INDIA TO PAKISTAN

All our regular readers are expressing concern at the length of time I have remained silent. Well, here are the excuses. The day we left Bikaner, I was actually feeling fairly crook, and it was stinking hot. Thought it was the heat stress, dehydration etc. I was very lethargic, & felt slightly dizzy. We headed north towards Amritsar, had an overnight stop at a very forgettable place called Bathinda, where it was stinking hot, then to Amritsar, where it was still stinking hot. I just crashed out for two days, trying to recover. We had a look at the golden temple, the holiest place in all Sikhdom. I might as well have been looking at the seventh largest ball of string in the world, for all I cared at that stage. We also went to the border closing ceremony at Wagah, where the Indian & Paki armies do the silly walks, and taunt each other, while the crowds yell their heads off. It was a boiling hot yawn for me, but as long as they keep doing that & not shooting each other, I guess its OK. You may have gathered by now that I did not enjoy India, but we were both concerned that Pakistan would be even worse, so it was with some trepidation that we approached the same border post the next day.

After clearing the Indian side, where to their credit they actually checked the engine & VIN numbers against the Carnets believe it or not, we got to the Pakistani side. Surprise number 1, the immigration & customs building was brand new & squeaky clean, airport quality. Surprise number 2, the officials were friendly & efficient, & they checked the bikes against the carnet as well. Away we went, & while the first few kilometers were fairly grotty, the road wasn't bad. Lahore is quite close to the border, & we were there in no time. Surprise number 3, the traffic all drives on the left, stops at traffic lights, & obeys instructions from the traffic police. Surprise number 4. The streets were wide, & lined with trees, & it all looked fairly pleasant. We made it to the Holiday Inn, where the first thing I did was to arrange to see a doctor, because I was still feeling lousy. I got some magic tablets & improved almost immediately. All things considered, the outlook was improving!

Some things we did pick up on were that there is a sense of underlying tension in Lahore, with security measures being highly visible. The Holiday Inn had the usual external security measures, uniformed armed guards, etc, but there was also an airport type metal detector inside the front doors. One morning we noticed they were using mirrors to check underneath cars going into the underground car park. As this was where the bikes were parked, good thing I say!

Near the main Government buildings there were cops in full riot gear, dressed up like baseball catchers. This does get you thinking. And being a muslim country, the call to prayer booms out over the city six times a day, so you can't miss that either. When we left the Holiday Inn for Islamabad, the general manager had arranged to see us off out the front, with an official photographer, the whole bit! And we got a gift pack containing a Tshirt & cap. Although we could see no reason for this treatment, other than the fact that they may have thought we were deranged, we appreciated the gesture. We were starting to like Pakistan.

The mosque in Lahore. Typical Mughal architecture, & the inspiration for the Taj Mahal.

The 300km ride up to Islamabad was uneventful, other than we discovered that servos sell all sorts of stuff, just like home. Lunch was back on the agenda!! In India, they sell petrol, that's it. Not even engine oil, let alone a cold drink. We also noted there are servos that sell CNG only (thats compressed natural gas), the cars on the road appear to be mostly new, or at least in good nick, unlike India, where anything with wheels is out on the road. There are also quite a few fast food outlets with the usual suspects having an obvious presence. Here they don't worship cows, they eat them. Bewdy!!

Islamabad itself on first sight is vaguely reminiscent of Canberra. Its a planned city, set out on a grid system, & has wide tree lined avenues, & generally looks neat (if you don't look too hard), & there are no heaps of garbage everywhere, like you know where. OK thats all I'll say on that subject. While we waited for our Iranian Visas to be issued, we had a few days to kill, so we hired a car & driver & headed on up the Karakoram Highway (KKH). It was great to be able to relax & enjoy the views without the stress of staying alive, although we had to hustle a bit. We had a 15 hour day to start with.

