White snow bright sheets and doona, plus soft pillows, plus hot water. Died and gone to heaven. As Pokhara is on it's off season it is also fairly quiet. Season starts to wind down in November and cranks up again in February all based around trekking into the hills. This also means that there are zillions of hotels, restaurants and stores all that little bit more desperate for your cash. Which is good and bad. Having been through some desperately poor parts of nepal, you sense desperation, and it is not something that you want to be part of.
It is also an aspect of want and need. Many villages we have passed are subsistently okay, sure some possibly frugal and limited options but without exposure to unusual weather or external forces they can get by. But exposure to alternate options and lifestyles creates desire and a desperation for a better life. The recurring difficulty is in putting a finger on better. Easier and increased life of leisure, maybe, but there is plenty of downtime for a lot of people, driven by season or need rather then choice. In the main this is not world aid territory, yes developing but the people with great pride get on. The problem being the gap and disparity of shared wealth.
In India the population felt overwhelming and you still had a sense of breed for survival in certain sectors. But in Nepal there is an aspect but as a smaller country and smaller spread of population the exposure to it is less significant.
First stop AM/PM for a flat white followed by a machiatto, cinnamon roll and granola. The same value for what would have fed us fried (which a lot of the early morning snack food is) food for four breakfasts. As mentioned before many traditional nepalis eat breakfast at ten, dhal bhat followed by dinner at 6pm, dhal bhat. The dhal bhat is a very big meal with plenty of rice for fill. In between these times depending upon access all that is available are snacks such as samosa, doughnuts Nepali style, sweat treats.. (if affordable) or tea for most.
Today we have named a rest day to get a feel for Dam side and Lake side, the location of the tourist end of Pokhara, which is Nepal's second largest city after Kathmandu.
A few things being on the shopping list, trekking options/details, trekking pant/shoes, toilet paper etc. Oh and possibly a massage. We headed in the direction of the Nepali Tourism office first to address the first. This brought us into the immediate realization that trekking stores here have bred like rabbits and North Face is an extremely popular brand to rip off. As I think mentioned at McLeod Ganj. Same with Mountain Hardware and Mammut. (but nothing compares to North Face) Someone somewhere has the logos programmed into their embroidery machines and are going nuts, in fact it doesn't matter where on the clothing, but the logo will be there. Buttons sometimes logo sometimes not.
Not to say that the brand makes the clothing, but it helps with the cut and fabric, let alone pricing. I saw a pair in the morning and by evening had purveyed hundreds of similar pant/short combos all very similiar but different in small ways such as level of finish, zips etc. Generally the one you picked was the "original" versus the other cheaper options, and if morning then morning special was applicable. Initially I thought this was one store's peculiarity to start a selling trend, but it was repeated in many locations, excluding food where discounts are not discussed. In fact the majority of food places here have an automatic service charge of 10%. In someways I prefer the service free locations further south, that way it was up to them if they wanted to be nice. Soph definitely riles at the concept, still in many situations I guess I may have tipped similar. But it is the places that charge almost european prices and then whack you with the service charge that give you the &@$^s. It's like double dipping.
There is some great crafty sort of stuff here, for some reason a hemp and organic industry has also grown up in pokhara. Whether earthy types also come to the mountains or one goes into the mountains in trekking clothes and comes out in hemp I am not sure. It is actually quite cool, but seems at odds with the commercialism in other sectors, not to mention the true earthiness out in the villages. The same when you consider is repeated in other touristy towns, Byron or the Blue Mountains for example.
Great felting, book stores,Tibetan thanka painting, Tibetan Knicks knacks, natural papers etc. But for every one of these there has to be three trekking shops. Also paragliding, mountain biking and kayaking. Mountain bike wise there are commercial, giant, trek etc. Kayaking is mainly connected with the rivers when they run higher and paragliding from Sarangkot which I imagine gains fantastic views of not just the Annapurna behind but also Phewa lake, peace pagoda etc.
Settle into the German bakery over on Dam side for apple crumble, a salad,cheese and meat platter and a banana lassi. Great food, Soph also has a sesame topped brown bread roll, as it is not common to find, if good baked bread. Backout onto the streets and around to the tourist info where the staff are particularly helpful, a nice change from official Himachal and Uttrakhand tourism officers who were, when found, generally so so. Turns out we will need to pay 2000 rup pp to enter the conservation area, plus as we will be going without a guide a TIMS card and a further 1600 rup pp. Sounds a lot but to assist manage the area, provide checks and maintain trails not too bad.
Instead of heading straight back into Lake side we head North to Shrijana Chowk before turning west to the lake again. The city outside of the Lake and dam side areas definitely has a more Nepali feel, though with a noticeable metro edge. No ox carts, but still these front wheel drive mini me tractors which pull freight around the city. Also taxi vans, that unless packed drive around with the sliding door open which reminds me too much of hostage movies to feel drawn to. If packed and I mean stuffed like a metal human sausage, sometimes the door is closed, whether as a safety precaution or ward against further stuffing I am not sure.
Soph is starting to grind her teeth at the never ending pant shopping, as we pass the thirtieth store mark which feels like one hundred. I can't hear the noise but extra sensory skills seem to come with marriage. Whether arch of the back or the eyebrow, it is time to throw in the towel for the day. Time out down by the lake side watching the paragliders come in over the lake with the sun setting to the side of the peace pagoda on the Rani Ban hill top.
Dinner at the Pokhara Pizza House just trying to make up lost time. I am craving non sweatened tomato sauce and crisp bases. We get tomato sauce, at least. Maybe tomorrow we should go to Fired Wood Pizza, sounds well cooked.
Back to the hotel as the stores start packing up, treks to plan and options to consider.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Roller ride (Sunday 30 January)
Tv next door has been on all night, Bollywood channel too by the sounds so overdramatized sounds followed by musical numbers. Nice. Still, least the sound appears to be on low. Out the window Waling appears to be cold and foggy. Riding power levels drop even before heading out the door.
On the road and follow the valley for a while before climbing and falling on the way to Syangia. Still following the Andhi Khola which feeds into the Kali Gandaki in the plains North East of Ridi.
Stop for photos and spotted by a little girl who post greetings asks for chocolate (which we don't have out) then rupees, then accepts a banana with smile, followed by a few words to some other better dressed kids who have also come to see what the fuss is about.
In Syangja notice pre school kids playing on the side of the highway with Roller wheels made out of plastic irrigation pipe and a small wire looped over the top. Effect being that they run along and the quasi wheel rolls and is controlled via the wire, basic but they seem to enjoy it quite a bit. In fact we see groups of kids playing in similar way as if they were riding on bikes. Another variation being an wooden wheel set and axle, that looks like a wooden hand dumbbell and a stick to control the dumbbells direction. Sometimes kids get off on the darndest things.
Sharp u bend in river around a hill sized knoll, in fact there is part of the ridge coming up, which has formed it's own mini hill prior to the massive wall of stone which caused such a dramatic change of course for the river below. Looking down noticing that some of the viewing spots are actually ledges when seen from different perspective. Flash backs to Uttrakhand make you a little wary.
Buddhist settlement as evidenced by numerous houses with prayer flags prior to passing under a entrance archway and the road finally descending near Bhumdi. Pairs of Himalayan eagles a nice change to massive vultures.
Downhill the road is all tarred but the base must have been laid poorly or some seriously heavy traffic has been through as it feels like mini moguls, brakes required to ease the panniers around the more exciting stuff.
Soph is now counting every km. When we left Syangja the report we received was roughly 15km up and then 15km down all the way to Pokhara. Soph therefore was monitoring her cycle computer remorsefully as we passed the fifteen and continued to climb. Further once we finally did descend there was a nasty couple of final pinches thrown into the mix just to rub the salt into the wound. To add the icing, haze has oblitterated any view of mountains and the lake is not in visual evidence. Outskirts of Pokhara therefore looking the same as many other regional cities, not giving the burst of adrenalin that a killer skyline can.
Riding into town we cycle through the Birauta Bazaar passing at speed Devi's falls prior to kicking left at Birauta Chowk to Lake side an island of urban tourism on steroids, bit like Byron but replace the surfers with trekkers and you have a first impression. There appears to be a 75/25 mix here of tourists to locals.
Hotel and guest house Touts out on the streets in force, in fact some even on motorbikes. Generally we wave to them as we cycle past smiling, but no advantage when they are on scooters. Many in good spirits but hard to drop. We pass loads of Restaurants and gift stores. Pizza and coffee. Steaks......stomach is starting to tighten up already.
Checkout several LP recommendations, most identify hot water regardless of load setting, which here is 5hrs and timing varies depending upon day of the week. Little Tibet guest house looked pretty cool as set back from the road and behind a gated garden, the calm was almost tangible, however charging 900rup per night versus 650 in LP and 500rup in other locations for everything bar the garden. Settle into Royal guest house as significant discount and top floor balcony room. Opposite the Royal palace on the lake side.
Hot showers and then succumb to temptation. Pizza and affogatto at Caffe Concerto. Backed up by more coffee and rum balls at AM/PM. Toto we're not in Kansas anymore....
On the road and follow the valley for a while before climbing and falling on the way to Syangia. Still following the Andhi Khola which feeds into the Kali Gandaki in the plains North East of Ridi.
Stop for photos and spotted by a little girl who post greetings asks for chocolate (which we don't have out) then rupees, then accepts a banana with smile, followed by a few words to some other better dressed kids who have also come to see what the fuss is about.
In Syangja notice pre school kids playing on the side of the highway with Roller wheels made out of plastic irrigation pipe and a small wire looped over the top. Effect being that they run along and the quasi wheel rolls and is controlled via the wire, basic but they seem to enjoy it quite a bit. In fact we see groups of kids playing in similar way as if they were riding on bikes. Another variation being an wooden wheel set and axle, that looks like a wooden hand dumbbell and a stick to control the dumbbells direction. Sometimes kids get off on the darndest things.
Sharp u bend in river around a hill sized knoll, in fact there is part of the ridge coming up, which has formed it's own mini hill prior to the massive wall of stone which caused such a dramatic change of course for the river below. Looking down noticing that some of the viewing spots are actually ledges when seen from different perspective. Flash backs to Uttrakhand make you a little wary.
Buddhist settlement as evidenced by numerous houses with prayer flags prior to passing under a entrance archway and the road finally descending near Bhumdi. Pairs of Himalayan eagles a nice change to massive vultures.
Downhill the road is all tarred but the base must have been laid poorly or some seriously heavy traffic has been through as it feels like mini moguls, brakes required to ease the panniers around the more exciting stuff.
Soph is now counting every km. When we left Syangja the report we received was roughly 15km up and then 15km down all the way to Pokhara. Soph therefore was monitoring her cycle computer remorsefully as we passed the fifteen and continued to climb. Further once we finally did descend there was a nasty couple of final pinches thrown into the mix just to rub the salt into the wound. To add the icing, haze has oblitterated any view of mountains and the lake is not in visual evidence. Outskirts of Pokhara therefore looking the same as many other regional cities, not giving the burst of adrenalin that a killer skyline can.
Riding into town we cycle through the Birauta Bazaar passing at speed Devi's falls prior to kicking left at Birauta Chowk to Lake side an island of urban tourism on steroids, bit like Byron but replace the surfers with trekkers and you have a first impression. There appears to be a 75/25 mix here of tourists to locals.
Hotel and guest house Touts out on the streets in force, in fact some even on motorbikes. Generally we wave to them as we cycle past smiling, but no advantage when they are on scooters. Many in good spirits but hard to drop. We pass loads of Restaurants and gift stores. Pizza and coffee. Steaks......stomach is starting to tighten up already.
Checkout several LP recommendations, most identify hot water regardless of load setting, which here is 5hrs and timing varies depending upon day of the week. Little Tibet guest house looked pretty cool as set back from the road and behind a gated garden, the calm was almost tangible, however charging 900rup per night versus 650 in LP and 500rup in other locations for everything bar the garden. Settle into Royal guest house as significant discount and top floor balcony room. Opposite the Royal palace on the lake side.
Hot showers and then succumb to temptation. Pizza and affogatto at Caffe Concerto. Backed up by more coffee and rum balls at AM/PM. Toto we're not in Kansas anymore....
Saturday, January 29, 2011
A Waling good time (Saturday 29 January 2011)
Wake to quiet sounds of the river, until the sounds of the Krishna temple cranked up with a tape playing at about 6am, still it is kind of cool lying in bed with the cymbals and "hare hare" happening in the background. Would have an extra impact if it was live.
Bathroom is the sink in the dhaba and the toilet a cement dark squatty in the basement also used by the restaurant traffic. Nice.... Try not to touch much and first time sanitiser has come out though we have been in some pretty dodgy places before. I know this reduces our hard core traveler element but certain places have definite cringe factor, and this place has the hairs on my neck prickly as a porcupine. Back in the room lift the pillow from last night and there is a spider hiding underneath it. Funny though, for all of that, the river and the afternoon sun makes up a lot.
Soph gives the go, so we load up and leave a small posse of onlookers as begin the climb out of town and up the hill. Pass people trees and terracing as the river gradually falls below. Soph moving confidently in the morning sun which is great and she takes the lead, setting the pace heading up the hill. Still hazy setting over the valley which diminishes medium to long visibility.
At Galyang we consider our options, GETUP tourist info in Tansen identified that the serious climbing back up from the river finished here. Their recommendation was to make it here from Tansen as there were definite accommodation options. But now having started midway it is still only mid morning and the sun is warm and supportive. Soph again gives the nod post some chai and popcorn, whilst I eat aloo pakora, doughnuts hole that are the size of oranges and a couple of samosa. Cholesterol here must be a killer but in the lineup fairly low down at the moment.
Tree clearing obvious and in some parts absolute. Severe slopes making you wonder of the increased landslip potential, but these guys have obviously been molding the landscape for millennia via terracing so I guess they know what they are doing. Goat trails and sounds of people in the pockets of densely packed forest. One savior is you can't hear chainsaws nor can logging trucks access so I guess the remainder will take time and give the country time to consider necessity and associated issues.
Sari drying on the hillside slopes above road lined houses. Compact utility numbers with the animals in the bottom floor and the family upstairs.
Hit 2000kms, per Soph's cycle computer.
Continue to climb prior to dropping back down to Waling where glittering streamers/flags line the main street not just along the side but at one meter intervals for one km through town. Large banners indicating the event but unfortunately all in Nepalese. We find out it is the Waling festival 2067. Maybe they work on the Tibetan calendar, not sure will have to check. The festival has pumped up the town and there is a stream of people all heading down to the bazaar near the river. Unfortunately the consequences for us are that the hotels in town identify to Soph, as it her turn, that they are full. Soph looks tired, but otherwise fine so we take this at face value. We pass motorbike after motorbike all lined up along the lower main street. Versus the families and older generations walking into town or from the taxi stand. Women in saris with golden jewelry, including nose rings or piercings and plenty of bangles. Men in long shirts and waistcoats, also displaying their local hats. The local color is like a paisley tartan pink.
Following a couple of checks (we have come to rely on chemists or pharmacists or medicos as a definite source of English speaking support) we are directed a km through town to another small satellite suburb where we confirm accommodation at the Natural View Point Restaurant and Lodge. The room is clean, high and well lit. Bathroom communal but tiled and clean.
