tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178764986287127982024-02-19T15:42:33.357-08:00Miranda Travels...tales of meanderings around the worldmiranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-73453009632380431792015-06-12T22:01:00.000-07:002015-06-14T00:12:00.280-07:00Post quake: so, what now? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Time has passed and the earthquake is old news - except here where
the new challenges on the horizon for the thousands of displaced are
dealing with the impending monsoon.<br />
<br />
After
being away for two weeks, and continuing to receive donations while I
was gone, the first order of the day up my return was to assess and
establish where we (my little band of spontaneous relief workers) were
with the various projects. I feel a massive responsibility to those who
have entrusted me with their money to make sure it goes to valid and
valuable efforts, however small they might be in the grand scheme of
things.<br />
<br />
We gathered for a meeting around my kitchen
table to discuss what had been going on in my absence and what the plan
going forward should be. A sizeable sum had come through while I was
gone from a few different sources, so we again have money to put to good
use.<br />
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We have now raised over $56,000.<br />
<br />
You
can look at previous posts to see how we initially distributed funds
that were being sent to us. There were various missions to some of the
worst hit districts, usually people we knew going to their villages with
support for their own communities.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">~</span></div>
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To Da Loo and Helter Shelter are projects that started during the aftermath of the quake. There was a huge need for immediate toilets in areas where makeshift refugee camps had sprung up - to stave of the risk of disease due to lack of sanitation. And so groups of volunteers (in the early days there were close to 100) set about digging holes around the valley for people to shit in - and To Da Loo was born.<br />
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Helter Shelter was initially just a joke name since we decided to channel resources that were being directed our way into simply buying and distributing tarps to those in need. It seemed like a simple way of helping without doing work that conflicted with anyone else's projects.<br />
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All of this is in conjunction with <a href="http://www.pkgnepal.org.np/aboutus.php#objective">Prakriti Ko Ghar (PKG)</a> an NGO here in Kathmandu run by Kishor that works towards sustainable living and building. Their ongoing project is an orphanage and library (still under construction) that is currently being used to house people displaced from the earthquake. Both To Da Loo and Helter Shelter are now being run under the umbrella of PKG.<br />
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<b>SO WHAT NOW?</b><br />
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<b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/ToDaLooNepal">To Da Loo</a> </b>lives on. We have designed long lasting steel
plates to use for the toilets. Support for the project has been tremendous and production is now underway for 100 steel
toilet plates. Another 100 will be ordered after this batch has been
approved and utilised. The vision is to continue building toilets post emergency, in rural areas in need, in a longer term
sustainable way.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/HelterShelterNepal">Helter Shelter</a> </b>has a remaining batch of tarps (500) that were ordered by some monks who then pulled out without paying! So we are subsidizing the price of them and offering them for sale at Rs 900 (original cost is Rs 1500). Please check the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/HelterShelterNepal">fb page</a> for contact details if you need tarps.<br />
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Meanwhile, we are also looking into different shelter building options - short and long term. We are very excited about <a href="http://www.naturalbuildingblog.com/">earthbag technology</a>, a relatively new and innovative way of building structures using local materials, that are durable through earthquakes. However, these need more time to build than is available before monsoon, so plans are underway for longer term projects using that technology later in the year. In the interim, shorter term structures built using bamboo and local materials along with corrugated galvanised iron (GI) sheets for roofs are being built. These sheets can then be used down the line for more permanent structures. These buildings only need a few days to be built so will house people through monsoon.<br />
<br />
Most of these building projects area actually being executed by various independent groups or organisations who have their own specific goals. Helter Shelter's role has become one of connecting people, resources, materials and technology to aid people's efforts.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://mirandatravelsblog.blogspot.com/2015/06/bode-resettlement-camp.html">Bode Resettlement Camp</a> is currently the home of more than 1000 people from the district of Sindhupalchok. Look at the previous blog post below to find out more.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">~</span></div>
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And that is it for now. Monsoon is on our tails and everyone is doing what they can to prepare.<br />
<br />
The need is so great it is almost incomprehensible. The government is going around camps and the worst hit areas doing assessments - how badly in need are people? Red, yellow or green. And giving out cash to help in the rebuilding process. But it isn't enough - I know one person who was given Rs 15000 (about $150) to rebuild his house.<br />
<br />
Big aid agencies like Red Cross and Unicef have their work cut out for them as they undertake big rebuilding and regeneration projects. And the smaller organisation or groups of individuals that have banded together (ourselves included) continue with their more personal projects to help and prepare for the coming months.<br />
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That all said, there is a feeling of hope amongst the desperation of the situation here. This is a resilient nation and as the slogans say - Nepal will rise.<br />
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miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-52442565321072093512015-06-12T08:34:00.000-07:002015-06-14T00:13:21.464-07:00Bode Resettlement Camp<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It was heart-wrenching and heart-warming all at the same time to go to the camp at Bode to see for myself what my team had been up to and what the situation was like there .<br />
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The camp houses 1104 displaced people from Sindhupalchok - a district north east of Kathmandu bordering China and one of the worst hit in the quakes. These people have all lost their homes and the area is under serious threat from landslides when the monsoon comes. So it is not safe for people to stay there.<br />
<br />
Kishor had some contacts in Sindhupalchok in the <i>Bhairabkunda Youth Club</i> and <i>Chamber of Commerce.</i> They contacted him for help explaining there were 1500 people who needed shelter. The Youth Club found the land near Bhaktapur and transportation was organised to get them all to the site. The <i>China Foundation for Poverty Alleviation</i> donated 100 large tents and so sprung up the Bode Resettlement Camp. Various other friends and organisations have helped in setting up the camp. <i>Helping Hands</i> donated materials for the kitchens and our teams built. <i>Bring Thoughts to Action </i>donated galvanized sheets for the roofs of the classrooms and a member on the board of PKG donated money for bamboo.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3VpLx_tV40Bpyjmd5j9dMfn4QqQnK6LnmkWH51OdCV0yYxDlF_gBShb0b-YaUYztW1_iDjRue0JhJEgw021YI8JejXBw3Vmm9Q8kKs9mTHrhejzYJP5YsG8n_FDkxWeWfHpEIMNxwjjU/s1600/IMG_7768a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3VpLx_tV40Bpyjmd5j9dMfn4QqQnK6LnmkWH51OdCV0yYxDlF_gBShb0b-YaUYztW1_iDjRue0JhJEgw021YI8JejXBw3Vmm9Q8kKs9mTHrhejzYJP5YsG8n_FDkxWeWfHpEIMNxwjjU/s400/IMG_7768a.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
at the entrance a small boy opens the gate for someone coming in...<br />
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This tent houses three families, a total of 11 people. What struck me was how, even in cramped conditions, these people were smiling and relaxing.<br />
