This is the story of my first overland trip,
Trans Asia 1975.
On page notes and credits
Photo Galleries;- There are no direct photo galleries
for this page. Most photos enlarge in a new window when
clicked. The photo links frequently open a new site in a new
window, Change window to return here.
Status; Under development, active page.
To do list; Bulk of stories , page navigation, Sidebar,
Cross page links to do. Proof read to do.
For an introduction to Kathmandu see the first 5-6 minutes of
The Nepal
Documentary, and if you have time, watch the remainder, it is
just shy of one hour. Fascinating!
Caption:- Published on Feb 7, 2013
Video by Robin Wallace. Documentary i made a few years ago covering the entire trek from Lukla to Everest Base camp, staying in Tea Houses. Also included in this HD documentary is a tour of Bhaktapur city, Kathmandu city and Chitwan National Safari park. Enjoy :-)
The Hotel Star, next door to the famous Kathmandu Guest House, is where we met Santa... Santa is the
name of the hotel manager / owner. A very friendly, jolly fellow,
true to his name.
We just poled up in his yard with a big truck
making the place look untidy.
However, with the benefit of hindsight, I will rephrase that. Two
young gentlemen had just arrived in their very luxurious and
expensive personal toy worth over £3,000,000 GBP.
[1>] I think I would take notice as well. White English puts us
into a high caste and the truck puts us into the mega wealthy.
(Filthy rich). It was a lifestyle never to be repeated by me.
We had met a few people on the way who had told us how much they
thought the truck was worth, which was a great help. Otherwise we
would have just driven it back to the UK without ever knowing. We
also found out about the black market in foreign currency. Both the
Pound and US Dollar attracted a premium price if exchanged on the
street, and not in a bank. Six times the bank rate. Our GBP made us
even richer. I think there was an average daily spend requirement
which had to be exchanged in a bank, but it was a relatively low
figure.
Santa put us in a twin room on the forth floor. It was a simple,
clean, pleasant room accessed from an external balcony / walkway.
All buildings above 3 floors had to have holes in the walls to
allow the spirits to flow freely above that height. Mosquito mesh on
doors and windows, but two open holes. The thought was there.
smear a little jam or marmalade
One of the tricks we learnt was to smear a little jam or
marmalade on the white painted wall of the room. Yes, strangely,
marmalade was available. The room was clean and did not have bed
bugs, and we never saw any cockroaches, but there were always some
geckos hanging around. The geckos are harmless and amusing, in a
strange sort of way. Back to the jam. The smears of jam attracts
flys and other insects. Geckos, not to miss out on a free meal,
offered not on a plate, but a wall, gather near the jam, and wait.
With the jam being near the hole in the wall, for the spirits, the
geckos get other things than come through the hole, including the
occasional mosquito. A good symbiotic relationship, albeit temporary.
The hotel did not have a restaurant as far as I can recall,
but we were given use of a lad called Blue. A shout from the
balcony of ek sano pot chiya [a
small quiz for you], and a few minutes later we have ...
He was a good lad, helpful, attentive, and happy to do
whatever we asked. Our own personal servant.
We stopped cooking in the back of the truck as we were long
term guests at the hotel, and as it didn't have one, we ate out
at local restaurants for breakfast and dinner. Sometimes lunch
as well, if we had not gone out for the day.
the very best, lemon meringue pie in the
whole wide world
Sometimes, in the afternoon we would wander a short distance
towards the palace, to have tea and cake in a small cafe.
Unusually, it was run by a
Rana, a
Brahmincaste,
[2>] so he was prepared to eat at the same table,
and chat with us.
Why did we keep going back though. Simple, the best, the very
best, lemon meringue pie in the whole wide world. No probably!
They were generous slices as well.
You have to be careful where and what you eat in Kathmandu.
You may recall I told you about the salad in Kabul. It is not as
obvious in Kathmandu, but in some ways the situation is worse.
Hepatitis is endemic in Kathmandu, and no Gamma Globulin
injections to help you resist it. You will get some form of
Dysentery, almost guaranteed. I managed to only suffer with
Giardia, also known as egg burps. Unpleasant, and returns every
now and again, but not as bad as some of the other deceases
going around.
It can be the simple things that get you. Nepal is a poor
country, as a result they have adopted the mantra of reduce,
reuse, recycle, decades before it became fashionable in the UK.
Bottles are still reused. It fact, it is a thriving business for
young kids to collect bottles, and get the deposit back. As soon
as a tourist takes their last sip, a kid asks for the bottle.
