When we awoke we decided that our current hotel would suffice and called off our planned search for cheaper accommodation. A dormitory in a backpacker’s hostel would be sure to be chock-a-block with wazzocks (annoying and pretentious Western travellers) and at least this place was not lacking in blankets and was free of insects and vermin.
We had a thick porridge in the Young Dung followed by omelette and coffee. Then we set off to see the sights. An excess of religious shrines and temples packed into a tiny area off Durbar Square and we gave these a quick once-over. Kathmandu Durbar Square (Basantapur Durbar Khsetra) in front of the old royal palace of the former Kathmandu Kingdom is one of three Durbar (royal palace) Squares in the Kathmandu Valley in Nepal, all of which are UNESCO World Heritage Sites.
Wikipedia explains that The Kathmandu Durbar Square held the palaces of the Malla and Shah kings who ruled over the city. Along with these palaces, the square surrounds quadrangles, revealing courtyards and temples. It is known as Hanuman Dhoka Durbar Square, a name derived from a statue of Hanuman, the monkey devotee of Lord Ram, at the entrance of the palace.
We bought some postcards and hit the Post Office where the international travellers freak show seemed to be in full swing. A tall scruffy idiot looked “spaced out” while another juggled and another played a cheap flute. A girl in shorts and ridiculously oversize walking boots (modelled on Florence from the Magic Roundabout?) stomped around while other blokes stood about posing with the sole intention of exhibiting their whisker and beard displays. We bought our postage stamps and fled for a walk around the back streets.
George bought a dog-eared copy of Jupiter’s Travels by Ted Simon, a book which had been the main inspiration for our own travels. From 1973 to 1977 Ted Simon rode 63,000 miles on a 500 cc Triumph Tiger 100 motorcycle over four years through fifty-four countries in a journey that took him around the world. Through breakdowns, prison, war, revolutions, disasters, and a Californian commune, he travelled into the depths of fear and reached the heights of euphoria. He met astonishing people and was treated as a spy, a welcome stranger and even a god. For Simon, the trip became a journey into his own soul, and for many others, including George and I, it provides an inspiration they will never forget. He concluded that the breakdowns and the problems along the way were the journey.
Disillusioned and bored we drifted into Mom’s Health Food Store for “peanut coffee”. Also this morning we had changed up some money which proved to be a pleasant quick and efficient process for a change. After writing several postcards we set off for another walkabout. Apart from religious gizmos, the colourful Nepalese hats and the odd duck herder Kathmandu is just another dirty town with dim, smelly alleyways and little to hold our interest. Our fellow travellers turn to dope for enlightenment!
The other Europeans swanning around in local garb and hippy paraphernalia contributed to our depression until only the thought of eating provided a glimmer of light in the gloom of our thoughts. Hindu’s touched the garbage-grazing cows and touched their foreheads in religious behaviour that seemed alien and foolish to us.
We wandered into a restaurant for a meal at 16:30 hrs. and here I started writing an aerogramme to Rob Rowe, a colleague from BP Research days, with a new biro which I purchased today. The fucker kept packing up and interrupting the continuity of my prose until I got angry and tried to smash it up on the table (pathetic behaviour huh?!). As I crashed it down point-first it upset my cup of tea which flooded over the letter and I gave up in disgust.
George snickered as we ate sweet’n’sour vegetables with egg fried rice and a desert of custard. We walked back to the Pokhara Lodge as it got dark, heads bowed, pissed off with this place and with nothing to do. Back in our room we came up against stumbling blocks to all our plans and sank deeper into a spazzy mood, a mixture of despair and madness.
We made an excursion into Pig Alley and discovered the Ashok Pie & Restaurant where we had a super meal of hamburger, chips and crunchy boiled vegetables that cheered me up no end. I finished with a slice of apple pie as George put away another colossal slice of cake. Western music reminded us of home, especially Fool to Cry by The Rolling Stones, until the local customer had been persuaded to turn his portable transistor radio off!
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