We went up as far as the Batura Glacier , about 800km from Islamabad, and the scenery was sublime. WARNING: TECHNICAL CONTENT. For a Civil Engineer, there is a great deal of interest in the construction of the highway, only completed in 1978, and it is also interesting to observe large scale geology in action. The mountain ranges are still being formed by tectonic plates bashing into each other, you have glaciers dumping moraine into the valleys, (the debris is hundreds of meters deep in places) & then the rivers carving it up. And this is also the earthquake capital of the world. At one point you can see all three of the main ranges, the Himalayas, the Karakorums, and the Hindu Kush, and two of the main rivers, the Gilgit & the mighty Indus. The point is marked by a monument.They are in the process of building a hydro electric scheme on the Indus, which will change the country permanently, so see it yourself soon. In this vast natural landscape, one feels about as significant as a pebble!! Please enjoy the following photos taken along the KKH.

Terraced plots, with ox drawn plough.

Typical shots of the road. Note, no guard rails.

Typical glacial moraine

Sediment eroded by the river

The Cathedral Peaks near Passu

Public transport on the KKH....hang on.

The peak of Mt Rakaposhi, taken from our hotel balcony.

On the way up, we were stopped at a village by an angry looking mob who had blocked the road, and set fire to a pile of tyres. A bit of a worry, I thought. The driver made some inquiries, & it turned out this mob was protesting about the lack of mobile phone coverage in the region! We waited about 45 minutes, then it was all over, & we went on our way. I also reckon I saw Osama bin Whatsit about three hundred times while we were up there. He looked a lot like this guy.

But if ObL really is hiding out in this region, they are never going to find him, let alone mount any sort of successful military operation. There is a long history of unsuccessful military ventures in this part of the world, & its easy to see why. The logistics are a nightmare. Historically, and even now, the inhabitants mind their own business, & fiercely defend their own turf. In many of the valleys, they don't even particularly want to be part of Pakistan, but they'll take the phone towers. In fact, as this is part of the old Silk Route, there is a strong sense of action based on mutual benefit. In other words, we will trade with you if you have something we want, otherwise bugger off.

Our next move is to head west to Quetta, & then to the Iranian border. It will take us a week to get to Iran, and this section may well be the toughest part of the whole trip. We will be in Iran for two weeks. So, don't worry, butI may not be able to blog again for another 3 weeks. Till then.

STOP PRESS: At 1 pm this afternoon, Monday 2 July, Chris & I had just left a cafe over the road from our lodgings, when we heard a seriously loud explosion, followed by a heavy plume of smoke, & not too far away either. Jesus H Christ, do you reckon that might have been a bomb?? It was indeed, in fact a car bomb outside the Danish Embassy, & it was only about 1.5 km away! I'd like to go now, thanks.

INDIA, CONTINUED

After Agra, we pushed further west to Jaipur, the capital of the state of Rajasthan. Shane Warne is the captain of the Rajasthan Royals, the 20/20 cricket side. We didnt see him, but he sent Chris a lurid sms (just kidding). We spent the first day visiting the palaces & the observatory in the old section of the city. The next day we went to the Amber Fort, just outside the town, & it was fairly impressive.Jaipur is surrounded by hills, & there are several forts on the ridges to defend the city. That night we were back in the hotel when we were told that several bombs had gone off in the old city. Timing is everything. We are quite OK, & are still more concerned with the traffic.

THE PALACE OF THE WINDS.



THE HILLS FORMING THE BACKDROP TO THE CITY.

TYPICAL STREET SCENE, PUBLIC TRANSPORT.

THE WATER PALACE

AS USUAL, THE HOTEL STAFF LOVED TO LINE UP FOR A PHOTO WITH THE TWO CRAZY GUYS. THIS IS THE CREW FROM THE HOLIDAY INN, JAIPUR.

We then headed out further west into the desert, to Bikaner. We rode for six kours in a heavy sandstorm, & the wind was so hot I thought someone had left the front door of Hell open. Were glad to arrive. We had booked into the Laxmi Niwas Palace, the former home of the Maharajah of Bikaner, which is now a hotel. And what a hotel! There are more staff than guests at the moment, & we got it for a ridiculously cheap price. The bathroom is bigger than the hotel room we had in Singapore.

