Back In Pokhara.

I spend the next 6 days doing very little, basically waiting for my knees to get better (oh yeah, I also sprained my ankle in the last 10min of the 10 day trek!  It’d be funny if only it was happening to someone else.)  Myself and the frenchman meet up with some of the Intrepid group and I am perhaps a tad overly amused when requests come forth for him to say “Wafer thin mint sir?”  There is an attempt to explain that we’re not being racist as it’s Monty Python.  Unfortunately he then says “Pithan?” which ruins any justification as everyone erupts in laughter.

Most folk head back to Kathmandu.  I enjoy a flaming steak with two of the trekkers from Sydney.  Hint: Keep eyebrows at a safe distance - cow is surprisingly flammable!  After this it’s 4 days of sitting in the hostel’s garden playing guitar, reading and sampling the odd mojito - there are worse ways to spend you time.

A few days later Kelly and Judy (the Americans I met on the way up) return from the mountains.  We celebrate Kelly’s birthday which becomes quite a messy affair for the girls and a noisy one at that as the sounds of consequence can be heard coming form the bathroom throughout the early hours.

I now make possibly the worst choice so far of the trip (many more to come).  I d

ecide to join the girls on a week long yoga retreat (you’ll recall the success I had with yoga in India).  Unsurprisingly my first impressions are; “This is bollocks”.  Now, most of it I can handle; getting up early is not a problem, the veggie food is quite tasty, the little treks are fine, okay the pouring a watering can full of warm salty water into your nose whilst pretending to chop wood or dance like a chicken whilst snorting like a horse is a bit odd but I’m sure it’s good for you!?  I even enjoy the yoga!!  What I can’t get into is the meditation.  Maybe it’s the chanting mantras that mean precisely nothing to me or it could be the screaming children running around outside or p

erhaps it’s the builders they have working at the retreat or possibly it’s next door’s dance music.  Whichever, it’s not exactly peaceful.  We are then introduced to laughing meditation.  This is basically rolling around on the floor laughing at nothing like the nurse forgot to give you your meds on her morning rounds.  At this point I reassess my first impression; “This is UTTER bollocks!”  The following morning (day 3) my bags are packed. Adios Yogi!  Thanks for the experience but you can kiss your own overcharging arse! (he actually can.  I’ve seen the photo and it’s quite disturbing!)

By the afternoon I’m

 paragliding.  Now this is more like it!  I’m given no time to think or have doubts.  I arrive on the hill, am strapped in and; RUN! Shiiiiit!!  I’m flying!  I spend an hour and a half soaring around the ridges of the foothills and dipping into valleys.  we are followed by some curious and feckin huge birds, possibly eagles, definitely not budgies.

It’s all pretty relaxing until the death spins over the lake.  We get some proper G-force and apparently my pilot as only landed in the lake twice - which is nice.

By mid afternoon I bump into Kelly and Judy who apparently just had to get one more watering can up the nose session in before also quitting under the bullshit clause.  We proceed to undue any cleansing undertaken in the local late night spot.

This is where I meet Oliver.  Prepare to be impressed; Oliver has ridden his motorbike from the UK to Nepal, working his way around the world and passing through such Lastminute.com favorites as Pakistan.  If that doesn’t sound challenging enough, bear in mind that he’s ginger and Welsh.

I’m inspired; I book motorbike lessons and soon find myself practicing figure of eights around moving buffalo (I did ask them to stay still but...).  A novelty elsewhere, this is a necessity in Nepal.  Practice over and I’m out on the open road climbing into the hills that eventually lead back to India.  My instructor, Rick, issues a couple of warnings; 

Honk the horn at everything except chickens - they become suicidal upon the sound and will dive under your front wheel.  They’re also expensive.  You are required to pay for the potential yield of offspring and eggs - how the hell do you figure that out!?

If you’re hit by anything, get of the road quicker than Michael Flattley’s heel can kick his own arse.  Driver’s can not afford your medical costs so will reverse to finish the job off.  Great!

So, all this time in Pokhara I was staying at Sweet Dreams Hostel.  If you happen to find yourself in the neighborhood, I recommend it.  I spend a lot of time playing guitar in the garden which leads to playing an acoustic night for them (the hostel has a music room and proper PA set up).  This was great fun.  whilst I’m playing Pearl Jam and Neil Young covers, I’m accompanied by a classical violinist and provided nepalese backing vocals from one of the finalists of Nepali Pop Idol - Yes, they even have it in Nepal!  A truly random and top draw night.

Lalit and his wife are great hosts.  I’m invited to family meals, kept well fed on momo and taken to the local football final.  This turns out to be the police vs the army and bloo

dy awful football.  The stampedes and small scale rioting are good fun though.   I spend the last few days painting a picture for the hostel for which I’m rewarded with a steady flow of free mojitos.  Mmmm....minty drunk.