Fields of mustard, cauliflower, lentils and unknown green / pink flowering produce lining the river side flats on the far side of the river. Not what either of us had pictured up in the then perceived mountains. It is warm as post warm bucket showers we walk back into town to check out what is going on.
Show 30rup entry and with some similarities. Amusement rides including ferris wheel, small pirate ship, ghost train etc Ticket to get in has on the back, advertising for a visa assistance group. Kandyy.com 25% discount
Business stalls, school stalls, food stalls. IT section,English educational software. Organic coffee grown in Syangja. Sample cups made using sweetened water through a special strainer containing freshly ground coffee. Would love to buy a bag, but we have no access to kettles nor willingness to carry one. We meet a 100 % treacle man who is keen to export. Gives us a sample of his product. (B.G Groupe 9847199831) if anyone interested I have his card.
Motorbike cone of death style setup over in amusement section where a large crowd sitting on top is watching reving motorbikes spin around the angled sides. We notice outside one guy riding around on an old Suzuki with a toddler sitting in front, uncertain of whether part of the act. We pass many very attractive people with not only the brown red warm tan and dark hair but hazel instead of dark eyes. Many fine features. Have noticed before both here and in northern india the occasional blue eyed local, which is also in most cases striking if not slightly mesmerizing.
Stage entertainment all in Nepalese and at the moment a comedian so we decide to move on as dusk is not far away and Soph keen to get in some field shots.
Prior to making the river we wander the off highway main street, which is quiet. Well provisioned and laid out, we spot our first mountain bike with cable disc brakes in a store.
Walk through the fields on dusk following the main raised water irrigation ditch paths that rest on one edge. Easy to distinguish from the dividing patch walls by their well tramped identity. Wall cascading slowly through the earthen ditches slowly making for diverts into open patches. Water control achieved via stones across diverts for crops that do not require further water. Not sure how the water gets up to the small channels though initially as we are about a meter and a half above the current river water line. Similar to many rivers we have passed in Nepal, river stone spread indicating that the current flow is currently well below snow melt and monsoon capacity.
Back to the room for Thali, though really a Dhal Bhat. Soph eating again which is great.
Bathroom is the sink in the dhaba and the toilet a cement dark squatty in the basement also used by the restaurant traffic. Nice.... Try not to touch much and first time sanitiser has come out though we have been in some pretty dodgy places before. I know this reduces our hard core traveler element but certain places have definite cringe factor, and this place has the hairs on my neck prickly as a porcupine. Back in the room lift the pillow from last night and there is a spider hiding underneath it. Funny though, for all of that, the river and the afternoon sun makes up a lot.
Soph gives the go, so we load up and leave a small posse of onlookers as begin the climb out of town and up the hill. Pass people trees and terracing as the river gradually falls below. Soph moving confidently in the morning sun which is great and she takes the lead, setting the pace heading up the hill. Still hazy setting over the valley which diminishes medium to long visibility.
At Galyang we consider our options, GETUP tourist info in Tansen identified that the serious climbing back up from the river finished here. Their recommendation was to make it here from Tansen as there were definite accommodation options. But now having started midway it is still only mid morning and the sun is warm and supportive. Soph again gives the nod post some chai and popcorn, whilst I eat aloo pakora, doughnuts hole that are the size of oranges and a couple of samosa. Cholesterol here must be a killer but in the lineup fairly low down at the moment.
Tree clearing obvious and in some parts absolute. Severe slopes making you wonder of the increased landslip potential, but these guys have obviously been molding the landscape for millennia via terracing so I guess they know what they are doing. Goat trails and sounds of people in the pockets of densely packed forest. One savior is you can't hear chainsaws nor can logging trucks access so I guess the remainder will take time and give the country time to consider necessity and associated issues.
Sari drying on the hillside slopes above road lined houses. Compact utility numbers with the animals in the bottom floor and the family upstairs.
Hit 2000kms, per Soph's cycle computer.
Continue to climb prior to dropping back down to Waling where glittering streamers/flags line the main street not just along the side but at one meter intervals for one km through town. Large banners indicating the event but unfortunately all in Nepalese. We find out it is the Waling festival 2067. Maybe they work on the Tibetan calendar, not sure will have to check. The festival has pumped up the town and there is a stream of people all heading down to the bazaar near the river. Unfortunately the consequences for us are that the hotels in town identify to Soph, as it her turn, that they are full. Soph looks tired, but otherwise fine so we take this at face value. We pass motorbike after motorbike all lined up along the lower main street. Versus the families and older generations walking into town or from the taxi stand. Women in saris with golden jewelry, including nose rings or piercings and plenty of bangles. Men in long shirts and waistcoats, also displaying their local hats. The local color is like a paisley tartan pink.
Following a couple of checks (we have come to rely on chemists or pharmacists or medicos as a definite source of English speaking support) we are directed a km through town to another small satellite suburb where we confirm accommodation at the Natural View Point Restaurant and Lodge. The room is clean, high and well lit. Bathroom communal but tiled and clean.
Fields of mustard, cauliflower, lentils and unknown green / pink flowering produce lining the river side flats on the far side of the river. Not what either of us had pictured up in the then perceived mountains. It is warm as post warm bucket showers we walk back into town to check out what is going on.
Show 30rup entry and with some similarities. Amusement rides including ferris wheel, small pirate ship, ghost train etc Ticket to get in has on the back, advertising for a visa assistance group. Kandyy.com 25% discount
Business stalls, school stalls, food stalls. IT section,English educational software. Organic coffee grown in Syangja. Sample cups made using sweetened water through a special strainer containing freshly ground coffee. Would love to buy a bag, but we have no access to kettles nor willingness to carry one. We meet a 100 % treacle man who is keen to export. Gives us a sample of his product. (B.G Groupe 9847199831) if anyone interested I have his card.
Motorbike cone of death style setup over in amusement section where a large crowd sitting on top is watching reving motorbikes spin around the angled sides. We notice outside one guy riding around on an old Suzuki with a toddler sitting in front, uncertain of whether part of the act. We pass many very attractive people with not only the brown red warm tan and dark hair but hazel instead of dark eyes. Many fine features. Have noticed before both here and in northern india the occasional blue eyed local, which is also in most cases striking if not slightly mesmerizing.
Stage entertainment all in Nepalese and at the moment a comedian so we decide to move on as dusk is not far away and Soph keen to get in some field shots.
Prior to making the river we wander the off highway main street, which is quiet. Well provisioned and laid out, we spot our first mountain bike with cable disc brakes in a store.
Walk through the fields on dusk following the main raised water irrigation ditch paths that rest on one edge. Easy to distinguish from the dividing patch walls by their well tramped identity. Wall cascading slowly through the earthen ditches slowly making for diverts into open patches. Water control achieved via stones across diverts for crops that do not require further water. Not sure how the water gets up to the small channels though initially as we are about a meter and a half above the current river water line. Similar to many rivers we have passed in Nepal, river stone spread indicating that the current flow is currently well below snow melt and monsoon capacity.
Back to the room for Thali, though really a Dhal Bhat. Soph eating again which is great.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Unplanned stop (Friday 28 January 2011)
Wake early to get back on the road with hopes of making Waling today if all goes right. Not looking too good as Soph feeling edgy and is a bit unsettled, but keen to hit the road.
The roll downhill from Tansen is cool but enjoyable as we breeze through the slightly breathless sections from the day before. Bananas that taste like bananas at Bartung. Before mild climbing away to the north west of Tansen following ridge lines. Soph still not coming good. Pass an army training group running up as we are riding around. Singing in nepalese as they pass with a few stragglers dragging behind. We reach Pansa where we consider finding an early hotel and bed for Soph but locals confirm accommodation options at the bottom of the hill a further 15kms or so all down.
The road down is great as we descend through semi gorge valleys off the Mahabharat range with increased vibrant terracing leading down to the stream far below. We pass through several road side villages prior to reaching Ramdi located on the bank of the Kali Gandaki and a holy site due to a combination of Cave temples and Saligrams(rocks with embedded sea fossils - from before the Asian and Indian plates collided forming the current Himalaya) being found here. Believed locally to be sacred as symbols of Vishnu.
Rolling into town Soph throws in the towel looking and feeling drained. Post a review of options we settle into a hotel just in front of the temple on the northern side of town. Hotel Shakur. Don't checkout the communal bathroom , just the room and decide it fine especially as Soph planning on just sleeping off her bug.
Whilst Soph slept I went exploring after a local round of Dhal Bhat at the hotel. Down initially to the temple below the hotel where quickly picked up by a couple of inhabitants. These guys first show me the temple followed quickly by a book supposedly indicating previous donors to the temple.
One a sixteen year old with good english, drills me on how to obtain a visa to Australia. Asks if I can send him back a relative visa and identifies that other people have done it. I try to explain the concept further to him, but some things get through and a lot doesn't. He has selective knowledge and factual information, much of which appears to have been gathered via cable, but has for example no concept on where Australia actually is and the costs of just getting to Australia, let alone those to live there. His parents being poor have no way of supporting him. I try to suggest developing his English further via working for the expanding tourism industry whilst saving money but this doesn't appear to appeal. I say goodbye and move on.
Old Indian assisted metal bridge, crossing the aqua blue and clear river below. Ropes crossing the river for a holy day in September but different name to Diwali. Massive fish on show in the local small dhaba styled restaurants all touting for the passing bus trade. Fish appears to take shape of either fish curry or fish fry. Did not try as still trying to workout where the local sewerage goes as all the hotels and restaurants sit very close to the edge of the high water line.
Pick up some more little minders as soon as I head to the temple on the southern side. Five primary aged kids who drop to three the further I go. Questioning varies from giggling at my attempted regurgitation of their nepalese, to if I could give a 100rup then 10rup then maybe a cream biscuit?
Cave temple with holy man living inside higher on the gorge face overlooking the river. Inside a collection of various relics representing from shiva to ganesh. It is dark but the kids point towards what appears to the back of the cave where it continues down behind a gate and the sound of rushing water echoes up. Outside the monkeys are having a fantastic time, the youngest boy about five has a home made slingshot and is taking the odd shot at the capering monkeys.
Open the cream biscuits and give each of the three two leaving one for myself. The kids mime that I should throw the packet. I try to explain that it would just end up in the holy river below and that that would be no good but I don't think they totally follow.
Back in the hotel early bed with Soph skipping the second dhal bhat offering. Sleep comes with the peaceful sound of rushing water in the background and the occasional noise of the restaurant as they gear up for dinner service.
The roll downhill from Tansen is cool but enjoyable as we breeze through the slightly breathless sections from the day before. Bananas that taste like bananas at Bartung. Before mild climbing away to the north west of Tansen following ridge lines. Soph still not coming good. Pass an army training group running up as we are riding around. Singing in nepalese as they pass with a few stragglers dragging behind. We reach Pansa where we consider finding an early hotel and bed for Soph but locals confirm accommodation options at the bottom of the hill a further 15kms or so all down.
The road down is great as we descend through semi gorge valleys off the Mahabharat range with increased vibrant terracing leading down to the stream far below. We pass through several road side villages prior to reaching Ramdi located on the bank of the Kali Gandaki and a holy site due to a combination of Cave temples and Saligrams(rocks with embedded sea fossils - from before the Asian and Indian plates collided forming the current Himalaya) being found here. Believed locally to be sacred as symbols of Vishnu.
Rolling into town Soph throws in the towel looking and feeling drained. Post a review of options we settle into a hotel just in front of the temple on the northern side of town. Hotel Shakur. Don't checkout the communal bathroom , just the room and decide it fine especially as Soph planning on just sleeping off her bug.
Whilst Soph slept I went exploring after a local round of Dhal Bhat at the hotel. Down initially to the temple below the hotel where quickly picked up by a couple of inhabitants. These guys first show me the temple followed quickly by a book supposedly indicating previous donors to the temple.
One a sixteen year old with good english, drills me on how to obtain a visa to Australia. Asks if I can send him back a relative visa and identifies that other people have done it. I try to explain the concept further to him, but some things get through and a lot doesn't. He has selective knowledge and factual information, much of which appears to have been gathered via cable, but has for example no concept on where Australia actually is and the costs of just getting to Australia, let alone those to live there. His parents being poor have no way of supporting him. I try to suggest developing his English further via working for the expanding tourism industry whilst saving money but this doesn't appear to appeal. I say goodbye and move on.
Old Indian assisted metal bridge, crossing the aqua blue and clear river below. Ropes crossing the river for a holy day in September but different name to Diwali. Massive fish on show in the local small dhaba styled restaurants all touting for the passing bus trade. Fish appears to take shape of either fish curry or fish fry. Did not try as still trying to workout where the local sewerage goes as all the hotels and restaurants sit very close to the edge of the high water line.
Pick up some more little minders as soon as I head to the temple on the southern side. Five primary aged kids who drop to three the further I go. Questioning varies from giggling at my attempted regurgitation of their nepalese, to if I could give a 100rup then 10rup then maybe a cream biscuit?
Cave temple with holy man living inside higher on the gorge face overlooking the river. Inside a collection of various relics representing from shiva to ganesh. It is dark but the kids point towards what appears to the back of the cave where it continues down behind a gate and the sound of rushing water echoes up. Outside the monkeys are having a fantastic time, the youngest boy about five has a home made slingshot and is taking the odd shot at the capering monkeys.
Open the cream biscuits and give each of the three two leaving one for myself. The kids mime that I should throw the packet. I try to explain that it would just end up in the holy river below and that that would be no good but I don't think they totally follow.
Back in the hotel early bed with Soph skipping the second dhal bhat offering. Sleep comes with the peaceful sound of rushing water in the background and the occasional noise of the restaurant as they gear up for dinner service.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Time out in Tansen (Thursday 27 January 2011)
Comfy bed and well lit room from morning sun, nice oriental floor rug and only two hours of load setting per day, what more could one ask for? Unfortunately bucket hot water when asked for does not appear. Cold water is frisky but we are getting increasingly practiced. We see women main but some men on street sides washing their lustrous long black hair hair out in the midday sun. Initially I thought it might be some sort of a social interactivity but I settle rather on using cold water from buckets and using the sun shine to maintain core body warmth.
For breakfast we choose a small local unsigned restaurant (what in India would pass as a dhaba) and settle in for samosa and doughnuts over chai. Our semi practiced Nepalese bringing the occasional giggle but generally warm smiles.
The house similar to many along the winding streets of Tansen is a wood, brick and mud construct with beautifully carved wooden window frames on the second floor and doorways on the first. The front of the store has a low front doorway which requires a slight bend on entering. Later we are told this was local custom as a sign of respect to the house gods. In England I am sure that the concept was used but to assist retain winter heat. The front of the first floor opens up via a combination of upward folding wooden shutters on the top half and the bottom large long age darkened slats that wedge into grooved uprights. The combination of which retaining an atmospheric age to the streets of Tansen.
From the octagonal town dias (Shital Pati) we climb through town towards Kailashnagar to the West of town up onto the ridge line from where it is a short forested walk to the high point of the Shreenagar Hill upon whose side Tansen resides. We follow the stone path to the Helipad, but mapless miss the Buddha statue on the Eastern side mistakenly believing the work covered Silver Jubilee Pillar to be the same. We do catch views of the still distant Annapurnas, but only their crests with the remainder lost in haze. It is understandable why you could look at such and believe this floating vista in the clouds to be the home of the gods.