THE SMALLER OF THE TWO INTERNAL COURTYARDS WHERE THE MEALS ARE SERVED.

The Maharajah was quite an operator, and was a well respected historical figure in India. Among other things, he was an army General, & a signatory to the Treaty of Versailles, which ended WW1, & represented India in discussions on Independence. Numerous Royals have stayed here, from George V, Earl Mountbatten, Edward V111, & so on, and the walls are lined with photos. Naturally, they shot most of the wildlife into extinction, & a lot of it is still on display in the bar.

THE TROPHY BAR. THIS IS OUR KIND OF BAR!!

Tomorrow we go north to Ganganagar. This is a whistlestop, & will be a big comedown from the Palace. Bye for Now.

INDIA, THE JEWEL IN THE CROWN?

India. What can I say that hasn't already been said about India? You've all heard it before. The vast plains, the heat, the heaving mass of 1.3 billion people, the colour, the poverty, the filth, the stench. It's all so very true!! But you know all that stuff I said about chaos on the roads in the countries we have been to sofar? Well, forget it, all that was only practice for India. India is a living nightmare, and it is no place to enjoy motorcycling. The cities are jam packed with cars, bicycles, scooters, rickshaws, tuk tuks, buses, pedestrians, with no quarter asked or given. They come at you every which way, & its bloody scary. They think nothing of driving on the wrong side of the road, & just appear in front of you, The horn, loud as it is, has little effect as everyone else is beeping at the same time. Out on the road, its even scarier. On a section of National Route 2 between Varnassi & Kanpur, which was a divided road with two lanes in each direction with a wide median strip inbetween, we were in the fast lane and every so often had trucks & even buses coming straight at us on the wrong side of the road. This is common practice. Scooters & small motorcycles just hop the median wherever they want, & pedestrians & cyclists are all over the shop. Throw in the cows, which just sit in the middle of the road, the buffalos that walk where ever they want, dogs, pigs, donkey carts, get the picture? At one stage, there was a guy on a small scooter crossing the median strip at will, and a guy coming straight at us on a similar bike, with a pillion. Both of them were so busy looking at us, that after we had passed, I witnessed a spectacular explosion of bikes & bodies in the rear vision mirror, as they really ploughed into each other hard. No helmets or any other protective gear. Somewhere else, we stopped in a small town, & two vans hit head on while their drivers were both looking at us, fortunately only going slowly.

Roadworks are a complete farce. At one point on a main highway we encountered a diversion in place around a bridge being repaired. There were no signs, no flagmen or temporary traffic lights , no traffic control whatsoever. Oncoming traffic just met head on until the whole lot just locked up. Everyone started beeping their horns, as if this would somehow solve the problem. We were stuck here for about 40 minutes, inching forward with the engines (& bodies) melting. At train crossings, instead of queueing in the normal manner, once a few cars stop in a queue, the late arrivals just drive down the wrong side of the road because its clear, and then stop at the barrier, taking up both lanes. The cars on the other side of the crossing do the same, & when the boom gates go up, no one can move off the crossing. Instant gridlock, which can back up for kilometers!

They seem to be fixing all the roads all at the same time, instead of actually finishing some of it & moving on to the next bit. You can be riding along one section, & then just get funnelled onto the other carriageway via a temporary crossing, next thing you have two lanes of traffic coming straight at you. At times, you are not even sure which side you are supposed to be on, but I'm starting to think it doesn't matter, you are not safe anywhere! One village just runs into the next, so you can't reall get going. You get up to 80 or 100, then almost immediately you are backing off for one reason or another. Its very frustrating, & progress is slow.

Wherever we stop, there is a crowd within seconds, and it just keeps getting bigger. At some towns this has actually caused substantial traffic jams. Sometimes, you have to beat people back to just find the bike. Crowds of a hundred or more are common, I kid you not. They crawl all over the bike tampering with all the switches. Sometimes there are some questions, usually how much do they cost, & how many miles to the gallon (why, I have no idea), but mostly they just stare blankly at us like zombies, as if we had just arrived from outer space. There may be some truth in this, if you think about it. This really is a pain in the butt, because you cant get a second's peace to just rest & recharge.