This is all very good, but, as always, there is a but. The
re-sealable bottles, with a clip and stopper, are obviously
reused. The coke bottle with the crimped top, less obvious. How
well are the bottles cleaned between uses? Hot water?
Sterilized? Then there is the question of how the bottles are
kept. Frequently, in an oil drum by the side of the road, filled with water, in an attempt to cool the drink. No refrigerators
on the roadside here, and often not in shops. Water is not a
plentiful commodity, especially cold water, so how often is the
water changed, what bugs are in it? Unfortunately, plenty. Its
hot, very hot, you want a Fanta, to cool down and refresh you.
You get a bottle from the drum, not one of the top ones, they
have been warmed by the sun. Dig a little deeper. The cap comes
off and you drink it down, Ah! Feel good? You have just exposed
yourself to a water bourn decease, that might make you very ill.
There must be an alternative. Its all in the detail. Westerners
normally wrap there lips around a bottle to drink. If however,
you kiss the bottle, just the very top, avoiding any part not
protected by the cap, you improve your chances of staying well
considerably. The little things make the difference.
Another one. How do you clean your teeth? How do you rinse?
Most definitely not with tap water!
Again, don't have ice with your drink, even with your Gin and
Tonic. The tonic is good for you but the ice is not. Even the
good restaurants can't be relied upon to thoroughly boil the
water before cooling it back down, then freezing it. It sounds
perverse, to waste energy making something hot before making it
cold. Don't drink to water unless you know it has been boiled.
Even then, as mentioned in Kabul, the water does not get to
100oC because of the altitude.
if you are eating, about to eat, or
just eaten, stop reading
OK, if you are eating, about to eat, or just eaten, stop
reading. The next bit is not pleasant, but necessary, in part it
helps understand the water issue.
Below is a map showing how close we were to the main part of
town, Durban Square. Thamel is considered the tourist district.
The direct walking route is shown in blue.
The road is narrow, old and full of old houses. It is a very
interesting walk, people, cows, shrines, architecture. But never
in the early morning. Likely you will throw up. The smell in the
early morning is vile, repugnant, overpowering. Why subject
yourself to this when the alternative, longer route will take
less the 15 minutes more? What's the problem in the morning?
Well, overnight it becomes a long, open air, public lavatory,
that is the crux of the problem. With cows running (walking,
slowly meanering) freely along
the roads without any form of hindrance, you will naturally
expect a few cow pats, with the associated flies. However, this
is a very long, open air, public lavatory, used by humans, and
well used at that. Every yard or so there is evidence of human
feces. Generally more cow pat than dog in consistency. The
variety of colour and smell is amazing. All the way into town.
The sun, later in the morning dries and clears the air somewhat.
The afternoon rain washes it all away, ready for the next night.
As you will have guessed a lot of older houses don't have any
form, inside or out, of toilet. Hence the street. And probably a
significant contributory factor in the prevalence of water borne
deceases.
We learnt not to go that way in the early mornings,
Enough of all that, it has probably improved beyond
recognition now, reinforced by looking at some of the video
clips. Kathmandu was a fraction of the size it is today. There
were tourists, hippies, and travellers, but nowhere near the
number to be seen in the videos.
The return trip was always easier. We generally took the
shorter route, as the smell and sights had eased. Quite
frequently we would be accosted on the way home by a local with
something to sell. He seamed to have a different something each day. His
linguistic skills were amazing. We heard his patter to others as
well. He starts by eyeing up his pray. American, pay too much,
good thing;
German, not as much as American, but more than Brit. Then to
categories, hippy; little chance, poor, traveller, respect,
knows the local culture, will only pay slightly above local
rate; tourist; rich pickings. Then the approach, chose the
language, and go for the sell. Price based on assessment. We would sometimes reply to his
opening in a foreign language. It rarely phased him, just an
instant switch to that language. It became a game after a while,
seemingly, for all of us. Many of the hawkers could do this,
multi-language thing.
We gave him some money before we left Kathmandu, if nothing
else, for the entertainment value.
There were always plenty of kids on the streets, begging.
They came across as starving retches, who could barely lift
their hand to their mouth, in the universal motion for, "Feed
Me". Their plea, in English, was barely auditable. We saw the
same kids on the way home some days, playing football, or eating
ice-cream. Just normal kids. We would wave, or chat. They were
fine. Next day, in Durbar Square, they were starving and poor
again. I was a job, a way of earning some money. Don't get me
wrong though, There is abject poverty throughout Nepal, and
particularly in Kathmandu, but not all is as it seems.
