Driving under the influence of dangerously unfounded optimism

Chaotic driving figured prominently in our first impressions of Kathmandu; it's hard not to notice it, whether you are in a car, on foot, or, if you are brave enough, on two wheels.  Or indeed in the newspapers, where you read about the latest bus crash.  You can't even escape it in the back streets any more.  I wondered if this was a Kathmandu phenomena or a Nepalese one. Alas, our trip to Pokhara suggests that chaotic driving extends well beyond the big city limits. (Even the skies above Pokhara are busy, we looked up and saw over 20 paragliders sharing the airspace in very close proximity.)

The worse culprits are the 'micros' - minibuses of up to 18 people - that promise a faster trip between Kathmandu and Pokhara. And when you have seen a few of these overtake you on blind corners, you understand why.  Those that do get to their destination will indeed save you time...... What is interesting though is the tacit tolerance of these high risk drivers by other drivers that actually seems to encourage them to take more risks.  For example, the "mad" driver starts his overtaking manoeuvre, (nobody uses indicators, by the way) seemingly regardless of whether he can see adequate overtaking space or not.  At this point, one of the passengers on the near side leans out of his window, his arm hanging down the side, poised.  If something is suddenly coming in the other direction, he simply waves his arm assumptively as if to say to the vehicle he is passing: "We're coming past, you'll slow down and let us in, won't you" and of course, they always do.  Which is ironic, because in the city, nobody lets anybody in ever. It's as if there must be an imaginary line outside city limits where the rules change.

I read in "The Himalayan" last weekend that the police had had their first major crackdown on road offences. They handed out 3,800 tickets in one day, most of which were 1000 rupee (£8) instant fine. It's a start but it will take a while to have an impact.

Here's a brief taste of the 'Madness' on the streets of Nepal!  

Very large hairy spider on my pillow!

Before we set out on our gap-year, I decided it was time to man up and deal with spiders.  I reasoned that it is not enough to let Jules deal with them in the knowledge that I ‘bravely’ handle all the wasps, as if it was some kind of acceptable quid pro quo.  Wasps don’t worry me, but large spiders do.  Nevertheless, before we left home, there was a medium sized spider scuttling across the stone floor at Keith and Jenny’s house, and I decided to steel myself and pick him up and put him outside the house, much to the surprise of my father in law, who was unused to seeing such feats, from me at least.  

So when we explored our room at a little hotel in Nagarkot, just outside Kathmandu, this week, we saw a number of spiders in our room each night. Thankfully, they were sufficiently small to deal with, no more than two inches diameter, and flattish so suitable for picking up using the “card and cup” trick.  All except one.  A large one.  Very large.  Un-Britishly large.  Jules saw him first, just above the door, thankfully on the outside.  I glanced up when she mentioned it - even she was taken aback.  I just saw part of it disappear around the corner of one of the joists, and resolved immediately to not look up whenever I passed through the door.  It was like a unilateral pact.   I won’t bother you and you stay out there out of my way. I think I perfected the art of locking and unlocking the door by leaning over and reaching the lock from about 6 feet away. 

Then on our last night, just as we were putting the boys to bed, I was walking towards the boys bed at the other end of the room.  There was a power cut again, a daily occurrence as they use power load-sharing here.   We had a couple of candles flickering away and as I flicked the torch light cross the room, I caught sight of something black on the curtain above our bed.  I glanced over and saw this unfeasibly large spider, moving stealthily across the curtain in that creepy slow-motion way, like a determined tarantula. It was about the same size as the tarantula we’d seen in Argentina, but somehow in the dark light, it looked bigger and its blackness made it even more menacing. In fact at one point, with the shadows, I thought there were two of them together.  I called Jules over - calmly, I thought, although she later thought that the urgency in my voice suggested a possible serious injury.  There was no way we were sleeping with THAT running amok in our room.  We started thinking about how to turf it out, a cup would be no good, you;d need a small bucket. We decided to call the chap downstairs, as they told us they’d be happy to help. 