On our first night in India we got into Gorakhpur, and were absolutely shell shocked by the time we finally reached our dump of a hotel. I had managed to drop the bike while doing a slow U turn in heavy traffic, trying to find the hotel, & I was really cranky. No hot water, so a cold shower followed. My phone would not work, and none of the ATM 's we could find (after walking for hours through manure filled streets, breathing in the diesel fumes & the open drains filled with sewage & rotting garbage) would work with my cards. I had thirty bucks. That night, while sleeping, I was woken twice by a mouse running over my head. We awoke to find that someone had stolen the BMW logos off the tanks. Welcome to India!

In Gorakhpur we met Sam, (originally from England, now living in India) heading for Nepal on her Royal Enfield Bullet.

We got moving early next day, but by the time we got out of town, I was feeling really sick from the level of exhaust fumes, especially the diesel, the stench & the heat. That day, it took us 5 hours to cover 250 km, & it was the most demanding day so far. I really started to think I was in trouble, & had to question whether I had bitten off more than I could chew. We really had to dig deep at this point. We both felt we were not seeing India at all, just the fifty yards of road in front of the bikes, you dare not look at anything else while you are moving, & since you don't get a chance to see anything when you stop either, the whole thing seemed pointless. That night, we decided to review the itinerary.

Our new strategy was to get to the other side of the country as quickly as we could , & stay at 5 star hotels wherever possible. Again, the internet turned up some good hotel deals if you book ahead, through Wotif, or Wired Destinations & similar sites, but it would still take us 10 days to get out of this living vision of Hell. We also decided we needed to rehydrate, & started taking oral rehydration salts with our bottled water. It's stay alert or die in this inferno.

So, after a couple of night refuge in the Radisson in Varanassi, we both felt better. We had a look at the ghats on the Ganges, where thousands of devotees wash in the river at dawn (so we heard, we were asleep with the air conditioning on max), but we did see a few corpses incinerated later in the day. They really go off! Apparently they light up about 300 per day, seven days a week, no waiting.

The ghats on the Ganges at Varanassi. In the monsoon season, the sandbar on the opposite side is completely covered.

People swimming in the Ganges, well after the early morning rush.

We then bolted for the Landmark Hotel in Kanpur. Kanpur isn't even in the Lonely Planet, & now we know why. We read in the local paper it is the most polluted city in India in terms of air quality, & the 7th in the world, like they are proud of it!

From there to Agra, to see the you know what. Well, you have to, don't you? I actually felt a little excited when we got a glimpse of the Taj off in the distance on the way into town.

First glimpse of the Taj Mahal on the road into Agra.

The very comfortable Clarks Shiraz Hotel in the Cantonment area was a very agreeable base. Next day we went to the Taj, and I have to say that despite the well deserved bagging I have just given India, the Taj Mahal is simply the most glorious building I have ever seen, & I've seen plenty.

Sure it looks a little frayed around the edges when you get up close, but the concept, the scale & the setting are truly awe inspiring, and the level of craftsmanship & detail is just phenomenal. All the embellishments are either carved from or inlaid into the stonework. The four huge tapered circular columns on each corner of the main plinth are made of marble blocks, and the faces are not square, but cut on the curve, and they are perfect! I didn't want to leave this exquisite creation, I just kept looking at it from all angles, then sat & looked some more. I was completely captivated by its stunning beauty. When I reluctantly tore myself away & returned to the stinking streets, I think I started to understand why India is such an awful, weird yet somehow compelling place. But I have no plans to move here.

Next stop Jaipur, out in the Rajahstan desert. We thought heading into the desert would be better because there would be less people & less traffic, & we plan to go on to Bikaner, then up to Amritsar. As it turns out the roads actually improved a lot, this is where they are really spending some big money.

Somewhere in Rajahstan. The roads are better, the crowds are smaller, the air is cleaner.

The ride from Agra to Jaipur was our best yet in India, almost enjoyable, and we wondered whether things really are on the up & up, or is it just that we are getting used to the traffic. A bit of both, I think.