We also pass a collapsed twisted tower, which I take to be a viewing tower destroyed during forest fire but instead is the remains of a communications tower blown up by the Maoists back in January 2006. Though the focus of attack centered on the Tansen palace, other locations such as government communications, police and military also came under attack during the surprise move that occurred in the very early morning.
The general street review that we have received is that the maoists started with good intentions and aims, which unfortunately skewed when numbers came on board. The government was and unfortunately still is broadly believed to be a hotbed of corruption, and depending upon whom you speak with incompetent. Many are less then impressed with local leadership and express frustration when discussing the apparent hydroelectric wealth but energy shortfalls. Ongoing work is in progress to establish a constitution but politicking appears to be blocking progress with many abstaining from votes. A move this week we have been told is aimed at removing this option to assist break the deadlock and achieve forward momentum.
From the knoll at 1494m we head back west towards Batase Hill and Hotel Shreenagar. Identified in LP as a luxury option it instead looks deserted and less then impressive. We thought it might be an alternate source of local ground coffee but decline the opportunity to instead enjoy the sunshine and the glimpse of snow caps on the northern horizon. Warmed up, instead of heading straight back down to the centre of town and Nanglo (coffee) we crisscross the back streets reaching across towards the local ovals (Tundikhel) where school cricket teams appear to be facing off to the rousing applaud of sidelined cheer squads on every bowl delivered.
The Asan Tole looks just as impressive in the light, three storied brick and wood, again with carved window and door frames but white lower floor and brown upper versus the warm orange of Bhimsen Tole from this morning. One building has a brown grassed roof, increasing the Shakespearean feel, but apparently not on purpose as below it appears to tiled.
Succumb to burger envy at Nanglo but sadly disappointed in all but the bun. Coffee is good, though proven to be stove top versus espresso. Soph has a Lassi which does not appear to settle well as we leave in a hurry with her tummy apparently unwell and looking a lite pale.
Post a settling sleep we meet Man Mohan at GETUP a local NGO tourist information centre. Great discussion which would have been brilliant yesterday but as Mr Mohan also teaches, the centre opens only from 3pm to 5pm. Regaled with various stories and also recommended should we come again to Tansen, to take up a home stay option.
Slow but reasonable WiFi at World link in Silkhan before Dhal Bhat tea at Hotel Amrit. Back to the hotel as Soph still feeling unsettled.
For breakfast we choose a small local unsigned restaurant (what in India would pass as a dhaba) and settle in for samosa and doughnuts over chai. Our semi practiced Nepalese bringing the occasional giggle but generally warm smiles.
The house similar to many along the winding streets of Tansen is a wood, brick and mud construct with beautifully carved wooden window frames on the second floor and doorways on the first. The front of the store has a low front doorway which requires a slight bend on entering. Later we are told this was local custom as a sign of respect to the house gods. In England I am sure that the concept was used but to assist retain winter heat. The front of the first floor opens up via a combination of upward folding wooden shutters on the top half and the bottom large long age darkened slats that wedge into grooved uprights. The combination of which retaining an atmospheric age to the streets of Tansen.
From the octagonal town dias (Shital Pati) we climb through town towards Kailashnagar to the West of town up onto the ridge line from where it is a short forested walk to the high point of the Shreenagar Hill upon whose side Tansen resides. We follow the stone path to the Helipad, but mapless miss the Buddha statue on the Eastern side mistakenly believing the work covered Silver Jubilee Pillar to be the same. We do catch views of the still distant Annapurnas, but only their crests with the remainder lost in haze. It is understandable why you could look at such and believe this floating vista in the clouds to be the home of the gods.
We also pass a collapsed twisted tower, which I take to be a viewing tower destroyed during forest fire but instead is the remains of a communications tower blown up by the Maoists back in January 2006. Though the focus of attack centered on the Tansen palace, other locations such as government communications, police and military also came under attack during the surprise move that occurred in the very early morning.
The general street review that we have received is that the maoists started with good intentions and aims, which unfortunately skewed when numbers came on board. The government was and unfortunately still is broadly believed to be a hotbed of corruption, and depending upon whom you speak with incompetent. Many are less then impressed with local leadership and express frustration when discussing the apparent hydroelectric wealth but energy shortfalls. Ongoing work is in progress to establish a constitution but politicking appears to be blocking progress with many abstaining from votes. A move this week we have been told is aimed at removing this option to assist break the deadlock and achieve forward momentum.
From the knoll at 1494m we head back west towards Batase Hill and Hotel Shreenagar. Identified in LP as a luxury option it instead looks deserted and less then impressive. We thought it might be an alternate source of local ground coffee but decline the opportunity to instead enjoy the sunshine and the glimpse of snow caps on the northern horizon. Warmed up, instead of heading straight back down to the centre of town and Nanglo (coffee) we crisscross the back streets reaching across towards the local ovals (Tundikhel) where school cricket teams appear to be facing off to the rousing applaud of sidelined cheer squads on every bowl delivered.
The Asan Tole looks just as impressive in the light, three storied brick and wood, again with carved window and door frames but white lower floor and brown upper versus the warm orange of Bhimsen Tole from this morning. One building has a brown grassed roof, increasing the Shakespearean feel, but apparently not on purpose as below it appears to tiled.
Succumb to burger envy at Nanglo but sadly disappointed in all but the bun. Coffee is good, though proven to be stove top versus espresso. Soph has a Lassi which does not appear to settle well as we leave in a hurry with her tummy apparently unwell and looking a lite pale.
Post a settling sleep we meet Man Mohan at GETUP a local NGO tourist information centre. Great discussion which would have been brilliant yesterday but as Mr Mohan also teaches, the centre opens only from 3pm to 5pm. Regaled with various stories and also recommended should we come again to Tansen, to take up a home stay option.
Slow but reasonable WiFi at World link in Silkhan before Dhal Bhat tea at Hotel Amrit. Back to the hotel as Soph still feeling unsettled.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Climb a little higher (Wednesday 26 January)
Out through the morning calm but active streets of Butwal. Back onto the Siddartha Highway and start the climb almost immediately, but gradual. Through the gorge with angled sedimentary rock, waterfalls, suspension bridges and fern, jungle growth sides. Encounter patches of ripped up road sections from landslip season.
Licorice all sort packs used to "when i was a boy" have these squared layered lollies, not always licorice but sometimes caramel and cream amongst others. The thatched houses with cream and warm sunset caramel below for some reason remind me of them, but probably just because I am sugar deprived. Mud packed and smoothed edges rolling down into effective outdoor furniture as well. Garden parches looking extremely healthy especially as it is peak winter. Chickens, cows, goats and sheep roaming around.
River thinning but deepening. River flats occupied by chicken sheds down by the river. Soph photographs from the top of a steep path whilst I check out a nearby camp fire chicken with a suspicious amount of feathers around it. Poachers or packed lunch I am uncertain.
We take a stop following a bus pull in area at a Primary school perched on the road edge right on the edge of the escarpment. Mixed class all sitting at tables out in the sun on the escarpment side with their teacher. Practice our one to twenty in nepalese and the kids at better at the English then we are at the Nepalese, still we get it out so it is starting to stick. Following the school we climb a little further and swing into a new valley before dropping back to the river crossing to the right and then start climbing on the opposite side of the river. The road flatens and then gradually ascends up over the ridge towards Bartung.
Bartung appears to also be a recognised lunch bus stop where window service is in full swing. The local mini doughnuts are being served on bowls made of stitched leaves. Women sitting in the sun outside the small food places are stitching the green leaves as we eat. From Bartung fields to the east are visible nestled in the high mountains but complete flat.
As we turn left to climb up to Tansen we pass Manic buses hurtling down and leaning around corners. Roof riders bus surfing. Bus conductors stand on the bottom step and hang out slightly looking for fares one earlier on passing had been close enough to accidentally slap Soph on the back on the way past.
Up on the Tansen ridge, the ridge line is heavily forested in sections but also partially cleared. Large buildings lining the visible edge below the crest.
Bus station on the lower edge of town from where you snake up toward the main chowk and bazaar. Soph had to rouse on a couple of boys who grabbed Bob while we were going up hill. Obviously thought she needed a little more challenge. View back towards hills we have just worked our way through.
Tansen the administrative headquarters of Palpa is larger then my preconception of a small hill fort. The spread of the town is not apparent from below the ridge as only the ridge line hotels are evident.
Along Bank Rd which besides banks and financial institutions also houses much of the local bazaar. Huge Wooden gates near a white Octagonal pavilion, signed as an Autonomous area who by the look follow socialist ideals based upon the sickle and hammer insignia on the barricade's main gate. Later identify that these are the gates leading to the partially reconstructed Tamsen palace, being rebuilt using traditional methods following it being the centre of a particularly heated Maoist attack on it's then status as the government administrative headquarters in 2006.
Interogated by a group of school kids finishing up day at school. Several different uniforms but all short, direct and very vocal.
Settle into the Hotel Gauri Shankar guest house, half the price of the the White lake and though no view and bucket hot water.
Then roam up to the market square and octagonal pavillion, Bank Rd then circle round through back alleys to the bottom of Asan Tole then down and across to the three tiered Amar Narayan Mandir a Vishnu Temple where candles are being lit and numerous bells rung in the load balanced darkness.
Retire to the Nanglo West restaurant an up market Kathmandu chain. Can't resist the opportunity to indulge in a Tuborg deluxe. Plus they have local stovetop coffee. Not sure if they normally do espresso as the load setting has taken out the power from 5 to 7pm. Not too bad considering.
In the darkness we walk back to the hotel, no lights bar the occasional motorbike and small bonfire outside a house or business.
Licorice all sort packs used to "when i was a boy" have these squared layered lollies, not always licorice but sometimes caramel and cream amongst others. The thatched houses with cream and warm sunset caramel below for some reason remind me of them, but probably just because I am sugar deprived. Mud packed and smoothed edges rolling down into effective outdoor furniture as well. Garden parches looking extremely healthy especially as it is peak winter. Chickens, cows, goats and sheep roaming around.
River thinning but deepening. River flats occupied by chicken sheds down by the river. Soph photographs from the top of a steep path whilst I check out a nearby camp fire chicken with a suspicious amount of feathers around it. Poachers or packed lunch I am uncertain.
We take a stop following a bus pull in area at a Primary school perched on the road edge right on the edge of the escarpment. Mixed class all sitting at tables out in the sun on the escarpment side with their teacher. Practice our one to twenty in nepalese and the kids at better at the English then we are at the Nepalese, still we get it out so it is starting to stick. Following the school we climb a little further and swing into a new valley before dropping back to the river crossing to the right and then start climbing on the opposite side of the river. The road flatens and then gradually ascends up over the ridge towards Bartung.
Bartung appears to also be a recognised lunch bus stop where window service is in full swing. The local mini doughnuts are being served on bowls made of stitched leaves. Women sitting in the sun outside the small food places are stitching the green leaves as we eat. From Bartung fields to the east are visible nestled in the high mountains but complete flat.
As we turn left to climb up to Tansen we pass Manic buses hurtling down and leaning around corners. Roof riders bus surfing. Bus conductors stand on the bottom step and hang out slightly looking for fares one earlier on passing had been close enough to accidentally slap Soph on the back on the way past.
Up on the Tansen ridge, the ridge line is heavily forested in sections but also partially cleared. Large buildings lining the visible edge below the crest.
Bus station on the lower edge of town from where you snake up toward the main chowk and bazaar. Soph had to rouse on a couple of boys who grabbed Bob while we were going up hill. Obviously thought she needed a little more challenge. View back towards hills we have just worked our way through.
Tansen the administrative headquarters of Palpa is larger then my preconception of a small hill fort. The spread of the town is not apparent from below the ridge as only the ridge line hotels are evident.
Along Bank Rd which besides banks and financial institutions also houses much of the local bazaar. Huge Wooden gates near a white Octagonal pavilion, signed as an Autonomous area who by the look follow socialist ideals based upon the sickle and hammer insignia on the barricade's main gate. Later identify that these are the gates leading to the partially reconstructed Tamsen palace, being rebuilt using traditional methods following it being the centre of a particularly heated Maoist attack on it's then status as the government administrative headquarters in 2006.
Interogated by a group of school kids finishing up day at school. Several different uniforms but all short, direct and very vocal.
Settle into the Hotel Gauri Shankar guest house, half the price of the the White lake and though no view and bucket hot water.
Then roam up to the market square and octagonal pavillion, Bank Rd then circle round through back alleys to the bottom of Asan Tole then down and across to the three tiered Amar Narayan Mandir a Vishnu Temple where candles are being lit and numerous bells rung in the load balanced darkness.
Retire to the Nanglo West restaurant an up market Kathmandu chain. Can't resist the opportunity to indulge in a Tuborg deluxe. Plus they have local stovetop coffee. Not sure if they normally do espresso as the load setting has taken out the power from 5 to 7pm. Not too bad considering.
In the darkness we walk back to the hotel, no lights bar the occasional motorbike and small bonfire outside a house or business.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Sacked fish (Tuesday 25 January)
Sleep in seeing as the ride today should be easier than average. Breakfast at the Staff hotel across from the main access gates of Aloo chat, chappatis and Halwa (a semolina or similar dense cake with fresh coconut pieces spread through.) Great food.
On the road just before twelve as when unlocking and loading the bikes noticed Soph's front tire was completely flat. On further investigation found that the extra heavy duty tube had failed at the valve. One complete right off of a tube.
On the road and though flat most of the road to the Bhairahawa junction and the Siddharth highway heading north was undergoing resurfacing, the whole surface having been stripped but not much resurfacing in evidence yet. More industries, less drying racks and more smoke stacks. We elect to head into Bhairahawa rather then take the deviation to see whether we can pick up a Nepal topographical map. Coming into town get caught up in a bike, truck and tractor jam. Large amounts of trading appear to be going on of rice and other sacked produce. In town we turn left to the North and out of town heading for Bhutwal. No success on the map front.
Finally out of the centre we pass satellite village after village as we cover the 22km surely but a little bored. The road remaining flat but sharing with lots of zooming buses and honking freight trucks, motorbikes and cars.
Into Bhutwal by three pm and it gives the definite impression of being a city. Quite a bit larger then Mahendranagar which was our last Nepalese city of note. People going in all directions and eyes required to be everywhere at once. We confirm directions to the Hotel Greenland via a helpful pharmacist who also draws a map identifying the Hotel as just off BP chowk.
My turn for inspection and so I confront the old aged Tibetan looking woman who has as many English words as I Nepalese. We attempt to communicate as inspecting the room, assisted by a maid and an unknown Nepalese guy. I need to learn the word for hot, it would save a lot of time in avoiding poor charades. The room is spotless as is the bathroom. The beds are comfy and appear very clean and success hot water and a good shower. Soph is stoked as she unplats and washes her hair, the water is steaming. Though load setting applies here as in the rest of Nepal that we have visited so far, the hotel has both solar and a generator.
Out onto the streets for a wander and we are confronted by a large Nepalese woman who takes a liking to Sophie which is not shared. Many attempts to shoo her away unsuccessful as we both increasingly become frustrated with the grabby lady. Hard position as in your face and trying to hold you but not responding to verbal discouragement, physical being out of the equation I resort finally to just telling her to f off. Though not a positive aspect and a no no in Nepal, her repeated attempts to hassle Soph pissing both of us off. Finally an older Nepalese guy ordered her to back off and we were able to disentangle ourselves long enough to move on and seek refuge in a dhaba for samosa and chai.
