Our first lift came in the form of a white van manned by an excitable post-grad student (I started to get an ill-feeling resulting from an arising pattern), and her dad. As seven of us piled into the recently emptied back, we were informed that we were only going as far as ´Fabian Way` just between Swansea centre and the M4. Just before an impending sense of doom could creep into my head, I realised that this was no way near to anywhere named ´Neath` or ´Llansamlet`. An off duty policeman on his way to visit his daughter in Cardiff took kindly our slightly anxious state and took as far as a service station serving those England-bound. The fact that we spent the first half an hour relaxing with an impromptu breakfast in Costas was not representative of the rest of our time at that ´black-hole´of a service station. On a sunny ´Mothers-Day` Sunday, it is almost impossible to get out of Wales; a lesson learnt with a great deal of pain, for future hitchers to consider.

The last person to have passed through on his way to Bristol, about an hour before, would not take us. Call me old fashioned, but I had not realised that golf clubs these days are made to be so fragile. Call me old fashioned, but I had not realised that golf these days was even the most respected of sports; I have only played it once, but found it so be about as thrilling as I would imagine plucking hairs off the scrotum of an older gentleman to be. Anger aside, we were reduced to begging every person stopping for petrol. This paid off, we were subsequently whisked off to the last service station before the Severn Bridge (you know, the one that all students from England in Wales know really well, but never remember the name of?), and Rosie and I had discovered a new tatic to employ during the rest of the desperate scramble to Portsmouth. A young couple of yuppies took us as far as Reading, while carrying out an argument about windscreen wipers, or something to that description; we were both far too gone by this point. From Reading, a pair of excitable ex-Bristol university students shuttled us to the A-roads south-west of London, with a clear shot at the south coast ahead. The light failing, we got dropped off at a petrol station between Bournemouth and Portsmouth by a dad taking his two daughters to their mum’s house in Bournemouth. As the youngest of the two daughters interrogated Rosie on the finer points of pop culture, and the dad let me in on some of the best kept secrets of hitch hiking in England, I think we both became aquainted with the notion of it being too late to turn back. In fact, by this point it would’ve been safe to say we were both past any reservations we might’ve been holding. A desperate plea to a slightly bemused couple returning home from some sort of property auction secured us our lift to the port in Portsmouth. Somewhere in between the talk of recent ski-season injuries and surfing, it was let known our challenge. Much bewilderment did follow; “you’re f***ing insane”.

Walking through the doors to your much coveted desitnation after such a journey is a very self-gratifying experience. The surrealness that was loom over the journey from this point onwards made it hard to converse in any way short of that of a slightly hyperactive child. Said surrealness was supplemented on my part by the chance meeting with a fellow ex-volunteer, Anna, from the three months I pretended to be a teacher in Nepal (see earlier posts), who just happened to also be doing the same charity challenge. After a overly exhausted catch up, we discovered half of the team from the foyer of the main building at Swansea University in a circle playing cards with a group of American high school students on a ‘history-tour’ around Europe; the judging eyes of their evidently tee-total, born again guardians achieved nothing but the swelling of the feeling of sheer pride in my head.

After a delayed start (I can’t get away from this one, I had a bit of a lie in!) we shot down to the Mumbles Road to entertain the midday traffic with a poorly made sign and a large novelty foam thumb. Our first lift caught us off guard within the first ten minutes; a post graduate of Medicine and Humanities going to visit her mum in Llansamlet. The drop off on a round-about near the M4 tested our patience, until an old man in a white van with apparently sympathetic outlook showed up. He wasn’t able to take us very far, but he dropped us off on a round-about which, as he described it, ‘would be a lot easier to get a lift on’. 

Three hours later, we were gliding into Portsmouth, comfortably napping in the back of spacious Polo. Hair blowing in the wind as I cranked the window ajar, we sighed as we contemplated the fortune with which Karma had greeted us; it was about then that my head almost hit the bench table as I yet again prevented myself from drifting off into a deep sleep outside of the Harvester just off Junction 43 of the M4 (somewhere between Port Talbot and Neath). It turned out that the supposed sympathetic gesture of the old man in the white van, with all his stories of hitch hiking ‘back in the day’, was in fact quite the set back. We spent the three hour interlude wandering to each exit of the round-about again and again, each time finding no suitable place for any car to pull over. We did, however, get plenty of attention; one guy even came back past us at least three times simply to mock us! As much fun as waving the novelty thumb at cars was, we had been out too long, there wasn’t a chance we’d catch the boat over to Le Havre in time. A few texts and calls later and we were in the back of the car of a very understanding Angharad (Hitch rep. at Swansea University). So, now we’re safe and sound back in the Hendrefoelan Student Village, thankful that our housemates aren’t around to ask embarrassing questions, and prepared for tomorrow’s take two (this time at the correct time of morning, with all the other hitchers!). Until then, my ridiculously over-sized thermal mug contains only Twinings peppermint tea, instead of multiple French espressos, what a shame.

