Oggi sono stata a fare un giro nella “old town” di Pokhara. Son partita dalla zona lago verso mezzogiorno.
La mia giornata era cominciata male. Con uno zaino strappato, uno scarpone rotto, persa la spazzola, nostalgia. Son partita sotto il sole cocente (beh, perlomeno così sembrava a me), la città vecchia molto più distante di quanto sembrava dalla cartina. A un certo punto la fortuna ha cominciato a girare. Ho trovato sto ristorantino dove mi hanno dato un piattino di patate al forno, piccanti, per 20 centesimi. Niente caffè purtroppo, ne avevo bisogno. Dopo poco un posticino dove un tipo ha aggiustato lo scarpone della mamma per 25 centesimi, lavorando con tanta cura e attenzione certosina che mi ha sorpreso (io avrei messo un po’ di colla alla bona, come si dice dalle mie parti). Come nuovo ora!
In un negozio di musica ho comprato un flauto traverso (che non so suonare) a 60 centesimi. Devo imparare. Non deve fare la fine dell’armonica. C’erano anche quei tamburi bellissimi tipo quello che suonavano i porters l’ultima notte del trekking. Peccato che non abbia posto per portarmene uno nello zaino.
Cammino vicino a delle ragazze che stanno facendo merenda (erano le 5pm circa) e mi offrono una fetta di arancia inzuppata in una salsa piccante, seguita da una sorsata di panna dolce. Io ovviamente accetto. Due volte. Buonissimo! Probabilmente tra due giorni avrò il cagotto, ma ne è valsa la pena.
Mi fermo a scrivere un po’ nel mio diario e una vecchietta si ferma a spiare. Che tipa! Le ho chiesto se potevo scattarle qualche foto, ha accettato, e si è anche tolta il cesto dalla testa per farsi bella. Poco dopo un’altra signora mi chiede di fare una foto alla sua casa (che era decente, rispetto al resto delle case, probabilmente ne andava orgogliosa?).
Insomma, camminavo per questa zona un po’ degradata della città (dove sta la mia guest house, il lakeside, è una zona turistica, molto pulita e in ordine, occidentalizzata, si può perfino trovare bistecca con patate fritte!), che a prima vista intimorisce, e invece ho trovato un’accoglienza incredibile.
Sulla via del ritorno ancora richieste di scatti fotografici, e una sfida a ping pong (sul marciapiede, in mancanza di un tavolino). Ho perso 11-5 stavolta.
Così una giornata cominciata male si è trasformata in una bellissima esperienza. E ho pure ritrovato la spazzola! Mi manca solo di aggiustare lo zainetto.
P.S. Sono in un bar a Pokhara, mangiando/bevendo una cosa strana. Panna acida con pepe, cannella e zucchero. Quasi finito e ancora non ho capito se mi è piaciuto.
C’è un lago qui vicino, e siamo circondati dalle montagne del complesso dell’Annapurna. Un sacco di attività sono offerte ai turisti, dal bungee jumping al parapendio guidati da un falco, kayaking e meditazione, ma io che son pigra e paurosa non farò niente.
Quando siamo arrivate in ostello ci siamo ritrovate in camera (un dormitorio da 6 letti) un ragazzo olandese conosciuto a Kathmandu. Un gran figo, ha fatto il modello ed ha partecipato a uno show in cui doveva viaggiare da Beijing a Bombay in autostop (n.d.r.: un reality che poi sbarcherà anche in Italia). Fa anche delle foto incredibili. Seduto di fronte a me in sto momento. Ha una bocca perfetta e una bella barba bionda.
Non sembra di stare in Nepal qui. Si trovano addirittura bistecche ai ferri con le patatine. E la sera ci sono un sacco di locali con musica dal vivo fino alle prime ore del mattino. Ero abituata a Tibet e Kathmandu, dove tutto chiude tra le 22 e 24. Beh, ieri sera io alle 22 ero già stanca e ho piantato Hilde in un bar con la sua vodka. C’era anche sto J comunque, son sicura che non ha sentito la mia mancanza.
Si è fatto più caldo a Pokhara. Oggi pomeriggio dovremmo andare a procurarci il permesso per il trekking e a registrare il nostro itinerario. Se riesco a staccarmi da internet…
Ho appena comprato un braccialetto e una collanina da una rifugiata tibetana. Ci sono campi/villaggi per profughi tibetani vicino a Pokhara, che intendo visitare domani. Dopo la repressione da parte della Cina della rivolta del 1959, molti tibetani, compreso il Dalai Lama, la loro guida spirituale, hanno dovuto lasciare la loro patria. Sono dispersi in tutto il mondo, ma molti stanno in Nepal, altri a Dharamsala, nel nord dell’India (dove anche il Dalai Lama vive).
Io non è che avessi bisogno di altri braccialetti, i miei polsi son già piuttosto affollati, e non erano neanche tanto economici, rispetto alla media nepalese, ma è un modo per aiutarli. Da T3 o Accessorize comunque un braccialetto costerebbe di più, e questi almeno so che sono stati fatti a mano con pazienza e cura e so di aver aiutato qualcuno a sfamarsi.
Se solo avessi più soldi comprerei regali per tutti … (= si accettano donazioni) 😉 Magari quando sarò ricca tornerò qui e farò una bella spesa, ok?
There’s this restaurant in Pokhara, favorite stop for the backpackers that cross this town, it’s the Laughing Buddha. Pokhara Lakeside is very touristic and westerner, as I’ve said before, a street full of restaurants that offer food from all over the world, from Lasagne (even if sometimes it is misspelled “lasange” or in thousands of other ways) to steak with chips. And everything at Western prices. So not very convenientfor those who are traveling for months around Asia (and I’m not talking about me, I’m one of those who are traveling less among the people I’ve met).