Resettling over chai we continued to the river where a suspension bridge lead to the old town on the western side of the city. Similar to the buildings in the Lalal bazaar in Almora, but possibly a little more run down we met and chatted with many young kids eager to try out their english. Along one alley we came across a dried fish market with sardine sized dried fish in sacks and a little on the woofy side. Unable to communicate effectively we were unable to confirm variety or source. A local grey tabby cat was floating around unsurprisingly.
The kids helped us locate a bakery prior to recrossing on dusk to the main city centre via a vehicle bridge over the Tinau river. The bed below leading back to a layered valley of hills and full of mammoth river stones and unfortunately pockets of garbage. Back in town light fading we explored the main streets of the city centered around the Chowk.
Light fading the rickshaws bells sounded more and more like numerous windup alarm clocks all going off at the same time as the occasional truck horn sounded like the Queen Mary setting sail. On one street the youth of Bhutwal appeared to be hanging out circled around Coffee carts selling nescafe special but all with espresso looking machines. Unfortunately none fitted with an espresso group head so still hanging out.
Tea at a Korean / Nepalese restaurant after buying a mixed small box of sweets from a sweet store. Mainly milk cake based but one a Kashmiri cake cut into white triangles that was delicious. Call it a day to a windy night. Power on at 5pm but lost again at 11.00pm. Generators next door kicked out at 11.30pm all nearly quiet on the streets of Bhutwal.
On the road just before twelve as when unlocking and loading the bikes noticed Soph's front tire was completely flat. On further investigation found that the extra heavy duty tube had failed at the valve. One complete right off of a tube.
On the road and though flat most of the road to the Bhairahawa junction and the Siddharth highway heading north was undergoing resurfacing, the whole surface having been stripped but not much resurfacing in evidence yet. More industries, less drying racks and more smoke stacks. We elect to head into Bhairahawa rather then take the deviation to see whether we can pick up a Nepal topographical map. Coming into town get caught up in a bike, truck and tractor jam. Large amounts of trading appear to be going on of rice and other sacked produce. In town we turn left to the North and out of town heading for Bhutwal. No success on the map front.
Finally out of the centre we pass satellite village after village as we cover the 22km surely but a little bored. The road remaining flat but sharing with lots of zooming buses and honking freight trucks, motorbikes and cars.
Into Bhutwal by three pm and it gives the definite impression of being a city. Quite a bit larger then Mahendranagar which was our last Nepalese city of note. People going in all directions and eyes required to be everywhere at once. We confirm directions to the Hotel Greenland via a helpful pharmacist who also draws a map identifying the Hotel as just off BP chowk.
My turn for inspection and so I confront the old aged Tibetan looking woman who has as many English words as I Nepalese. We attempt to communicate as inspecting the room, assisted by a maid and an unknown Nepalese guy. I need to learn the word for hot, it would save a lot of time in avoiding poor charades. The room is spotless as is the bathroom. The beds are comfy and appear very clean and success hot water and a good shower. Soph is stoked as she unplats and washes her hair, the water is steaming. Though load setting applies here as in the rest of Nepal that we have visited so far, the hotel has both solar and a generator.
Out onto the streets for a wander and we are confronted by a large Nepalese woman who takes a liking to Sophie which is not shared. Many attempts to shoo her away unsuccessful as we both increasingly become frustrated with the grabby lady. Hard position as in your face and trying to hold you but not responding to verbal discouragement, physical being out of the equation I resort finally to just telling her to f off. Though not a positive aspect and a no no in Nepal, her repeated attempts to hassle Soph pissing both of us off. Finally an older Nepalese guy ordered her to back off and we were able to disentangle ourselves long enough to move on and seek refuge in a dhaba for samosa and chai.
Resettling over chai we continued to the river where a suspension bridge lead to the old town on the western side of the city. Similar to the buildings in the Lalal bazaar in Almora, but possibly a little more run down we met and chatted with many young kids eager to try out their english. Along one alley we came across a dried fish market with sardine sized dried fish in sacks and a little on the woofy side. Unable to communicate effectively we were unable to confirm variety or source. A local grey tabby cat was floating around unsurprisingly.
The kids helped us locate a bakery prior to recrossing on dusk to the main city centre via a vehicle bridge over the Tinau river. The bed below leading back to a layered valley of hills and full of mammoth river stones and unfortunately pockets of garbage. Back in town light fading we explored the main streets of the city centered around the Chowk.
Light fading the rickshaws bells sounded more and more like numerous windup alarm clocks all going off at the same time as the occasional truck horn sounded like the Queen Mary setting sail. On one street the youth of Bhutwal appeared to be hanging out circled around Coffee carts selling nescafe special but all with espresso looking machines. Unfortunately none fitted with an espresso group head so still hanging out.
Tea at a Korean / Nepalese restaurant after buying a mixed small box of sweets from a sweet store. Mainly milk cake based but one a Kashmiri cake cut into white triangles that was delicious. Call it a day to a windy night. Power on at 5pm but lost again at 11.00pm. Generators next door kicked out at 11.30pm all nearly quiet on the streets of Bhutwal.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Maya Devi and the Temple circuit (Monday 24 January 2011)
Quiet nights sleep in our little damp light room. Decide to hang out half our washing on the outside balustrade in the hope that we might score some sunlight during the day. Send a few items to hotel laundry at 15rup per piece. Breakfast also at hotel, but turns out to be as exciting as the luke warm bucket hotel. Overall feel good hotel but not nirvana.
Plan a circuit of the site which covers three square miles in total. Consider rickshaw, but will see how the legs go instead. Back to a local dhaba post leaving the hotel for some Potato pakora, which is a potato fritter but deep fried in batter versus shallow fryed on a hot plate in oil. Backed up by samosa and chai it makes up for the lack lustre watered down breakfast/porridge before. The manager both this morning and last night, a fourteen year old boy is very savvy, smiley and knows how to direct traffic.
Off to the park which is fenced with brick and metal along the whole perimeter, to access the main gate just past the hire a bikes and rickshaws lined up ready to roll. Owners touting their services to the passing foot traffic. At the entrance to the gate a few varied beggars with either age or disfigurements, though the park authority requests that beggars not be given too. At the main gate the charge to enter the park and more specifically the Maya Devi temple is 200 rup p.p versus 50 rup per the brochure. Initially this feels like a scam but as it is painted on the ticket store wall and it is a World Heritage site, it seems more then reasonable. Someone has to assist the upkeep and it is only fair that tourists pay to assist what they have come to see.
Past the ticket counters it is a stroll through dusty grassed and occasionally swampy land to the Sacred Garden. Architecturally designed by a Japanese Professor, Kenzo Tange in 1970 the North-South running park includes three sectors, sacred garden, monastic zone and New lumbini village. These are joined by gardens lakes and eventually water features, though the gardens are more dry lightly forrested terai plain rather then sculpted park. Following a second gate we encounter our first row of trinket sellers on the side who have what appear to be semi permanent wooden stores. It is like show bag alley at the Easter show but majority Buddha based bits and pieces, beads, bronzed statues, portable prayer wheels and few little Astro boy statues thrown in. Fourteen or fifteen stores all selling very similar bits and pieces.
Wandering through the gates other than western tourists are many devotees. Some garbed monk, in either the Theravada Saffron robes or the Mahayana Maroon robes. Also many Hindu tourists as Buddha is sometimes regarded as an incarnation of Vishnu.
Entering another gated section, a large white building with a small golden nepalese styled stupa with asian eyes and nose painted on the sides. Around from the building leading across to prayer flags draped from big Sal tree and pond are the ruined foundations of stupas and monasteries from the 3rd century BC to the 2nd century AD. The pond, Pushkarini, is believed to be the sacred pond where Maya Devi post bathing gave birth to the Prince who was able to walk his first first seven steps and give an "epoch-making" message shortly thereafter. I am not sure whether I am combining stories but this has to be a step up on the whole Jesus nativity. I have friends who have gone through the whole delivery thing with comparatively big babies but this, Man, painful.
Inside the main building is the marker stone, which marks the exact spot of the birth, the 14th century sandstone nativity sculpture, details worn smooth by years of veneration and surrounding the remains of a 3rd century - 7th century AD temple.
Outside are beautiful Sal? (look like fig) trees that are huge and ancient, draped in thousands of prayer flags. The peace in the southern end of the garden is self evident, even as we saw it first with a Buddhist ceremony in process involving a long line of Theravada monks and twice as many devotees. The pond appears to house these big catfish that float to the surface every now and again, not the fish that I thought might be in such a setup.
Leaving the sacred garden we walked in the midday sun past the current construction site of the main canal and boat stations and across to the Zhong hua Chinese monastery which has large confucian deities guarding the gate. At the entrance the access road was lined with trinket sellers. Inside no one appeared to be watching over the place as some young kids were inscribing their names into one of the covered walkway colonnades. Inside the inner temple was a massive golden Buddha around which were several massive drums and near the entrance a huge cast bell. Also finely carved Chinese styled prayer table. Impressive but without monks felt a little empty.
Further along in the Mahayana section the Tara foundation stupa. Outside slightly kitsch concrete statues through the garden telling the buddha story but inside on the walls and the domed ceiling of the main prayer room were amazingly detailed, hand painted stories and symbols covering the whole roof. It was amazing. You could spend a long time just staring in silence. Leaving we passed one trinket seller and a guy with a non descript grey green cloth bag that he opens whilst signaling for us to come closer and shakes out a cobra. Nice. Soph swings very wide around as do I. In following a back service road we hear something moving in the long grass as we cross back across to the central canal. We see a snake slither back into the grass equally as long as the snake mans.
From the temple we fast track past the Museum and to the massize World peace stupa at the far end of the park. The stupa includes a large gilded statue of the lord buddha depicted as a child (Astro boy). Completed in November 2001, it took eight years to complete.
Back to the monastic zone we returned via the Theravada temples. First the Royal Thai temple, where monks wandered and pictures identified works in the community that they were engaged in. Of all the temples it felt the most lived in. From here further to the Myanmar Golden stupa where our snake friend had setup shop outside. Again swung wide around past further trinkets and into the grounds. The temple looked a little forgotten but was still fairly grand.
All in all there are eighteen temples and meditation centers. To see the ones we had took the best part of four hours on foot. As dusk was less then an hour away we went back via the Maya Devi temple where a few remaining monks were mediating in and amongst the prayer flag forest. Squirrels were playing in the trees and the feeling of calm was very rewarding.
http://www.vividimagination.com.au/
Plan a circuit of the site which covers three square miles in total. Consider rickshaw, but will see how the legs go instead. Back to a local dhaba post leaving the hotel for some Potato pakora, which is a potato fritter but deep fried in batter versus shallow fryed on a hot plate in oil. Backed up by samosa and chai it makes up for the lack lustre watered down breakfast/porridge before. The manager both this morning and last night, a fourteen year old boy is very savvy, smiley and knows how to direct traffic.
Off to the park which is fenced with brick and metal along the whole perimeter, to access the main gate just past the hire a bikes and rickshaws lined up ready to roll. Owners touting their services to the passing foot traffic. At the entrance to the gate a few varied beggars with either age or disfigurements, though the park authority requests that beggars not be given too. At the main gate the charge to enter the park and more specifically the Maya Devi temple is 200 rup p.p versus 50 rup per the brochure. Initially this feels like a scam but as it is painted on the ticket store wall and it is a World Heritage site, it seems more then reasonable. Someone has to assist the upkeep and it is only fair that tourists pay to assist what they have come to see.
Past the ticket counters it is a stroll through dusty grassed and occasionally swampy land to the Sacred Garden. Architecturally designed by a Japanese Professor, Kenzo Tange in 1970 the North-South running park includes three sectors, sacred garden, monastic zone and New lumbini village. These are joined by gardens lakes and eventually water features, though the gardens are more dry lightly forrested terai plain rather then sculpted park. Following a second gate we encounter our first row of trinket sellers on the side who have what appear to be semi permanent wooden stores. It is like show bag alley at the Easter show but majority Buddha based bits and pieces, beads, bronzed statues, portable prayer wheels and few little Astro boy statues thrown in. Fourteen or fifteen stores all selling very similar bits and pieces.
Wandering through the gates other than western tourists are many devotees. Some garbed monk, in either the Theravada Saffron robes or the Mahayana Maroon robes. Also many Hindu tourists as Buddha is sometimes regarded as an incarnation of Vishnu.
 |
| From Nepal, Lumbini. January 2011 |
Entering another gated section, a large white building with a small golden nepalese styled stupa with asian eyes and nose painted on the sides. Around from the building leading across to prayer flags draped from big Sal tree and pond are the ruined foundations of stupas and monasteries from the 3rd century BC to the 2nd century AD. The pond, Pushkarini, is believed to be the sacred pond where Maya Devi post bathing gave birth to the Prince who was able to walk his first first seven steps and give an "epoch-making" message shortly thereafter. I am not sure whether I am combining stories but this has to be a step up on the whole Jesus nativity. I have friends who have gone through the whole delivery thing with comparatively big babies but this, Man, painful.
Inside the main building is the marker stone, which marks the exact spot of the birth, the 14th century sandstone nativity sculpture, details worn smooth by years of veneration and surrounding the remains of a 3rd century - 7th century AD temple.
Outside are beautiful Sal? (look like fig) trees that are huge and ancient, draped in thousands of prayer flags. The peace in the southern end of the garden is self evident, even as we saw it first with a Buddhist ceremony in process involving a long line of Theravada monks and twice as many devotees. The pond appears to house these big catfish that float to the surface every now and again, not the fish that I thought might be in such a setup.
 |
| From Nepal, Lumbini. January 2011 |
Leaving the sacred garden we walked in the midday sun past the current construction site of the main canal and boat stations and across to the Zhong hua Chinese monastery which has large confucian deities guarding the gate. At the entrance the access road was lined with trinket sellers. Inside no one appeared to be watching over the place as some young kids were inscribing their names into one of the covered walkway colonnades. Inside the inner temple was a massive golden Buddha around which were several massive drums and near the entrance a huge cast bell. Also finely carved Chinese styled prayer table. Impressive but without monks felt a little empty.
Further along in the Mahayana section the Tara foundation stupa. Outside slightly kitsch concrete statues through the garden telling the buddha story but inside on the walls and the domed ceiling of the main prayer room were amazingly detailed, hand painted stories and symbols covering the whole roof. It was amazing. You could spend a long time just staring in silence. Leaving we passed one trinket seller and a guy with a non descript grey green cloth bag that he opens whilst signaling for us to come closer and shakes out a cobra. Nice. Soph swings very wide around as do I. In following a back service road we hear something moving in the long grass as we cross back across to the central canal. We see a snake slither back into the grass equally as long as the snake mans.
 |
| From Nepal, Lumbini. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Lumbini. January 2011 |
From the temple we fast track past the Museum and to the massize World peace stupa at the far end of the park. The stupa includes a large gilded statue of the lord buddha depicted as a child (Astro boy). Completed in November 2001, it took eight years to complete.
Back to the monastic zone we returned via the Theravada temples. First the Royal Thai temple, where monks wandered and pictures identified works in the community that they were engaged in. Of all the temples it felt the most lived in. From here further to the Myanmar Golden stupa where our snake friend had setup shop outside. Again swung wide around past further trinkets and into the grounds. The temple looked a little forgotten but was still fairly grand.