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It is a classic example of the Nepali spirit - in spite of hardships and setbacks, at the very least, they are still smiling.<br />
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Some people have used tarps to add shady porches to the outsides of their tents. <br />
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I was surprised to learn there is electricity and each tent is wired with an LED light so people aren't sitting around in the dark after sunset. <br />
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There are 16 community kitchens scattered around the site - some more kitted out than others.<br />
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People store their food in their tents and take it to the kitchens to prepare their meals on the stoves provided. <br />
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One tent is currently being used as a classroom while the classrooms are still under construction.<br />
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Of the 368 children, 190 of the older kids go to the local government school. Classrooms are being for the young kids.<br />
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(In fact, since I was there a few days ago, some of the classrooms have been built - pics up on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/143211459217242/photos/pcb.383522475186138/383521541852898/?type=1&theater">the fb page </a>).<br />
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Young volunteers from the community who are living there are helping to run the site. <br />
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In the office, where they have wifi and power so people can come and charge their phones, they are also monitoring different areas on the security cameras! Also provided by the Chinese organisation, <i>China Foundation for Poverty Alleviation.</i> <br />
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It was quite moving to see the camp up close and get a sense of what life is like for the people there. Of the initial 1500 who arrived the first day, some moved on, finding friends or relatives or other situations. But the people left will be there for the monsoon and months beyond, until they are able to go home and start rebuilding their lives.</div>
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This camp is a better situation than many other locations housing the displaced in and around the Kathmandu valley. These people are fortunate because their are facilities available. They have toilets (more being built by To Da Loo), they have water (more tanks are being set up also), they even have electricity. There will be a school and library for the children. It's a safe environment on the edge of a very picturesque forest. The location itself is quite attractive.</div>
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Walking around, taking pictures and smiling at the residents really brought home to me how desperate the situation is here in Nepal in the post-quake aftermath. This situation is 'good', yet tents are still full with 10-12 people (2-3 families) all sharing a space.</div>
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The people here are smiling and clearly resigned to this being their home for the coming months but they are still refugees, living in temporary conditions. </div>
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And these are the 'lucky' ones. They are alive and they have shelter for the coming monsoon. Going there and seeing it, really puts in perspective the magnitude of the situation. Especially for those who aren't so lucky.</div>
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miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-20765837785198197282015-05-20T09:34:00.000-07:002015-05-20T09:34:13.440-07:00 Subject: rebuilding Nepal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
ANOTHER POST OF EMAIL SENT TO MY MAILING LIST WITH AN UPDATE ON THE RELIEF PROCESS... <br />
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Subject: rebuilding Nepal<br /> Date: 20 May 2015 10:03:02 GMT+05:45<br />
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Greetings,<br /><br />My global community has been commending me and my renegade team for the work we are doing, but to be honest, pretty much everyone I know here in Nepal is doing everything they can to help bring relief to those in need - from small NGOs to independent groups of people. There are so many missions and projects being born out of this disaster. In the face of such devastation, people are doing what they can. And no matter how big or small the endeavour, every effort does make a difference to the people it reaches.<br /><br />For me, for us, my amazing and motley group of friends that have come together and inadvertently become this renegade team, things are still developing. Initially the funds we raised were used to support various missions to different VDCs to distribute supplies to those in dire need. After the initial burst of supporting these short term solutions, we focused our efforts on the shelter and sanitation needs that were ongoing:<br /><br />Between us, we've now raised over $40,ooo - although the flurry of small donations has subsided, there are many people - friends, friends of friends, or even random connections who have been told that their donations are well directed to us - who are raising money in their communities, holding events and coming up with larger amounts to send to us towards our ongoing efforts.<br />We've distributed 3500 tarps to give shelter to thousands of people.<br />We have built close to 150 toilets across the valley.<br /><br />what now?<br /><br />Our two projects Helter Shelter and To Da Loo are evolving as the need is shifting.<br /><br />Helter Shelter<br />We are moving into an exciting new stage of our shelter project. We've distributed over 3500 tarps for immediate and temporary shelter throughout the crucial crisis time.- either directly donating to people, subsidizing and passing them on for less than cost or simply distributing to people who have the funds but were struggling to find supplies. <br />Now we are moving into more sustainable shelter ideas and our research, budgeting and planning are coming to fruition. We are collaborating with a number of people to build affordable, sustainable, and earthquake resistant structures using the earthbag technique. We are going to build our first prototype house in the coming weeks. There is a big group forming of people interested in this innovative technology and everyone is coming together to work more efficiently and collaboratively.<br /><br />To Da Loo<br />With so many people displaced after the quakes here in Nepal, people are sleeping in makeshift camps across the valley and throughout the affected districts. Access to sanitary toilets was a top priority to stave off the risk of disease. Our teams have built close to 150 toilets so far and although the number of volunteers has dwindled as people have gone or need to return to their lives, we still have a number of teams working who continue to go out into communities to build toilets, getting the local people to help. As we start our longer term shelter building projects, To Da Loo will work in conjunction, building toilets alongside houses.<br /><br />Both schemes have proved very popular with the people we are serving and our donors as they are simple and effective. We are working in conjunction with more and more people as we pool resources and ideas about how to start rebuilding Nepal for the future. The devastation of so many rural areas is heartbreaking. Stories of whole villages in ruins are too many to even comprehend. The magnitude of the work ahead is staggering. What is heartening is the amount of people diligently working to rebuild their country. We are simply a small part of that movement and the donations we are receiving will go to exactly that.<br /><br />Thank you once again to all who have supported our efforts. Your donations are not going to me or Michael or Kishor - they are going to Nepal.<br /><br />namaste.<br /><br />miranda<br /><br />HOW TO DONATE<br />PayPal: mirandamortonyap@gmail.com<br />UK & US residents can donate directly to UK or US accounts - email mirandamortonyap@gmail.com for deets<br />(donations sent to either account are currently not incurring transaction fees)<br />DK residents can donate directly to this bank account: 5033-7704121<br /></div>
miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-72869262370648930202015-05-05T20:03:00.000-07:002015-05-14T20:04:29.642-07:00Kathmandu Calling...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