Of course, when he came back up, the spider was nowhere to be seen, having gone behind the curtain, and we couldn’t remember whether it was the left or right one.  The young chap looked behind both, even giving them a gentle shake, but the spider wasn’t there.  An uneasy silence descended, broken only by sound of our wind-up torch being vigourously re-energised. It began to look like we might be left with a decidedly unsatisfactory conclusion and the suggestion that “It’s probably gone now.”  Then Frankie called out excitedly “There, there, there!"   "Where?"  "Up there! Up there! Up there on the curtain rail”

Sure enough, the spider, accompanied by it’s even larger shadow, were crawling along the top of the rail and onto the wall.  As the waiter gingerly tried to grab it by one leg, it dropped onto my pillow (of all places) and attempted an escape. Thankfully the young man, with far more bravery than I would have mustered, grabbed the spider by the leg and headed out of the door. 
“Thank goodness that’s out.  Isn’t that the biggest spider you’ve ever seen Jules?” I remarked.  “No” she replied. The one outside our door is a lot bigger.  

Gives a whole new meaning to the expression “Spider at Large.”

We have a little video footage we took at the time. Perhaps wait till bedtime to look at it.....

Family Momo-making in Kathmandu!

On our third day in Nepal, we went on a cooking course altogether to learn how to make momos. They are a kind of Nepalese dumpling, originating in Tibet, and we opted for two types: chicken and also spinach and ricotta cheese.  While we did the shopping the boys were also offered the opportunity to buy a Mars and a Snickers to make some special momo desserts!

The course was a lot of fun, and we took home the recipes in the hope that we'll be able to make momos for our friends and family on our return!

Here's a short movie of our momo-making experience together.......

My first impressions of Nepal - by Frankie

This is Frankie's response to the same questions we asked Louis:

1) What were your first impressions of Nepal and 2) How do you think Nepal compares to Weybridge?

My first impression of Nepal - by Louis

We asked the boys to write about their first impressions of Nepal, and how they thought it compared to Weybridge.  

Here is Louis' work.

Kathmandu - 22 years on......

I have wondered many times what it would be like to come back to Kathmandu, the place I’d enjoyed the most when I took a year out in my twenties. Would it have changed much?  How familiar would it be? Would it still have the same friendly vibe?  

Our plane arrived at Kathmandu from Kuala Lumpur and after leaving the plane, we embarked on the process of getting visas sorted out.  We feared a lengthy administrative ordeal with forms and photos needed - it turned out to be a very straightforward process thanks to the friendly and least officious border staff you could wish to meet - they even entertained the boys while we went through the forms!  Passing customs, we saw our name on a placard - excellent - the taxi we’d arranged with the Garuda had turned up.  The older looking chap seemed vaguely familiar and I wondered if he was someone from the Hotel Garuda from my last visit.  It turned out he was an airport porter and it wasn’t entirely clear how he’d got our placard.  Clever trick though, and caught me out, as thats the first time, albeit unwittingly, I’d used an airport porter.

Busy streets, everyone edges into the gaps, no-one gives way!

The journey to Thamel was a very immediate and stark reminder of just how much Kathmandu has changed. But the change didn’t reflect the modernisation you might have expected, rather the mismatch between the road infrastructure (which, if anything, looked worse than before) and the volume of traffic chaotically exploiting it; cars, buses, motorbikes  - and so many people - and carving each other up to a cacophony of blaring horns.  It was almost like being in a crazy video game, but one you’d find to be unrealistic because it would seem improbable that cars could pass so close to pedestrians without hitting them. Motorbikes swerving at high speed between pedestrians, passing within centimetres, taxis honking furiously as their wing-mirrors threaten to at least break a few arms here and there.  But the really surprising thing is not that they get away with it - there is virtually no visible enforcement of traffic discipline - but that pedestrians just take it in their stride as being entirely normal. No-one seems in the slightest bit bothered that they come so close to being hit. You don’t even see anyone looking annoyed with other drivers. Imagine if this happened in Weybridge.  Even one of the lesser near-misses we saw would have attracted a small crowd of people, generally shaking their heads,  tutting and muttering disdainfully “What a nutter” in the direction of the perpetrator. 

So when I met my old friend Tseten Norkyel the next day, head of the Garuda Hotel where I’d stayed both previously and on this trip, his explanation that Kathmandu had grown from less than 1m to over 6m people in the intervening period helped account for the change I’d observed on the roads. 