All in all there are eighteen temples and meditation centers. To see the ones we had took the best part of four hours on foot. As dusk was less then an hour away we went back via the Maya Devi temple where a few remaining monks were mediating in and amongst the prayer flag forest. Squirrels were playing in the trees and the feeling of calm was very rewarding.
 |
| From Nepal, Lumbini. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Lumbini. January 2011 |
http://www.vividimagination.com.au/
Astro boy buddha (Sunday 23 January 2011)
Slight sleep in on hard beds at the Leknath Hotel, as we are not overly concerned with the cycle before us. The expectation is a maximum of 40kms of flat terrain to Lumbini, birthplace of Buddha (Prince Siddhartha Gautama). I have my first squatty experience and without going into salubrious detail, find the experience more positive then expected. Can't say that I will be ripping out the plumbing when I get home. I am still a committed fan of paper though, sorry. I can say that i have reformed slightly and reduced the quantity however.
Whilst talking plumbing I might as well explain the options that we have seen so far. A squatty in most well kept places consists of a ceramic rectangle, flat on the tiled floor, with soap style grip foot markings on either side of a long rectangular drop at the back of which is the drain. Most we have seen have a water cistern and flush, same as a european toilet with the flush coming out both sides along the length of the drop. The squatty bathrooms are also equipped with a single water tap, large bucket and small almost plain plastic measuring jug. Big bucket for backup flush and small bucket, should there be no paper. Left hand please. It makes me wonder whether naturally left handed people in Asia are outcasts, or learn very quickly to be ambidextrous.
European toilets, as advertised, are generally outfitted with a bidet style system at the back of the seat operated by a small tap generally on the side wall, within easy reach. Though functional, in cold climates or mountain regions this makes for a tougher customer. Generally these also come with big and small buckets, I guess just in case.
The classics though are the combo toilets. Initially I thought they might just be catering for the extremely broad, but as most of those, ashamed to say currently reside in the west, reappraised. These landing strip styled toilets, have western bowl, but side wings also part of the ceramic again with foot grips molded in. Seat is then optional depending upon preference. I just can't get over the feeling that you would feel like an eagle perched on top of the toilet that way. I would also be concerned, should obesity ever coincide as the wings are solid but not impervious and it would be a messy end. Anyway...
Following the ritual packup we move down to the now deserted restaurant, only the glass bottles being collected reflecting any size of the turnover in humanity from the night before. The girls in the middle generation have gone out and picked up some breakfast treats for us to try. Bajea (?) are these deep fried pastry squiggles filled with liquid sugar syrup. However these are then placed inside two palm sized bhatura type wheat pancakes. All up it makes for a very sweet burger. Top this off with sugared chai. Soph is in love. I visualise however a dentist smiling behind their face mask as they start up the drill.
We say our goodbyes, then ride through town and elect to turn off the Mahendra Highway just after town on a road that should cut out a loop back to Lumbini from Butwal. Further it should cut us straight down to Tilaurakot another historical site on the way. As we turn at the junction I recall the prior evening when whilst scoping town we had sat at this junction and met a naturalised American Nepali currently residing in Chicago but back on winter vacation. When discussing the road he had said that it was fine, but not to enter then ie dusk, as it would be dangerous at night, "it's jungle in there." We did not confirm what specifically the danger was as we were not planning on continuing then anyway. Now however it was at the back of the mind.
After one hundred meters or so in the road changes from tar to pebbly trail and yes quite wooded but with large leaved trees that allowed dappled light through. Unfortunately the down side was we spent the next forty minutes or so eyes tight to the road choosing non discernible routes through the pebbles in an attempt to achieve smooth rides or at least minimise jarring to our alternate luggage systems.
When the trees receded they were replaced by thatched huts and fields, with villages surprise but not shocked to see two foreigners pass through. Plenty of giggles though. Down further the previous passing dump trucks made sense with road work being undertaken creating a raised road which lead to a river crossing through the fields. As construction was in it's early stages we were directed to a homemade log construct which had been smoothed over by mud on cloth. At the bridge however we met an overly enterprising young fellow, with interesting dental work who through hand signals identified we should contribute a fee, to be able to access the facility. Thankfully between our facial expressions and our prior motorcycle guides verbal abuse, the young guy moved to the side with a toothy vacant smile.
Once across the river and back on tar road on the far bank we realized we were right in Tilaurakot and straight outside the Kapilavastu museum where many of the historical finds from the surrounding archeological digs had been relocated. Pieces housed included early terra-cotta sculptures and wares, jewelry, coins etc from the Sunga (1-2nd century), Kushan and Mauryan (3rd century) periods.
From the museum we moved along a concrete path to the remains of the ancient site of the Sakya kingdom (Kapilavastu) from which the then Prince Siddhartha following his first 29 years is said to have left on the path to enlightenment. I wandered through the remains of the palace widespread and now mainly brick footings. The remains speak of history and of the earth moving on, as walls are rippled and the few small structures remaining have been grown on top of. One a semi arched brick building had a fig like tree growing on it's roof with roots entwined through the brickwork and probably the only reason it is still standing. During my wander I had a policeman accompany me, uncertain why I didn't venture too broadly but he was smiley and seemed to be out for the foreign company only.
From Tilaurakot we cycled to Taulihawa a district capital which did not give off good vibes. Busy and dirty we moved through and turned east as quickly as we could. We stopped only once on the final stretch to Lumbini to grab some top up samosas to keep us going the final 15km or so along the road. This place was also filthy and the gutter outside the dhaba was nearly so full of garbage that we could cross the otherwise deep trench with the bikes. The guys in the store however were nice enough and we confirmed distances prior to leaving. The surrounds were agricultural but unlike the Tharu areas of the western Terai dirty and uncared for, people too with poverty more self apparent. More small mosques were also evident.
Finally we reached the edge of the fenced enclosure of the Lumbini Development Trust land that confirmed we only had a couple of km to ride. Definitely not as exciting as yesterday and feeling dusty from the road we just wanted to find a bed and relax a little. Soph on the ride through one town had nearly been taken out by a school girl swerving wildly across the road whilst doubling. All smiles and unaware of just how much bike carnage she could have caused. We has also met with an increased amount of honking Indian style traffic, which for the past week we had lived without to our great satisfaction. The return on thinner roads did not add to our demeanor. It was therefore with great relief that we eventually pulled up outside the Lumbini Village Lodge and accepted a room facing in towards a tree lined courtyard off the main street.
After confirming Load setting effecting the power until 7pm and no hot water yet, we cold cleaned and headed back out onto the streets bike less. An initial review of town identified a few decent Nepali places to try out, very well stocked general store and trinket setups. We wander along the road and it is not hard to notice that Soph has attracted a crowd of fans, unfortunately they are of the buzzy variety. I have only one above me. One trinket store had statues of the baby Buddha, who we both agreed had a surprisingly canny resemblance to a classic ABC japenese cartoon character called Astro Boy.
Light dinner at the Three foxes, before wifi usage at the lodge post 7pm, no hot water so called an early night with dreams of a rest day tomorrow and hopefully bucket hot water in the morning.
Whilst talking plumbing I might as well explain the options that we have seen so far. A squatty in most well kept places consists of a ceramic rectangle, flat on the tiled floor, with soap style grip foot markings on either side of a long rectangular drop at the back of which is the drain. Most we have seen have a water cistern and flush, same as a european toilet with the flush coming out both sides along the length of the drop. The squatty bathrooms are also equipped with a single water tap, large bucket and small almost plain plastic measuring jug. Big bucket for backup flush and small bucket, should there be no paper. Left hand please. It makes me wonder whether naturally left handed people in Asia are outcasts, or learn very quickly to be ambidextrous.
European toilets, as advertised, are generally outfitted with a bidet style system at the back of the seat operated by a small tap generally on the side wall, within easy reach. Though functional, in cold climates or mountain regions this makes for a tougher customer. Generally these also come with big and small buckets, I guess just in case.
The classics though are the combo toilets. Initially I thought they might just be catering for the extremely broad, but as most of those, ashamed to say currently reside in the west, reappraised. These landing strip styled toilets, have western bowl, but side wings also part of the ceramic again with foot grips molded in. Seat is then optional depending upon preference. I just can't get over the feeling that you would feel like an eagle perched on top of the toilet that way. I would also be concerned, should obesity ever coincide as the wings are solid but not impervious and it would be a messy end. Anyway...
Following the ritual packup we move down to the now deserted restaurant, only the glass bottles being collected reflecting any size of the turnover in humanity from the night before. The girls in the middle generation have gone out and picked up some breakfast treats for us to try. Bajea (?) are these deep fried pastry squiggles filled with liquid sugar syrup. However these are then placed inside two palm sized bhatura type wheat pancakes. All up it makes for a very sweet burger. Top this off with sugared chai. Soph is in love. I visualise however a dentist smiling behind their face mask as they start up the drill.
We say our goodbyes, then ride through town and elect to turn off the Mahendra Highway just after town on a road that should cut out a loop back to Lumbini from Butwal. Further it should cut us straight down to Tilaurakot another historical site on the way. As we turn at the junction I recall the prior evening when whilst scoping town we had sat at this junction and met a naturalised American Nepali currently residing in Chicago but back on winter vacation. When discussing the road he had said that it was fine, but not to enter then ie dusk, as it would be dangerous at night, "it's jungle in there." We did not confirm what specifically the danger was as we were not planning on continuing then anyway. Now however it was at the back of the mind.
After one hundred meters or so in the road changes from tar to pebbly trail and yes quite wooded but with large leaved trees that allowed dappled light through. Unfortunately the down side was we spent the next forty minutes or so eyes tight to the road choosing non discernible routes through the pebbles in an attempt to achieve smooth rides or at least minimise jarring to our alternate luggage systems.
When the trees receded they were replaced by thatched huts and fields, with villages surprise but not shocked to see two foreigners pass through. Plenty of giggles though. Down further the previous passing dump trucks made sense with road work being undertaken creating a raised road which lead to a river crossing through the fields. As construction was in it's early stages we were directed to a homemade log construct which had been smoothed over by mud on cloth. At the bridge however we met an overly enterprising young fellow, with interesting dental work who through hand signals identified we should contribute a fee, to be able to access the facility. Thankfully between our facial expressions and our prior motorcycle guides verbal abuse, the young guy moved to the side with a toothy vacant smile.
Once across the river and back on tar road on the far bank we realized we were right in Tilaurakot and straight outside the Kapilavastu museum where many of the historical finds from the surrounding archeological digs had been relocated. Pieces housed included early terra-cotta sculptures and wares, jewelry, coins etc from the Sunga (1-2nd century), Kushan and Mauryan (3rd century) periods.
From the museum we moved along a concrete path to the remains of the ancient site of the Sakya kingdom (Kapilavastu) from which the then Prince Siddhartha following his first 29 years is said to have left on the path to enlightenment. I wandered through the remains of the palace widespread and now mainly brick footings. The remains speak of history and of the earth moving on, as walls are rippled and the few small structures remaining have been grown on top of. One a semi arched brick building had a fig like tree growing on it's roof with roots entwined through the brickwork and probably the only reason it is still standing. During my wander I had a policeman accompany me, uncertain why I didn't venture too broadly but he was smiley and seemed to be out for the foreign company only.
From Tilaurakot we cycled to Taulihawa a district capital which did not give off good vibes. Busy and dirty we moved through and turned east as quickly as we could. We stopped only once on the final stretch to Lumbini to grab some top up samosas to keep us going the final 15km or so along the road. This place was also filthy and the gutter outside the dhaba was nearly so full of garbage that we could cross the otherwise deep trench with the bikes. The guys in the store however were nice enough and we confirmed distances prior to leaving. The surrounds were agricultural but unlike the Tharu areas of the western Terai dirty and uncared for, people too with poverty more self apparent. More small mosques were also evident.
Finally we reached the edge of the fenced enclosure of the Lumbini Development Trust land that confirmed we only had a couple of km to ride. Definitely not as exciting as yesterday and feeling dusty from the road we just wanted to find a bed and relax a little. Soph on the ride through one town had nearly been taken out by a school girl swerving wildly across the road whilst doubling. All smiles and unaware of just how much bike carnage she could have caused. We has also met with an increased amount of honking Indian style traffic, which for the past week we had lived without to our great satisfaction. The return on thinner roads did not add to our demeanor. It was therefore with great relief that we eventually pulled up outside the Lumbini Village Lodge and accepted a room facing in towards a tree lined courtyard off the main street.
After confirming Load setting effecting the power until 7pm and no hot water yet, we cold cleaned and headed back out onto the streets bike less. An initial review of town identified a few decent Nepali places to try out, very well stocked general store and trinket setups. We wander along the road and it is not hard to notice that Soph has attracted a crowd of fans, unfortunately they are of the buzzy variety. I have only one above me. One trinket store had statues of the baby Buddha, who we both agreed had a surprisingly canny resemblance to a classic ABC japenese cartoon character called Astro Boy.
Light dinner at the Three foxes, before wifi usage at the lodge post 7pm, no hot water so called an early night with dreams of a rest day tomorrow and hopefully bucket hot water in the morning.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Den of mosquitoes (Saturday 22 January 2011)
There is foggy and then there is really foggy. This morning in Lamahi was the latter. Thick grey obscuring and wet. Soph has upped her breakfast samosa record polishing off five and two doughnuts to source the energy for the push over the next range and 65km to Chaunate. Both feeling saddle sore we love the opportunity to settle into bench seats if only for a while. Lamahi being a road junction town is a bus haven, but at this time, town life is easing out of the morning and not many buses are sitting at the drop off zone. The town consists of the standard main block, one side of which is the highway passing through. Standard stores line pretty much every inch of the block, many being dual story but with residences up stairs. Then on the highway where the stores are well set back from the road a second line of defense exists, the shanty stores. Made generally out of wood and tin but not picky as to overall shape, design or structure. These all tend to be either fast foods or drink stores targeting the bused through traffic. The fruit stores similar but most have not sprouted roots like the others and lost their wheels.
In the backs of our minds we ride the oncoming range as we cover the first twenty kms out of town, but the road is reliably flat as I reposition myself repeatedly seeking out the best posterior position. Finally settle on hanging part of my fleece jacket over the seat to gain an extra layer, loving the plushness and alternate seating options this provides. Soph is feeling hampered by a sore ankle so besides weary leg muscles we both are ready for a rest day.
The roadside consists of farming enclosure after enclosure, but beyond we still are unable to gather much. Concrete bridges are crossed but little water, the rock bed rivers are left awaiting their liquid company later in the monsoon and snow melt season.
With little hill yet to speak of, but several threatened in the surrounding fog we roll into a little town set on the edge of the Rapti river. A nearby temple of repute and again a road junction has attracted several hotels and guest houses to town.
On arrival we are welcomed and both given a pink tourist brochure, unfortunately all in Nepalese and when translated for us unfortunately back on the road prior to Lamahi. We hunt for a Sweet store to grab chai or milk chaya as increasingly known and hopefully some additional sustenance, earlier having picked up some ripe looking but terrible tasting bananas.. Might need to see if we can taste first, next time. Chauky but not green, it is hard when eating one in front of the fruit cart not to distort my whole face, however I succeed in minor movements in my lower face hopefully disguised by chewing. Sweet store located just before the bridge with new milk cake varieties some of which packed away in one of our pink brochures for later.