Safe,
Rob

Well, that time has come; the end of my stay in Nepal draws ever nearer. Since the end of my trek I’ve been traveling some destinations in the insanely hot south of the country; Chitwan National Park, and Lumbini (the birthplace of the Gautam Buddha). I wanted to write this quick update to simply let those who are interested aware of my ‘happenings’. However, I simply don’t have enough time to finish off the long updates I have saved in my drafts box detailing my ascent to Everest Base Camp, and everything after I did after that trek, and enjoy my last few days fully at the same time. So, when I arrive home in a few days time, expect two, longish posts to round everything up! See you all soon, I’m looking forward to seeing everyone!

Namaste.

The rate for internet here is as steep as the valley side, so this shall be quick-ish.

After finding my group on the 3rd in Kathmandu, I spent the 4th loafing about doing nothing of any use asides wandering about the ‘Thamel’ area of Kathmandu and packing my trekking bag. I simply couldn’t have done anything more, otherwise I’d probably have made myself to ill for the flight to ‘Lukla’ extremely early the next morning.

We arrived at ‘Lukla’ (the start of the trek) about 8 – 9am (exact time doesn’t matter right now!), after experiencing the incredible sloping runway of ‘Lukla’ airport, which is built into the side of a cliff; you take off, go up, up, up, and land.An hour after landing began a slow gentle walk up to a small town of ‘Phadking’; which included a quick excursion to a local monastery (manned by one very lonely woman monk, who acted as if she hadn’t seen any people for quite a while). There’s not much to mention about that night, we were all feeling the altitude (about 2,500 something meters at this point), and ‘conked out’. This morning we began a 6 – 7 hour walk up to where I sit right now, the town of ‘Namche’; which is incredibly developed, considering its positioning. The walk was breath taking; at roughly 4 hours into the trek, we got our first sight of the summit of Mt. Everest. None of us really knew how to react to this, as it is something you genuinely need mental preparation for!

This trek is fantastic (gained around 800 height meters today!), asides the hidden costs; we stop at little tea houses along the route for meals, and, again, the rates get quite steep. As far as eating goes, I think the rest of my group think I’m insane. Having accustomed to the local tastes, somewhat, I always go for a Dal Bhat; and usually pig out on it, using my right hand instead of cutlery. I guess I can sort of see how this may gross out some who’ve just arrived in Nepal, they’ll adapt!

Hopefully, I’ll do another update at some point. Perhaps, when I pass through ‘Namche’ again in just under two weeks, or maybe when I arrive in Kathmandu.

All the best, everyone.

So, in my last post I finished up at the end of the Panchase trek. The Sunday morning after this was supposed to be a normal day, with me going back to Thulakhet to open the Resource Centre. However, it just so happened, that the ex – Prime Minister of Nepal, Girija Prasad Koirala (a man respected right across the political spectrum here), died. A national day of mourning therefore meant no teaching, and a bit more time to relax in Pokhara; which turned into an afternoon sitting around with several volunteers, a Tibetan refugee and a Hare Krishna from South London (!) arguing/debating about a whole host of things not meant to be debated in such 30 degrees weather. Anna (one of the volunteers from ‘Damdame’) and me ended up missing our bus back to our placements, and reached Thulakhet when it was starting to get dark, and very stormy. The next week was relatively normal, despite the incredibly hot and stormy weather; there were some incredible storms where you could hear the thunder rolling down the mountains, which is probably the most incredible sound I’ve ever heard.

