair price, and quoted us a cheap car (we think because they thought we would sign up for a trekking tour with them when they gave us their sales pitches for every. possible. tour.) on our first night in Kathmandu. 

By the time we were on our way to Boudhanath, we had little patience for the Kathmandu traffic, and were anxious to see something, walk around, and do more than just sit and wait! Despite the tourists and the army of Chinese photographers, Boudhanath was a site to see, followed by a somewhat morbid experience at Pashupatinath, and an expected (after Kathmandu Durbar Square the day before) visit to Patan Durbar Square.

Boudhanath is one of the most important places of pilgimage for the Buddhist.It's the center of Himalayan Buddhist and studies in the Kathmandu Valley. According to the pamphlet we were given with our entrance ticket, it's one of the largest and "most significant" Buddhist monuments in the world. 

Basically, Boudhanath is a giant stupa with different legends concerning its origin. My favorite is the legend from teh Himalayan Buddhist who believe a widow is responsible for what is now one of the four UNESCO World Heritage Sites in Nepal. Jyazima (the widow) didn't have much money as a chicken seller, however she wanted to make a large offering to Buddha. When she asked the local king for permission to make a great offering, he said yes, but she had to use an area of land "measuring the size of a single buffalo skin." She agreed, but instead of laying the skin on the ground as one might do normally, she cut the skin into strips, laid the strips end to end, making a large area, and claimed the land that lie inside the buffalo strips. Genius- right? All of the rich got upset at her "trickery" and complained, but the king stood by the permission granted to Jyazima. It's suggested that the meaning of the stupa has her name in it, but I didn't see this anywhere, aside from the pamphlet handed out about Boudhanath.

We walked around the stupa, clockwise like pilgrims and other visitors following suit. There were so. many. people. And while it was cool, again, it was a hard balance to strike between paying our respects to this holy site and not getting annoyed with the other tourists and photographers that were everywhere. Lots and lots of prayer flags were strung up, and I enjoyed listening to them flap in the wind almost in perfect sync with the prayers that were being chanted. A man oiled the prayer wheels around the base of the stupa after his son ran ahead to spin them all before him. Monks sat tiredly watching the tourists go by, and vendors hawked religious artifacts. It was nice, but when we arrived back at where we started, we were ready to go.

Andrew says I do not have the budget (let alone room in the old backpack) to buy adorable baby clothes when one of our own is not in our near future. He's right. However, I thought a little Nepali/Tibetan outfit might be the perfect addition to my new collaboration with Zengerine.com. In the very near future, there will be a collection on Zengerine.com where items I have found around the world will be featured and select items will be sold to lucky buyers! More on that later, but seriously, how cute are these shirt-jackets?

Our next stop was Pashupatinath, one of the most significant Hindu temples in the world. Tourists are not allowed inside, but instead free to pay a steep entry fee to roam around the outskirts of the temple and then along the banks of the Bagmati River. This river is a spiritual property where Hindus are cremated along side the banks only after they are dipped into the river three times. While we were there, several fires were blazing, and one body was carried down to the bank and covered with a cloth waiting to be carried and dunked into the river. We didn't get a guide, because we knew we had little time (thanks to our hour and a half sucked up at the travel agency office in the morning) and didn't want to rush someone else explaining what was going on. It felt wrong being there, not only as an observer, but again, watching other tourists take pictures of the cremations, river, and most likely mourners sitting on its banks. It didn't help that every few yards someone would approach us asking if we would like a guide (for a fee, of course) and dressed up Sadhus (wandering monks, most likely dressed in gold robes and lots of make-up) sat idly by for pictures (for a fee, of course) which made me question their dedication to achieving liberation if they spent their time pimping themselves out for pictures. 

I didn't take many pictures, and only one brief video of the far sided entrance. It didn't feel right. What pictures I did take were of the grounds away from the funeral like activity or of the backs of the Sadhus. 

It was approaching dusk by the time we got to Patan Durbar Square. Again, somehow we managed to walk right in without paying for an entrance fee. (I swear, we weren't doing this on purpose!) It was much like Kathmandu Square, and people watching was the thing to do. So, that's just what I did. But not for long, because Kathmandu is cold once the sun goes down, and my fleece and yoga pants combination simply are not warm enough allowing me to stay out late. 

Patan Durbar Square feels like it's still in Kathmandu, but really it's located in the city of Lalitpur. An ancient king resided here. It's one of the three UNESCO World Heritage Sites. It wasn't as big as the Kathmandu Durbar Square, but it felt cleaner, and more like a little city square than a world heritage site, especially as I sat and watched a mother and father chase a ball around with their two infants. This game was participated by anyone walking by, which confused the little ones who were pretty much running in circles because they could never get to the ball in time and a passerby would have to stop it and kick it back to where it came from before it got lost.