After crossing the long, straight and otherwise unexciting bridge we start climbing immediately into the foothills with gain and fall bringing interest but also some nasty little pinches to climb out of. Past wood gatherer collectors and warm little micro villages. The serious climbing begins shortly after but well placed switchbacks make the work achievable if constant. The late morning air is sun warmed even as climbing the forest density increases, fog lessened but ever-present. Scenic grass thatch and mud huts high on ridges with steep dirt paths meandering leading to fields and village centers.
We pull over to combine rest stop with photo opportunity catching up with a posse of young leafy branch collectors making their way down the road. We also take the opportunity to divest some bananas.
Finally climbing past a small village we reach the mid point saddle, signed in English and start descending, taking care to avoid the bumpier sections to be kind to the bikes, bob and panniers. Taking it easy we hit 45km/hr on the straights, at that speed panniers still creaking over either the slightest depression or bending around a tight corner. We eventually cross a bridge deep in the valley with gorgeous green forested slopes and tight cuttings through which the road runs. At one point the ridge has been sliced with both sides maintaining straight clean butterscotch edges. Nearby Soph catches up with a group of young herder girls doing what appears to be a social nit pick (literally) on the side of the road whilst watching over their herd of goats.
A final couple of twists and turns before the road recommences it's downward run back to the plains below and Chanaute. Both feeling pepped by the downward run and successful climb of the morning we push the bikes on the descending straights past a multitude of locals collecting wood of all sizes and shapes, and either carrying or cycling it back to town. Visualise ants working around a nest and you pretty much have the visual a constant stream of people coming up on one side of the roadside and going back along the other loaded up. Bikes with back pannier racks had branches and twigs neatly tied into long single bundles, other bikes with trunk sized logs balanced across the cross bar resting just above peddle height. For non bike foresters the style was either balanced on the head or slung in slings balanced like scales across the back.
Rolling into Chanaute was great as we both felt we had achieved the distance relatively painlessly and had been a joy to cover. Chanaute another junction town was similar to the last through. Standard highway town stuff going on, stalls and set back permanent shops, though most single story versus double as in Lamahi. Search around for an appealing place to eat, very different criteria when traveling this way and more gut then visual. Leave Soph with the bikes as easier to investigate on foot. When I came back however a sea of black heads and Soph somewhere in the middle, bikes impossible to see. We extracted ourselves from the crowd and headed around the corner back to the highway and a small restaurant bar dhaba on the left. The owner was a bonus as he recommended cycling a further 18km to Gorusinge as it had more Hotel options then Chanaute which had only one guest house that he believed we would not want to stay in.
Cycling on we felt quite positive. Post food generally does that these days. The road was flat and well maintained and we covered the kms comfortably. In Gorusinge there were three hotels and one guest house. It was my turn to do the investigating, and if required bartering. The first guest house confirmed our previous experiences, load setting meant that there would be no power until 7pm. The older gentlemen therefore armed himself with pocket flashlight and we confronted the dark nook of a concrete staircase. Double room, hard beds and bucket water but with this cool heating wand (like a kettle element) with a handle. 300 rup. Unfortunately no safe place however for the bikes, so that was out.
Next back to a Hotel and Bar towards Chanaute on the right. Post wandering through the deserted restaurant and bar searching for staff and then standing out front with posse of small children all trying to help call the proprietors, eventually a bleary, middled aged lump of a woman appeared on the first floor balcony. She called for reinforcements though resentfully. A girl in her twenties appeared and finally nodded to showing me a room and yes I should come up. Up the stairs I meet the partner of lumpy, reeking of alcohol and also looking a little dazed.
Relatively strong convictions at this point; still had gone this far. The girl quickly reshuffling the room, dark as no window and no light. Not great but have seen worse. Bathroom, outside but survivable. Hot water, getting a no. Then as we were heading back into the corridor she lets an absolute ripper go which I thought initially may have been something else but very soon confirmed. Now I don't want to sound non understanding, everyone has there moment in the sun and I have been there myself; plus I know what Dhal bhat (fart) can do for you but she had the same uninterested look on her face, as all the nearby wildlife had already taken to cover. I left soon after.
On the Chanaute edge of town we were guessing a hotel as no English signage, but had the look of hotel, restaurant and bar. The hotel felt new and within moments the outside inhabitants appeared friendly if curious family. The room large light and airy, sold me in seconds. Plus the bikes could go out the back of the packed dirt floor front restaurant at the foot of the stairs. Same problem as the last place if a million times cleaner, communal bathroom including a squatty and no running hot water. Still, least we would be sharing the experience with nice people. Unfortunately in the room, that was not all we were sharing it with. The last place I saw so many mosquitoes was in an outdoor art gallery near Gosford, NSW. Soph was less then impressed and we spent a solid 45mins trying to take all the little buggers out. Pillows, towels, hands all the while trying to keep the noise of our personal armageddon from alarming our hosts.
On dusk we relocated with beer and crisps to a small fire out front with our hosts and two generations of children, while one of the staff lounged playing on his Nepalese flute (bamboo like fife) with lilting melodies. Nice especially as the aeroguard and long clothing appeared to be working. The youngest generation was encouraged to sing a couple of their school nursery rhymes such as twinkle twinkle and then we settled into some Dahl Bhat and chicken. On questioning if the large restaurant ever got full they confirmed in fact very soon. Turned out every night twelve coaches stopped at the hotel for their dinner break on the way to or from Kathmandu. We had the pleasure of watching the proceeding involved with feeding two lots prior to retiring. This business is a definite cash cow. One dish, Dhal bhat and alcohol. They turn them over smoothly and though the dish comes with free top ups, like Sizzler there is only so much you can have of a good thing.
Good nights sleep in our mosquito liquidated setting. Last bus cleared out just after twelve and once everyone tucked in, the night was very peaceful.
In the backs of our minds we ride the oncoming range as we cover the first twenty kms out of town, but the road is reliably flat as I reposition myself repeatedly seeking out the best posterior position. Finally settle on hanging part of my fleece jacket over the seat to gain an extra layer, loving the plushness and alternate seating options this provides. Soph is feeling hampered by a sore ankle so besides weary leg muscles we both are ready for a rest day.
The roadside consists of farming enclosure after enclosure, but beyond we still are unable to gather much. Concrete bridges are crossed but little water, the rock bed rivers are left awaiting their liquid company later in the monsoon and snow melt season.
With little hill yet to speak of, but several threatened in the surrounding fog we roll into a little town set on the edge of the Rapti river. A nearby temple of repute and again a road junction has attracted several hotels and guest houses to town.
On arrival we are welcomed and both given a pink tourist brochure, unfortunately all in Nepalese and when translated for us unfortunately back on the road prior to Lamahi. We hunt for a Sweet store to grab chai or milk chaya as increasingly known and hopefully some additional sustenance, earlier having picked up some ripe looking but terrible tasting bananas.. Might need to see if we can taste first, next time. Chauky but not green, it is hard when eating one in front of the fruit cart not to distort my whole face, however I succeed in minor movements in my lower face hopefully disguised by chewing. Sweet store located just before the bridge with new milk cake varieties some of which packed away in one of our pink brochures for later.
After crossing the long, straight and otherwise unexciting bridge we start climbing immediately into the foothills with gain and fall bringing interest but also some nasty little pinches to climb out of. Past wood gatherer collectors and warm little micro villages. The serious climbing begins shortly after but well placed switchbacks make the work achievable if constant. The late morning air is sun warmed even as climbing the forest density increases, fog lessened but ever-present. Scenic grass thatch and mud huts high on ridges with steep dirt paths meandering leading to fields and village centers.
We pull over to combine rest stop with photo opportunity catching up with a posse of young leafy branch collectors making their way down the road. We also take the opportunity to divest some bananas.
Finally climbing past a small village we reach the mid point saddle, signed in English and start descending, taking care to avoid the bumpier sections to be kind to the bikes, bob and panniers. Taking it easy we hit 45km/hr on the straights, at that speed panniers still creaking over either the slightest depression or bending around a tight corner. We eventually cross a bridge deep in the valley with gorgeous green forested slopes and tight cuttings through which the road runs. At one point the ridge has been sliced with both sides maintaining straight clean butterscotch edges. Nearby Soph catches up with a group of young herder girls doing what appears to be a social nit pick (literally) on the side of the road whilst watching over their herd of goats.
A final couple of twists and turns before the road recommences it's downward run back to the plains below and Chanaute. Both feeling pepped by the downward run and successful climb of the morning we push the bikes on the descending straights past a multitude of locals collecting wood of all sizes and shapes, and either carrying or cycling it back to town. Visualise ants working around a nest and you pretty much have the visual a constant stream of people coming up on one side of the roadside and going back along the other loaded up. Bikes with back pannier racks had branches and twigs neatly tied into long single bundles, other bikes with trunk sized logs balanced across the cross bar resting just above peddle height. For non bike foresters the style was either balanced on the head or slung in slings balanced like scales across the back.
Rolling into Chanaute was great as we both felt we had achieved the distance relatively painlessly and had been a joy to cover. Chanaute another junction town was similar to the last through. Standard highway town stuff going on, stalls and set back permanent shops, though most single story versus double as in Lamahi. Search around for an appealing place to eat, very different criteria when traveling this way and more gut then visual. Leave Soph with the bikes as easier to investigate on foot. When I came back however a sea of black heads and Soph somewhere in the middle, bikes impossible to see. We extracted ourselves from the crowd and headed around the corner back to the highway and a small restaurant bar dhaba on the left. The owner was a bonus as he recommended cycling a further 18km to Gorusinge as it had more Hotel options then Chanaute which had only one guest house that he believed we would not want to stay in.
Cycling on we felt quite positive. Post food generally does that these days. The road was flat and well maintained and we covered the kms comfortably. In Gorusinge there were three hotels and one guest house. It was my turn to do the investigating, and if required bartering. The first guest house confirmed our previous experiences, load setting meant that there would be no power until 7pm. The older gentlemen therefore armed himself with pocket flashlight and we confronted the dark nook of a concrete staircase. Double room, hard beds and bucket water but with this cool heating wand (like a kettle element) with a handle. 300 rup. Unfortunately no safe place however for the bikes, so that was out.
Next back to a Hotel and Bar towards Chanaute on the right. Post wandering through the deserted restaurant and bar searching for staff and then standing out front with posse of small children all trying to help call the proprietors, eventually a bleary, middled aged lump of a woman appeared on the first floor balcony. She called for reinforcements though resentfully. A girl in her twenties appeared and finally nodded to showing me a room and yes I should come up. Up the stairs I meet the partner of lumpy, reeking of alcohol and also looking a little dazed.
Relatively strong convictions at this point; still had gone this far. The girl quickly reshuffling the room, dark as no window and no light. Not great but have seen worse. Bathroom, outside but survivable. Hot water, getting a no. Then as we were heading back into the corridor she lets an absolute ripper go which I thought initially may have been something else but very soon confirmed. Now I don't want to sound non understanding, everyone has there moment in the sun and I have been there myself; plus I know what Dhal bhat (fart) can do for you but she had the same uninterested look on her face, as all the nearby wildlife had already taken to cover. I left soon after.
On the Chanaute edge of town we were guessing a hotel as no English signage, but had the look of hotel, restaurant and bar. The hotel felt new and within moments the outside inhabitants appeared friendly if curious family. The room large light and airy, sold me in seconds. Plus the bikes could go out the back of the packed dirt floor front restaurant at the foot of the stairs. Same problem as the last place if a million times cleaner, communal bathroom including a squatty and no running hot water. Still, least we would be sharing the experience with nice people. Unfortunately in the room, that was not all we were sharing it with. The last place I saw so many mosquitoes was in an outdoor art gallery near Gosford, NSW. Soph was less then impressed and we spent a solid 45mins trying to take all the little buggers out. Pillows, towels, hands all the while trying to keep the noise of our personal armageddon from alarming our hosts.
On dusk we relocated with beer and crisps to a small fire out front with our hosts and two generations of children, while one of the staff lounged playing on his Nepalese flute (bamboo like fife) with lilting melodies. Nice especially as the aeroguard and long clothing appeared to be working. The youngest generation was encouraged to sing a couple of their school nursery rhymes such as twinkle twinkle and then we settled into some Dahl Bhat and chicken. On questioning if the large restaurant ever got full they confirmed in fact very soon. Turned out every night twelve coaches stopped at the hotel for their dinner break on the way to or from Kathmandu. We had the pleasure of watching the proceeding involved with feeding two lots prior to retiring. This business is a definite cash cow. One dish, Dhal bhat and alcohol. They turn them over smoothly and though the dish comes with free top ups, like Sizzler there is only so much you can have of a good thing.
Good nights sleep in our mosquito liquidated setting. Last bus cleared out just after twelve and once everyone tucked in, the night was very peaceful.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Cycling towards Lumbini
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Bardia National Park, Western Terai.
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Welcome, Nepal Tourism year 2011 (Friday 14 January)
Wake early to the sounds of activity on the streets and in the hotel. Not surprising as with the power cutting out on a daily basis from around 9am to 5pm it pays to be an early bird. When we were doing the assessment round of hotels, I thought this one, Hotel Vishal (?) was going to be noisy as there were tents lining the opposite side of the street beyond which was a Stoney field through which the rail line ran. Tanakpur is the end of the narrow gauge line running North on the western side of Uttarakhand. All the northern lines in Uttarakhand also including Rishikesh, Kotdwar, Ramnagar, Kathgodam terminate before the Lower Himalaya begin. A multitude of buses and taxis take the load north from there. Goats and chickens run wild across the field.
Post loading the bikes we offload some cookies to the local beggar kids before hitting the 10km back to Banbasa and the road to the border. Fruit is better but more difficult to carry and access easily.
At Banbasa we turn following the signage to Mahendranagar on the Nepalese side of the border. Asked for the umpteenth time, "where are you going?", now resorting to hand signals of general direction. Cycle up onto a section of concrete post the rail line crossing. Lots of uncertainties running through our minds regarding the border situation and historical troubles on the Western Terai making us a little edgy as to the conditions, and reception. As a result we circle town twice, in the possibility of getting queries answered. Made more difficult by the uncertainty of who would be supplying the information and for what gain, further amplified by communication challenges.
We eventually commit and cycle straight through past some last street side stalls and through into a tree lined semi tarred road. Eyes wide open to spot the slightest sign of an immigration office, we also attempt to dodge the potty sections of the road and oncoming cyclists. For the size of town, Banbasa has quite a few cycle stores all relatively well stocked. Not sure whether for the Nepalese market or the nearby army bases. Concentrating on surroundings I get the faint and depressing feeling of a plushy rear tyre. Bugger, another flat in India. Pull over onto the side of the road and setup for as fast a repair as possible. Gather the usual crowd, but all goes well. No sign of cause and no desire to stuff around.
Predominantly pedestrian and cycle traffic passes as turning we leave the edge of the trees and ride alongside the river to our right. This is an arm of the Kali (or the Mahakali) river which forms much of the western border definition between India and Nepal. It flows swiftly and up ahead a semi river weir / bridge appears to direct. Our last cricket field before a hindi signed concrete post, with semi uniformed officials outside. They wave us through a small pedestrian gate to the side of the closed vehicle access identifying that immigration is across the bridge on the right. Research identified that the crossing was only open for vehicles between three hourly windows during the day, adding to our uncertainty of timing. People pool however around the pedestrian access predominantly on bikes, but also motorbikes. The experienced and regular squeezing through neatly with all sorts of strapped on luggage.