The terrain map puts context to the location. Kathmandu on
the left, in a wide valley and Everest, a little higher! on the
right. Kathmandu valley surrounded by hills and mountains. Even
the planes from the airport have to spiral up after taking off,
to clear the mountains.
A funny thing happened on the way to the theatre, oh, no, the
airport. We were just visiting, with no particular purpose. The
airport road is wide, secluded and relatively lightly
trafficked. An ideal place to train drivers on the art of
driving trolley busses. Blue, if I recall. One following
another. The first stops at a bus stop. The second proceeds to
overtake to get to the next stop first. If you are not already
chortling quietly to yourself, I will explain that trolley buses
take their power from a single overhead wire via a pole type
device. The attempt at overtaking just tangled the equipment,
such that neither could move. The regular bus overtook them.
Another day trip. We set off walking west. We did not know if
we could get to our intended destination, but it was worth a
try. What was there to loose? Thamel quickly ended, as did the
path. We were into the fields, mainly rice. Walking along the
edge of the fields, raised out of the water. Nodding, waving at
the farm workers, who either stared back with incredulity, or waved
back with smiles. this was not part of the hippy trail.
Foreigners did not go here. Its not that we felt unsafe, or
unwelcome, more like the elephant walking down the village high
street. We could see our destination, but still did not know of
the obstacles ahead. A river, and a bridge across it. Just more fields, and more people tending
them. I assume that they did go into Kathmandu, but they were
different than the people you would bump into in Thamel or the
city centre. It was warm now, what were we doing walking in the
heat of the day? Other tourists just grabbed a taxi and went by
road, not through the countryside. The maps don't show it as
countryside anymore, the fields have been consumed by the city.
The fields ended. We found paths and roads again.
Not far not. Just a few steps.
Over 300 steps apparently. I don't recall counting them at
the time, nor the answer.
It
was well worth the climb. Swayambhu , also known as 'The Monkey
Temple' is a fascinating vibrant place. [3>] It is not quiet hushed
tones, but full of life, a central part of the worshipers life.
It was fascinating to see a baby on her Mother's back, put out
her arm as her Mother walked around the circle of prayer wheels,
spinning each one in turn. Or youngsters running round doing the
same. Spin the wheel and the prayer carved on it is deemed to be
said. Another similar technique is to use a hand held version.
Efficient incantations. The
photo is of a 'Buddhist reciting prayers and spinning his prayer wheel in front of a temple in Bhaktapur, Nepal.' by
Francois de Halleux.
This may be a tourist 'must see' place, but it remains, and
thrives, as a place of worship, on a daily basis. Well worth the
trip. I don't recall walking back, perhaps we caught a taxi or
rickshaw?
One of the benefits of not having a restaurant in the hotel
is that you go out to eat, for almost every meal. (Apart from
when you are feeling unwell.) That way you get to know the good
ones, the not so good, and the down right atrocious.
cheap lodgings are located in and around
roads called Pig Alley and
Freak Street
A lot of cheap lodgings are located in and around roads called
Pig Alley and
Freak Street. I hesitate to use the word hotel for these
places, and they are generally called guesthouses. This is the
hippies, travellers and backpackers area, and has a lot of
low budget rooms and dormitories. Hotel Star in
Thamel, the new tourist area, is very expensive by
comparison, and well worth the extra. Some maybe as cheap as
10/- per night. We were paying twice that at 20/-. Note the way
of writing money is similar to England's £.s.d days. And with an
exchange rate of 20Rs to the pound, it is a reasonable
translation. India uses Rupees, Rs, Nepal uses Nepalese Rupees,
also Rs. No confusion there then. Our hotel cost a massive £1
GBP per night. That was for a clean, spacious two bedded room
with a loo at the end of the corridor. We did not share our bed
with biting bugs either. An added benefit.
Our outdoor corridor looked down into the hotel's courtyard.
There was a shop, near the gate, clothing or rugs, I think.
Kathmandu Guest House, was on the left, looking out from the
balcony, with the gatehouse visible. You had to go out the gate
and around the corner to see KGH. The two hotels were probably
about the same size then, but much smaller than KGH is now. The
fields, the edge of Kathmandu, and Thamel, were behind us. The
new area of Thamel in front.