PASTED BELOW IS AN EMAIL I SENT OUT TO MY MAILING LIST AS AN UPDATE ABOUT THE RENEGADE RELIEF WORK WE FELL INTO IN THE WAKE OF THE QUAKE HERE IN NEPAL.<br />
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TIME IS FLEETING SO SEPARATE BLOG POSTS NEED TO WAIT FOR NOW...<br />
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On 5 May 2015, at 09:40, ~ miranda ~ wrote:<br /><br />greetings friends,<br /><br />finally dusting off the old mailing list... been a long time and i've been meaning to write and update the blogs but didn't feel i had much to write about... until now.<br /><br />as many of you will already know through facebook, a motley group of my renegade friends and i have been doing guerilla relief work here in Nepal in the wake of last week's quake. the response from our friends and connections around the world has been tremendous and almost overwhelming - now combining forces, we have raised nearly Rs 30 lakh (around $30,000). SO FAR...<br /><br />initially, we gave out our personal details for donations because we hadn't discerned where the best place was to send money getting it into the hands of people locally. we had friends with very real, immediate plights and we were able to help them spring into action rather than waiting for aid to trickle to them. and it has just grown from there.<br /><br />THANK YOU TO THE MANY, MANY PEOPLE WHO HAVE CONTRIBUTED AND SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT OUR ENDEAVOURS.<br /><br />Nepal is no longer headline news. the world has moved on and the donations have slowed down. but there is still just as much need.<br /><br />plan going forward<br /><br />we have two projects that are simple and effective, less prone to logistical complications and less in conflict with other aid initiatives. <br /><br />To Da Loo<br />our toilet empire is taking volunteers and going out to locations around the KTM valley where people are displaced, living in shelters and have no access to toilet facilities. we are building pit latrines and we have so far built 43 toilet in 5 communities (Sankhu, Bhaktapur, Godavari, Battedanda & Khokana (Lalitpur). this is going to be an ongoing and expanding venture as we train more people on how to build these simple toilets to help stave off the risk of disease spreading from lack of sanitation. we are now coordinating with the local Red Cross who are putting up shelters for people, so we can build the toilets at the same locations.<br /><br />Helter Shelter<br />there is a massive need for tents across the country (300,000). we had 350 shelters made to send to Sindapalchowk and Nuwakot and are now getting constant requests for more tents. Helter Shelter is simply a distribution idea. we are taking orders from people who need tents, regardless of how much money they have, and we are facilitating the manufacturing or shipping of them. we are able to buy a surplus ourselves so we can supply those who need them no matter if they can pay or not. this project is still in its early formation but even though there is now an influx of tents through aid agencies arriving in the country, there is still a huge unmet need on the ground. in the scale of big aid organistaions, our numbers don't even touch the sides but for the families we are able to provide shelter, we are making a world of difference.<br /><br />brief summary of where the money has gone so far:<br /><br />$3000 to Thuman village in Langtang where helicopters have now successfully delivered the supplies we paid for<br />$2400 to Gorkha (Ghampesal, Nareswor, Deurell & Nayasagu), tarps, food & cooking utensils, medical supplies<br />$4200 spent on manufacturing 350 tents distributed in Sindalpalchowk and Nuwakot<br />$3500 to Sindapalchowk at 2 locations (Sipaghat & Kunchowk) paying for the transportation (5-6 hrs), food, medical supplies<br />$1000 to Seven Women, a local NGO taking supplies to Gorkha and Nuwakot<br />$460 towards a team going to Nuwakot - contributing towards supplies<br />$800 to Dahachok for food and shelter for 280 people in a village where 95 houses are collapsed<br />and nearly $2k towards our toilet empire, now named To Da Loo (see below for more details)<br /><br />we are continuing to help friends who are working tirelessly to bring aid to their homes and familes. the devastation from this quake is mind-boggling.<br />and the road to recovery, rebuilding the country, is going to be a long journey.<br /><br />please feel free to get in touch if you want to help or have any questions.<br /><br />blog updates coming soon too as i do have news about the film also!<br /><br />namaste.<br /><br />miranda x<br /><br /><br />HOW TO DONATE<br />PayPal: mirandamortonyap@gmail.com<br />UK & US residents, you can donate directly to UK or US accounts - email mirandamortonyap@gmail.com for deets<br />(donations sent to either account area currently not incurring transaction fees)<br />DK residents, you can donate directly to this bank account: 5033-7704121<br /></div>
miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-38196864156674197732014-06-16T03:43:00.004-07:002014-06-16T03:47:33.713-07:00Once around again - a pictorial summary of six months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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NOVEMBER 2013<br />
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Pokhara <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It is in the autumn that the full glory of the Annapurna mountain range can be seen from Pokhara.</td></tr>
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DECEMBER 2013<br />
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Kathmandu <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swayambhu from afar</td></tr>
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California <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corona del Mar</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big Sur</td></tr>
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JANUARY 2014 <br />
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California<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Point Reyes</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oakland sunset</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bay Bridge light show - San Francisco</td></tr>
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FEBRUARY 2014<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newport Beach - Balboa Pier</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hummingbird babies nesting in Mum's garden</td></tr>
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MARCH 2014<br />
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New York City <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BEjUTo7jXzSi4UOJpXgV27MRhL0czMYAl3mwFQaurCIBSR-S1bM21A-2xOTr0C7vFvBmlF3eFi7w3lazFiqglw0pLCmSxW0WgyD5F9LtE_lrP1c_O5YtsasRESSOioopVCXr4_cD2_hq/s1600/IMG_0845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BEjUTo7jXzSi4UOJpXgV27MRhL0czMYAl3mwFQaurCIBSR-S1bM21A-2xOTr0C7vFvBmlF3eFi7w3lazFiqglw0pLCmSxW0WgyD5F9LtE_lrP1c_O5YtsasRESSOioopVCXr4_cD2_hq/s1600/IMG_0845.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silhouette of new world trade building</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
APRIL 2014<br />
<br />
Newark Airport<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFnspMKgP9VCIaaBlCQxMv5jIbgAcXnjmgVoDNVw-v15QbDYtF73qU75l2JLYmH_X1ymQoaMRbbi8OkL-qm1e1-Z-pDRjZUTHhKDP2JEa9ZLr7nhN_d4PJCjPuor4D_M1uXRMmUpFTvAQl/s1600/IMG_1149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFnspMKgP9VCIaaBlCQxMv5jIbgAcXnjmgVoDNVw-v15QbDYtF73qU75l2JLYmH_X1ymQoaMRbbi8OkL-qm1e1-Z-pDRjZUTHhKDP2JEa9ZLr7nhN_d4PJCjPuor4D_M1uXRMmUpFTvAQl/s1600/IMG_1149.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">flight back to Asia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Kathmandu<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQc1rsbLbcklBHJiienH407f-PqRRY8u4J0EZor_GomEZOe9tC3H-mPfxs2GjKaXlRkoQpDqwsON_FIPhjHlkqTbitOjD1VC_U_FJSp3Yco4B7xX0JpAtnM5sseQlpVUDRHCjMf0uch-h/s1600/IMG_4217a.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQc1rsbLbcklBHJiienH407f-PqRRY8u4J0EZor_GomEZOe9tC3H-mPfxs2GjKaXlRkoQpDqwsON_FIPhjHlkqTbitOjD1VC_U_FJSp3Yco4B7xX0JpAtnM5sseQlpVUDRHCjMf0uch-h/s1600/IMG_4217a.jpg" height="476" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my owls (mero ouluharu) - who live outside my bedroom window each spring</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhptpLeNFeFIRr9cstAb6kK5coUZULhyphenhyphenpXgNuro2COPSBM5uF-5lU28KN0ViKeQupjddCssSG5xzrF2_1Yir978ZhSxeZWbPUPE2O5DjYcDM9nygMK2xsHnnhQe9RB1Vs5KOVlN1m9wpll8/s1600/IMG_1191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhptpLeNFeFIRr9cstAb6kK5coUZULhyphenhyphenpXgNuro2COPSBM5uF-5lU28KN0ViKeQupjddCssSG5xzrF2_1Yir978ZhSxeZWbPUPE2O5DjYcDM9nygMK2xsHnnhQe9RB1Vs5KOVlN1m9wpll8/s1600/IMG_1191.