On the Thursday of that week, I headed into Pokhara to meet up with the other volunteers I had been planning to go on a two day white water rafting trip with. Setting off early on the Friday morning, we headed right out into the remotest parts of the seti – river valley, which had a slightly lower water level, and therefore not as spectacular rapids, due to unusually hot and dry weather. This did mean, however, that for quite long parts of the trip we could get out of the boat, simply lie back and let ourselves float downstream; this combined with the views of lonely, sun drenched, and incredibly steep hillsides, made this one of the best experiences of my trip so far. That night the group camped out on beautiful beach on the banks of the river. As one nuts Nepali guy who joined our trip explained to me, drunkenly, “why go for five stars, man, when you have a million”. Indeed, the view was beautiful, with the light from the moon illuminating the river and the outlines of the hills; I think i must’ve sat up, pretty much, all night, for it was one of those perfect nights that maybe never repeated. The next day, we hit the slightly ‘gnarlier’ rapids, which was fun until I got a bit arrogant and gained the title of ‘the only guy to fall out on the rapids’ the entire trip. I got some pretty painful bruises, but I like to think it was an experience to cherish in itself!

The next morning it was back to Thulakhet, to say goodbye, do a little bit more teaching, and give my host family some presents. On the Sunday, I went for a small stroll, and ended up quite a few miles up the valley, wading through royal blue rock pools, and scrambling over rocks. On Monday morning, I got up quite early to see one more the sun rise over the high point of ‘Sarangkhot’ one last time; it was a spectacular red sunrise. Back down to my host family’s house for a blow out breakfast of my favourite Dal Bhat (aubergine and potato, not skippng on the chillies!), then I set off to Pokhara, promising to return to Thulakhet with a full photo album for my host, Dhurba, in a few days time. Riding out of town on top of the bus, desperately clinging to my bags, was quite a sad experience this time around.

After arriving in Pokhara, I made the decision to stay as long as possible, therefore giving me a chance not to spend longer than I need to in Kathmandu, before my trek. Also, all the volunteers, and some of the friends we made from our raft trip group were all in town. So, I made the most of my last week. This generally meant quite a bit of just hanging around, not doing much, but there were a few interesting ‘excursions’. On Tuesday, an Alaskan guy called Peter, a guy from Cambridge called Chris, (who I met on the rafting trip) went up to the high point overlooking Pokhara, called ‘Saranghkot’, by bike (which was obviously a lot more fun going back down). We reached the top literally a few minutes before a large storm moved in, turning day into night and delivering golf ball sized hailstones. We had to alter our previously planned steep dirt track route, due to the heavy rain, but it was still a fun ride down; only fell over once. The other notable excursion was when five of us squeezed into a pretty rickety boat with a guitar, to enjoy the Phewa Tal lake at sunset; for which I wish I hadn’t brought my bag, complete with mobile, camera and money. As it got dark, the bank of the lake lit up with millions of fire flies; a sight almost worth the several million mosquito bites.

On Thursday, I went back up to Thulakhet to deliver the promised photo album, along with this guy from the rafting trip who hadn’t yet seen the valley. A lot of the kids I had taught during my stay turned up to wish me goodbye; this was pretty tearful. You can do a pretty average job, but the kids in towns like Thulakhet still love you for it, I wish I’d done a better job. On Friday a large group of us (made up of volunteers, people from the rafting trip, and people who had met earlier in different places) had a sort of good bye get together on the roof of the hotel most of us were staying at. It was a great night, but led to me missing the bus I’d booked back to Kathmandu. I managed to ‘blag’ my way onto another, later bus. However, when I reached Kathmandu, the only information about my trekking group I had was a schedule and a name of a hotel. After some frantic phone calls and research, I found the right hotel just in time to join the group for yet another ‘cultural display’ evening; interesting, but very touristy.

That brings me up to the current point. I’m in, as I’ve said above, Kathmandu. My group is made up of two women from London, an Australian couple, a woman whose been travelling for so long that its not quite clear where shes from, and two Canadians. The trek begins tomorrow, and I’m quite nervous, to say the least. Hopefully, there’ll be one or two more updates after my trek has finished!

Take it easy everyone.

For the week after my last update, I’ll simply say that I was ill, and read Jack Kerouac’s ‘On The Road’; a thoroughly inspiring, yet quite sad book, which I strongly reccomend. Of course, this was aside the teaching!