Some of the things are similar; there are still a plethora of colourful signs vying for your attention, up above the street level nestled amongst an unbelievable tangled web of cables. And there are still plenty of shops selling Nepalese clothes - although it does feel that they are more likely to be bought and worn by visitors than locals these days.

Colourful streets........

..........especially with the prayer flags

I remember sauntering down the middle of the roads (can’t do that anymore) as there were few cars off the main roads back then.  You could strike up conversation with shopkeepers, there was a relaxed pace and tone.  Now people are keener to sell to you, taxis, rickshaw drivers in particular stopping to ask you to take a ride; whilst occasionally boys still in their teens furtively whisper to you what drugs might be on sale as they pass by. The script about friendly locals is not as obvious with the present generation of young men, not unreasonably, perhaps, given the troubles the country has been through in the last 15 years.

Overtaking rules are a little different

driving on the left is a fairly loose concept....

On our first afternoon, we walked to Swayambunath temple, famed for the presence of many monkeys (possibly rabid and aggressive according to the guidebook, so don’t get too close.) It was a 90 minute walk across Kathmandu, taking in busy and some quieter areas, but in the city all the way.  Ironically in my trip there previously, by bike, I remember cycling across the countryside and passing through little villages along the way, when the city boundary was far nearer the centre.  Now its been enveloped by the city.  We passed the river Bagmati - the guidebook warned of the most polluted river on earth.  Actually, you can barely see the river for the rubbish, although you can start to smell it from half a mile away.....

You can hardly see the actual river......

When you look out from the top of the temple (after climbing 365 steps) you see one huge sprawling city of Kathmandu, whereas before, it had been three distinct cities - Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur - with countryside in between.

That said, it’s just a first impression from a primarily city based experience so far. We’ve also had some very pleasant exchanges with people at the hotel, shops and restaurants we been to, and over the next 3 weeks or so here, as we get out to Pokhara and go trekking at Gorephani, we’ll gain a more balanced insight of Nepal today. 

As we gazed out to the horizon at 5am this morning from our hotel “At the end of the Universe” in Nagarkot, we had spectacular views of the Himalayas.  

No change there then, at least.  

Gorge-walking - and swimming - in Western Australia's Karijini

ready to go a-gorging

The Karijini National Park is on most people’s route if you are heading inland from the Ningaloo Reef. In Australian terms, its just a short jaunt a little way across the map heading east from Exmouth (about 7 hours!) just past a place (not a person) called Tom Price.  It promises some spectacular views and fascinating natural gorge walking amongst some of the oldest rocks in the world.  And by not going overboard with signs when you are on it, with small discreet coloured disks on the rocks, it occasionally keeps you thinking about where to go next.

We got to Karijini towards the end of the afternoon, so only had time for a short descent to Fortescue Falls - the idea of coming back up a steep crumbly slope in the dark didn’t appeal so we left the extension trip up to Fern Lake for another day. The water was cool and refreshing and clear enough that you could see the rocks below to navigate your way in. The strata of the rocks were almost like steps as you descended down to the water. 

The following day we took a longer walk along the Class 4 route to Circular Pool, a couple of kilometres up the gorge, which presented us with the opportunity for plenty of rock-hopping and jumping along the way, that the boys loved. Every now and then as you are brushing aside hanging fronds or bushy long grass to find your way, you have to remind yourself that there could be some unwelcome visitors hanging about.  Fortunately we only came across interesting and friendly ones - a Golden Orb Spider, and a Giant Centipede and plenty of lizards, including a legless lizard. (It’s a specific variety, honest).

Golden Orb Spider

Giant Centipede

Lizard (with legs)

Frankie in the pool, Jules and Louis under the waterfall

You passed some amazing views of the impressive gorges, banded with different hues of orange and red, creating mirror-like reflections in the crystal green water below. It was a very hot morning, with no wind, and as we reached the welcome sight of Circular Pool, we were very much ready for a swim in the lake.  If you swam to the far side, after adjusting to the unexpectedly cold water, there was a warm waterfall, made so by the fact that it flows across the sun-roasted rock above the hole. We paddled there for an hour or so before coming back up a different route, and giving the boys a chance to scramble up an even steeper, crumblier route than the previous day.  We had to rein them back in frequently as they were keen to leave us behind and get to the top!