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swayambhu from closer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1_f9VhhUtVyj1N_8rHTonAh5W531ivnvVCa3Hsoiq3vJ1gf38Zegf1CrWdwOBXOf_HOxDGxNixOzE_fNDWJytvE2KrfapMPne-D6ZQuMTPqytQSIN14iF9kdElRp8KvAgS1pMFVrvjNk/s1600/IMG_1192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1_f9VhhUtVyj1N_8rHTonAh5W531ivnvVCa3Hsoiq3vJ1gf38Zegf1CrWdwOBXOf_HOxDGxNixOzE_fNDWJytvE2KrfapMPne-D6ZQuMTPqytQSIN14iF9kdElRp8KvAgS1pMFVrvjNk/s1600/IMG_1192.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hazy Kathmandu</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGqsq_spTJoOQ8qHsiulZy264rjQbP3VjiKP5ubkXpSHCkZ58wDRXwBHdomLVYMwiYI9tspgLbeNdYFAsPoiACqlFpACH3q7yxy5ARHjZ7qdGgDnRny-LBct3HovcIGcL0UIlEMpmsq78/s1600/IMG_1392.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGqsq_spTJoOQ8qHsiulZy264rjQbP3VjiKP5ubkXpSHCkZ58wDRXwBHdomLVYMwiYI9tspgLbeNdYFAsPoiACqlFpACH3q7yxy5ARHjZ7qdGgDnRny-LBct3HovcIGcL0UIlEMpmsq78/s1600/IMG_1392.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">another petrol shortage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Bhaktapur<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uLBDUnHFR11UkAexTlGPCRLl03XSOyXKfV6_YA2ceANo-GIB87iKBFSjRznueE0kckW-BWtl4p8wzNVA61tcjM9AQi9G3vEOW4q2HjzOsunwKSWygxOjZ7UxmjwOHYB31U11HRjBHeV0/s1600/IMG_1310+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uLBDUnHFR11UkAexTlGPCRLl03XSOyXKfV6_YA2ceANo-GIB87iKBFSjRznueE0kckW-BWtl4p8wzNVA61tcjM9AQi9G3vEOW4q2HjzOsunwKSWygxOjZ7UxmjwOHYB31U11HRjBHeV0/s1600/IMG_1310+copy.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bhakatpur for Nepali new year - 2070</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /><br />
MAY 2014<br />
<br />
Pokhara <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQezrA13IzDwD1UxT_1R4K9frrE7V6HvDDJI2YyWKgs71XZ3VA53PVjioZeyJDjZccFC4dYAdk7n1aUgO9kpjEUV-ZOprLzR7HnXfvJwTakAH-OU7tYCjMBYUyVx5svt9YkZjVB6wlmft/s1600/IMG_1628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQezrA13IzDwD1UxT_1R4K9frrE7V6HvDDJI2YyWKgs71XZ3VA53PVjioZeyJDjZccFC4dYAdk7n1aUgO9kpjEUV-ZOprLzR7HnXfvJwTakAH-OU7tYCjMBYUyVx5svt9YkZjVB6wlmft/s1600/IMG_1628.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">morning walk view</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuoSSQLOq_jPNSjt8Tpyqj_OSapdDdjPIxnJggYWCGODIZQqy1V67Vvk_PaAD69zTaR2mLt9pBo1SB9BlFWqL8ncCvzMlcQHbz3jF82AcScGVEKhvWMQWB4Gx4oeiRLz7e7-yXdQKFQkR0/s1600/IMG_5418.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuoSSQLOq_jPNSjt8Tpyqj_OSapdDdjPIxnJggYWCGODIZQqy1V67Vvk_PaAD69zTaR2mLt9pBo1SB9BlFWqL8ncCvzMlcQHbz3jF82AcScGVEKhvWMQWB4Gx4oeiRLz7e7-yXdQKFQkR0/s1600/IMG_5418.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my bhadaini, Savyata marriage to Harish</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjls-2hg6-sPtJCfXK6Ih9e6RtVPqz47EpGreg2RejAbYMI4Q6hCMp7krErkc8T1SRoq5ncd3S0ff5jImzGAbYIrgI5wNcf6mogLllcSTKsWdvDX22p65fkZ9gyCd_3N5aIS-VMgV-eoMG5/s1600/IMG_1743a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjls-2hg6-sPtJCfXK6Ih9e6RtVPqz47EpGreg2RejAbYMI4Q6hCMp7krErkc8T1SRoq5ncd3S0ff5jImzGAbYIrgI5wNcf6mogLllcSTKsWdvDX22p65fkZ9gyCd_3N5aIS-VMgV-eoMG5/s1600/IMG_1743a.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">accident on the road between Pokhara and KTM</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
JUNE 2014<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgzbMco3tA80yTQxnsLVrQ4QWOv0J5rPmf06xUoABrY7_yddStryntI0XdJUJceFYr3YVeNqzpxZmayPrSK3ZyhmK5vLUrmchyphenhyphenU4ALccC8OiEARU1EhKtu2f8h-sbiNyVA8UU0hUEunvW/s1600/IMG_1776a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgzbMco3tA80yTQxnsLVrQ4QWOv0J5rPmf06xUoABrY7_yddStryntI0XdJUJceFYr3YVeNqzpxZmayPrSK3ZyhmK5vLUrmchyphenhyphenU4ALccC8OiEARU1EhKtu2f8h-sbiNyVA8UU0hUEunvW/s1600/IMG_1776a.jpg" height="640" width="508" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boudha on a rainy day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1hVPUdRaTJWVJ4vxSSYLM17fL-b9-UTDW7nSOIOyb3nELLvbPnjLzfWjVFDbxl-PhdAEz14knrT7v9bhAl1nZAc-W6VEa2mzCyAgzdtvJ02vEh-pBFFY7B2jnVQR-qPF35LWGK5haESG/s1600/IMG_5954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1hVPUdRaTJWVJ4vxSSYLM17fL-b9-UTDW7nSOIOyb3nELLvbPnjLzfWjVFDbxl-PhdAEz14knrT7v9bhAl1nZAc-W6VEa2mzCyAgzdtvJ02vEh-pBFFY7B2jnVQR-qPF35LWGK5haESG/s1600/IMG_5954.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">typical KTM traffic clusterf**k</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In the air <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YyV7hCGFHy-j82qaazqM8RJh9KZt4j9FYaOGAR1vC3XGqAs7ZdDfZBJLP489s80smUUcu1ubmgTHLkzudolcZSlOp6g2hY7c2K6bUf6EMbPHFlmobq525ud5nraTdlW6FBPSORUaV3cX/s1600/IMG_1906a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YyV7hCGFHy-j82qaazqM8RJh9KZt4j9FYaOGAR1vC3XGqAs7ZdDfZBJLP489s80smUUcu1ubmgTHLkzudolcZSlOp6g2hY7c2K6bUf6EMbPHFlmobq525ud5nraTdlW6FBPSORUaV3cX/s1600/IMG_1906a.jpg" height="546" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
London <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qpWiTE0lvwliv5Qy259KusSvNUnFBFBCAYjVYSNxkIGbUlCFpRnDZOdLrS_4VMD9oCbHY7bxhL89t15g-uQZY7VM7h-VVsq5He0x-Sqfd5e0Jwa9K0i4vHsQZvudMuVtW9gCG-oVVmQq/s1600/IMG_1911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qpWiTE0lvwliv5Qy259KusSvNUnFBFBCAYjVYSNxkIGbUlCFpRnDZOdLrS_4VMD9oCbHY7bxhL89t15g-uQZY7VM7h-VVsq5He0x-Sqfd5e0Jwa9K0i4vHsQZvudMuVtW9gCG-oVVmQq/s1600/IMG_1911.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">English summer sky</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzzB7n-Iwv-BDKHmTc_1VRUlxB9dKpPVaabJ1VafIJeeHkgWSo8FTCJp3vYQbPhspykbDpJ1hEiYOxGPTNbEA-bER_MpNi42pWzJgihOsn_4iRLHuS82drv8oodeaFlsTjPJf21eQRtpBA/s1600/IMG_1933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzzB7n-Iwv-BDKHmTc_1VRUlxB9dKpPVaabJ1VafIJeeHkgWSo8FTCJp3vYQbPhspykbDpJ1hEiYOxGPTNbEA-bER_MpNi42pWzJgihOsn_4iRLHuS82drv8oodeaFlsTjPJf21eQRtpBA/s1600/IMG_1933.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the Pergola, Hampstead</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRhYo_rRGoixuYD56vgsa5sJnpFxTQiiZXmt69ZwSlVnnBo9H6vpl2kFJ8-yd4Q1iyDvfEMsJx_s-tQxR1lrv936brgfVx9MzUBIhHmvlLmMMDyHe5g3OE_5SYUIMHwZh08boQYTHv4jl/s1600/IMG_1958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZG54Nxf9Q_HoLpym8hySfCLAyyBOPN2sNkTgD6GtoNzGwTVIZbug64jdZMP-8brUVQxqNusKjgv28u7F95xOSB3VKkUKM4eB6zIIGPuNT8_U-iLAsr1Fi_N-ZTnwdILeyii_ZQ_rov-GZ/s1600/IMG_1994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZG54Nxf9Q_HoLpym8hySfCLAyyBOPN2sNkTgD6GtoNzGwTVIZbug64jdZMP-8brUVQxqNusKjgv28u7F95xOSB3VKkUKM4eB6zIIGPuNT8_U-iLAsr1Fi_N-ZTnwdILeyii_ZQ_rov-GZ/s1600/IMG_1994.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">swans at the bird sanctuary, Hampstead Heath</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0vTnxyLgqEM1AAUfmQdNbRQQjprDBrlfGOVC0_AXg_iZ5JvZWETBouEwWV7Cmau9T2r54VXK8fLLLgLOKVIJW5N8gZZ5qy1ZI93Fdrfsxt4IwQxTTC9Uxf5JIN1Y-k6awHcGRq62cILt/s1600/IMG_1971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0vTnxyLgqEM1AAUfmQdNbRQQjprDBrlfGOVC0_AXg_iZ5JvZWETBouEwWV7Cmau9T2r54VXK8fLLLgLOKVIJW5N8gZZ5qy1ZI93Fdrfsxt4IwQxTTC9Uxf5JIN1Y-k6awHcGRq62cILt/s1600/IMG_1971.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">summer days on the bank, Hampstead Heath</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRhYo_rRGoixuYD56vgsa5sJnpFxTQiiZXmt69ZwSlVnnBo9H6vpl2kFJ8-yd4Q1iyDvfEMsJx_s-tQxR1lrv936brgfVx9MzUBIhHmvlLmMMDyHe5g3OE_5SYUIMHwZh08boQYTHv4jl/s1600/IMG_1958.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRhYo_rRGoixuYD56vgsa5sJnpFxTQiiZXmt69ZwSlVnnBo9H6vpl2kFJ8-yd4Q1iyDvfEMsJx_s-tQxR1lrv936brgfVx9MzUBIhHmvlLmMMDyHe5g3OE_5SYUIMHwZh08boQYTHv4jl/s1600/IMG_1958.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-77787537181670702052013-11-30T20:05:00.000-08:002013-12-06T02:13:38.345-08:00What's Going On : Last Few Months in Nepal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="background-color: white;">Bishnu Lodge, Khahare, Pokhara</span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">My time in Nepal this year is drawing rapidly to a close. The months so easily slip by and now I find myself looking back on what I have achieved as well as what has been going on around me.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">PART I - ME </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">August saw me privileged to explore Upper Mustang with my intrepid shooting partner Sophie - an exciting project she is working on for her company, <a href="http://www.horseflyfilms.com/Rare.html">Horsefly Films' Rare Equine Trust</a> series. <a href="http://mirandatravelsblog.blogspot.com/2013/09/mustang-journey-to-lo-manthang-in.html">What a stunning place</a> to have the opportunity to explore a little, and fascinating to see the horse culture there, that Soph's project is examining. That adventure, not least all the <a href="http://mirandatravelsblog.blogspot.com/2013/08/mustang-journey-between-landslide-and.html">journeys</a> involved in it, was an exacting, high-altitude and often bumpy challenge, from not long after we set off from Pokhara, until the moment we returned.