After a long bus ride from Chitwan, I arrived bleary eyed back in Kathmandu and ready for a night at Bishnu's. Bishnu is already off trekking again, so I'll be spending the evening with his family.
I find the closest place advertising telephone service and ask them to call Bishnu's wife, Surita, and let her know I'm ready to be picked up! 10 minutes later Surita, Bipasa (Bishnu's 5 year old daughter), Babu (Bishnu's 1.5 year old son), and a cousin who is about 12 pick me up and we are walking back to their apartment. Luckily, language is not an issue in a game of tag, and I spend most of the rest of the afternoon on their balcolny with the kids chasing them around.
Once the sun sets we head inside and I get out my camera to take pictures of the children. Bipasa is delighted and takes matters into her own hands. She hasn't quite got the idea of aim and ends up taking many out of focus close ups of things in the apartment. However, the real excitment was discovering Baba was in my camera. After reviewing pictures of themselves, we went back a little further and I showed them pictures of Bishnu during our trip.
Surita prepared another fabulous meal of dahl bhat and then Bipasa wowed me with reading and spelling in english.
The next morning Surita's uncle picked me up and walked me to where my hotel for the night would be. Luckily our room was ready and I dropped off my stuff and headed out go shopping while I waited for Doug's return.
Later in the afternoon I walked into our hotel to find Doug sauntering down the stairs. He was alive! He was in one piece! And he was leaving me to go back mountain biking the next day . . .
No worries, there was still more shopping to be done and some sights to be seen. I hit up Dunbar Square and the Mokey Temple while Doug spent a last day getting his ya ya's out.
We had a hilarious evening which I'm going to steal from Doug:
I signed up for a 9 day trip around the Kathmandu valley, which left me one full day in Kathmandu before flying out. After finishing that circuit I immediately decided to fill my last day with one more day of riding, which turned out to be one of my favorites though I crashed several times and my guide broke his rim. It was a tough trail...
One of the many incredible things about Nepal is how we got to connect personally with our guides. In fact my mtb guide was actually a mechanic who got pulled to take me out, all the other guides being booked. It turned out great for both of us and we ended up becoming quite good friends.
A little bit about my mechanic/guide, Subas. Subas is formerly a pro rider before he smashed his ankle in what must have been a horrific crash. The injury set him out of competition but in no way prevented him from kicking my ass. Subas's experience in the guiding department is fairly limited. This is evidenced by the intoned coarseness of certain statements that he intended to say with a light-hearted friendliness. I was quite caught of guard the first few times he firmly told me to "Go to your room" or asked "What are you doing?" It took a bit for us to warm up to each other but we got there.
We finished the formal tour Nov 1 and Subas takes me to his home in Kathmandu so I can meet his mother and brothers. I take this as quite an honor. We then hop across the street to local hole in the wall (and I say this almost literally) to share a few last rounds of "hard drinks" (Napali home brew). At this point it becomes clear that I've had quite an effect on Subas and he's going to miss me - he tells me this repeatedly - so we arrange to go riding one more day, my last in Kathmandu. This of course is much to Erin's chagrin as we had quite a day of shopping and errands planned. Missing out on such activities is heartbreaking to me as well. But alas, Subas and I go riding, somehow make it through some of the more difficult trail I've ever riden and back to KTM. Back to the "bar" across from his place, more hard drinks and reminiscing, and it's almost 5 - i was sposed to meet Erin at the hotel around 2. Whoops.
I find Erin and magnificently she's not pissed though she does have quite an agenda remaining for me. First task is to deliver photos to our trekking guide. By now Bishnu's off on another trek and we're faced with navigating our own way through the maze of a KTM neighborhood and finding the house we visited two weeks ago for dinner. Dinner at Bishnu's is a whole other story... Through many a back alley and quizzicle look we somehow achieve this goal and drop the gifts.
This gives us confidence. Specifically, it gives me enough confidence that I could find my way back trough another series of hidden streets to Subas's house to honor an invitation I had breezily dismissed earlier. So we re-up at the photo shop (I want to get printouts from biking and pics of the family who runs the bar across from Subas's that I had snapped earlier) and set out again. It's after dark by now and a strange time for white people to leave the safe haven of our tourist ghetto. We are undeterred. As are the opportunistic rikshaw drivers eager to take us back to Thamel. A left at this street, a right, another left ... OOH! there's the temple, we're on the right track ... right, left again, were we sposed to turn there? ... I'm not sure ... oh, this isn't right, lets turn around ... okay, turn here ... this isn't quite right, but I know where we are ... After 30 minutes and to the amuzement of many Nepali locals I hear the Black Saboth echoing from Subas' workshop. He's shocked to see me, overwhelmed by the gift of photos and, having nothing else, gives me his hat. This is the hat he's worn everyday since we met. Anyone who wears hats can appreciate the power of this gesture. Quite humbled, I suggest we go across for more hard drinks.
Don't forget that Erin is tagging along now. Through all the other time I've spent with Subas, it was just the two of us. Not that Erin's not welcome, it's just that she's not a man, which in Nepal kinda means that she's not welcome. Especially in the hole in the wall bar, far outside the tourist area, that caters to locals housing dirt cheap glasses of moonshine. Ever the gentleman, Subas makes her feel at home - as much as he can. The other clientelle - though well-mannered - do not bother to hide their astonishment. This is quite unorthodox after all, having a women -> wearing a skirt no less! - hanging out in their space and *drinking*! Nepali women would never dream of such a thing. Unlike men, drinking is not healthy for them. It required my personal (and addamment) endorsement for her to be approved seconds.
The evening continues, we drink, we laugh, Subas invites us to his home for dinner. This is an offer you do not decline. Actually, my mistake. Subas did not offer us dinner. He asked: "will you come to my home for dahl baht?" An aside about dahl baht - the staple of a Nepali diet. Literally it means "lentils and rice" but a meal of dahl baht usually includes a veggy curry and some sort of meat. Lentils are served as soup which Nepalis pour over the rice and chow with their hand. (Only the right one. The left is reserved for cleaning themselves - traditional style). As it so happened, Erin and I had resolved to try eating with our hand once before leaving. When Subas asked if we needed spoons (somewhat dissaprovingly) the perfect opportunity was presented. We dug in.
Seating was traditional: the three of us (Erin, Subas and I) on mats lining the far side of the kitchen. His sister's wife served us and mom indulged her curiosity. It's one thing to eat finger foods with your hand and quite another to negotiate soupy rice. And while I was certainly no pro, Erin was a disaster. Several attempted bites resulted in much rice dribble and now the mother is in histerics. She choked out something in Nepali and had to leave the room. Loosely translated she said: "What the hell is she doing?!?" Erin did get better from there.
We fought our way through the rest of dinner and returned to the hole accross the street. Subas and friend presented thin ivory scarves to wish us safe travels in a small cermony. Erin and I beeming gleefully - it's been quite an evening for us. A couple drinks later and there are four uniformed police officers standing in this tiny space looking at us and talking to Subas. As they leave, Subas announces: "Finish your drinks" in that curt way of his. It's time to go. The message from the police is clear: "What are white people doing outside of Thamel after dark? This is not right. They cannot be here. And a woman?!? Drinking! > Maybe in Thamel but ... Oh no, this behavior is entirely unnacceptable. There are children around! Get them back to Thamel at once." And off to Thamel we went, decorated in scarves and escorted by the police. The escorts peeled off and the touts reappeared. We were home. If only for one more night.
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