POST SCRIPT FROM NEPAL.


In Chitwan National Park in Nepal, we took an elephant ride through the jungle, on this very elephant. Chris & I were stuck at the back, facing rearwards. I learned something that I expect not many people in Australia would be aware of. An elephant must actually stop walking to take a dump, but it can fart on the move. So there!

HOW MUCH FOR THE GOAT??

Back in Kathmandu, the bikes finally arrived from Bangkok. After consulting numerous people in the customs office, who studied the paperwork carefully, then wrote stuff down in ancient ledgers, we went to the collection area. Here we were entertained by the total chaos as pallets of stuff fell over, forklifts collided with pallet trucks, & about 300 people all yelling at each other. Two huge wooden crates appeared, & as they were systematically destroyed by two guys with a steel spike & a couple of hammers, the crowd of spectators grew to include just about everyone in the airport. As the bikes were gradually revealed, the crowd was abuzz. "Yabber, yabber yabber.......BMW..........yabber, yabber, .............fast...etc." We got them roadworthy with about 100 people gettting in the way at every turn, debating what this tool was for, lots of oohs & aahs, you get the idea. We then rode out of the airport, following the freight forwarder, who took us to a servo which was guarded by armed police. Petrol is in short supply in Nepal. We filled up out the back, & it turned out that this was where the police vehicles were refuelled. Its not what you know, its who you know, as always.
We left for Chitwan National Park at 6 am next morning, to beat the worst of the traffic, and made good time until we hit the chaos of the ring road. At this point, all the trucks coming in from India converge. Cars then try to pass the trucks, driving on the wrong side of the road, & leaving nowhere for the outbound traffic (like us) to drive. Bikes then fill any available spaces. Oh, & they were digging up about two miles of footpath, with no signage or any other form of control. At the height of this madness, a paper boy ran up & tried to sell Chris a newspaper written in Nepalese!!

We finally got to the outskirts, & at the first checkpoint, a cop pulled Chris in & asked to see his lisence. After about two minutes of pulling the luggage apart trying to find it, Chris found it, but the cop had lost interest & waved us on. Thats Nepal.

We then had a good run for an hour or so, then it happened. Chris was in the lead as we rode through one of the many small villages when a goat bolted from nowhere straight at my bike, just as I was concentrating on passing a bus. I felt a big jolt as I hit the goat or vice versa, & for a split second I really thought I was gone. The bike dropped down on its left side, I got it back up again & then felt it drop onto its right side, jamming my foot on the road in the process, & finally got it level again. In the rear vision mirror, I saw a black lump on the road. I just gunned it & got out of there. About 10 km up the road, there was a police checkpoint, & we were hauled in. Someone had phoned ahead to tip off the cops. We ended up in the police station with about 5 cops, only one with any English, & all he could say was "Goat is dead, owner is coming". A sticky situation indeed!!

Before much longer, there were about 15 people in the room, all yabbering & pointing accusing fingers at us, with lots of "Goat is dead". I protested vehemently, putting forward a very convincing argument along the lines of "you are an irresponsible bastard letting your goat loose on a public road, what if I crashed my bike or injured myself, would you still own the goat then, you prick, etc." The reply I got to every valid argument I uttered was "Goat is dead". We could see that we were on a hiding to nothing here & that the only way we were getting out of here was by opening the wallet. The owner started the bidding commenced at 6000 rupees. We said for 6000, we would expect to keep the dead goat & your sister as well. We closed at 2000 rupees, thats $34 Aust, with him keeping the corpse. Lots of hand shaking & smiles, honour had been preserved. I'm guessing they had a barbecue that night. I got a badly bruised foot, and was a bit shaken up when I realised the whole trip could have ended there & then.


We pushed on towards Chitwan, keeping a wary eye out for livestock & everything else. We stopped to check directions, & my bike wouldn't start. The ignition problem I got checked out at the BMW dealer in Bangkok was back again!! This time, no dealers until Tehran. At this point, I'm very disappointed with the bike, it has been very unreliable, greatly overrated & it remains to be seen whether I can even get as far as Tehran. If it gets any worse, I will just put the bike in a crate somewhere & ship it home, game over. Thanks a lot, BMW.