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Mustang was closely followed by our return to Jumla for the <a href="http://shaktipictures.blogspot.com/2013/09/production-update-thats-wrap.html">final shoot of our documentary project</a>. By now, so familiar to us, we slipped right back into village life, settled into our rooms, and faced the inevitable challenges that came up (power, transport) without batting an eyelid. Shooting itself, with our team, has become like spinning a well oiled wheel. We bounce around the village, up the mountain, knowing exactly what we need and how to do it. We shot the magnificent change in scenery, the lush and green post-monsoon Jumla - a stark contrast to the winter landscape; we shot the apple harvest and apples, apples, apples everywhere; we shot the colouful women's festival Teej - a fitting closing ceremony for our two years. It was a poignant moment when we shot the last shot, and called it a wrap on Sophie and Soraj's last day in Jumla. It was a relief at the same time as a fearful moment. Once again shifting into new territory: post-production, just when we had gotten the production thing down to a tee!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Nisha and I returned to Kathmandu a week after Sophie and Soraj had left Jumla. This autumn I made the decision to relocate for the season, to where it all began, my home in Khahare (north Lakeside) at Bishnu Lodge with my family here. After losing a few weeks to life, a cold, the edge of a typhoon and general acclimatisation in KTM, I gathered the belongings I wanted or needed around me and moved back to Pokhara. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">It is from my room downstairs, adjacent to my family's living quarters, that I have set up my life and routine for these past months. It is a nice, relaxed location with the lake a stone's throw away. I have been working on the footage, developing the story, studying Nepali and also doing some work for <a href="http://empoweringwomenofnepal.wordpress.com/">Empowering Women of Nepal</a> (without whom I would never have gone to Jumla in the first place and none of this would have even begun). </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYj2JIwS8EytNrTnXWYJ-SJrDzmGyEW4KY-dh5YVLu0gFkgjb3h5zSg74goBPZ2a8eZsnhE0qWXyGNypX9JN4bofcFNtn99eQ-Rt1QJxY6iTuUmUzK3HYvYU2pBm6wgNbO-NnOWTHoeH0/s1600/IMG_2606a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYj2JIwS8EytNrTnXWYJ-SJrDzmGyEW4KY-dh5YVLu0gFkgjb3h5zSg74goBPZ2a8eZsnhE0qWXyGNypX9JN4bofcFNtn99eQ-Rt1QJxY6iTuUmUzK3HYvYU2pBm6wgNbO-NnOWTHoeH0/s640/IMG_2606a.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">It is from here that I have observed history in the making. And tried to make sense of it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">PART II - NEPAL : Reflections on the Election</span><br />
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I have a limited understanding of the political situation in Nepal
in spite of having been affected by it on a regular basis for the last
three years. What I do know, is on the 19th November 2013 (or Mangshir 4, 2070 - Nepali calendar) Nepal held its second election for its Constituent Assembly (CA) since the end of the insurgency. The first was in 2008. For five years the multi-party coalition shambles that had been voted in, attempted to draw up the Constitution. <br />
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<a href="http://mirandatravels2010.blogspot.com/2010/05/nepal-closed.html">I have mentioned before</a>, the <i>bandh's </i>or strikes, that so often cripple the daily workings of the nation. Any party, union, group, organisation, or so it seems, that has a cause/complaint/issue can call a 'strike' locally or nationally. This does not mean that the people calling the strike are striking from their jobs as we think of it. It means that EVERYONE is supposed to stop whatever it is they do. Transport is banned, shops, businesses, schools are closed. Depending on their cause, region and support, dictates how seriously the strike is adhered to. But essentially it is the threat of potential violence that stops people from spurning the bandh.<br />
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In the last five years, there have been multiple 'deadlines' for the Constitution. As a deadline approaches different political, social, ethnic groups have bombarded the country with a frenzy of bandhs. It is a means of making your 'point' known, wanting their issue to be in consideration. Due to the fact that there are so many different parties within the government itself, the process of creating the aforementioned document is seemingly endless. At each deadline, when it had not been completed, another deadline was set, until eventually, after five years, someone said 'enough' and the government was dissolved! Throughout this time, the country has continued to live in political upheaval with the prime ministers changing almost as often as the seasons it seems.<br />
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All year, there has been speculation from an understandably sceptical population as to whether this election would actually happen. And this is where I really do start to get confused. There are multiple parties, the three primary being Nepali Congress, CPN-UML and UCPN-M (Maoist). There is also a faction that splintered off from the UCPN-M, the CPN-Maoists. They, along with the so-called '30 party alliance' were opposing the election on grounds that it was not legitimate due to the lack of proper process or something. This is where it gets hazy for me.<br />
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Either way, the anti-poll campaign called a bandh in the 10 days leading up to the election. This was strategically only a transport strike which meant businesses and shops could stay open, and goods were still being delivered. But all public and private transportation was halted. This meant that the thousands of people who needed to travel back to their districts to vote, could not travel. In Nepal, you cannot absentee vote. I thought it ridiculous that everyone had to go home, often to far and difficult to get to mountain villages to vote, but I found out later that Nepalis can transfer their registered location. This however, is a whole process of getting a migration notice from your home district to transfer to your current residence. And it seems that most people, unsurprisingly, haven't done this.<br />
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What resulted during the fraught days leading up to the election, was a combination of things. Young people in Kathmandu took to the streets to protest the anti-vote campaign saying they had a right to vote. But in some regions, there was support for the shutdown, vehicles where torched, bombs were found in places. There was a general fear at not knowing what this slightly more renegade political group might do. Negotiations floundered. The 33 party alliance slowly diminished in size and reduced, I was told to 13 parties. Everyone was confused. Would there be an election? Would there be bombs on polling day? Would it be fair considering how many people weren't going to be able to vote? And would the results be accepted by everyone?<br />
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The election day arrived, and it is customary that there is a bandh on that day too. People have to walk to their local polling station - apparently this is to avoid people trying to cheat and vote in multiple locations. When you vote in Nepal, you get a black streak made across your thumb, but I am told there are techniques of getting rid of it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwbJbCw1vdSKHzqmKAS3cN2uReYHci1A-ZRLxzwv7A3e19BtiB-t4vyWt7cPsr-1vxLempKwX769LrdznUo9AaBDdhgRuKEWM7slrxgdDEWJmAHgqpt9wOpDN5E-juZEbEsbslAY20SFCg/s1600/IMG_2397a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwbJbCw1vdSKHzqmKAS3cN2uReYHci1A-ZRLxzwv7A3e19BtiB-t4vyWt7cPsr-1vxLempKwX769LrdznUo9AaBDdhgRuKEWM7slrxgdDEWJmAHgqpt9wOpDN5E-juZEbEsbslAY20SFCg/s640/IMG_2397a.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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My family set off early in the morning in the hope of avoiding the
crowds, but they had still had to wait hours to
vote. I heard somewhere, there was a 70%
turnout. I'm not quite sure how accurate that is considering how many
people don't live in their home districts and how many would have been
prevented from returning to their home districts to vote due to the