Two weeks after my last update, another volunteer finally turned up, which was a massive relief! The new volunteer was, in fact, a primary school teacher from Dublin, so I pratically played role of ‘teachers help’ for the next two weeks. She didn’t stay with my host and his family, but not far from me, which gave me a rare opportunity to get to know, well, another family in Thulakhet; who, as it turned out, are such an incredibly generous family that I felt quite guilty at times. Especially, when simply coming round to talk lesson plans, I would be immediately given a second dinner, and, one night, a traditional Nepali hat usually worn by men who’ve carried out some sort of distinguished ‘social duty’ (this was a present from the grandfather of the family who had served for 14 years in the Indian army, and, apparently, took quite a liking to me! God knows why). The new volunteer, Fiona, really got to the heart of her family, which in fact was 16 member of extended family living in three buildings in a communal manner, teaching them about St. Patricks Day, while in return getting a taste of Nepali dancing, and music, which lasted quite late into the evening, as I painstakingly experienced! Fiona stayed for just over two weeks (she left yesterday for an orphange in Pokhara), during which time the school was tied up with national exams, so we didn’t have much teaching anyway, and a few days off. We used the days off to explore a branch of the valley right next to Thulakhet with some of the Primary school students; who showed us a few incredible places with large Boulders and beautifully cold rock pools. We also visited a national Volleyball tournament, held, strangely, in a small field just outside of the town of Thulakhet.

Another volunteer (Anna) arrived with Fiona, and was sent much further up the valley to Buddhist ‘Gurung’ town called ‘Dumdermay’. Last Friday, we met up with them in the big town of Pokhara, which was a refreshing change from wandering about completely alone! The next morning, Fiona and me got a little taste of paragliding, which I’ve got to say was one of the most incredible experiences of my life (photos of this can be seen on my Facebook page). I flew for only half an hour, but in that time I got to see eagles and Raptors, learn how steer, and experience the pilots aerobatic skills. Unfortunately, most of the Annapurna mountain range was in the clouds, but it would take a lot more than that to ruin paragliding. I spent the rest of Saturday with Anna, and the other volunteer from ‘Dumdermay’, Malcolm, site – seeing around the parts of Pokhara I hadn’t yet seen; visiting a traditional boat festival, two caves (one filled with bats), and then experiencing an unseasonable monsoon before hitching back to the more familiar part of Pokhara on the bus of field – tripping college students from Kathmandu (who took the opportunity to sing every ‘western’ rock/pop song they knew at us!).

This week, the solo motor biking, engineer from Germany, Thomas, came back to Thulakhet, this time with stories of hiking, solo, through ‘Swaggamatar’ (Everest) National Park for ten days; something which earned him a ‘tikka’ (traditional red paint on the forehead, and flowers) ceremony from Fiona’s host family, who then gave us an all night Nepali dancing session! Anna and Malcolm (from ‘Dumdermay’) had come down to stay the evening with us, and after we experienced the breath taking sunrise from the top of the hill behind Thulakhet (complete with a cloudless view of the Annapurna mountain range) \, we decided we would like to do the long hike up to a very peaceful and ‘spiritual’ (if you will) high altitude town called ‘Panchase’.

So, Friday morning, I ‘sped’ up the two hour walk from Thulakhet to Dumdermay to meet Anna and Malcolm at their placement (which was on the way), gaining, perhaps, several hundred height meters. After I was given a lunch of what can only be described as an ‘omlette curry’ (best curry ever), we set off to a small guest house encampment sitting just below Panchase. Here, we took all the photo opportunities possible of the incredible views of the Annapurna mountain range, and also took the opporunity to study the guest house’s map of the area to work out just how far we’d walked; I don’t think I’ve ever walked so far in one day! We then got the full experience of Nepali ‘Raxi’ (a warm vodka – like drink made from rice millet), and promptly fell asleep. I could probably go on for a while about all the little stories from the rest of the trek the next day, but instead (I’m tired) I’ll summarise, then upload my photos at some point, to do all the talking. We got up early for what was probably the most spectacular sunrise of each of our lives, then breakfasted on rice millet pancakes. We set off for the town of ‘Panchase’ itself at about eight, arriving at about nine. Here we picked the Nepali national symbol; the Rhodedendrum flower, then started the walk down and round to the main motorway, about 3 – 4 hours away! The walk included stunningly beautiful lakes, temples, Buddhist Stupars, and scarily, the corpse of a Buffalo, apparently, according to a local with a large gun, a recent Tiger kill! It was after that encounter that we got ‘off the beaten track’ and took a ‘shortcut’ through some thickly forested hillside. We eventually got down to some meadow areas, then down to a village, where we stopped for some fried rice millet cakes, then progressed onto the main motorway, where we got on a bus back down to the Lakeside area of Pokhara; displaying the Rhodendrums on our bags to, according to tradition (according to our guide; one of the family members of Anna and Malcolm’s host family, a guy called Basanta), signal that we had recently returned from Panchase.