As the new part of Thamel was the up and coming tourist area,
with the nice hotels and restaurants, it also became the
fashionable place to be seen for the locals. There was another
hotel, in a different area of town, that catered for a different
clientele, the 5 star fly in fly out tourist. The hotel, name
escapes me, was truly international. Full Western standards and
decor, proper 5 star, with European pricing, in dollars, marks,
and pounds. A single beer was many times the price of our room.
The locals did not go there often. Whereas Thamel, while
expensive, was priced in rupees.
rubbing shoulders with the rich, famous,
and influential
Our tendency to eat in restaurants, which turned out to be in
the fashionable part of town at the time resulted in us rubbing
shoulders with the rich, famous, and influential. Not a normal
social status for either Pete or I.
When we took the alternative route into town we would get to
the junction of, Tridevi Sadak, Kanti Path, and Narayanhiti Path
(road names from current Google Maps). The King's palace is a
little further alone Narayanhiti Path. Over the wall we could
see a tree, well, a tree sized bush of Ganja plant. Novel. The
Ganja shops in Freak Street had closed a couple of years ago, as
it was officially made illegal, but little was done to enforce
it. On our next visit, in 1977, the tree had gone, or at least
was no longer showing above the wall.
Photo
of the
streets of Thamel by McKay Savage from Chennai, India on 14
May 2007. Captioned:- The tourist district of Thamel is a warren of busy, narrow streets. Shops spill out to compete for space with hawkers, touts and bicycle rickshaws. It is a bustle of signs and cries and horns, but there are plenty of cafes and rooftops to calm one's nerves and as a popular traveller's destination, you are never far from a German bakery, restaurant serving pizza or a CD shop blaring popular tunes. My favorite was the live music scene and a cup of Nepali masala chai on a rooftop or courtyard patio.
On one of our wanders in that direction we continued along
the road to the palace entrance. The timing could not have been
better, a cavalcade of black Mercedes cars had just started to
move down the drive. The police at the gate stopped all the
traffic, and the cavalcade, with flags waving swept out of the
palace grounds, and on its way towards town, along Durbar Marg.
All of the cars had white number plates. The significance became
apparent later, when we found out that all government cars have
white number plates, and they frequently demand priority on the
roads.
The King used to have a Rolls Royce as his primary car. He
sold it and got a fleet of Mercedes instead. Unfortunately,
courtesy demanded that the British Ambassador dispose of his
vintage Rolls Royce. After all, nobody in the country should
have car better than the King, especially when the King is as a
living God. [4>]
He was being deported
Cars and trucks last a long time in the Kathmandu valley.
Presumably due to the weather and the lack of salt. Add the
locals innate ability to make do and mend, and you have vehicles
which just keep on going. They are old and in good condition,
but being old are not perceived as being worth much. A friend we
met in our wanderings in Kathmandu saw an opportunity to buy an
old car here, for very little, take it home to the States, and
sell it on the vintage car market, for a lot. Sound business
proposition. He bought an old Cadillac, I don't think I ever
knew the model. He was really proud of it as well. Taking every
opportunity to cruse the streets of Kathmandu and show off his
splendid new toy. This however, got him noticed. He was followed
by 'white plates' for a couple of days, before being arrested.
After a few hours he was released. He was being deported. His
antics in the car was the reason. His car may be thought of as
better than the King's, which, as we know, is poor form. He was
not actually deported. We all went in one last spin in it then
he stopped driving around in his beloved Cadillac. He started to
make arrangements for its export, which we think was helped by
the 'white plates'. That was sufficient appeasement to not
actually get deported. Would he have been deported otherwise,
without a trial, or a legal reason? Most probably!
The
import and export of vehicles was strictly controlled. The fact
that his Cadillac was old would not have been sufficient to
necessarily grant an export license. The fact that it was a
potential embarrassment was.
There were very few trucks in Kathmandu, mainly due to the
import restrictions and the foreign currency availability. Goods
were moved on a
person's back, on a rickshaw, or on a
hand cart. Rarely by beast drawn or motorised transport.
One of the above photo sources has a heading of 'The happiest people are often the poorest'. It is on a website called
World
nomads which has a section on
Nepal. Brilliant photos, but what of the title.
We met a woman like the ones in the
photo who had carried wood down from the mountains to
Kathmandu. We bought her a mug of tea at one of the roadside tea
venders in Kathmandu. All that wood would sell for less than our
breakfast. She had carried it miles, and would walk back the
same day, with food. Neither of us could lift the basket of wood
that she had, let alone carry it up and down hills for miles.