bandh. Nonetheless, there was a discernible air of
excitement and trepidation as the day unfolded.<br />
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The days following the election were all about the numbers coming in. Televisions around the place had the 'First Past the Post' (FPTP) figures as different districts results came through. And now the dust has settled with Nepali Congress and UML coming in first and second and the Maoists significantly trailing in third. They are saying that this was likely caused by their party split, which I'm sure had a bearing. But nonetheless, it seems people were quite surprised at how much the Maoists (UCPN-M) popularity has waned. In 2008 they won the majority of seats.<br />
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In the week following the election while the votes were still being counted, the Maoists claimed voter fraud and said they wouldn't join the CA until an independent probe had been done. I think negotiations have simmered that... although it is hard to keep up. <br />
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I guess years of upheaval and a growing perception that no matter what party people are from, the whole government system and process is massively flawed has left many people in Nepal disillusioned and disinterested in the political situation. There is also, unsurprisingly, no trust in officials as corruption is rife. Some young people told me they didn't 'like' politics as their reason not to vote.<br />
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So what now? The new CA is potentially meeting in December, and with the two major parties having the most control, people are hoping that they will finally be able to draw up the long-awaited constitution. We'll have to wait and see if this election was the first step towards a new future for Nepal or if it was just a continuation of the tribulations this country faces.<br />
<br />
Almost
two weeks after polling day, you can still see traces of the mark of someone who
voted. It is as though these people are symbolically marked by their
participation in this historic election. The club of people whose voice was heard. <br />
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miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-69091144418504821582013-08-31T01:41:00.000-07:002013-09-24T01:04:45.189-07:00Mustang : Journey to Lo Manthang in pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Here is a selection of photos of Mustang - mostly taken from a moving vehicle - as we travelled up past Kagbeni to Lo Manthang in early August 2013. <br />
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The diversity of the scenery was remarkable... coming up and over a ridge to find a different, yet equally dramatic landscape. The bare, starkness of the terrain invokes respect for those who exist there. I can only imagine how bleak the winters must be.<br />
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There is a magic to Upper Mustang that is almost indescribable. An element of other-worldliness steeped in ancient traditions. It was surreal and mystical and I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to visit this stunning part of Nepal. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksUN0TA2rzoFKY0U5y_didwcs4gQnlT4T2Nl1zuqP5yOqEZmJNT95_DZLBmS7KiGSyeu09iGNxLC1gIc4NA_WS45jOgP890gaU1X2bx1S3c4vOOnVVNpBScSKLeJFwK7D_zb6bvBgs4Pv/s1600/IMG_0874.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksUN0TA2rzoFKY0U5y_didwcs4gQnlT4T2Nl1zuqP5yOqEZmJNT95_DZLBmS7KiGSyeu09iGNxLC1gIc4NA_WS45jOgP890gaU1X2bx1S3c4vOOnVVNpBScSKLeJFwK7D_zb6bvBgs4Pv/s640/IMG_0874.JPG" width="640" /></a> <br />
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miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-72922958283225153242013-08-28T08:21:00.003-07:002013-08-30T06:15:55.230-07:00Mustang Journey - Between a Landslide and a Hard Place : Pokhara to Jomsom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">It
is a 15 minute journey from Pokhara to Jomsom by twin otter plane flying past
Niligiri mountain. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were all set and
ready to head to restricted and mysterious upper Mustang. Sophie wanted to investigate
the horse culture in the region surrounding the Yarthung festivals in Lo
Manthang and then Muktinath – (a separate project to the film we are making in
Jumla).</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">Our
small team waited hopefully at Pokhara airport on the balcony overlooking the
runway. The previous three days no flights had gone and the airport was teeming
with disgruntled travellers and piles of luggage that were yet to be checked
in. So we weren’t sure of our chances, but the alternative was a long journey
overland. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLfX9ZiGY095K5k0zttiLtHV5yCjE-i-aGk0HmzXhGGJFkPlleM4rrmO5hwcJjDa2YCIkjMonhPX3L5XTlF3c2OnxvwtvAyYvb4bG4Ss3lYaaXkHJpv75zty7KHGNytmxLepwmgAEtqnmi/s1600/IMG_4771.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLfX9ZiGY095K5k0zttiLtHV5yCjE-i-aGk0HmzXhGGJFkPlleM4rrmO5hwcJjDa2YCIkjMonhPX3L5XTlF3c2OnxvwtvAyYvb4bG4Ss3lYaaXkHJpv75zty7KHGNytmxLepwmgAEtqnmi/s640/IMG_4771.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">airport skies not looking hopeful photo: RK</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
flights are all scheduled early because by the afternoon it is too windy for
the little planes to manage the landing in Jomsom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were reserved on the third flight and by
10am, with the first flight still not going, we resigned ourselves to the
reality that we would not be boarding a plane that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We could either wait until tomorrow and hope
to get on a flight – after the people scheduled for that day got their flights,
or go by land.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
my initial research and planning I had been told the journey by jeep was
between Rs 40-60,000 ($400-$600) – considerably more than the cost of four
flights (two foreigners and two Nepali – it is cheaper for locals). But
apparently there was an issue on the road so we could not get one jeep straight
through and would have to make multiple changes, which didn’t sound too
appealing, but how bad could it be?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
had driven from Kathmandu in a private jeep the previous day and had told the
company that if we could not get on the flight, we would use them to transport
us on the first leg of our journey. The jeep was conveniently waiting for us
outside the airport as they clearly suspected our fate before we were prepared
to give up hope.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
negotiated the price from Pokhara to Tiplyang (Rs 15,000) where we were told we
would have to walk for a stretch before picking up another jeep. We were
reassured that there would be transportation there. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnnAX0XFV2U1uEi5o8qTtjsUNnSROta16uPDg6qr_GWIDd4aFHO_SyZy76AJIdCimDj-ePcST3GsCRE447_-krMhdK3wRVkyhGTmlIdW_mn9PhZ6u5r6W-B5XZwTZcCYdI0eFf0FgYcbq/s1600/IMG_0787.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnnAX0XFV2U1uEi5o8qTtjsUNnSROta16uPDg6qr_GWIDd4aFHO_SyZy76AJIdCimDj-ePcST3GsCRE447_-krMhdK3wRVkyhGTmlIdW_mn9PhZ6u5r6W-B5XZwTZcCYdI0eFf0FgYcbq/s640/IMG_0787.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our first jeep and excited to be on our way</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">So
we set off, in relative comfort, excited that at least, we were on our way. And
it was a gorgeous winding drive west of Pokhara through the post-monsoon, lush,
green hillsides alongside the Kali Gandaki river roaring through the valley at
an impressive force. Thin waterfalls cascaded down from the cliffs as we wove
our way round hairpin bends, snaking up the river valley.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">Not
far outside of Beni, a little more than halfway to Tip-lyang (where we had paid
up to), the road stopped. Or the road was no longer passable due to a
landslide, which had apparently only happened that morning. It was a short walk
around the gaping hole in the road, but with our ridiculous number of bags
(nine bags between the four of us, ranging from precious camera bags, to an
enormous heavy duffle bag with two tripods in it, to a small, but heavy, hard
case full of electronic equipment), it was a small mission lugging it all to