(A tiny ant keeps walking around the border of the glass with my masala tea – that I’m starting to love – and I can’t get it, she’s too small and quick).
Among this long line of Western restaurants there are some exceptions. One of these is the Laughing Buddha. It’s a small restaurant with 5 tables, family-run. The young girl, 15 years old, that speaks a great English, in the evening works unti 11pm, does her homework in quiet times, at 6 am gets up to serve breakfast and at 9.30 combs her hair in braids, puts on the red ribbon and goes to school (girls have to wear a red ribbon in their hair when they go to school, it’s part of the uniform apparently; and no bracelets). When she finishes school at 4pm she’s back to help her parents.
Well, this place is amazing not only because the owners are very kind, but also food is delicious and very cheap. I love to have breakfast here. This morning I had a “heavy breakfast”, with porridge (that before I moved to London I didn’t know what it was, now I love it), two slices of toasted bread, butter and jam, two eggs (boiled, fried or in omelet, as you prefer), baked potatoes with sweet peppers and onion, tea or coffee. All this at only 95 euro cents. 70 cents for the “simple” breakfast, without porridge. Every morning I’m happy to get out of bed because I know I’m having breakfast there.
Sometimes we go there for dinner too, and last night the mom was a bit sad because they haven’t had many customers in the last days. I’m sorry for them, because at that price and that quality, they should always be full. – A little girl just started typing on my laptop. With her yellow pyjama, red flip flops 3cm long and two silver rings around the ankles (she must be around 2 years old). So yes. I feel like I should eat there breakfast, lunch and dinner. And food is so good that I could actually eat every two hours. But I know that my mom wouldn’t agree, so I try not to do it.
There are other restaurants equally pretty, but I grew fond of this family, so when I can I come here (when the Dutch guy introduced us to this place I wondered why he was eating at the same place all the time, with all the options available. Now I know).
Unfortunately tonight all 5 tables were full, so with a Finnish girl met at the Annapurna Base Camp (Hilde was in bed with a stomach ache) we went to another place. By the lake. I was there yesterday with Hilde. Very nice place. With plastic tables facing the lake. It made me wish I had a house by the water. Not on the Adriatic Riviera, it’s too flat. Somewhere with rocks and big waves. I wonder if there’s a place like this in Italy or if I should move to Cornwall?
Anyway. My point is that I don’t understand how it is possible that the Western restaurants that are very expesive (well, they cost like in Europe) are always so busy, while local restaurants with very low prices struggle to work. Maybe the Laughing Buddha lady was exagerating, but it’s true that this is high season here, and they don’t have so many clients, only between 7 and 8 pm they are completely full. But with people paying 1-1.30 euro for dinner… I don’t know. Probably they would close if things weren’t going well. But which other working opportunities do they have here? I don’t know. I do my best to help them, I try to eat and spend as much as I can (just to help the local economy, like Pietro taught me).
Tomorrow at 1.30 pm there’s our bus (14 hours) to Bardia, a National Park. Will we be able to see a tiger? Exciting. And tomorrow Lee arrives in Pokhara. It’s a shame I won’t be able to see him.
I wonder if the small ant is gone away or if she has drowned in the tea that I’ve drunk…
I wrote this post back in 2010 while I was backpacking in Nepal; I’ve updated and translated in English now.
Sunday morning in Pokhara. It’s hot and sunny. Wifi slowness is driving me crazy, as usual.
I’ve decided to write a blog so that I don’t have to send emails to my friends with the same info, and mostly for my mom, that every time I call her she asks me what I’ve seen and what I’ve done and I never know what and how to reply. So don’t expect erotic scenes, or at least not with me as protagonist (I should invent them anyway, as I never meet anyone who likes me back!). So here I am. Little by little I hope I’ll be able to describe the whole trip, or at least the most interesting parts.
Pokhara is 200km West of Kathmandu, you can get here in 6-8 hours on bus from Kathmandu. Yesterday from Bandipur it took us about 3 hours. I was on the top of the bus, again. More comfortable this time, as it was just Hilde and me and a blue bag that I put under my back; I was almost asleep, it was amazing in the sun. Hilde got an electric wire on her face, but a part from that it was all great.
There’s a lake in Pokhara, and we are surrounded by the Annapurna range. There are loads of activities for tourists, from bungee jumping to paragliding guided by a hawk, kayaking and meditation, but as I am lazy and timorous, I won’t do any of this. We came here because it’s the departing point for one of the most famous trails in Nepal. The Annapurna. There’s the “circuit” trek, that in about 14 days takes you up to 5416 meters of altitude, but we will do the one that is called “Sanctuary”, 12 days up to a max of 4095m. This is the idea, but until I leave I don’t believe it. I am so lazy that I might decide to spend 10 days relaxing by the lake instead. But you can’t come to Nepal and don’t go trekking, right? Or maybe you can… Maybe if unluckly I hurt myself just before departure…
When we arrived at the hostel we found ourselves in the dorm with a Dutch guy we had met in Kathmandu. A hot one, he’s a professional model and participated to a show in which you have to hitchhike from Beijing to Bombay (editor note: it’s a reality that is quite popular in Italy too now, Beijing express). He also takes some amazing pictures. He’s sitting right in front of me in this moment. He’s got a perfect mouth and a nice blond beard.Â
It doesn’t look much like Nepal here in Pokhara. You can even find grilled steaks with chips. And in the evening there are plenty of clubs with live music until the early hours of the morning. I was used to Tibet and Kathmandu, where everything closes between 10pm and 12am. Well, last night at 10 I was super tired and left Hilde in a pub with her vodka. J was also there anyway, I’m sure she didn’t miss me.