Our conversation was obviously limited by language, but she was
definitely content with her lot in life, even though it was very
limited, and without doubt financially very poor. Dal and rice
the staple food, in small quantities. I suspect the average
western diet is more in a day than she will have in a week. It
is a tough existence, very tough. Happy, not sure. Content, most
definitely. Perhaps, 'the most content people are often the
poorest', and I might add something about hill folk as well.
Frequenting the fashionable Thamel restaurants enabled us to
not only rub shoulders with the rich, famous and powerful, we
got to know some of them as well.
It was a brilliant party until the police
came and arrested us
We were invited to a festival in another part of Kathmandu.
It was probably going to be a late finish, so we took the truck.
It was a brilliant party until the police came and arrested us.
We asked why but we were just told to go with them. So we did,
we followed them to the police station. Still unawares of the
problem were were taken inside an told to wait. We began to
wonder if it was something to do with going to the party. We did
not wait long. We were ushered into an office. The Chief of
Police, Kathmandu sat behind the desk. We had met him previously
at the restaurant, and had eaten with him a couple of days
before.
"Hello Pete, Ivan." "I bet that had you worried." "What
are you up to tomorrow?" "We are going to Dhaka in the
morning. We are just having a bit of a holiday. We're leaving
the truck here, back in a fortnight. Is there a problem with
that?" "No your not. I can't let you go." "But we have
bought the tickets already" "I saw your names on one of the
passenger lists, and sent the officers out to find you." "I
have already spoken to the Chief of the Airline, you are getting
a full refund" "So what's the problem? Why can't we go?"
"The plane is going in the morning, but without you two." It is
not coming back though." "There is going to be a Coup there
just after the plane lands!" It will be a while before it comes
back." [5>] "Ah! Understood. How do you know?" "It's my
job to know." "Now the penny has dropped! Thanks for that."
May not be word for word, but something like that.
This all happened on the night before the coup on Friday the 15 August 1975.
How very fortuitous that we had become friends with both the
Chief of Police Kathmandu and the Chief of Police Nepal, just by
eating at a particular restaurant. Flying into a war zone would
not have been a good move.
We didn't plan any other holidays, (within a holiday).
I would have to wait until 2012 for my
next red carpet event
On another occasion we were invited to the opening of a new
casino in Nepal. We were picked up by car (car translates to
limo) and taken to the edge of town, to a brand new building. I
would have to wait until 2012 for my next red carpet event. It
was a splendid and lavish affair. We were given free chips to
gamble with. Along with the black ties, there were a few orange
people, which seemed strange, but each to their own. There
weren't any Babas, and definitely no sackcloth and ashes. It was
a good evening, all free for us. Less so for others. We made
sure that we had lost all of the money given to us, but no more,
before leaving, again in their car. We were invited back, but
without the car, we had to make our own way there and back.
There were a number of approaches made to us about starting,
or investing in a business. There was one opportunity that was
interesting. We dug around a bit, and found out that foreigners
could own up to a maximum of 49% of a business, and no more.
This was too big a risk for us to want to take, major money
provider, but ultimately no control.
Our circle of friends became larger the longer we stayed. One
of the people we got to know was one of the princes. I don't
know which one, I don't think it was the crown prince. We dinned
together every now and then. Never, at the place. I think he had
a home of his own, as well as the family homes.
Lunch with the PM and Governor, dinner
with Royalty
There was a particular day where we excelled at this
celebrity thing. Pete and I were collected, and were driven to
the Prime Ministers residence. There we had a private lunch with
the Prime Minister and the Governor of the Bank of Nepal. Just
the four of us. Good Nepalese food, eating with our hand. We
talked about many things, but the main subject was our truck.
More on that later. Later the same day, we dined with the
Prince. Not a function, another private affair. I don't remember
any other members of the Royal Family being there. Lunch
with the PM and Governor, dinner with Royalty. A good day
out. Good company, and good food.
Other days we would dine with the Chief of Police of Nepal
and the Chief of Police of Kathmandu, sometimes with other
government officers, sometimes not.
It was a very strange lifestyle, totally new to us. Tourist,
and shopping during the day, followed by minor celebrity in the
evening.
Kathmandu also had a disco, only the one, at the time, or at
least only one that we went to. It was dark, flashing lights,
and loud, western music. Much the same as other discos. It was
about a twenty minute walk to get there, and more than thirty
minutes to get back! Oh, there was alcohol as well.
