I travelled to Nepal and hiked the Poon Hill loop in the Annapurna trekking circuit for five glorious days to celebrate my 36th birthday. I brought a little black journal with me and scribbled some notes in an attempt to document my solo mission.
As soon as I returned to the UAE, I immediately misplaced the little black journal but just found it again. So here we go...
TUESDAY (Day 2) 6.45am -- Kathmandu
The sun had just appeared so the powers that be lined up the charter buses along the road ready to heard that day's tourist cattle.
My bus, which was only half full, had several locals on board who sat as close to the driver as possible. They appeared to be of value and didn't think twice when I climbed aboard. So I grabbed the very back, which was actually a full row of five seats because I had fantasies of a mid-day nap during what I was told would be a five-hour journey to Pohkara.
The trip took more than eight hours.
The terrain was pot hole city and the ride was so bumpy that I actually commended a woman nearby for even attempting something that resembled sleep.
Along the way, I befriended a hippie/drifter/traveler named Mickey. He was a short man, Portuguese, had to be in his late 40's. He smoked like a chimney and coughed a lot.
We had both waited in line for tea during one of the bus stops. He was ahead of me and took a quick sip. He said 'it tasted like shit' so I made a game-time decision and asked for a beer. When I initially sparked a little friendly chatter with him, I did not anticipate the flood of unrelenting dialogue he would unleash on me.
He told me things like he 'traveled for a living' and he 'didn't really have a home'. He also said he wrote for the the Portuguese Chronicles (I later googled it -- found nothing) and that he was on assignment in Nepal. When I told him that I was a journalist too, it was like pouring anecdotal gasoline on the conversation fire.
Mickey said he was documenting his entire hiking trip. He was going to start with the Annapurna circuit and then 'after a little rest' he would tackle Everest. Tackle Everest? He made it sound so easy.
That's when I really knew he was completely full of shit. But it's fun to meet these kind of whackos when you're traveling. We keep up the friendly banter for another few hours until we finally arrived in Pohkara. Everyone got off the bus, we said 'nice to meet you' and went on our separate ways.
TUESDAY (Day 2) 7:21pm -- Pohkara
My first impression of the Mountain View Hotel was that it was pretty nice. I quickly found out that it was brand new, which explained why I was the only person who was having a drink at the bar and why five staff members -- yes, five of them -- just stood uncomfortably close to me and stared, waiting for me to ask them something.
Almost by default, I decided to hit the town for some dinner. Just a leisurely walk, I thought. I'm not around the corner from my hotel before a huge gust of wind swept through the city streets, kicking up dust and dirt from the ground. It was like that scene from The Karate Kid II before the big storm came. I thought the wind was actually refreshing until I saw locals scrambling through the streets as they tried to close up their shops.
Because I was now a little scared of getting rained on, I quickly ducked into the first restaurant I saw. But the storm never came and since I was already caught in this obvious tourist trap, I dined on over-priced chicken momos and vegetable pad thai.
When I left there, I decided to indulge in this tourist trend so I walked into some store, bought some postcards and a refrigerator magnet. Just dropping dolla-dolla bills, ya'll.
As I walked back to my hotel, with a plastic tourist bag full of travel souvenirs in tow, a few dudes standing on the corner asked me very nonchalantly if I wanted to purchase 'grass' from them. Grass? What are we stuck in 1955? I think that's what my parents used to call it.
But this was Nepal, so I cut them some slack.
I guess I cut them too much slack because before I knew it, I was inside the bowels of some sketchy Nepalese restaurant surrounded by three local street toughs and they were quite determined to sell me drugs. Then their 'boss' arrived on a motor scooter. He was very friendly, too.
"I'm going to give you a great deal -- this is real quality stuff," the boss man said while his cronies nodded in agreement.
It was a good thing I had spent all my Nepalese cash on momos, Everest beer and travel postcards. I had no more money and they weren't offering any free samples. It took a lot of talking and some sly maneuvering but I slowly extracted myself from the scene, scurried around the lake and got back to my hotel just before the sun went down.