Checked into a cheap guest house, and am now going for a large dinner. ‘Till next time! Photos from all the above explained coming soon to my Facebook page, hopefully!

Namaskar!

In Thulakhet, my host, a man called Dhurba, has opened a ‘Resource Centre’ to supply additional teaching to local kids. I work there between 8am – 9am, and 5pm – 6pm everyday, except Friday and Saturday. During these sessions I teach, mostly, tiny bits of English and Maths to some quite young kids; the age of a lot of the kids makes communication quite a problem. Dhurba attempted to reassure me by leaving an English – Nepali dictionary in the Resource Centre for me, at least I thought it was a English – Nepali dictionary. It turned out to be a book giving English words, just in the Nepali alphabet; something utterly useless to me! I solved this problem by buying a Lonely Planet Nepali language guide in Pokhara.

From 10am to 1pm, from Sunday to Friday, I teach at a local Primary state school. I teach the highest class, grade 5, for an hour and a half, then the second highest class, grade 4, for another hour and a half. For these lessons, I’ve haven’t really been making any lessons plans, but I started out by just explaining random bits of information on verbs, common phrases, using past, present, future etc.; since then I’ve just been working under the rule of ‘picking up from where I left off last lesson’. This tactic still seems to be working quite well, but with the few things the kids really can’t get their heads around, I simply either go and find one of the school’s teachers, test them on it until they realize themselves where they’ve gone wrong, or consult my language guide and/or notes from the Nepali lessons I had when I first arrived in Nepal, and then attempt to say the thing I’m trying to teach them in Nepali e.g. “Hello, Namaste, what is your name? Tapaaiko naam ke ho?” However, the latter tactic has been the least successful; my Nepali is a bit rusty.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been doing quite a bit of hiking into the hills around the area of Thulakhet. While doing this, I’ve often felt like I’ve been venturing into another world, or, at least, another age. So, in my first month in Nepal, I’ve been able to note some interesting cultural differences. First of all, Nepali society in general is host to a stark divide; notably between those who most people would call ‘westernized’, and those who have, at least on the surface, have retained centuries old cultural habits. The people I first met when I arrived in Kathmandu more or less fell into the first category of those more ‘westernized’. Some ‘traits’ of this group are being younger, having a taste for western rock music (though not always just western music), being slightly more well off (from my experience I have seen that this is usually from being involved in the tourist industry in some form), rejecting the caste system (some people I’ve met would even pretend they’ve forgotten what caste they belong too, though I’m not too sure I believe that they have), and being able to speak pretty good English. The people I later met in Thulakhet are a lot more traditional. The family I’m staying with have some interesting habits which at first take some getting used to! First of all, Nepalis spit a lot, but this isn’t necessarily one of the cultural things that I’m concerned with! I guess the first thing that threw me a bit was the eating with hands. My host family have some spoons, but that is only because they’ve been hosting western volunteers, so all meals (‘Daal Bhat’) are eaten with the right hand. Belive me, eating a soupy Daal with rice and vegetables with one hand is quite a hard thing to master. Asides from this, another interesting cultural thing about Nepal is the Nepali language’s word for drunk, ‘Rangy Changy’. Translated literally, this means ‘multi – coloured’; what a beautiful way to describe any state of innebriation! The rural life here in general is very interesting from a ‘western’ perspective. My host family is incredibly patriarchical; while the Dad works as a teacher, the Mum performs some of the most intense ‘domestic’ chores i’ve ever seen. Such chores range from hiking up relatively steep terrain with a large woven basket strapped to the forehead to collect things like firewood and dried grass, to labouring in the wheat, rice and vegetable fields. Another feature of this patriarchy comes at dinner time, when, if we’re not all sitting on the floor of the kitchen, the two spaces at the small table are reserved, apparently, only for the two men in the house; me and my host. This complaint aside, the society of the village of ‘Thulakhet’ is an incredibly communal experience, I’m not sure my words would be able to do it any justice. I shall say, however, that the sense of charity I’ve experienced here would most likely shame the most well – healed ‘socialite’, and earn the praise of the most ardent Anarchist. 

I have also met some, and heard the stories of some pretty interesting characters. Shortly before I arrived in Thulakhet, a large group of Austrailians came to the area and built quite a few good quality Basketball and Volleyball courts, producing the concrete by hand, with only minimal help from really basic machines. Instructing them was another interesting character, a travelling engineer from Germany, who also just finished driving solo around Nepal on a motorbike; He prooved this to me by showing me the long video he took on his camera which he held ‘carefully’ in his mouth while speeding down bumpy dirt tracks.