Across the weir another Hindi signed post but we are waved across a further bridge to our left, this time sharing the road with the odd car. Once across the bridge the semi tar ceases and a washed out pebble brick road commences. We had read in Tanakpur one blogger who wrote of the Mahendra highway identifying that it was a mess, with bumps, river crossings etc. They had elaborated to identify that the Nepalese government had tendered for the construction and that initially a Chinese group had been successful but post a complaint by the Indian government concerned post the 1962 troubles a revised Indian bid was approved. They had identified that the commencement of the construction was to start around the time of the blog, and so no doubt would be complete by another date I cannot recall. Whether legit or not this popped into our minds the Bro signed slogan from Srinagar, "eager to last, then why fast".
Excellent, sign in english and hindi identifying Indian immigration building. Group of men outside in the sun who we pass to take a seat in front of an office desk sitting on the verandah. Non uniformed guy, proficient yet relaxed leads us through the exit paperwork. We also study the notice identifying that the Nepalese will fine and confiscate for the carrying across the border of Indian rupee notes of either 500 or 1000 denominations. We had read earlier of this via smartraveller and were uncertain whether due to formal reasons or not. This however had definitely impacted upon our carrying of funds as there was only one legit bank that converted INR to NPR and concern of confiscation had lead to our negating our rupees. (500 INR is only approx 12AUD) The Indian customs officer however identified that confiscation was only targeted at those carrying Lakh of the denominations therefore we would not have been fined.
In India we had noticed banks and other government locations had given warnings regarding counterfeit 500 rup notes. Every now and then officious shopkeepers had done the check, but this was impacted upon by how dodgy you looked also. We had met one guy who said he had been stuck with a few but an outing at a nightclub had passed the burden on. His ethic was that this was a legitimate process as long as the the potential receiver had deep pockets.
From the immigration office we rolled along the side of an irrigation ditch for 500mtrs or so before turning across a small bridge and past our first village stores in Nepal. As we trundled across the bridge in front a troop of red and white uniformed school children were marching along lead by a boy carrying the twin triangle flag of Nepal. Riding past we climbed up onto a road that ceased with a drop-off and onto the start of the tarred Mahendra highway. The gardened Nepalese immigration office to our left was clearly signed and further distinguished by two elephants standing out the front and a bit of a village sing sing in process.
We started the sign in process and all went smoothly to the payment part, where we identified travellers chqs and visa which they had no facility to receive and were looking for USD or equivalent in cash. We were working through our options when a suited official came in and post welcoming us to Nepal identified that we were very lucky as 2011 was Nepal Tourism Year and we were the first tourists through for the local opening. Further if we had time they would like us to be involved in the welcoming ceremony. Given that we were not yet official it would have been hard to refuse even if we had wanted to....Soph was keen to join in the celebration!
Once we confirmed that we would be honored to be involved we shook numerous hands followed by repeated application of copious quantities of red dust on our foreheads then to top it off, local traditional caps. Unfortunately one size fits all and so my hat positioned itself on my hair versus my head. The paper and tv press were all lined up throughout the procedures. Overwhelmed and in a state of mild reeling we were directed each to a seated elephant, upon whom mounting was achieved via scrambling up their rear legs to position ourselves behind the elephant's nepalese pilot. Soph scored a baby elephant, versus I the adult. This in addition to height affected the ease with which one straddled the back and waking in the morning I had obviously failed to prewarn my pelvis.
Therefore dressed in riding clothes (both in shorts under which long tights), unshaven, raggish unwashed hair, foreheads marked as if we had been repeatedly head banged we rode the km to the ceremony along the highway waving occasionally to the bemused locals. The march was lead by local police followed by traditional drum and dancers, then the school troop, elephants, officials etc. The procession left the highway turning into what appeared to be a newly completed small thatched hotel and restaurant complex overwhelmed by a massive marriage tent on the side.
We dismounted, and were invited to seats in the tent together with the officials. Beyond which the villagers and crowd crowded to watch proceedings. Speeches began and drinks and paneer pakora served. After several, I was approached and asked whether I would be happy to speak. I clarified that anything I said would be in English but that if they were fine with that then I would be happy to. Quickly working up a potential speech, we were again approached and invited to have lunch. Assuming that everyone was heading off to lunch we moved off, behind the ongoing speaker and were seated in the new restaurant and provided with lamb curry, pakora, juice and coffee.
The immigration official identified that one of us should stay and the other would be taken to Mahendranagar to access a bank. Soph therefore returned to the speeches and I jumped on the back of the immigration officers motorbike and rode into town still marked by hat in pocket. At the ATM thankfully the card worked fine and we turned around and headed back to the celebration to pick up Soph. Wandering in and searching for Soph I eventually locate her hidden behind a swarm of smiling red and white school children. Detaching post farewells and thank yous we both remounted the motorbike and returned the 1km further to the immigration office.
Legitimately a Nepalese tourist we grabbed the bikes and recovered the 9km to Mahendrnagar. Cycling around to scope out town and the hotels we were quickly picked up by a local crew on bikes, one in particular whose questioning stretched into annoying areas such as what was in our bags and were we carrying other currencies. We eventually lost the interest of our overly curious friend and decided on a hotel, Sweet Dreams just off the highway on the northern end of town.
After hanging out and attempting to remove our face paint we walked back into town and to the Hotel Opera. Classiest hotel and location of a casino we settled into a locally expensive but generous meal. In interest we added a chocolate lassi for Soph and a Tuborg deluxe for me. At 220 rup it seemed expensive but having visited the factory in Denmark too good to pass up, however when the beer turned up it was around 650mls and for one who has drunk very little of late a challenge.
Back to the hotel along the dark road, we turn in on a very unexpected day.
Post loading the bikes we offload some cookies to the local beggar kids before hitting the 10km back to Banbasa and the road to the border. Fruit is better but more difficult to carry and access easily.
At Banbasa we turn following the signage to Mahendranagar on the Nepalese side of the border. Asked for the umpteenth time, "where are you going?", now resorting to hand signals of general direction. Cycle up onto a section of concrete post the rail line crossing. Lots of uncertainties running through our minds regarding the border situation and historical troubles on the Western Terai making us a little edgy as to the conditions, and reception. As a result we circle town twice, in the possibility of getting queries answered. Made more difficult by the uncertainty of who would be supplying the information and for what gain, further amplified by communication challenges.
We eventually commit and cycle straight through past some last street side stalls and through into a tree lined semi tarred road. Eyes wide open to spot the slightest sign of an immigration office, we also attempt to dodge the potty sections of the road and oncoming cyclists. For the size of town, Banbasa has quite a few cycle stores all relatively well stocked. Not sure whether for the Nepalese market or the nearby army bases. Concentrating on surroundings I get the faint and depressing feeling of a plushy rear tyre. Bugger, another flat in India. Pull over onto the side of the road and setup for as fast a repair as possible. Gather the usual crowd, but all goes well. No sign of cause and no desire to stuff around.
Predominantly pedestrian and cycle traffic passes as turning we leave the edge of the trees and ride alongside the river to our right. This is an arm of the Kali (or the Mahakali) river which forms much of the western border definition between India and Nepal. It flows swiftly and up ahead a semi river weir / bridge appears to direct. Our last cricket field before a hindi signed concrete post, with semi uniformed officials outside. They wave us through a small pedestrian gate to the side of the closed vehicle access identifying that immigration is across the bridge on the right. Research identified that the crossing was only open for vehicles between three hourly windows during the day, adding to our uncertainty of timing. People pool however around the pedestrian access predominantly on bikes, but also motorbikes. The experienced and regular squeezing through neatly with all sorts of strapped on luggage.
Across the weir another Hindi signed post but we are waved across a further bridge to our left, this time sharing the road with the odd car. Once across the bridge the semi tar ceases and a washed out pebble brick road commences. We had read in Tanakpur one blogger who wrote of the Mahendra highway identifying that it was a mess, with bumps, river crossings etc. They had elaborated to identify that the Nepalese government had tendered for the construction and that initially a Chinese group had been successful but post a complaint by the Indian government concerned post the 1962 troubles a revised Indian bid was approved. They had identified that the commencement of the construction was to start around the time of the blog, and so no doubt would be complete by another date I cannot recall. Whether legit or not this popped into our minds the Bro signed slogan from Srinagar, "eager to last, then why fast".
Excellent, sign in english and hindi identifying Indian immigration building. Group of men outside in the sun who we pass to take a seat in front of an office desk sitting on the verandah. Non uniformed guy, proficient yet relaxed leads us through the exit paperwork. We also study the notice identifying that the Nepalese will fine and confiscate for the carrying across the border of Indian rupee notes of either 500 or 1000 denominations. We had read earlier of this via smartraveller and were uncertain whether due to formal reasons or not. This however had definitely impacted upon our carrying of funds as there was only one legit bank that converted INR to NPR and concern of confiscation had lead to our negating our rupees. (500 INR is only approx 12AUD) The Indian customs officer however identified that confiscation was only targeted at those carrying Lakh of the denominations therefore we would not have been fined.
In India we had noticed banks and other government locations had given warnings regarding counterfeit 500 rup notes. Every now and then officious shopkeepers had done the check, but this was impacted upon by how dodgy you looked also. We had met one guy who said he had been stuck with a few but an outing at a nightclub had passed the burden on. His ethic was that this was a legitimate process as long as the the potential receiver had deep pockets.
From the immigration office we rolled along the side of an irrigation ditch for 500mtrs or so before turning across a small bridge and past our first village stores in Nepal. As we trundled across the bridge in front a troop of red and white uniformed school children were marching along lead by a boy carrying the twin triangle flag of Nepal. Riding past we climbed up onto a road that ceased with a drop-off and onto the start of the tarred Mahendra highway. The gardened Nepalese immigration office to our left was clearly signed and further distinguished by two elephants standing out the front and a bit of a village sing sing in process.
We started the sign in process and all went smoothly to the payment part, where we identified travellers chqs and visa which they had no facility to receive and were looking for USD or equivalent in cash. We were working through our options when a suited official came in and post welcoming us to Nepal identified that we were very lucky as 2011 was Nepal Tourism Year and we were the first tourists through for the local opening. Further if we had time they would like us to be involved in the welcoming ceremony. Given that we were not yet official it would have been hard to refuse even if we had wanted to....Soph was keen to join in the celebration!
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
Once we confirmed that we would be honored to be involved we shook numerous hands followed by repeated application of copious quantities of red dust on our foreheads then to top it off, local traditional caps. Unfortunately one size fits all and so my hat positioned itself on my hair versus my head. The paper and tv press were all lined up throughout the procedures. Overwhelmed and in a state of mild reeling we were directed each to a seated elephant, upon whom mounting was achieved via scrambling up their rear legs to position ourselves behind the elephant's nepalese pilot. Soph scored a baby elephant, versus I the adult. This in addition to height affected the ease with which one straddled the back and waking in the morning I had obviously failed to prewarn my pelvis.
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
Therefore dressed in riding clothes (both in shorts under which long tights), unshaven, raggish unwashed hair, foreheads marked as if we had been repeatedly head banged we rode the km to the ceremony along the highway waving occasionally to the bemused locals. The march was lead by local police followed by traditional drum and dancers, then the school troop, elephants, officials etc. The procession left the highway turning into what appeared to be a newly completed small thatched hotel and restaurant complex overwhelmed by a massive marriage tent on the side.
We dismounted, and were invited to seats in the tent together with the officials. Beyond which the villagers and crowd crowded to watch proceedings. Speeches began and drinks and paneer pakora served. After several, I was approached and asked whether I would be happy to speak. I clarified that anything I said would be in English but that if they were fine with that then I would be happy to. Quickly working up a potential speech, we were again approached and invited to have lunch. Assuming that everyone was heading off to lunch we moved off, behind the ongoing speaker and were seated in the new restaurant and provided with lamb curry, pakora, juice and coffee.
The immigration official identified that one of us should stay and the other would be taken to Mahendranagar to access a bank. Soph therefore returned to the speeches and I jumped on the back of the immigration officers motorbike and rode into town still marked by hat in pocket. At the ATM thankfully the card worked fine and we turned around and headed back to the celebration to pick up Soph. Wandering in and searching for Soph I eventually locate her hidden behind a swarm of smiling red and white school children. Detaching post farewells and thank yous we both remounted the motorbike and returned the 1km further to the immigration office.
Legitimately a Nepalese tourist we grabbed the bikes and recovered the 9km to Mahendrnagar. Cycling around to scope out town and the hotels we were quickly picked up by a local crew on bikes, one in particular whose questioning stretched into annoying areas such as what was in our bags and were we carrying other currencies. We eventually lost the interest of our overly curious friend and decided on a hotel, Sweet Dreams just off the highway on the northern end of town.
After hanging out and attempting to remove our face paint we walked back into town and to the Hotel Opera. Classiest hotel and location of a casino we settled into a locally expensive but generous meal. In interest we added a chocolate lassi for Soph and a Tuborg deluxe for me. At 220 rup it seemed expensive but having visited the factory in Denmark too good to pass up, however when the beer turned up it was around 650mls and for one who has drunk very little of late a challenge.
Back to the hotel along the dark road, we turn in on a very unexpected day.
 |
| From Nepal, Terai. January 2011 |
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
No fun flat (Tuesday 11 January)
Wake to our second day back on the plains and man it is frigid outside. We donn shell coats for the ride as the moisture on the fog is thick and there is no evidence of sunshine. Any resident of London would potentially feel right at home, but I am working through low shine depression even as we cycle out of town.
The guys in the hotel have talked us out of cutting the corner across to Chorgallia and then down to Sitarganj identifying that the road is poor and greater numbers of trucks make it less desirable. They instead direct us to follow the National Highway straight down turning at Kichha to Sitarganj.
Making a stop at Kichha a sugar mill town we attract locals like flies to a fry up, with very few conversing and lots of staring. I try at one stage to the get the crowd responsive, but continually blankly staring on I am saved from nightmares only by the fact that they are not licking their lips. Kids even get up on the town roundabout to peer over the heads of the crowd to watch us eat in the dhaba. I feel a bit guilty for the owner who spends much of his time trying to defend his unknown customers from the village children paparazzi. Threats of water jugs and even fake throws clear the crowd if only for thirty seconds or so. Not much tv in these parts, maybe? Thankfully the mob is friendly and when we depart we leave to general positiveness and a couple of biking hangers on.
Turning west we aim for Nanak Matta and it's Sikh temple but are feeling decidedly bruised from the varying surface. Trucks when heading in the opposite direction have enough force to drop a couple of km per hr from our speedos as they pass. Doesn't sound like much but when a road is flat and straight, the fog is wet and cold and your bottom feels tarnished it gets to you. The benefit in the hills is yes the climbs can be killers, but reward that with varying valley views and it makes it easier to focus on other things or the achievement of the micro goal. Long flats seem to draw out and out making the rural scenes blend with rural scenes.
We pull up short at Sitarganj locating a modern hotel on the road to Nanak Mattar. We pay for the deluxe to secure hot water to deal with the fog depression. Dinner in but the hot water, good bed, good tv and chai is sadly depreciated by the salty Dhal Makhani and unappetising rice.
The guys in the hotel have talked us out of cutting the corner across to Chorgallia and then down to Sitarganj identifying that the road is poor and greater numbers of trucks make it less desirable. They instead direct us to follow the National Highway straight down turning at Kichha to Sitarganj.