the vehicles waiting on the other side. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVYWc0JjV8th9mnEqj1dMRLkMX0ooWUeyVrWkiyzY_iYtgRZ4b5_CXAVp2lnj4cOQQ8umHPmtauw2tP7_PKis2-sIQIw47NIHq2FGHHKIBZ3JlcAExn4s7XqBP0HcOCc0bZK_KZUvU8l5/s1600/first+landslide.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVYWc0JjV8th9mnEqj1dMRLkMX0ooWUeyVrWkiyzY_iYtgRZ4b5_CXAVp2lnj4cOQQ8umHPmtauw2tP7_PKis2-sIQIw47NIHq2FGHHKIBZ3JlcAExn4s7XqBP0HcOCc0bZK_KZUvU8l5/s640/first+landslide.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">There were two taxis who it appeared
were stranded in the 4 km stretch of road between this landslide and some other
as yet unknown blockage. Luckily, one of them was bigger than the standard
Nepali taxi as we would not have all fit with our plethora of luggage
otherwise. I’m not quite sure how we did all fit in one taxi but we managed to
squeeze in and off we went for all of ten minutes before the driver stopped and
told us it was a minute walk to the next point.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOF7lrDEOabqKAkipRbSzCfme3Y6CPEh934qGJ9ZWISuuOmy83XZyuXWFd2DG-ciEcqgYKEZTcUZIyWzzXehXpwEHfH3nzhvxx5LjEU3HmKf_-ObTp0V_-Og7X2j_jWHIIYjoaYr4MC9T/s1600/landslide-wtrfall+walk+-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOF7lrDEOabqKAkipRbSzCfme3Y6CPEh934qGJ9ZWISuuOmy83XZyuXWFd2DG-ciEcqgYKEZTcUZIyWzzXehXpwEHfH3nzhvxx5LjEU3HmKf_-ObTp0V_-Og7X2j_jWHIIYjoaYr4MC9T/s640/landslide-wtrfall+walk+-1.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">It
certainly felt like more than a minute carrying multiple bags as we negotiated
the landslide, water-ridden road. There was no jeep or bus waiting, at the next
spot, so there we were with a pile of luggage wondering what to do next. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik5aE5HaOvnFz7pqxezMoSKwBDy7YsF2-Co-s-V7DbRQ0TsEjWi43dM062vUNxS3iW_XeDmkZ37O4oS65sAy6Z9f4B4JlVT-ahaWZCFLXuzqOxl5cV-D4pVll0XCqH1_Q9hdckf_BwcwGz/s1600/IMG_4836.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik5aE5HaOvnFz7pqxezMoSKwBDy7YsF2-Co-s-V7DbRQ0TsEjWi43dM062vUNxS3iW_XeDmkZ37O4oS65sAy6Z9f4B4JlVT-ahaWZCFLXuzqOxl5cV-D4pVll0XCqH1_Q9hdckf_BwcwGz/s640/IMG_4836.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophie still looking chipper and fresh at beginning of journey photo: RK</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">We had
too much stuff to keep walking. Nisha and I left Sophie and Rajan with the bags
and walked on to the next village to find out about transport. About ten
minutes walk up the road was a village with restaurants. We couldn’t seem to
get a straight answer out anyone other than a nod that some form of transport
would come. I thought it would be better if we moved all our stuff to the
village so we could at least sit and have a drink or snack in the shade, so we
enlisted the help of a couple of villagers to bring the bags. But as we
approached the spot we had left, a jeep came whizzing past us. We paid off the
people for their trouble and hurried back to the others who were now in the
company of a Belgian family and their guide. It was not long before all ten of
us were piled into the jeep with all the bags bound to the roof. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtYsUyiLhWiP4RrmDSOA1b9lj_qNzqZ1zDDdHjAFcboUGP-KZP4nVmOC_to0wy7TZQ_HAqU65y2DGKCQB64aCL0cLLpeYuztt0RyWbYNBmiAHJGm0fOZqP3L3S6q6WpM4jgeokaMl5cat/s1600/IMG_4871.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtYsUyiLhWiP4RrmDSOA1b9lj_qNzqZ1zDDdHjAFcboUGP-KZP4nVmOC_to0wy7TZQ_HAqU65y2DGKCQB64aCL0cLLpeYuztt0RyWbYNBmiAHJGm0fOZqP3L3S6q6WpM4jgeokaMl5cat/s640/IMG_4871.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">third vehicle of day after short hike across waterfall photo: RK</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">This
jeep (our third vehicle of the day) dropped us off about 45 minutes further, where
conveniently, there were groups of men waiting around to help people transport
themselves and their belongings. We piled various bags onto ourselves and
porters and started hiking up the road. As we approached the river, a group of
Chinese tourists stopped us to warn us of the hazard ahead, showing photos of a
gushing river that we were supposedly about to cross. Not sure what to make of
it, we carried on and as we first approached the river, both Sophie and I were
aghast at the sheer force of the flowing water ahead thinking there was no way
we could be so foolhardy as to even try this crossing. On closer inspection, it
was up the river that we had to wade, not across. A dam, that usually holds the
waters back leaving a pathway, had burst, so we had to wade, knee deep along a
stretch of river with the main river gushing alongside at full force – with all
our gear! Those porters certainly knew their use as we could not have managed
without them, steadying us along the way as well as liberating us from
unnecessary luggage. I think somewhere at that point, both Sophie and I
wondered to ourselves what we had gotten ourselves into, but when you are knee
deep halfway through a current, you can only keep putting one unsteady foot in
front of the other.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiJyn4PWS1kQ3SuUEsudsiKPzbP0bNxj0rRCgwB3g3L1WCCpMj1h04F0PQOOytMcG-zHh0ME7IfyhvuzzFVkkPiImaVVtp62A5DLHT6ylVvrRJLHLGHlXUkg1Ma-yddDXjntAPbcifVvH/s1600/IMG_4905.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiJyn4PWS1kQ3SuUEsudsiKPzbP0bNxj0rRCgwB3g3L1WCCpMj1h04F0PQOOytMcG-zHh0ME7IfyhvuzzFVkkPiImaVVtp62A5DLHT6ylVvrRJLHLGHlXUkg1Ma-yddDXjntAPbcifVvH/s640/IMG_4905.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">wading through Kali Gandaki River with the help of porters photo: RK</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">Once
back on dry, if a bit soggy land, we had a short hike up a hill to the next
spot where a hut and some vehicles were situated. We were trying to work out
how far the next jeep or bus would take us as we weren’t even sure exactly
where we were. The Belgian family (who I think were pretty shaken by the river escapade)
piled into the only jeep and set off without so much as an au revoir. This left
the bus. Bags on board and squeezed into our seats, we waited for the bus to
fill to take us as far as we could go. It was getting late in the day and it
wasn’t clear how much further we could make it that day but we figured, just go
as far as we can and see from there. It was at this point that Sophie said she
had never ridden on a Nepali bus. She certainly made up for it in the days to
come!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Ao5Z7RHVWFPHf1vqdJw_CYJIZpkdeuFjmOGFhgqjBwVIePcPrlFIddSAExpnKCnbcFT5_JK9I70Se491ei13E_5uBMZdQ-F3e6MzGyoFKMPxAoYBJp4QmHS6rHJpG5KYoJAmH8GdSSIC/s1600/IMG_4933.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Ao5Z7RHVWFPHf1vqdJw_CYJIZpkdeuFjmOGFhgqjBwVIePcPrlFIddSAExpnKCnbcFT5_JK9I70Se491ei13E_5uBMZdQ-F3e6MzGyoFKMPxAoYBJp4QmHS6rHJpG5KYoJAmH8GdSSIC/s640/IMG_4933.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">squeezed onto the bus - vehicle 4 photo: RK</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
set off down the rugged road, hugging the cliff, jerking and bouncing along. I
was by the window, and decided it best not to point out to Sophie, how
precariously close to the precipice above the river the bus seemed to lurch. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL37CtIds0eRNHnsPhpWXZ4_93w73OU97mWYm-bjEEKoRfT18LrvS_T9OFR1hEhNoH5rPz4SVuZYm5CbGmU4B0YwvzkHPvbA0AqfBm2CEwBfqJUHzM_094APZdg9nT0G3EYRvE2MZxMOnW/s1600/IMG_4945.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL37CtIds0eRNHnsPhpWXZ4_93w73OU97mWYm-bjEEKoRfT18LrvS_T9OFR1hEhNoH5rPz4SVuZYm5CbGmU4B0YwvzkHPvbA0AqfBm2CEwBfqJUHzM_094APZdg9nT0G3EYRvE2MZxMOnW/s640/IMG_4945.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">flat tyre as dusk falls photo: RK</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">Following
a short delay while the driver changed the tyre, ‘as far as we could go’ turned
out to be the side of the road somewhere past Tatopani with nothing of note
seemingly within sight. Now it really was dark and the four of us and our
multitude of luggage were left behind as the bus did a precarious three point
turn and chugged off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">There
was nothing for it but to somehow move on. I don’t know quite how we managed
but between the four of us, we picked up all of our bags and headed up the road
in the dark.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">At
the first village we came to, we dumped all our stuff into a pile to catch our
breath and figure out what to do. Nisha went off into the darkness to find out
if another bus was coming. Rajan, Sophie and I sat on a bench outside a house
and waited. We were soon joined by the mother of the house, who seemed to be
merrily drunk and very excited to tell us about her time in Korea visiting one
of her children. Nearly an hour passed and we were starting to worry about
Nisha, so Rajan set off with the drunk woman’s son to see where she had gone
and find out where the nearest lodge was. Within a few minutes they were back.