Don’t know when my next update will be, maybe next week, maybe not; I’ve got a lot to do and see in Pokhara. This morning I ventured out to a town on the outskirts of Pokhara populated by Tibetan refugees, but there’s still so much more to see, which I couldn’t today because I’m still pretty worn out from my 12 – 15 mile trek from Thulakhet to Pokhara yesterday.

‘Till next time!

 The main point of this update is acctually to let you know that a select bunch of my photos from Pokhara and Thulakhet are now up in an album on my Facebook page, enjoy! I’ll probably do a proper update tomorrow to let you all know about my experiences so far of Thulakhet.

I arrived here last Saturday for my volunteer placement, which is in a town called ‘Thulaket’ about an hour away from the main town, by bus. The three other volunteers my age and I left Kathmandu about 6.30 in the morning after being placed (in their case) on a luxury ‘Green Line ‘ coach, and (in my case) on a tiny micro – mini bus sort of thing, with a family evidently going to a wedding. The reason for this was that my placement was originally supposed to be in a Buddhist monastery near Kathmandu, but I was moved last minute to this placement near Pokhara and therefore couldn’t get a coach ticket in time; the guy running the whole thing (Assim) strongly recommended that I do this, because apparently the strain of working in the monastery on my own, without even any other volunteers at least near by, would be too much, and had apparently already made a number of other volunteers quit. So, I had in my head that I’d be very near by the other volunteers, this wasn’t so. After about half an hour of riding on top of a rickety old bus, the local organizer (Dhubar) ushered the three others off the bus, but told me to remain on. It was about another half an hour before I got off to walk a few minutes up hill to where I am now currently staying; with Dhurba and his family in, the previously mentioned, ‘Thulaket’. Half an hour on a bus may not seem like much, but a combination of factors like reliability of the bus schedule, the landscape, and my teaching hours makes it pretty hard to venture too far in my spare time.

The day after I arrived, I was in a pretty sorry state. I had evidently ate or drank something quite nasty, so I was therefore in bed all day, throwing up. Things got better pretty quickly, however, so I was able to teach my 8am session at the ‘Thulaket Resource Centre’ the next morning, followed by a 5pm session. On Tuesday, I started teaching a slightly older class of students at the local Government Primary School from ten to one each day, alongside the Resource Centre lessons. This started to get a bit exhausting and I’ve found myself, to a certain extent, a bit unprepared to deal with teaching. Teaching the very young children at the Resource Centre is the worst thing about my placement; some are so young that they can barely speak Nepali, let alone English. However, some of the older students have done a great job as interpreters, and I’m fairly satisfied with the way lessons have been going; no parents have complained yet.

I may not have much time in my schedule to venture too far, but I’ve been able to do a few hikes up into the hills behind Thulaket. On Tuesday, I ventured up the dirt road leading into the shadow of the mountain ‘Annapurna’, however, about an hour into my walk I had a little run in with a Yak. I was walking along a narrow path, with a large rock face on one side, and a very steep hillside descending below me. I had stopped to admire the view when I heard the mysterious sound of hoof to solid earth and heavy grunting. Looking around a sharp corner I saw this large beast of a Yak, evidently pretty pissed off, stampeding down towards me. My initial reaction was to ‘leg it’ and scream obscenities, but this proved pretty ineffectual; you can’t out run a Yak, you just can’t. So looking at my two options: either try and cling for dear life to the rock face, or risk stumbling, and then eventually falling down the steep hillside, I took my chance and launched myself down the hillside. Luckily, I managed to cling onto a tree branch and swing myself behind a bush, where I breathed a sigh of relief as the enraged Yak hurtled past my hideout, and further down the path. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of a very elderly Nepali man and woman running down the path, sticks in hand, about 2 minutes behind the Yak. After this whole incident, I crept incredibly carefully all the way back down to Thulaket. Yesterday, I crept back up the same path, and with no Yak in sight, I managed to make it all the way up to a high altitude village to see some incredible views of the local mountain range, and be stared bemusedly at by the locals.

Today, I taught my 8am lesson at the Resource Centre, then took advantage of the double whammy of the weekly ‘Half Day Friday’ combined with the annual ‘Democracy Day’ to escape to the Lakeside area of Pokhara. I am, at the time of writing, sat, having browsed the shops, various adventure sport organizers, yoga centres, and checked myself into the ‘Peace Eye Guest Lodge’, doing little of any importance.