Chakhel -- Phakhel walk, best selroti lunch, but ultimately a failure :(

I took the cable car to the top of Chandragiri yesterday. Note the grey air.

I had hoped for a brilliant range of snow-covered peaks, but the background was mostly black stones.

But the air to the south of the mountain was so much cleaner! 

And the sky was so blue! The air was sweeter. Instead of enjoying the sun and the air and the cool wind, I felt envy.

An ambulance came to the gates of the Cable Car company, where the resort is, and asked to be let through. That would make sense only if people are using the cable car as a short-cut during the day to get to the hospital. But is there another ambulance waiting for them at the base station?

A rope-way lift, still hanging in the sky. From here on, the photos are from my very basic phone. It would be good if someone carried out a test of the infrastructure that remains in place, check if it can be refurbished to carry goods from Hetauda. Imagine if goods could come to Kathmandu in an hour or so all the way from Hetauda, instead of being hauled in trucks.

In Chakhel, the locals must be tired of fielding questions by passersby. 

I got stuck twice on the road, waiting for the excavator to stop digging so I could pass. This guy took a good 15 minutes of my time. When he stopped to let people walk past, he reported to his supervisor that he was convinced that they were employing the wrong tool here. He said the single-bit breaker that jabs at a cliff followed by a large bucket to push rubble out would have been better. It was 1:45 pm in the afternoon. He must have been working since 8 or so in the morning, no?

I made it to Phakhel when I saw that the soles of my shoes were giving out. I bought this pair in Tibet, realized later that I didn't need it at all, but was required to have snow-proof sturdy shoes to climb up to Drolma La on the Kailash. After this, I decided to catch the next jeep to Kathmandu.

A few minutes after getting into a jeep at 3 pm, I saw that Balkhu was still 25 kilometers away!

Sundari Devi Khaja Ghar in Chakhel. Best on-the-road snack I've had so far in the villages. Sel roti was crisp and steaming hot. Egg, chana, aalu. 

Don't hurry along the road...

 ... it'll hurt tomorrow.

I ran away on Friday to Pokhara, holed up in a hotel room, took a jeep to Ghandruk on Saturday, watched the NPL finals with the hotel employees, walked from Ghandruk to near Dhampus on Sunday, got lost as it was getting dark but got picked up by a bus going to Dhampus, stayed in a hotel in Dhampus shivering in the cold, then took a jeep back to Pokhara on Monday morning. I spent Monday sleeping and reading and finally buying a warm jacket -- something that would have really helped me in Ghandruk and Dhampus. I'm back in Sanepa now, and posting this between reading short stories written by high school kids. 

Here are some customary Fewa photos:

This, of a man by the lake, is meh.

This, with Taal Barahi in the background, is also okay only.

But this is the Pokhara Lakeside photo, isn't it? :)

This looks good enough to edit the RAW file and print :)

Now follow photos from Ghandruk, of the sunrise. 

And these are from Landruk, where, a dude told me I was 20 minutes away from the road. I didn't want to keep climbing the stone steps, and I had stupidly missed the road right by the bridge over Modi khola. I can keep a steady pace on a mountain road, needing to rest only every hour or so. But with stone steps I was having to stop every minute or so -- not for rest because my limbs were tired, but because I was out of breath. I didn't have enough muscles and mitochondria, I think. 

The road passed right behind the dude's house. He a dumdum.

And from the road:

I had to eat an hour or so after Landruk, so asked an old lady if she would cook me up one Wai-Wai with two eggs. As I was leaving, I asked how much I owed her. The answer was brilliant.

'I don't know,' she said, 'I wonder how much babu will give aama.'

What's a babu to do under such a circumstance? I asked her how much she thought babu would give her. She said, '300 rupees.' 

The jeep track to Ghandruk has led to a glut of new hotels there. But across the Modi, in Landruk and other villages along the trail, business has dried out horribly. So many shops unattended, hotels shut or shutting down. 

