Pokhara, Saturday the 30th of July

degrubenc Wyświetlono: 115 razy 2005-12-09 18:06:34

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As the hotel car drops me at the airport, I still feel rather sleepy but excited at the though of what I was about to do. I saw a brochure detailing possible excursions around the Annapurna. I go through the customs procedure with an amused feeling: the check-in desk is just that - a simple desk, all is done by hand, no computers to be seen anywhere. My check-in is done in record time (about 30 seconds), the security check consists of a single question from a guard asleep in a corner: do you have something you shouldn’t have? I reply, with my best smile, that of course not, he gently pats my pockets so that his conscience may rest easy, ignores my bags as it is clearly too much effort and waves me through to the departure lounge. From the moment I stepped into the lounge and saw the plane, I thought Christmas had come early. The plane was tiny, two propeller engine; I was flying with Shangri-la airline to Pokhara, a tiny domestic airline. The plane took a maximum of 12 passengers but there were only 3 of us, myself and two Indian ladies with a lot of bags.<br/><br/>

As the hotel car drops me at the airport, I still feel rather sleepy but excited at the though of what I was about to do. I saw a brochure detailing possible excursions around the Annapurna. I go through the customs procedure with an amused feeling: the check-in desk is just that - a simple desk, all is done by hand, no computers to be seen anywhere. My check-in is done in record time (about 30 seconds), the security check consists of a single question from a guard asleep in a corner: do you have something you shouldn’t have? I reply, with my best smile, that of course not, he gently pats my pockets so that his conscience may rest easy, ignores my bags as it is clearly too much effort and waves me through to the departure lounge. From the moment I stepped into the lounge and saw the plane, I thought Christmas had come early. The plane was tiny, two propeller engine; I was flying with Shangri-la airline to Pokhara, a tiny domestic airline. The plane took a maximum of 12 passengers but there were only 3 of us, myself and two Indian ladies with a lot of bags.

I was sat directly behind the pilot and next to the hostess. She was rather charming and I positively fell in love with her before take-off. The take-off was tremendous fun: noisy, bouncy and uncertain. This is why people love flying, the vibrations of the aircraft, the roar of the engine and the uncertainty of the return. During the flight, the pilot and I started chatting about life. He was born in Kathmandu but trained in India. We flew relatively low, following the valleys, sometimes climbing higher above the clouds so that we could see the mountain range; he had incredible freedom in his flight plan.

At one point, we flew over a large monastic complex. I asked the pilot what it was and, instead of answering, he drops down and circles it a couple of time and gives me some name or the other for it. We fly so low that I am able to see what the monks are having for lunch: rice and green vegetables by the look of things. This is what flying should be like. I can now understand a bit better my father’s love of flight simulators. The landing at Pokhara is even more impressive looking at it through the cockpit.

Pokhara airport is little more than a small house by the runway. There is a large aircraft that crashed at the end of the runway (or was simply forgotten there) and is currently calmly rusting away. The military protecting the runway take advantage of the sunny weather to dry their clothes on the pillboxes. It looks relaxed. A car from the hotel picks me up as I get off the aircraft and drives me to the Shangri-La Resort Village.

It is unfortunately rather far from the lake but pleasantly set in the middle of large rice fields.

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