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Today was not a good day.

It all started early on this Tuesday morning.
As we did our check-out, the girl behind the desk suddenly broke into tears. I was convinced it was because she had a crush on either Bene or me (or both), but Bene insists that it is not necessarily related to my charms. First blow of the day. I am always disappointed if the receptionist does not cry on account of my charms.

We had mentally prepared for a feast of a breakfast at our favourite breakfast place, in the Tibetan quarters. A western breakfast, I am ashamed to say, but if you saw the poor excuses they eat for breakfast, you would understand (mainly, what they describe as congee, I call old rice with a lot of sugary water).

Not a very good day indeed

Degrubenc
2006-08-12 15:12:58

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is in English. What a change from China, where it is quite the opposite.

Upon my suggestion that the girl might show me round the sights of Kathmandu, she suggests that I take a guide. But then she smiles at me and disappears like a dream.

A short cab ride later, I arrive at Freak Street. This used to be the heart of the hippie community of Kathmandu. The Hippies had a good time and lived like the nobility: summers in Kathmandu and winters in Goa. Now, they have all but disappeared from Freak street. One has to pay 200 Rps to enter the street ! The Hotel I have checked in is more of an old Hippie hide out: its walls are plastered with pictures of marijuana, aliens and Area 51 warnings. The room is small, stinky and claustrophobic, with a large, dimmed window giving on the street. The bathroom is on the floor below (one for every three floors) and there is a roof terrace. The nearby streets are pleasant. There is a herd of cows underneath my windows, one of which sits in solitary splendour in the middle of the street, contemplating the traffic she is blocking. There are street vendors, Internet cafes and bookshops everywhere. It is the kind of town where one can walk barefooted, with flowing T-shirt, long beard and pyjama trousers and feel like you fit in.
There are very, very few tourists in town. I saw barely 10 all day. As I was writing my blog in an Internet café, a cow popped her head in through the window and started chewing the cord of a mouse with a nonchalant look.

I took a taxi to the French embassy. The common trick, I soon leaned at my expenses, is for the taxi driver to pretend to know exactly where he is going, go three times round the square and then ask another taxi where the address is you are looking for. The meters also have a tendency of being slightly erratic: when you are not paying attention, at every bump in the road they increase by 50 Rps, funny that!

My next problem was soon to come: I went to the Druk Air office (Bhutan national royal airline) and they announced that my flight had been cancelled (so sorry sir!) but that they will put me on a flight to Delhi and transit to Paro. Yet again, I go marching off to manager, complain and, before I know it, I have been upgraded. I am getting rather good at this. The other slight issue is that my visa for Bhutan has not yet arrived.

As I go out of the agency, I take my camera out to picture some cows using a non-violent form of protest against an army truck but I am myself knocked out by a bike, my camera falls to the floor and breaks. Before I realise it, the biker is already off.

What a day!

I decide to go back to the hotel, have a shower and read a book on the roof top terrace and not go out anymore: clearly I have bad karma.

A large and rather friendly family of cockroaches currently occupies the shower at the hotel. To use the facilities, one must stand on the toilet and somehow not fall through the lid (clearly been done before, as it has been broken a taped back together a number of times), hold the powerful jet in one hand, use the soap with the other while retaining a strong balance. The water jet can also be used to teach water surfing to the cockroaches.

The roof terrace is the redeeming feature of the hotel: it has a brilliant view of the old city, it has an old wooden bar and 2 friendly kids who make the best mango milkshake in town. I find my sleeping mat and occupy the position for the evening. There is such a cacophony of sounds and smells coming from below that it makes a pleasant and fitting backdrop to the splendid views over the old royal palace.