NEPAL, CONTINUED.

Allright, allright, some of our regular readers reckon my last posting was way too venomous. I have been told to relax, chill out & go with the flow etc, etc. Well, its allright for you, you can't smell the place. But seriously, Kathmandu is just an overcrowded, polluted bunfight. Fortunately, we were able to escape for two days up to Pokhara. This is the start point for the numerous treks in the Annapurna Region, & is situated on Lake Fewa. The scenery in this region is supposed to be spectacular. I couldn't see any mountains at all, because of the haze, but there were some very nice photos in the shops, taken in the early fifties, I suspect. There I go again !

Pokhara is about 200km west of Kathmandu, but it is a long drive because of the state of the road, & the traffic. Our driver turned it into a five hour, white knuckle ride each way. An otherwise likeable enough chap named Bardri, once behind the wheel he turned into a terrorist. Call me old fashioned, but I just don't like the odds of passing trucks & buses on blind bends or crests, with nothing more than a toot of the horn to protect me. It doesn't bother Bardri, or anyone else, it seems. We were bounced around all day like a couple of golf balls in a concrete mixer, with only near death experiences every five minutes for entertainment. I swear my life flashed before my eyes at least every 30 minutes. I think Bardri graduated top of his class at the Nepal Institute of Advanced Driving for the Totally Insane. The scary part is we have been observing the traffic here for about a week & a half, & soon we have to get out there & compete with it. Now I know how gladiators felt before a match.

And they are not kidding!!

Pokhara was certainly nicer than Kathmandu, lots of tourists centred on the lakefront area, lots of shops selling hiking gear etc, lots of good restaurants, & it was relaxing. Bardri took us to several of the usual tourist traps, with the usual hustlers, beggars etc in attendance. Here is one of the more unusual ones.

See, it's in Pokhara, & all this time I thought it was in Gotham City

But on the way, we drove through the really old part of the town. We got out & walked around an area where there were lots of jewellery shops cranking out some really good stuff, & no other tousists to be seen. We were offered an impromptu look at some of the artisans at work, & their skill is just staggering. Later, quite by accident, we discovered a museum dedicated to the British Gurkha Regiments. We spent over 2 hours there virtually on our own, & it was fascinating. The Gurkhas are Nepalese soldiers whose units have been attached to the British Army since about 1850, & their tenacity & courage are legendary throughout many conflicts from the Indian Mutiny, the North West Frontier, through both World Wars, to Bosnia & even as UN peacekeepers in East Timor.

All Gurkhas carry the khukri, a traditional Nepalese weapon worn on the left side of the belt. It's got a surprisingly heavy blade, its razor sharp, and it can really do some damage, its a fearsome weapon. Replicas, some quite ornate, are sold at shops & stalls all over the place, but the museum actually sells real ones as souvenirs for about one fifth of the price. Naturally we both had to buy one. I don't know if I can get it back into Oz, but if not, here it is, its the actual service issue, the genuine article.

Handle with care, unless you want to kill someone.

On the way out of the museum, a uniformed gurkha saluted us, & I have to say I felt somewhat embarrassed at this. I felt it should be me who was showing my respect to him, but that's the Nepalese for you. In spite of the crap everywhere, & the chaos on the roads, they just get on with life in their own way without complaint. We have not seen an angry man since we got here. While I wouldnt want to live here, I wouldn't mind having their attitude to life. So there, I've learned something.

On the way back to Kathmandu, we noticed some of the roadside vegetation. So those old rumours really are true!! Bardri reckons it's grown to give to the cattle when they get diarrhoea. I suggested it doesn't neccessarily stop the diarrhoea, it's just that the cows don't care about it any more.

Typical roadside foliage.

