OzBus 14

I sensed a smattering of sadness as we departed from Pokhara.  For many, including myself, it had been a very welcome break from all the hectic travel, what seemed like countless cities and was as close to a holiday as we’d experienced since the beginning of the journey.  Nonetheless, we were all in the state of mind necessary for what lay ahead and were up early for our trip to Nepal’s capital – Kathmandu.

The drive from Pohkara – an area situated close to two thousand metres above sea level – to Kathmandu – an area situated over one thousand metres above sea level – was a refreshing insight into Nepal’s beautifully ridged landscape.  With a backdrop of clear blue skies and a sensually warm sun, it was just as awe inspiring as you could ever imagine a mountain drive.  The ecstasy of the drive was going to be topped off by an activity – white water rafting.  This was exciting for me for three reasons; firstly I’d never been white water rafting.  Secondly, the scenery in which we were going to be participating in was nothing short of perfect.  Finally, I had never plucked up the courage to do it before as I can’t swim, thus adding the potential of death on top of an already adrenaline fueled activity.  I realise now I absolutely and whole-heartedly love these situations.

One normally likes to savour such excitement, giving the event a heightened sense of exhilaration.  In our case, our driver didn’t actually know the location of the company that was going to be taking us out on the water.  This lead to an impromptu two hour drive back and forth a stretch of river that we were meant to be rafting down, stopping and asking at every sight of a living soul.  Add on top of this the fact that no one knew the name of the company, and you have a recipe for frustration.  We eventually get to where we need to be, upset, annoyed but still eager.  There were a group of people already waiting for us, adding to the sense of urgency to get out on the water.  After scurrying around putting away valuables (cameras, passports, etc.) we have a quick safety meeting by the river and head out in our rafts.  We spent three hours, with a break in between for lunch, tackling the river.  I fell in once as I wasn’t prepared for the wave we hit, much to the amusement of my fellow raft personnel, but luckily for me the life-jacket provided dealt with the situation with maturity and grace (unlike me).  At calmer points of the river, our guide and instructor gave everyone a chance to jump into the juice before the next rapid, giving everyone, including myself, a taste of what it’s like to be a piece of floating debris.  All in all, we eventually forgot about the debacle of getting there and had a great time.

Back on the bus, we started to make our way to Kathmandu.  On the way, we hit a jam caused by a crash – a car had hit some thing in the small town and decided to run off so a truck went in pursuit but in doing so had crashed into a bus.  We were stuck there for a while and didn’t know what had happened till our guide had got out and asked the locals for details.  It was a far cry from the tranquil surrounding of Pokhara and the river we just came from.  This delay, plus the late arrival at the white water rafting, meant we got into Kathmandu a lot later than scheduled.  Once we did arrive, after what had been a very long and eventful day, we took solace in our haunt.  The buzz of Kathmandu and it’s bustling city life was not apparent by the time we arrived, but that is the story of another day.  Tomorrow, bungee jumping!

Can one get tired of sunrise walks?  Personal preference I guess.  One thing is for sure; the early mornings tire.  Despite the general lag that everyone was experiencing, we all rise before the sun to take our bus to a point and see our local star appear and greet us.  The place we head to was only accessible via a very narrow road that hugs the said mountain, whose summit is our destination.  This sunrise was the personification of the tried and tested saying; “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey”.  I was wide awake in the morning (must be something to do with the refreshingly cool morning air in the mountains), so I could fully admire our drive up to the viewing point.  The point itself was a tourist trap, with a controlled parking lot, designated trekking route and stalls already up and bartering.  Not what I had envisaged, but a sunrise is a sunrise.  However, due to the weather conditions (i.e. low lying clouds), the suns arrival into the day was hidden like someone getting changed behind a rice paper partition – you knew she was there because her head would eventually rise above the partition, but you couldn’t see what she was doing or at what point she was at in her routine.  Still, at least we had an interesting drive back down.

After having some breakfast back at our amazing resort, Rachel and Jerry decide to hire a boat with me and tour the lake situated outside where we are staying.  Phewa Lake was a large body of water separating us from a small range covered in trees.  Not the largest lake in Nepal, but idyllic none the less.  After getting our vessel, we set out in search for something or other (I never did really figure out what we were looking for).  Taking turns in rowing, we inevitably grew weary and headed for land.  Luckily for us, we located a tiny pebble beach that lead to the land opposite and docked our boat there.  After an hour or so basking in the warm sun on our gently rocking boat, we row out to the floating temple and listen to some prayers while trying energetically to get back to where we hired our canoe-esk vessel.

As was tradition by this stage, I gathered as many people as I could get my hands on and went in search of a drink.  You may have noticed that the majority of our accommodation has been established conveniently near bars, pubs or restaurants.  Well done Oz Bus!  We found a small bar/restaurant place and settled down with a smoothie to start (to fuel the nutritionist inside us all) and got down to some more mature beverage consumption.  Despite the morning being pleasant and warm, it wasn’t long till the weather turned for the worse.  While sitting and admiring the lake, a sudden downpour hit our town.  And that was just the start.  Soon after the downpour started, the rain turned from heavy to hale, which then soon turned into what could only be described as DEADLY BOULDERS OF ICE!  The snowflakes in my glass where nothing compared to what was obliterating the rooftop of the restaurant we were fortunate to be sitting in.  My mind filled with concern for the others, hoping that none of them were caught outside during God’s wrath.  Such was the biblical severity that I couldn’t hear myself think over the constant drumming of ice rocks fighting their way to the ground via the tin roof.  It only lasted 30 minutes, so God doesn’t hold a long grudge.

Once everything died down, I wanted to go back to the hotel and check on everyone, so we finished our drinks and wandered back to our abode.  Everyone was fine, so I insisted we went to get food.  After dinner, we split, as we always did, and headed to various watering holes.  Holly, Andrea and I were craving live music, so we ambled around the high street hoping to hear that sweet symphony of joyous people and enthusiastic music.  We fell upon a bar called Club Amsterdam.  Naturally, with such a name, we eagerly entered the building.  What followed was a mixture of awkward third-wheeling-ness, a lot of tequila and the aiding of one person to find their long lost memory of how to walk.  Tomorrow, the Nepalese capital.