We went to other events as well, more local in origin. I seem
to recall a theater, possibly puppets, but very little about it.
Also, a party, with local drinks. A rice based product served in
small terracotta type saucers, about 50mm in diameter. Not very
deep, and not a lot in each one, but very potent. We were
entertained well, our hosts kept filling them up, and then down
in one. It does not take long, not to remember.
Shopping was similar to other counties we had been to, where
everything is haggled down to a price. Expensive items are
bought either in the evenings or over several days. Each day
getting closer to an acceptable price. I found a very nice
hunter pocket watch with a vivid blue night sky, with diamonds
for stars and a gold case. Gold is cheap in India, and that
spreads to Nepal. They assessed its worth by its approximate
weight in gold. I did not get it in the end, but it was a nice
piece. I did collect a number of souvenirs, small / light enough
to be taken on a plane.
A friend offered to take heavy objects back to the UK with
him, overland. We bought metal travel trunks, and packed some
goodies. The main part of this was our tool kit for the truck.
By the time it was packed into as small a space as possible, it
made for a significant little package. I'm glad we did not have
to post it. We collected it after returning to the UK, the tin
box a little battered, not un-expected, but otherwise, all
survived. Thanks Ben ....
In
Kathmandu
Durbar Square there is an old palace with a special window.
Frequently there is a little girl sat in the window. Not in an
Amsterdam type way.
An immature girl revered
as a living goddess. [6>] The
Kumari Chowk
is shown towards the bottom left of the map of Kathmandu Durbar
Square by
Digital Himalaya.
It is a very small world. Pete was astounded when he saw
someone he thought he recognised in Durbar Square. He was an old school
friend
of Pete's from High Wycombe. They had not seen each other for
years, but bumped into one another a quarter of the way round
the world. In the same place at the same time, and actually to
meet. What are the chances? That filled another afternoon.
Another afternoon, we were in a part of town we had not been
to before. We were just walking along, with no particular
purpose when we crossed paths with a funeral possession. The
body was being carried, wrapped in white cloth, and the mourners
were also dressed in white. I recall music and chanting. For a
YouTube clip of the cremation temple,
click here.
The wood carvings on the temples is superb and the quality is
still there today. Santa wanted a carved screen in the hotel. He
employed a couple of carpenters and there it was, done in no
time. Excellent workmanship.
Very skilled carpenters, paid the princely sum of one dollar
a week. At the same time we were living a very privileged life,
gadding about with the rich, famous, and influential.
On the way into Durbar Square we would
walk past a
fire station. [7>] It was old, well, actually quite new
compared to most of the buildings nearby, which presumably was
why it was positioned there. About 1940s. The fire engine was
and old Merryweather type. An antique, vintage in UK terms. It
was a real treat to see such an iconic fire engine still in
service. Although if it really was the only fire engine for the
whole of Kathmandu, it would struggle to save much.
Unfortunately, when it was replaced by some engines given by
the German Government latter in 1975, they were too wide to fit
in the fire station, and down some of the streets.
We saw them on our next trip to Kathmandu, in 1977.
We thought about going down to
Chitwan, the new national park to the south of Kathmandu. My
recollection was that there was a problem with this idea.
Chitwan is in the lowlands, just south of the Himalaya. It may
have been a case of access to it was from India, not the 100 or
so miles that it is today.
Instead we went to another city of the Kathmandu Valley,
Patan. Patan is just next door to Kathmandu, and has it's own
Durbar Square.
On one day that we walked into town something strange
happened. It was as if the King had left the country for the
day. Not that the locals would celebrate his leaving, but more
the fact that if the King is out of the country, it is declared
as a public holiday. The Nepalese have a lot of public holidays,
more than twice the UK, even before accounting for the King's
travel arrangements. Everywhere, adults and children, were in
the street, on the roofs,
flying kites. They are very good a
flying kites. [8>] Another festival in
Kathmandu.
We were walking home one afternoon and as we approached one
of the many stone shrines, a small group of people arrived, with
a buffalo in tow. Probably as part of the same festival, We
stayed and watched for a while. The buffalo was aware of
something, eyes wide and fearful, and it was most definitely
male. It could of course just have been the growing crowd that
appeared to spook it. We waited almost a hour, and nothing was
happening apart from the crowd was getting bigger. I guess they
knew what was about to happen and when. We left and continued on
our way, suspecting still the the animal was to become a
sacrifice to one of the Gods.