The most frequent topic of conversation was motor accidents and young men being maimed or killed. Another involved which country the sons were in -- Malta and Portugal, oftentimes. 

Significant stretches of the new motor roads are being laid down in reinforced concrete. This is preferred by local governments -- there is the perception that this will give longer-lasting roads. I am skeptical. I think the absence of drainage channels along the roads will lead to landslips. I think this method is preferred because local contractors can be given the gig rather than having to recruit the help of larger construction firms that own equipment needed to build roads. 

I also heard of a new drink which the locals in the jeep from Dhampus to Pokhara were calling something like 'bataari' -- which I'm not sure if it is a caffeinated energy drink or very strong liquor. Apparently it comes in a small bottle, costs rs 50, and is a favorite of manual laborers. Disparagingly, the locals talked of 'Salyanis' -- not from the Salyan district further to the west, but, I suspect, from the neighboring mountain of Salyan. Apparently it is also given to mules to push them past fatigue.  

Brr... It *is* December, and I *am* in Kathmandu...

 It is coooooooldddddbbbrrrrrrrr... 

And from the Saturday walk I seem to have picked up some kind of a stomach bug. A doc (033) said I should drink lots of ORS and take an antibiotic. He works with refugees. Another doc (096) said I should take probiotics and get a stool test done before going on antibiotics. He is a GP in Kathmandu. The man who is used to fixing people quickly has given me the short-cut to cure. The cautious man who thinks of longer term health has prescribed probiotics.

I bought the probiotic medicine and a ton of ORS. A long-haired pharmacist said the probiotic was what he'd have prescribed too. It has streptococcus faecalis -- I can't imagine how that doesn't mean poop. 

I'm eating poop to control my pooping.

Tomorrow opens an exhibition in NAC, Babar Mahal, by p.c, 12 Fellows, nature and its destruction. Go!

More pitchers from the roof.

Pharping - Farsidol - Sainbu - Bhainsepati

A rather sweet old taxi driver offered to drive me to Pharping for an amount which, as he neared our destination, he realized was too small. 'It escaped my mouth,' he said, without asking me for more pay. 

I got off at Pharping and walked down to Bagmati. Crossed to the dusty fields below Farsidol.

Fishponds? Recharging ponds for the fields? There's a tiny farmer here, with his mechanical-till, ploughing the field. 

The air was really hazy. I kept hoping for a decent photo of the light in the pines across a narrow gully, but the pollution made it difficult to catch anything.

Radishes :)

This is my favorite photo today, a tree covered in new blossoms, new flowers, fruits ripening. I wish I were a better photographer of color. I ate a Wai Wai nearby.

These are the shoes of a little boy who lives on the top floor of the house.

This is from the roof. I like the green and red and subdued light.

 Now I am home, dusty, tired, having acquired a jar of methi ko achar from the ladies of a savings cooperative in Sainbu.  

December is here! A year wasted!

 How looks a tired writer?

December already, room ear-nipping cold, sun mild in the day, evenings pretty with mountains to the northwest and north, but the long range to the east, past Nagarkot, always smothered under dirty haze, thick, thick.

But, still, a few trips to the roof. 

How wastes his time, the tired writer? Fantasizing about publication. So, he designs covers on MSPaint, reverting to the late 90s. For special effects? MSWord.

 Hurriedly names book, sends to IDPS for 5 copies. Regrets it, but sees it makes other people happy. So he comes home and makes two more covers:

and,

This one, Fog and Light, is thick, at around 450 pages, but it is of fluff, badly written film reviews (which are all on this blog, somewhere) and the early Kathmandu Post stuff, (also all here, somewhere, 2008 - 2009.

Now, from the roof:

 Now the mountains, from the roof:

And now, for contrast, self-portrait of a happy writer, some 15 years the younger, with a fresh shave to celebrate a project (Screenplay for Kohi... Mero, I think), found somewhere on this blog: