December 2, 2008
Namaste! (Nepalese nat'l greeting – translation: I bow to the god in you)
After a 2hr train ride from Oxford to Harlington, two stops on the Underground to Heathrow, a 10-hour flight with a pitstop in New Delhi, and a harrowing drive in the back of a dilapidated jitney (or what passes for a taxi here), I arrived in Kathmandu! I am currently staying in a budget tourist hostel located just outside of Thamel, the tourist ghetto of Nepal. The first thing that hits you as you enter the city is the smell—a pungent and dusty combination of incense, curry, and sewage. Thamel is teeming with tourists, trekkers, and (wannabe) hippies, and the streets are overflowing with restaurants and shops, with stands/carts/rickshaws squeezed into every available nook and cranny. At the same time, the pace of life here in Nepal is incredibly relaxed and laidback. The crazy motorists (think Asian driver stereotype on speed) keep things nice and hectic, but every server and shopowner is eager to take five or ten minutes to chat with a lonely tourist, offer sightseeing advice, and impart some essential Nepali phrases like “how much for a cup of rice beer?” Also, there is no stopping a cashier if he wants to dig through five drawers for a broken cig while you wait for your change.
Though the shops, and requisite bargaining, were too much to handle for the first day, I managed to do some serious damage in the restaurant sector. Over the course of an evening, I sampled Tibetan buffalo momos (steamed dumplings), Newari tawkhaa (jellied, curried meat), Indian samosas from a street vendor (fyi: hygiene is overrated), a sad attempt at an American jelly donut, and, of course, the ubiquitous chiya (a heavenly mixture of Nepali tea, milk, sugar and spices), which is the national drink and enjoyed throughout the day in the home and workplace. All this for less than $5! Seriously, the prices are a God-/Buddha-/Vishnu-send. I can finally eat w/o emptying my bank account! I mean, while England’s great and all, the amount of money I spent on food was verging on the obscene. Then again, I felt as though I was literally committing a crime against the vendor when I forked over the NPR equivalent of 13¢ for 2 large samosas.
Anyway, it’s late in the evening and definitely not the best time to wander alone so I’m going to carefully make my way back to the hostel. The roads are a hodgepodge of dirt, chunks of broken pavement and rocks, so without any streetlights you never really know when or at what elevation your foot will hit the ground. Luckily, the dinky b/w television set in my room gets not only Indian MTV but also StarWorld, a channel devoted to American sitcoms, soaps, and dramas. Guess I’ll be passing out to Bollywood music vids or Friends reruns. Or, heaven forbid, that criminally awful 90210 remake.
And on that note… Jeni out.
After a 2hr train ride from Oxford to Harlington, two stops on the Underground to Heathrow, a 10-hour flight with a pitstop in New Delhi, and a harrowing drive in the back of a dilapidated jitney (or what passes for a taxi here), I arrived in Kathmandu! I am currently staying in a budget tourist hostel located just outside of Thamel, the tourist ghetto of Nepal. The first thing that hits you as you enter the city is the smell—a pungent and dusty combination of incense, curry, and sewage. Thamel is teeming with tourists, trekkers, and (wannabe) hippies, and the streets are overflowing with restaurants and shops, with stands/carts/rickshaws squeezed into every available nook and cranny. At the same time, the pace of life here in Nepal is incredibly relaxed and laidback. The crazy motorists (think Asian driver stereotype on speed) keep things nice and hectic, but every server and shopowner is eager to take five or ten minutes to chat with a lonely tourist, offer sightseeing advice, and impart some essential Nepali phrases like “how much for a cup of rice beer?” Also, there is no stopping a cashier if he wants to dig through five drawers for a broken cig while you wait for your change.
Though the shops, and requisite bargaining, were too much to handle for the first day, I managed to do some serious damage in the restaurant sector. Over the course of an evening, I sampled Tibetan buffalo momos (steamed dumplings), Newari tawkhaa (jellied, curried meat), Indian samosas from a street vendor (fyi: hygiene is overrated), a sad attempt at an American jelly donut, and, of course, the ubiquitous chiya (a heavenly mixture of Nepali tea, milk, sugar and spices), which is the national drink and enjoyed throughout the day in the home and workplace. All this for less than $5! Seriously, the prices are a God-/Buddha-/Vishnu-send. I can finally eat w/o emptying my bank account! I mean, while England’s great and all, the amount of money I spent on food was verging on the obscene. Then again, I felt as though I was literally committing a crime against the vendor when I forked over the NPR equivalent of 13¢ for 2 large samosas.Anyway, it’s late in the evening and definitely not the best time to wander alone so I’m going to carefully make my way back to the hostel. The roads are a hodgepodge of dirt, chunks of broken pavement and rocks, so without any streetlights you never really know when or at what elevation your foot will hit the ground. Luckily, the dinky b/w television set in my room gets not only Indian MTV but also StarWorld, a channel devoted to American sitcoms, soaps, and dramas. Guess I’ll be passing out to Bollywood music vids or Friends reruns. Or, heaven forbid, that criminally awful 90210 remake.
And on that note… Jeni out.
ahh!!they had starworld in Istanbul as well! Was really a lifesaver because I could really only take so much of the same 6 Turkish music videos of which I only really could tap my foot to two.
ReplyDeleteJeni, I know I don't need to say it, but just in case you've forgotten how much I care, take care of yourself.