Selling the truck was not as simple as it could have been,
nor as simple as we anticipated. It started OK with telling
Santa and a few others that it was for sale and putting a hand
written notice on the windscreen.
We had a flurry of activity, then a lull then some more
activity. One gentleman seamed particularly interested. He came
back with a mechanic, then again with somebody else.
Another person, agreed to meet us at the truck, but did not
show up. We saw him again, and apparently he missed the
appointment because it was raining. This despite habitually
carrying an umbrella.
Various people came and went, some who evidently had no
intention, or no ability to purchase the truck.
I don't know how we found out, but find out we did. A lot of
the people feigning interest were employed by a very few
interested parties.
It was all part of the game. Lots of interest, but no sell is
meant to make the seller despondent. This in turn is meant to
increase anxiety resulting in a decrease in price. Also,
generally, foreigners have a limited or fixed time in which to
sell. With time running out, and interest but no sale, to get
desperate, to do something, to make the difference. Its like
Christmas stuff, just before the shops shut Christmas Eve.
Everything cut price, just to shift it in time.
Slight problem with that technique. We were having a good
time, and did not have a specific time by which we had to leave.
So we remained relatively laid back about all the comings and
goings. Sometimes it was annoying to stay in for somebody who
did not show up. Otherwise, they could play whatever games they
wanted, it just hardened our resolve.
We met up with an Italian who, after a long afternoon of
chatting about this and that, had a business proposition for us.
We buy two transit vans, second hand, but in good condition, and
drive them to his place in Italy. In exchange he gives us one
second hand Ferrari. No model, age, or condition specified, but
it seemed like a good enough deal to talk some more once we were
back in Europe. Apparently transit vans were a must have
commodity, and were in short supply. The arrangement was to
repeat until the market went off the boil, until it was no
longer mutually beneficial. We kept in touch until he left
Kathmandu, by which time we also had a fixed date of departure.
We arranged a fixed date and time to contact, discuss again and
firm up any details, before making an agreement, or not.
We were getting less interest in the truck but that interest
was from people who seemed as if they could afford it.
Then came the invitation to the Prime Ministers private
residence for lunch. On the allotted day we were picked up by an
official car, and whisked off to his house. There we had a very
pleasant Nepalese lunch with the Prime Minister and the Governor
of the Bank of Nepal. All very civilized, just the four of us.
Lunch over, time to talk business. We danced around the subject
for a while, with no clear intent. I don't recall which of them
was the potential purchaser, or perhaps both. We got down to the
detail, and started talking price. They were in an area we
considered derisory. The Governor offered to make the deal
sweeter by arranging the foreign exchange through the Bank. He
would not commit to paying in foreign currency though.
Currency exchange is strictly controlled, and it is difficult
to obtain funds. It is a carful balance of what comes in from
the tourists, to what needs to go out, in dollars, like fuel for
the airline. It is easier for foreigners to have such currency.
As a tourist you have to have an average daily exchange, and
you are not allowed to exchange back more than bought. So the
offer had some complications to it.
Nepalese Rupees have no value outside of Nepal or India. The
only other way is on the black market, before we leave Nepal.
All in all, one way or another, we were going to break the law.
If the Governor had gone as far to offer hard currency,
directly, they might have had a deal, even as low as it was. He
would not go that far, unfortunately. The best price they could
get to remained derisory. Very much so. We let them know in no
uncertain terms. Looking back, we did not maintain the correct
level of decorum. We were very frank.
The meeting closed, we exchanged the required pleasantries,
thanks for lunch etc., and left in the official car again. The
white plates really do make a difference. Most other local
vehicles we had travelled in had to weave in and out of the
traffic to make any significant progress, changing lane at a
moments notice, tut-tuts squeezing through gaps that just did
not exist, taking on busses, with abandon. The white plates just
drive serenely on their route and everybody gets out of the way,
sometimes after a loud toot on the horn.
A few days later we were approached again. It was almost as
if the whole thing had been a play and this was the last act.
Everything before had been to get here and the cast knew the
script all the way through, apart from us of course. The
purchaser was about to be revealed.
The General Manager of Nepal Airlines. The Airline was
government owned, and he was in change of the whole airline. It
was him that arranged for our tickets to be refunded, when we
did not fly to Darkat, on police advise.
Another negotiation.
This time the games had already been played. We had been
tested in so many different ways. Our resolve was firm.
As with all negotiations, we did have to move to secure the
deal.
Much more than a craftsman's lifetime
earnings
We sold the truck for 72,000 Nepalese Rupees. A huge amount
of money. Much more than a craftsman's lifetime earnings.
