I am not unhappy to leave Chitwan. Despite having had an enjoyable time, I have the impression that most of it is staged for tourists and that robs me of the wonder of nature and the 'wild'life. I even begin to wonder if the 'traditional village life' is staged and they all go home at the end of the day to large villas with 24hr electric and LCD tvs. Except I do not think this exists in Nepal.
Of course, charging rhinos, alligators leaping out at your canoe, and even leeches sucking your life blood away add a little more excitement than your average safari park but trying to sleep in damp sheets, showering in cold water and dressing in damp clothes is more depressing than relaxing and I am in need of some serious R&R after India.
I have no expectations of Pokhara as we leave Chitwan and drive through the beautiful, Nepali countryside, with it's thatched villages, ponds, village water pump, lush fields, loose chickens, ducks, geese, cows, goats and occasional cats and dogs. I wonder if Britain was like this in the 17th century (paddy fields excepted).
This is the start of Desain in Nepal, probably the largest festival in the country and our local agent, Yadu, has invited us to his family home in Ghorka (home of the famous regiment) to celebrate the first day. The whole family is there to greet us and somehow, 24 visitors and 10-12 family members manage to arrange themselves round the small balcony of the villa perched on the side of a mountain. The views are stunning and yet you can feel the isolation that the winter snow must bring. We are plied with drinks and snacks, but when a tray of mutton 'nuggets' are brought out everyone politely declines. These had been experienced the night before in Chitwan and most had suffered as a result. As Yadu's beautiful niece offers them it gets embarrassing. They have obviously put a lot of work into preparing for our visit. Michele, the human dustbin, comes to the rescue. He has been starved of meat in India and is intent on making up for lost time. He takes a few to taste then grabs a handful as she goes on to his neighbour. Each time she offers another person he takes a handful more. Eventually, mum brings another plate and he has his own pile of mutton nuggets. This is quickly devoured until he has single-handedly consumed an entire sheep (or possibly goat, as the two are interchangeable in this region).
During Desain, it is traditional for the family elder to bless the younger family members. Yadu's grandfather graciously offers to bless us all by pasting a concoction of red and yellow paint with rice grains on our foreheads and a leaf behind our ear.
Back on the bus, we espy a small wooden, hand turned ferris wheel for small children at the village entrance. It seems this and all the swings we have seen are especially constructed for the Disain festival which lasts 9 days.
As we eventually reach Pokhara it is close to dusk and the rain is falling steadily. We have 3 days here and no scheduled activities. Close to the lake and the mountains, it appears to be a buzzing tourist centre, filled with lively bars and restaurants more akin to a European ski resort but still with a Nepali feel. Already it feels relaxing.
We set out on the daily scavenge for food. Barry has spotted a particular mo-mo restaurant on the way in and we trek up and down trying to find it. Finally we give up, and try one closer to the hotel.
The momos ( a sort of dim sum/ravioli parcel filled with veggies like a spring roll with a spicy dipping sauce)are yumyum and well worth the additional wait we are told to expect.
Back at the hotel we discover that mo-mos are not that easy to procure and we are the only ones to have successfully tracked them down despite them being on every menu.
Of course, charging rhinos, alligators leaping out at your canoe, and even leeches sucking your life blood away add a little more excitement than your average safari park but trying to sleep in damp sheets, showering in cold water and dressing in damp clothes is more depressing than relaxing and I am in need of some serious R&R after India.
I have no expectations of Pokhara as we leave Chitwan and drive through the beautiful, Nepali countryside, with it's thatched villages, ponds, village water pump, lush fields, loose chickens, ducks, geese, cows, goats and occasional cats and dogs. I wonder if Britain was like this in the 17th century (paddy fields excepted).
This is the start of Desain in Nepal, probably the largest festival in the country and our local agent, Yadu, has invited us to his family home in Ghorka (home of the famous regiment) to celebrate the first day. The whole family is there to greet us and somehow, 24 visitors and 10-12 family members manage to arrange themselves round the small balcony of the villa perched on the side of a mountain. The views are stunning and yet you can feel the isolation that the winter snow must bring. We are plied with drinks and snacks, but when a tray of mutton 'nuggets' are brought out everyone politely declines. These had been experienced the night before in Chitwan and most had suffered as a result. As Yadu's beautiful niece offers them it gets embarrassing. They have obviously put a lot of work into preparing for our visit. Michele, the human dustbin, comes to the rescue. He has been starved of meat in India and is intent on making up for lost time. He takes a few to taste then grabs a handful as she goes on to his neighbour. Each time she offers another person he takes a handful more. Eventually, mum brings another plate and he has his own pile of mutton nuggets. This is quickly devoured until he has single-handedly consumed an entire sheep (or possibly goat, as the two are interchangeable in this region).
During Desain, it is traditional for the family elder to bless the younger family members. Yadu's grandfather graciously offers to bless us all by pasting a concoction of red and yellow paint with rice grains on our foreheads and a leaf behind our ear.
Back on the bus, we espy a small wooden, hand turned ferris wheel for small children at the village entrance. It seems this and all the swings we have seen are especially constructed for the Disain festival which lasts 9 days.
As we eventually reach Pokhara it is close to dusk and the rain is falling steadily. We have 3 days here and no scheduled activities. Close to the lake and the mountains, it appears to be a buzzing tourist centre, filled with lively bars and restaurants more akin to a European ski resort but still with a Nepali feel. Already it feels relaxing.
We set out on the daily scavenge for food. Barry has spotted a particular mo-mo restaurant on the way in and we trek up and down trying to find it. Finally we give up, and try one closer to the hotel.
The momos ( a sort of dim sum/ravioli parcel filled with veggies like a spring roll with a spicy dipping sauce)are yumyum and well worth the additional wait we are told to expect.
Back at the hotel we discover that mo-mos are not that easy to procure and we are the only ones to have successfully tracked them down despite them being on every menu.
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