On our way home, ("home" I should say) we stopped to pick up a yak wool scarf (or three) for me, my mom, and Zengerine! Holy warmth! It could easily double as a blanket, which is exactly what I need to survive these Nepalese nights! One of the beautiful striped ones will be on sale at Zengerine.com in the very near future!

Day 66: Walking through Kathmandu is my new favorite thing to do

Yes, laying on a Thai beach would have been a lot warmer than Nepal in November, But, I'm officially in photographer's heaven in Kathmandu. Before we even figured out where to go for the (Lonely Planet recommended) walking tour from Thamel to Durbar Square, I was already tickled with some images and only that much more excited to see what else Kathmandu was going to let me take a picture of.

Andrew and I have a (not serious) on-going argument you should probably know about. It's become a major part of our travels, or at least our communication throughout our travels. Here's the thing: I think he's an almost always awesome travel partner. He thinks he is always awesome. He also thinks I'm always awesome, which we all know cannot be true. We don't always agree. However, he IS always awesome when it comes to walking tours.

After stopping for directions a few times, we walked back through Thamel (the backpacker/tourist area of Kathmandu) and found Thahiti Tole; a stupa built in the 15th century with legends differing between keeping snakes and thieves away. I prefer the snake legend. It was busy, and we were asked if we wanted a taxi, or a trekking guide, or even "smoking" more than once, so we didn't stay long. We both preferred immersing ourselves in the small streets and alleyways lined with shops and front steps anyway.

From there, we headed west to the Kathesimbhu Stupa. This was (like many we later discovered) was located in a courtyard surrounded, but what appeared to be average Nepali inhabitants of Kathmandu. I wonder if living expenses differ when your house just happens to be looking over an ancient Buddhist stupa or not… Regardless every courtyard containing a stupa became a bit of a refuge from the hustle and bustle that was the Kathmandu street outside.

Right after the stupa, there was a tiny enclave; Nag Bahal. I felt like I was in someone's private courtyard it was so small, but the men sitting on the steps or in the windows above didn't seem to mind, or even notice we were there. We didn't stay long, as there wasn't much to really see and the shade was much cooler than the sun streaming out on the street.

Given our instruction was to walk past a string of dentist shops, I was amused by all of the signage, and wondered how comfortable Dr. Walker (my dentist since I was a child) would feel with me going into one of the shops to get some work done.

Our next stop on the tour was the Sikha Narayan Temple. I was more enamored by the city life surrounding the square. Rickshaw drivers were parked, some napping at the edge of the temple platform. On the opposite corners, men sold flowers, women sold vegetables, and it seemed that nearly everyone had a newspaper to read. 

At the far corner of the square, there was a twisted piece of wood with thousands of coins nailed to it, offerings to the toothache god. We speculated that maybe it could look like a mouth? a set of teeth? Any thoughts?

Back on the tour, I trailed behind Andrew, fascinated by the bright tikka powders for sale on the street. Given that I've only seen red tikka powder before, I was curious what the bright colors were used for. Some google searches led me to discover that it's used largely for decorations for Diwali, which is part of the bigger festival season of Dasain & Tihar, here in Nepal. Regardless of what the tikka powder is used for, the colors are beautiful and really light up a dusty city street.

Asan Tole was our next stop. Bustling is not an accurate word for this busy junction. Andrew and I went our separate ways exploring and observing. Tea vendors operated out of shops lined up on one side of the junction. Motorbikes parked in the middle next to a shrine that men sat around and watched the traffic flow in every direction around them. Women sold flower garlands in front of the Annapurna Temple at one end. Vegetables lay in front of vendors on what appeared to be the street for cars and motorbikes. When Andrew found me and asked if I was ready to go, I smirked, unsure if this was one of those places you could ever be "ready" to leave.

Back in the day, the diagonal street that we took from Asan Tole was the main commercial street in Kathmandu. It was the main caravan route to Tibet, that is, until the construction of another road after an earthquake in 1934. 

After walking through the busy street, and eyeing some Ganesh marionette puppets, we ducked into another courtyard to see the Seto Machhendranath Temple, also known as Jan Bahal. Attracting both Buddhists and Hindus, this was the most busy courtyard/temple so far on the tour. According to our Lonely Planet: "Buddhists consider Seto (White) Machhendranath to be a form of Avalokitesvara, while to Hindus he is a rain-bringing incarnation of Shiva." I think, although I'm not sure, it was a group of Hindu women who arrived shortly after we did for some special prayer or blessings. They bought grain and scattered it for the pigeons in the courtyard (for karma), circled the temple before us, and then sat in a line while each received blessings. I wish I knew what was going on, but enjoyed watching all the same.

After this courtyard and temple, we ended up on New Road, which basically sold a lot of imported goods, most interesting to me were the Nepali traditional dresses (daura suruwal) on display when only two months ago I was photographing Muslim headscarves on similar rows of manequins in Kuala Lumpur. Just opposite these dress shops, blanket vendors took up an entire shrine to sell their wares. Had I more room in my backpack, I would have gotten one!

We walked on, weaving through more narrow streets, rarely bumping into other tourists along the way. Later, Andrew and I agreed this was our favorite part of the trip so far. When you're surrounded by dozens of other tourists with cameras (as is the case half of the time on this trip), it takes the beauty away from exploring a new place. Being able to explore, without having to wait for someone else to take the picture you were going to take, or interact with locals without worrying about the "ugly tourist" on the same street as you is just one of the many reasons I wanted to go on this trip…

Our next stop was into another courtyard, this time a longer (much longer) one named Itum Bahal. Apparently it's one of the oldest and largest bahals in the city, although the only difference I could see was that it was much much quieter than the others. We sat and shared some baked goods we got along the way and watched a baby run around without her (his?) pants on. Our favorite part was when she (he?) went up to antagonize a dog until it barked and scared the poor thing away, much to the amusement of the women also watching nearby.

On our way out, we walked past a business (I'm assuming) that was making incense. No one was around, and I admired that there seemed to be an air of trust with the open doors, and goods sitting out. I wish I felt the same sense of trust in all countries! We then passed the junction of the Nara Devi Temple. More interesting though were the uniforms hanging outside of the offices to book bands for weddings and other celebrations. Opposite the band uniforms and dance platform (so Lonely Planet described it to be) I watched a man make snacks that we later discovered to be a big hit for the festival celebrations. 

After another stupa, we arrived at our destination: Durbar Square. There are three of these Durbar Squares, and all of them are UNESCO World Heritage Sites. This one, Kathmandu Durbar Square is basically a square that was built in front of the royal palace of the old Kathmandu Kingdom. Somehow we managed to sneak into the square without having to pay the 500 Rs (nearly $6.00) entrance fee. We didn't really realize there was a fee to get into the square because it was also a busy thoroughfare with what looked like people walking through the square to get from one side to the other. Perhaps this is how we blended in. We strolled through, climbed atop one of the pagodas and people watched for awhile.

Back on the ground, we wandered around the different structures, I caved and bought a Ganesh marionette, and upon exiting in a different direction, we realized to get back in, we'd have to pay… So we went through the back alleys instead. 

We had planned on going up to see Swayambhunath (also known as Monkey Tmeple) after Durbar Square, but worried by the time we would get there or have to walk back, it would be dark. Dusk rolls in around five, and the darkness isn't so much of a problem as the cold that sets in without the warmth of the sun. We headed back to Thamel the way we came, had dinner and I promptly got in bed as I have quickly discovered restaurants in Kathmandu are largely outdoors and buildings are not heated. After two months in SE Asia, and the warmest clothing in my backpack being a pair of yoga pants and a NorthFace fleece… this doesn't bode well for me being warm in Nepal…

Day 65: En Route to Kathmandu

It's a little bit surreal waking up in India. Ok, it's only the airport, but still… Maybe it was because India's airport does not feel like what I expect India to feel like… Or maybe it was because we woke up to breaking news on CNN that Obama was indeed re-elected… When Obama was elected four years ago, I was sitting in a bar in Chicago with some of my closest, bestest friends, eating wings, drinking beer, being very "American." I was excited for the change that was happening in my life at the time (as well as what 'bama preached). I was finally enrolled in art school, and thought I was back in America "for good." Skip forward four years, and I'm two months into a trip around the world. Surreal. Yes, maybe that's the best word for it.

We arrived in Kathmandu around noon (from what I remember) and after reading a few blog posts about what to expect or how to survive the airport itself, I felt like I was pumping myself up for a big game or something just stepping off of the plane. It ended up not being a big deal (at all) and we even made it into the city for the suggested 250 rupees! 

Exhausted, to say the least, we crashed at our (very bare) guesthouse despite the street noise that is Kathmandu, before ducking out for a quick dinner, and then sleeping some more.