Making a stop at Kichha a sugar mill town we attract locals like flies to a fry up, with very few conversing and lots of staring. I try at one stage to the get the crowd responsive, but continually blankly staring on I am saved from nightmares only by the fact that they are not licking their lips. Kids even get up on the town roundabout to peer over the heads of the crowd to watch us eat in the dhaba. I feel a bit guilty for the owner who spends much of his time trying to defend his unknown customers from the village children paparazzi. Threats of water jugs and even fake throws clear the crowd if only for thirty seconds or so. Not much tv in these parts, maybe? Thankfully the mob is friendly and when we depart we leave to general positiveness and a couple of biking hangers on.
Turning west we aim for Nanak Matta and it's Sikh temple but are feeling decidedly bruised from the varying surface. Trucks when heading in the opposite direction have enough force to drop a couple of km per hr from our speedos as they pass. Doesn't sound like much but when a road is flat and straight, the fog is wet and cold and your bottom feels tarnished it gets to you. The benefit in the hills is yes the climbs can be killers, but reward that with varying valley views and it makes it easier to focus on other things or the achievement of the micro goal. Long flats seem to draw out and out making the rural scenes blend with rural scenes.
We pull up short at Sitarganj locating a modern hotel on the road to Nanak Mattar. We pay for the deluxe to secure hot water to deal with the fog depression. Dinner in but the hot water, good bed, good tv and chai is sadly depreciated by the salty Dhal Makhani and unappetising rice.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Smogfog (Monday 10 January)
Wake and out into a glorious sunny yet fresh Nainital morning. The dogs were amazingly controlled last night, at about 1am we both heard someone walking down the hill with a whistle, whether from the local pound or just a wandering minstrel the effect on the dogs was great. Post a sleep in the rush is on to get out of the room by 10am checkout. Standard throughout most of the places we have stayed is a relaxed 12pm. Hotel guys fairly relaxed and assist to get our bikes down onto the street from the balcony which is always a challenge especially if onto a busy street as once you start someone has to stay where the biggest exposure is, lest something goes wandering. Better not to take the chance, then take it and lose out.
Most places the bikes either stay in the room, the balcony, the foyer, the locked carpark, the locked garage etc. Dependant upon the style of place, the locality and the layout. The bikes are generally dusty so you never want to put them in a clean room, but it is hard to sleep with noises during the night if your bikes are out the front, so we seek compromise where available. Bob is not choosey either.
From the hotel roll along the Mall to Tallital where we park outside the Swastika Restaurant for breakfast. Great and well priced. Well fed and syked up for a downhill ride to Haldwani we pass under the street exit on the higher road out of town (rather then the road back to Bhowali) and start the roll, we have both rugged up but the chill still sends shivers through the fingers. The start of the descent swings us around below the Tiffin top ridge and with views back to Lands end and across to Khurpa Tal lake below. We swing around corners in and out of the sun and enjoying the breeze and occasional silence. Play cat and mouse with the descending traffic, riding the tails of the trucks and buses, occasionally passing until the road flattens or climbs when passed at speed.
The Flora changes as we descend to the road junction where trees thin out just before Jeolikote before the curves and valleys become denser with greater moisture in the air.
Increasingly the valley to our left fogs up with views across to the Gola river hazing until riding into Kathgodam it feels like the plains we left long before, though colder. We name the experience Smogfog. We are not in Kathgodam long before three beggar girls setup shop before us, well practiced with songs to soften the request. We leave shortly after to make Haldwani, riding into the outskirts feeling as cold as we had during the pass couple of weeks before pulling into a Coffee Day for a double macchiato to warm the hands and heart.
Haldwani like any Indian centre takes time to adjust to, when first entering and dodging all sorts of traffic coming from all directions, the thought process of what the hell, is easy to fall into. It is not until you have had time to settle and readjust that the weaving and dodging becomes part and parcel, if not a little fun. Initially when back in horse cart and motorised rickshaw territory that you seriously question road survivability.
In town we do the rounds of the various hotels, it fast becoming clear that Haldwani is a relatively pricey place to stay versus up in the hills, the hotel we settle on eventually is the Nagpal Towers pretty much in the centre of town. Though some aspects of the setup leave you questioning these guys have the basics covered. The bed is comfortable, the room is warm, also containing a heater and the water is hot and continuous. Staff is courteous and the chai good.
We leave the hotel though to go exploring, wandering through the bazaar in town and the back streets behind the bus stand. Again it feels like you could find most things here, the challenge only being to actually locate them with nooks and crannies everywhere. We head to a local institution for dinner on the recommendation of a young guy maybe 14 that we met on the main highway whilst searching for hotels. His finger is proven to be on the pulse as this non veg restaurant / dhaba is humming with people, and smells delicious. We order butter chicken, naan and channa and find the food generous and tasty, only interrupted by the switching over to generator power halfway through the meal, it is finished off with a chicken skewer cooked out on the street side and served with tasty raita.
We backtrack through the market and side streets emerging finally back at the hotel. It would be so easy to lose yourself in this place as so much is going on and in so many directions, sub alleys, bazaars etc. Definitely makes Nainital feel tame and possibly a little bland in comparison.
Most places the bikes either stay in the room, the balcony, the foyer, the locked carpark, the locked garage etc. Dependant upon the style of place, the locality and the layout. The bikes are generally dusty so you never want to put them in a clean room, but it is hard to sleep with noises during the night if your bikes are out the front, so we seek compromise where available. Bob is not choosey either.
From the hotel roll along the Mall to Tallital where we park outside the Swastika Restaurant for breakfast. Great and well priced. Well fed and syked up for a downhill ride to Haldwani we pass under the street exit on the higher road out of town (rather then the road back to Bhowali) and start the roll, we have both rugged up but the chill still sends shivers through the fingers. The start of the descent swings us around below the Tiffin top ridge and with views back to Lands end and across to Khurpa Tal lake below. We swing around corners in and out of the sun and enjoying the breeze and occasional silence. Play cat and mouse with the descending traffic, riding the tails of the trucks and buses, occasionally passing until the road flattens or climbs when passed at speed.
 |
| From India, Nanital. January 2011 |
The Flora changes as we descend to the road junction where trees thin out just before Jeolikote before the curves and valleys become denser with greater moisture in the air.
Increasingly the valley to our left fogs up with views across to the Gola river hazing until riding into Kathgodam it feels like the plains we left long before, though colder. We name the experience Smogfog. We are not in Kathgodam long before three beggar girls setup shop before us, well practiced with songs to soften the request. We leave shortly after to make Haldwani, riding into the outskirts feeling as cold as we had during the pass couple of weeks before pulling into a Coffee Day for a double macchiato to warm the hands and heart.
Haldwani like any Indian centre takes time to adjust to, when first entering and dodging all sorts of traffic coming from all directions, the thought process of what the hell, is easy to fall into. It is not until you have had time to settle and readjust that the weaving and dodging becomes part and parcel, if not a little fun. Initially when back in horse cart and motorised rickshaw territory that you seriously question road survivability.
In town we do the rounds of the various hotels, it fast becoming clear that Haldwani is a relatively pricey place to stay versus up in the hills, the hotel we settle on eventually is the Nagpal Towers pretty much in the centre of town. Though some aspects of the setup leave you questioning these guys have the basics covered. The bed is comfortable, the room is warm, also containing a heater and the water is hot and continuous. Staff is courteous and the chai good.
We leave the hotel though to go exploring, wandering through the bazaar in town and the back streets behind the bus stand. Again it feels like you could find most things here, the challenge only being to actually locate them with nooks and crannies everywhere. We head to a local institution for dinner on the recommendation of a young guy maybe 14 that we met on the main highway whilst searching for hotels. His finger is proven to be on the pulse as this non veg restaurant / dhaba is humming with people, and smells delicious. We order butter chicken, naan and channa and find the food generous and tasty, only interrupted by the switching over to generator power halfway through the meal, it is finished off with a chicken skewer cooked out on the street side and served with tasty raita.
We backtrack through the market and side streets emerging finally back at the hotel. It would be so easy to lose yourself in this place as so much is going on and in so many directions, sub alleys, bazaars etc. Definitely makes Nainital feel tame and possibly a little bland in comparison.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Schooled (Sunday 9 January)
Temperature is sitting at 9 degrees per our cheapie thermometer in the room. Another warm day in paradise. To make paradise even more pleasurable neither of us has slept well in the preceding night. On the walk out to find breakfast we pass a few cute sleeping dogs, no wonder the little sh@ts sleep in the sun during the day...
Post breakfast we walk through the Tibetan market before wandering around the far side of the lake which backs onto the valleys hillside with the exception of the path, South Mall road. The view slightly altered and the quietness appreciated. Few people appear to circle the lake on this side during summer. I can understand why, it is very fresh in parts with icy patches on the hillside. Along the way we pass a pump house which turns out to be part of an aeration system installed in the lake bottom. Like any fish tank without external flow to avoid deoxygenated muck and dead ecosystem. From up on the hills when you look down at the lake you see these circles made up of air rising from the bottom but looking like little whirlpools waiting to suck the unsuspecting boaters to the bottom.
Nainital or Naini Tal. Naini referring to the legend of the eyes (naini) of Devi Sati's corpse fell into the lake (tal) while being carried by Shiva to Mount Kailash.
From the south east lakes edge via various stair routes we climb past various families, then a group of chatting guys, a police post, and then finally an army patrolled burnt government building. The building by the looks colonial era burnt out four months ago, which is a shame because even burnt it is an impressive building. We are given approval to cut through the grounds to continue up the hill. Beyond the gates we pass school after school, mostly private but some public. All with large walled grounds and fantastic views.
The Britishers, as locally referred to, left or inspired some beautiful buildings in the Hill stations that we have visited. No doubt like any colonial government of the era they may have treated the local peoples poorly in the pursuit of the particular Empire's riches, power and personal privilege, but they also left behind a definite impression in the architecture.
Unfortunately similar to Almora many of this era's buildings are falling into disrepair whether due to higher cost of maintaining, lack of interest or financial responsibilities lying in other areas. It is a shame as their character in the hills is fantastic, when so much of the architecture now appears purely practical with substantially concrete or rendered brick structures. Some of the wooden structures and carvings not British inspired are suffering the same fate. A similar question hangs over some heritage buildings in Australia and the temptation to replace aging grace with modern style and convenience is not unknown.
The sky is clouding over and it is cold in the shade. Leaving the road we continue to climb the hill via river pebbled paths. Past village women carrying firewood on their heads coming down. The path levels out a little and leads through a grassed grove where an Indian family are setting up for a picnic. At the junction the path leads upwards to Tiffin tops which at 2292mtr is marginally higher then Snow view on the other side. At the top bar a viewing platform over the lake, several general stores, more touristy aspects as well including horses, photographer, abseiling and a flying fox. (though only crossing a gap of about 10mtrs if that)
We ditch the crowd, most of whom have come up via horses from the western end of Nainital. When we pass the horses they seem pretty chilled out but all have their curled ears well and truly turned back. From Tiffin we walk around to Lands end through deodars, oaks and pines before following the horse trail down out of the Forrest on the far side of Tiffin before circling back around from Ramnagar to Mallital. On the pebbled path down we pass several horse groups coming up, a few of the groups passing us get Soph edgy as they yank the horses around and push them up the uneven ground harshly. Just before the pebbled path reaches the road, the horse tour groups had tented stables that had obviously been in place for quite some time.
Back in town we head over to Tallital as one of the dhabas had painted on it's front wall Kheer (rice pudding) that Soph is sadly addicted to. When we turn up however and post showing the guy inside the sign he confirms that they do not have. Post a search for our fall back option being good naan we settle on a place called the Swastika restaurant. Not a great name, but the veg only food was excellent. Bed following attempts to soundproof as much as possible, another howling night will put all the campers in very edgy mood for the ride tomorrow.
http://www.vividimagination.com.au/
Post breakfast we walk through the Tibetan market before wandering around the far side of the lake which backs onto the valleys hillside with the exception of the path, South Mall road. The view slightly altered and the quietness appreciated. Few people appear to circle the lake on this side during summer. I can understand why, it is very fresh in parts with icy patches on the hillside. Along the way we pass a pump house which turns out to be part of an aeration system installed in the lake bottom. Like any fish tank without external flow to avoid deoxygenated muck and dead ecosystem. From up on the hills when you look down at the lake you see these circles made up of air rising from the bottom but looking like little whirlpools waiting to suck the unsuspecting boaters to the bottom.
Nainital or Naini Tal. Naini referring to the legend of the eyes (naini) of Devi Sati's corpse fell into the lake (tal) while being carried by Shiva to Mount Kailash.
From the south east lakes edge via various stair routes we climb past various families, then a group of chatting guys, a police post, and then finally an army patrolled burnt government building. The building by the looks colonial era burnt out four months ago, which is a shame because even burnt it is an impressive building. We are given approval to cut through the grounds to continue up the hill. Beyond the gates we pass school after school, mostly private but some public. All with large walled grounds and fantastic views.
The Britishers, as locally referred to, left or inspired some beautiful buildings in the Hill stations that we have visited. No doubt like any colonial government of the era they may have treated the local peoples poorly in the pursuit of the particular Empire's riches, power and personal privilege, but they also left behind a definite impression in the architecture.
Unfortunately similar to Almora many of this era's buildings are falling into disrepair whether due to higher cost of maintaining, lack of interest or financial responsibilities lying in other areas. It is a shame as their character in the hills is fantastic, when so much of the architecture now appears purely practical with substantially concrete or rendered brick structures. Some of the wooden structures and carvings not British inspired are suffering the same fate. A similar question hangs over some heritage buildings in Australia and the temptation to replace aging grace with modern style and convenience is not unknown.
The sky is clouding over and it is cold in the shade. Leaving the road we continue to climb the hill via river pebbled paths. Past village women carrying firewood on their heads coming down. The path levels out a little and leads through a grassed grove where an Indian family are setting up for a picnic. At the junction the path leads upwards to Tiffin tops which at 2292mtr is marginally higher then Snow view on the other side. At the top bar a viewing platform over the lake, several general stores, more touristy aspects as well including horses, photographer, abseiling and a flying fox. (though only crossing a gap of about 10mtrs if that)
We ditch the crowd, most of whom have come up via horses from the western end of Nainital. When we pass the horses they seem pretty chilled out but all have their curled ears well and truly turned back. From Tiffin we walk around to Lands end through deodars, oaks and pines before following the horse trail down out of the Forrest on the far side of Tiffin before circling back around from Ramnagar to Mallital. On the pebbled path down we pass several horse groups coming up, a few of the groups passing us get Soph edgy as they yank the horses around and push them up the uneven ground harshly. Just before the pebbled path reaches the road, the horse tour groups had tented stables that had obviously been in place for quite some time.
Back in town we head over to Tallital as one of the dhabas had painted on it's front wall Kheer (rice pudding) that Soph is sadly addicted to. When we turn up however and post showing the guy inside the sign he confirms that they do not have. Post a search for our fall back option being good naan we settle on a place called the Swastika restaurant. Not a great name, but the veg only food was excellent. Bed following attempts to soundproof as much as possible, another howling night will put all the campers in very edgy mood for the ride tomorrow.
 |
| India, Nanital. January 2011 |
http://www.vividimagination.com.au/
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)