Because in Pohkara, everyone knows that's when the real weirdos came out to play.
As soon as I returned to the UAE, I immediately misplaced the little black journal but just found it again. So here we go...
TUESDAY (Day 2) 6.45am -- Kathmandu
The sun had just appeared so the powers that be lined up the charter buses along the road ready to heard that day's tourist cattle.
My bus, which was only half full, had several locals on board who sat as close to the driver as possible. They appeared to be of value and didn't think twice when I climbed aboard. So I grabbed the very back, which was actually a full row of five seats because I had fantasies of a mid-day nap during what I was told would be a five-hour journey to Pohkara.
The trip took more than eight hours.
The terrain was pot hole city and the ride was so bumpy that I actually commended a woman nearby for even attempting something that resembled sleep.
Along the way, I befriended a hippie/drifter/traveler named Mickey. He was a short man, Portuguese, had to be in his late 40's. He smoked like a chimney and coughed a lot.
We had both waited in line for tea during one of the bus stops. He was ahead of me and took a quick sip. He said 'it tasted like shit' so I made a game-time decision and asked for a beer. When I initially sparked a little friendly chatter with him, I did not anticipate the flood of unrelenting dialogue he would unleash on me.
He told me things like he 'traveled for a living' and he 'didn't really have a home'. He also said he wrote for the the Portuguese Chronicles (I later googled it -- found nothing) and that he was on assignment in Nepal. When I told him that I was a journalist too, it was like pouring anecdotal gasoline on the conversation fire.
Mickey said he was documenting his entire hiking trip. He was going to start with the Annapurna circuit and then 'after a little rest' he would tackle Everest. Tackle Everest? He made it sound so easy.
That's when I really knew he was completely full of shit. But it's fun to meet these kind of whackos when you're traveling. We keep up the friendly banter for another few hours until we finally arrived in Pohkara. Everyone got off the bus, we said 'nice to meet you' and went on our separate ways.
TUESDAY (Day 2) 7:21pm -- Pohkara
My first impression of the Mountain View Hotel was that it was pretty nice. I quickly found out that it was brand new, which explained why I was the only person who was having a drink at the bar and why five staff members -- yes, five of them -- just stood uncomfortably close to me and stared, waiting for me to ask them something.
Almost by default, I decided to hit the town for some dinner. Just a leisurely walk, I thought. I'm not around the corner from my hotel before a huge gust of wind swept through the city streets, kicking up dust and dirt from the ground. It was like that scene from The Karate Kid II before the big storm came. I thought the wind was actually refreshing until I saw locals scrambling through the streets as they tried to close up their shops.
Because I was now a little scared of getting rained on, I quickly ducked into the first restaurant I saw. But the storm never came and since I was already caught in this obvious tourist trap, I dined on over-priced chicken momos and vegetable pad thai.
When I left there, I decided to indulge in this tourist trend so I walked into some store, bought some postcards and a refrigerator magnet. Just dropping dolla-dolla bills, ya'll.
As I walked back to my hotel, with a plastic tourist bag full of travel souvenirs in tow, a few dudes standing on the corner asked me very nonchalantly if I wanted to purchase 'grass' from them. Grass? What are we stuck in 1955? I think that's what my parents used to call it.
But this was Nepal, so I cut them some slack.
I guess I cut them too much slack because before I knew it, I was inside the bowels of some sketchy Nepalese restaurant surrounded by three local street toughs and they were quite determined to sell me drugs. Then their 'boss' arrived on a motor scooter. He was very friendly, too.
"I'm going to give you a great deal -- this is real quality stuff," the boss man said while his cronies nodded in agreement.
It was a good thing I had spent all my Nepalese cash on momos, Everest beer and travel postcards. I had no more money and they weren't offering any free samples. It took a lot of talking and some sly maneuvering but I slowly extracted myself from the scene, scurried around the lake and got back to my hotel just before the sun went down.
Because in Pohkara, everyone knows that's when the real weirdos came out to play.