Rock-hopping

getting back to the top

A German girl from a nearby RV came to us for help and showed us some mysterious bite marks on her ankle; possible a spider.  We weren’t really able to help her very much, other than an ice-pack which didn’t seem that effective - although I think the glass of wine was welcome. She was fine in the morning so it probably wasn’t anything (immediately) fatal......

It was very pleasant to eat outside in the evening, the flies for the most part disappeared when the air cooled. Unfortunately our RV wasn’t a great off-roader so we were only able to spend a couple of days at Karijini, more’s the pity.  There remain numerous other gorges that will have to wait for our next visit!

Four stations in one day.......

I like truckin', I like truckin'........

Driving around Australia in a campervan is a great way to see the country, and makes arriving and leaving new places refreshingly simple.  No need to book ahead, no need to lug your rucksacks out of the car or bus and then unpack them.  And consequently no need to repack them when you are leaving.  You just park, turn on the gas for the cooker and you are good to go. Sure, the journeys are long and the scenery can be boring at times, but there are a heap of things that could happen on the way to keep you on your toes.

Ready for the 'Kangaroo Slalom'

Firstly, there's the possibility of a kangaroo about to leap out, especially if you are early in the morning or approaching sunset.  You see enough dead ones to know that this is a reasonable bet at some point. Then there's the added drama of overtaking road trains, all fifty-plus metres of them, with the excitement of the rear trailer (some have four trailers in all) snaking along and threatening to whip across and push you off the road as you attempt to pass; the sheer length of the road trains making you sometimes question whether you have left enough road to pass them as it takes an age to do so, and forget the huge sideways gusts of air as you finally pass the front of these giant road beasts. I chatted with a road train driver, he said they drive sometimes 1,400 kilometres in a day, up to 17 hours. (I couldn't help thinking about the "I like trucking" sketch from the 'Not The Nine O'clock News' team all those years ago, but there wasn't a kangaroo sticker in sight on the driver's door). 

Move over,  house coming

You get plenty of “wide loads” coming along, which force you to come off the road sometimes less you find yourself embedded in the side of a moving house......yes house. Then every now and again you'll see a flurry of activity on the road ahead, and as you get closer, you'll make out crows and wedge tail eagles feasting greedily on a bloody carcass, probably the latest victim of the merciless road train, that stops for practically nothing. The eagles are always last to leave the table, circling lazily around to return once you've passed.  But the crows are cannier - we've seen quite a few dead eagles, but not a single dead crow. 

Australia is the most expensive of all the places visited on our trip to date. So when we found ourselves visiting four gas stations in one day yesterday on a particularly long trip from Karajini to Sandstone, I figured we'd definitely not be coming out under budget for the day.  I'm not saying that we used four full tanks, but the received wisdom out here is generally to top up whenever you can, as the distance between filling stations can often be 200 or 300 kilometres or in some cases, particularly when you get inland, considerably more. 

Beach breakfast al fresco

Head to toe in their cosy RV bed

Still, this part of the trip was particularly for the boys, who loved the idea of an RV trip ever since we spent a week on a houseboat in Canada a couple of summers ago. And they, and indeed we, haven't been disappointed. Lots of meals al fresco, (except when the flies become just too much), and opportunities to sleep close to nature - like in the Cape Range National Park by the beach on the amazing Ningaloo Reef amongst inquisitive kangaroos; or in the outback at Karajini National Park close to the beautiful gorges and refreshing lakes; or overlooking the curious metal sculptures that dot the dried out salt flats of Lake Ballard and seem to continue endlessly out towards the shimmering horizon. 

Camping on the edge of Lake Ballard

I'm sure we'll miss the RV a little when we hand the keys back in a couple of days. Although having a little more space will no doubt be welcome too!

Loads of room, really, when you have a system.......

Baders on tour in Fiji - highlights!

Thanks to Bobo and Karin, our stay at Bobo's Farm in Fiji was a very special one, and one of the highlights of our trip.  We put together this short clip to remind us.....