WE REACH NEPAL

OOPS THE ABOVE PHOTOS ARE MEANT TO BE IN THE NEXT POSTING

We got away from Bangkok on schedule, noting that the new airport is very impressive. I forgot I had a can of coke in the tankbag, & it was picked up on the xray. I also had a set of Allen keys for the bike, which I had forgotten about, & was quite concerned they would be confiscated. However, they let me keep them, but took the coke!! Evidently it is easier to hijack a plane with a can of coke than with a pointy metal tool. First thing I got on the plane was a can of beer, fully de-fused & rendered safe, no doubt.



Landing at the airport in Kathmandu was where the culture shock started. Unlike the earlier countries, where impressive efforts were being made to match the pace of the rest of the world, the airport is like Adelaide, 1956, with the lights out. We had left the developed world. I suspected from that point on, it would be rough, & I was right. In the taxi to the hotel, the first sight is rubbish strewn all over the streets, cows wandering amongst the traffic & grazing on the garbage, really old, beaten-up cars, & the usual total lack of any road rules. Great. And they reckon everyone is glad to get here after India. I can hardly wait!

mmmmmmm...................garbage!!!

The next move was to collect the bikes, which were supposed to follow within 1-2 days. We recieved an email from the freight company in Thailand, telling us that the bikes would now not be sent for another 6 days, & they had already had them for 5 days. We suspect the bastards had been aware of this all along, but waited till we were out of the country before telling us. So, we made a revision to the schedule, & will go to Pokhara by car & come back to get the bikes, then go down to Chitwan & straight into India, about 3 days early. To compound the problem, there is a fuel shortage in Nepal, & waits in long queues of over an hour are common.





Walking around the streets of Thamel, the old section of Kathmandu where the action was in the 70's, was interesting. I am convinced that not only are cows sacred here, but so are the flies. No one seems to make any attempt to kill them. But they dont bother you much, there is so much else to keep them occupied, like piles of rotting garbage, sewage running in the street, all kinds of shit, not to mention the meat adorning the chopping blocks of the butcher shops. And another thing. This is the phlegm & mucous capital of the world, so far at least. There is a continuous chorus of people hocking up their lungs, then gobbing the results onto the road or footpaths, or clearing their nostrils in either direction without the use of any other modern aid, like handkerchiefs. Some even do this from open windows, well above the street. To say you need to watch where you put your foot in this town is the understatement of the century. Then we got to the river. I have never seen anything like it (but we havent been to India yet!!). It was like any typical garbage dump (mental image required at this point) but with the addition of raw sewage, dead animals & God knows what else. We also visited the Monkey Temple, perched on a hilltop with a view over the Kathmandu Valley. It was so polluted, we could hardly see anything. But while we did see a couple of mangy looking monkeys, they were heavily outnumbered by the mangy dogs. They should consider a name change, to perhaps Dogshit Temple. At about this point, my sympathy for these people evaporated. Anyone prepared to tolerate this extent of pollution & regard it as normal, without making any effort to clean up their own mess, gets what they deserve & deserves what they get.

View? What View?

I'll just run out & grab some goat for the barbie



And Johnny, grab a bucket of sewage in case anyone wants a drink


Yes Mum.

The next day, we were to witness something even worse. At several places along the river there are cremation ghats, where bodies are burned on huge piles of wood. When the fire is burned out, they push whats left into the river. At this point there are people in the river dredging it for coins or jewelry placed on the bodies before burning, & downstream there are kids swimming in this toxic mess !! And on the way to everywhere are touts trying to sell stuff that nobody wants or needs, and beggars with their hands out, some who have lost all hope, & some who are just kids of 5 or6., learning the family business. This really is very confronting , and quite upsetting. To be able to get back to the hotel for a shower & a beer is a God given gift, but the images persist. Somehow we need to learn to shut all this stuff out or we will never get through India & Pakistan. The locals don't seem to worry about it. If its not their problem, whose problem is it, that's what I want to know.

Now just take out the rubbish.

OK Mum.

Now for the inevitable bad news. We dined at the hotel restaurant last night. I awoke this am with something best described as Delhi Belly, & we haven't even been to Delhi yet!! Perhaps I should say it was Kathmandu Colon? The only thing fast about the food here is the speed at which it gets from the north end of the body to points south, no need to explain further.