At the official exchange rate this equated to approximately
$5,300 or £3,600. All for a truck which cost us £300 to buy in
the UK. Plus of course the cost of preparing it for the trip and
getting it to Nepal. Still a healthy profit.
To put this in context, £3,600 is worth £24,780 in terms of
RPI increase (to 2011) or in terms of economic power, value of that income or wealth is £50,860, at the time of writing in
2013, using
Measuringworth.com.. In terms of wealth in Nepal, as
previously explained above it was worth £3-4 million GBP. Either
way, it is a lot of money to have in a plastic briefcase,
scratched and battered from the journey across Asia.
Over the next week we bought tickets home and exchanged the
money into US dollars. Dollars were more readily available than
Pounds, and accordingly we got a more favorable black market
exchange rate.
All of the time we were aware that the police and the Bank
knew about our activities. We expected to be arrested at any
time, or at the airport on departure.
Well, that is that. Time to say our good byes to the many
friends. A few last offers of investment opportunities. Some
last minute shopping, including a Nepalese coat, a huge jewel
mounted in a ring, and a
khukuri knive,
as used by Gurkhas.
Money for Blue, our servant, and some of the hawkers /
beggars.
Santa gave us a list of things to bring from the UK next time
we came. He was sure we would come back.
A last slice of lemon meringue pie, and we were in a taxi on
the way to the airport.
How can I possibly value the truck at £3m GBP? Well it is not.
Nowhere near that amount, in UK terms. However, in relative wealth
terms it is, Based on a calculation in May 2013. I compared the
approximate annual earnings of a Nepalese carpenter in 1975 with
that of a carpenter working in the UK in 2013. It would take the
Nepalese carpenter over 110 years to earn enough to buy the truck
for the sum we sold it for. The equivalent comparable UK sum is
between £3m and £4m GBP dependent upon variables. Hence, in terms of
the Nepalese perception, we were very very wealthy, owning a toy
that was worth more than they would earn in a lifetime, in fact,
probably two lifetimes. This is just to put some context to the
page.
I know it sounds weird to talk about eating at the same table,
but it was very important to people of that area at the time. A
higher caste person would not eat or socialize with a lower caste
person. Rather go hungry. Equally you could not even buy a brush,
let alone use it in earnest. There are plenty of articles about
caste.
At the southern end of Durbar Square is one of the most curious attractions in Nepal, the Kumari Chowk. This gilded cage contains the Raj Kumari, a young girl chosen through an ancient and mystical selection process to become the human incarnation of the Hindu mother goddess, Durga. She is worshipped during religious festivals and makes public appearances.
Jayaprakash Malla, the last Malla king to rule Kathmandu, built a temple for Kumari, Durga in her virginal state. The temple was named Kumari Bahal and was structured like a typical Newari vihara. In his house resides the Kumari, an immature girl who is revered as the living goddess. He also made a chariot for Kumari and in the courtyard had detailed terra cotta tiles of that time laid down.
According to
FAN, The fire service started its first office in Nepal in Kathmandu, the capital city of the country in 1937 with a single ‘MORISH’ (England made) Vehicle. At that time Kathmandu valley was not linked by any motorable road so this vehicle was transported into the city by porters who carried its parts and particles on their back and shoulder from Indian boarder.
It could be a case of a Merryweather on a Morris engine and
Chassis as is the case in the linked photo of a
1936 Morris Merryweather
After our departure the single fire engine, for the whole of
Kathmandu!, was replaced by some
engines given by the German Government. We saw them on our
next trip to Kathmandu, in 1977. Unfortunately they were too wide
to fit in the fire station, and down some of the streets.
The replacement fire engines could have been similar to the
Magirus Deutz shown in the link.
The photo is of Lahore but the skies were equally full of kites.
Dashain (Nepali: दशैं) or Badadashain (Nepali: बडादशैं) or Vijaya Dashami
is the 15 day long national (religious) festival of Nepal. It is the
longest and the most auspicious festival in the Nepalese annual
calendar, celebrated by Nepalese people of all castes throughout the
globe. It is not only the longest festival of the country but is
also the one which is most anticipated. The festival falls around
September–October, starting from the bright lunar fortnight and
ending on the day of full moon. It is celebrated for 15 days; the
most important days are the 1st, 7th, 8th, 9th and the 10th. The
fifteen days of celebration occur during the bright lunar fortnight
ending on the day of the full moon.