It turned out the next guest house was only a further five minute walk up the
road but Nisha had been trying to organise a bus and hadn’t thought to come
back to tell us that we were so close to a place we could rest our weary heads for
the night. It was too late to travel further anyway and by then, all we could
think about was food and sleep. With the help of some of the family, we again
picked up all our stuff and trudged into the darkness to the lodge in a place
called Guithe. The rooms were pretty basic, but at least had mosquito nets. We
quickly settled in, glad to know we were at least done for the night. According
to Nisha (who is sitting next to me as I type) the dal bhat dinner “wasn’t very
delicious but it was quite good”, however, to me, it was much appreciated,
tasty home-cooked food at the end of an unexpectedly long day. And we were
still a long way to Jomsom.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
the morning, we decided to walk the hour to Dana, as the bus wasn’t leaving yet
and the road was broken somewhere along the way, so we would still have to walk
part of it anyway. We arranged porters from the guest house and I thought the
older man and another young man were going to be accompanying us until I saw
the two young boys excitedly strapping bags. With a large green rucksack on one
back and the cumbersome hard purple case lodged in a basket <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(dhoka)</i> with a strap to the head of another,
these two tiny boys set off. I watched their figures disappear up the road with
a mixture of awe, amusement and guilt. Surely this was not right. But I
rationalised that aside from the income for the family, these youngsters were
accustomed to carrying such loads and they certainly seemed quite keen to
accompany us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxB2NndQakFZt94N4JX7CDeYtKn6IAMTMRdNrbzXnRckRO1P0VH_EEKrO_FtMbqT-jvheEdGtySsPBh559r0qkyzsx3VGnunos9fEFapUzJEf9_ab28lOUKKRICWJ_YYjrdZWjjk2ds2s/s1600/IMG_0811.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxB2NndQakFZt94N4JX7CDeYtKn6IAMTMRdNrbzXnRckRO1P0VH_EEKrO_FtMbqT-jvheEdGtySsPBh559r0qkyzsx3VGnunos9fEFapUzJEf9_ab28lOUKKRICWJ_YYjrdZWjjk2ds2s/s320/IMG_0811.jpg" width="240" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9FnYDpqEjN7Spio2a4jeUijdFFIY8UsZSALYcSa0ZlMY1JrMWsEXl09XEYE0CefX8sHG65pQ8ZEhRY7ZwqJDEIBCZaNGf7jdYM8jZNbmnlhqUouDnjO7dlRXnC65zXzPAHOoFVf-PfJQ/s1600/IMG_0812.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9FnYDpqEjN7Spio2a4jeUijdFFIY8UsZSALYcSa0ZlMY1JrMWsEXl09XEYE0CefX8sHG65pQ8ZEhRY7ZwqJDEIBCZaNGf7jdYM8jZNbmnlhqUouDnjO7dlRXnC65zXzPAHOoFVf-PfJQ/s320/IMG_0812.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">An
impromptu stall had been set up selling snacks (and impressively, hosting a
basket for recycling) at the place in Dana where the jeeps came. After paying
the family and buying the boys a juice and packet of biscuits each, we settled
down with our pile of luggage to await the next leg of the journey. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUAr5Bpahs70lsgYW0sv-y-9tlL45F7dzU35pnvtcQwT1E8uRNGNP4tqCzrRkQSsXHtW84jdd5mkMSNyWT9pTMAFuPZxRJMw41KOs3sc4bQC5ss_CP423xtweVx_kvECMFJ3XPl4FiYOWy/s1600/IMG_5003.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUAr5Bpahs70lsgYW0sv-y-9tlL45F7dzU35pnvtcQwT1E8uRNGNP4tqCzrRkQSsXHtW84jdd5mkMSNyWT9pTMAFuPZxRJMw41KOs3sc4bQC5ss_CP423xtweVx_kvECMFJ3XPl4FiYOWy/s640/IMG_5003.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">waiting for the next jeep... photo: RK</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">A jeep came along and we
negotiated the price to Ghasa (Rs 6000) which was as far as he could take us as
from there it was Mustang and another district so jeeps and buses were in a
different jurisdiction. Again, we piled into the jeep with all our stuff in the
back section with the sideways seats. We soon picked up a mother and son who
were trying to get to Ghasa and after moving some of our stuff, they squeezed
into the back with the bags. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
particular road wound upwards with stunning sights of waterfalls and landscape
but it was also incredibly bumpy and muddy and the sheer drop into the still
ferociously black frothy Kali Gandaki river below made our previous night’s
lurches on the road’s edge seem tame. We couldn’t imagine how the buses
managed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2tQPJjb2Na60z7jh81S6bl6xdrc1cC1rbAWSnJAGmRP7xAwOype_OaQS2nzeCkSIvfNdXxxCQpUGmmoC1csdQ1Y3SUctReF8P09r7ck36v3kvBLexEpudDzWEChc_OzzYnwWVDKvJcjb1/s1600/IMG_0833.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2tQPJjb2Na60z7jh81S6bl6xdrc1cC1rbAWSnJAGmRP7xAwOype_OaQS2nzeCkSIvfNdXxxCQpUGmmoC1csdQ1Y3SUctReF8P09r7ck36v3kvBLexEpudDzWEChc_OzzYnwWVDKvJcjb1/s640/IMG_0833.jpg" width="480" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
we arrived at Ghasa we found that the bus apparently wasn’t leaving until noon.
So we ordered breakfast at the restaurant there and watched as the area filled with
tourists and locals who had clearly also just made the same journey by various
means. The mother and son we had given the lift to ended up helping us with our
stuff and said they would save us seats on the bus as soon as one seemed to be
preparing to leave. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">Somehow
the plan didn’t quite work and just as we were eating (after waiting for over
an hour for the food to come) there was a mad scramble as the bus that was
leaving seemed to be full. Bags piled here and there, we boarded the bus to
find the only seats left were the back row. Travelling on what can only loosely
be called a road, at the very back of a bus that has never heard of suspension,
it was not the most comfortable of journeys – aside from the fact that as both
Sophie and myself are taller than your average Nepali man, we were unable to
sit straight as we don’t actually fit in the gap between the seat in front.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">Like
all things, this journey eventually came to an end. The bus stopped and rapidly
emptied as the passengers at the front and in the know, rushed to the next bus
to secure the best seats. This journey was broken up, this time due to a broken
bridge which made a change.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32MKxSTKh6Bpa9ybqo95exu1yOFLGscI5cRZhRATidopDyLUBBxzvWKZ8BvDag8Q2OnGQzHmuLyIAE2oDl1qpIXBCVa7MKiZUCqqqqMovmaLAfgK3ItgzZRFVndz9l73-BpoC0snULJue/s1600/broken+bridge+vehicle+6+to+7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32MKxSTKh6Bpa9ybqo95exu1yOFLGscI5cRZhRATidopDyLUBBxzvWKZ8BvDag8Q2OnGQzHmuLyIAE2oDl1qpIXBCVa7MKiZUCqqqqMovmaLAfgK3ItgzZRFVndz9l73-BpoC0snULJue/s640/broken+bridge+vehicle+6+to+7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">broken bridge/bus park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">As
we settled in to the 7<sup>th</sup> vehicle of our journey from Pokhara to
Jomsom, I wasn’t sure I believed it when we were told that this bus actually
went all the way to Jomsom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it did,
and we finally arrived in Jomsom around 2pm the following day, nearly 30 hours
after we had left Pokhara. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">Who
wants a 15 minute flight when you can take a jeep, a taxi, another jeep, a bus,
another jeep and then two more buses, not to mentioned wading through torrents
and up mountains with over 100 kilos of stuff? That said, it was very pretty
and it was something to write home about…</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mustang
Journey: Part II – onward to Lo Manthang</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">If that sounds like a lot, that tale only takes us to where the flight was
supposed to bring us, Jomsom and the gateway of Mustang. We still had to get to
Lo Manthang in Upper Mustang, the forbidden kingdom and mystical high desert. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">We continued on that very afternoon. And
any hopes we had that the journey might get easier were quickly dashed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
continued north by jeep, wading across another river, then another jeep,
crossing another river (by bridge), then bus, tractor, and jeep to Samar where
we spent the night. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITOaRG8gtbMGMweQFCIJo4nHOJwoIBDQSp_Kr9Og5Dhz-apvj-n1Ym-5Ito7Jhz44NLMjYKUviSL6LMUZJq5KOmt6L7uptN83pr8TrxF5YgsPh8AO0n9XuSM0e8Z-upq5odqjY2AgTBbB/s1600/DSC_0063.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITOaRG8gtbMGMweQFCIJo4nHOJwoIBDQSp_Kr9Og5Dhz-apvj-n1Ym-5Ito7Jhz44NLMjYKUviSL6LMUZJq5KOmt6L7uptN83pr8TrxF5YgsPh8AO0n9XuSM0e8Z-upq5odqjY2AgTBbB/s640/DSC_0063.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo: SDP</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next day, another hike down and up the valley, fording yet another river (this
journey saw our luggage travel on horseback). And then a few hours in the
beating high altitude sun on the side of a road with no shade waiting for
another jeep coming at some undisclosed time, that eventually arrived and took
us to another broken bridge and our final jeep – our 14th vehicle in three days just from Pokhara.
We arrived in Lo Manthang on the Sunday evening, four days of constant travel
from Kathmandu, and for Sophie, a week since she had left her home in
Los Angeles. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Skia; font-size: 14.0pt;">Epic.
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnnAX0XFV2U1uEi5o8qTtjsUNnSROta16uPDg6qr_GWIDd4aFHO_SyZy76AJIdCimDj-ePcST3GsCRE447_-krMhdK3wRVkyhGTmlIdW_mn9PhZ6u5r6W-B5XZwTZcCYdI0eFf0FgYcbq/s1600/IMG_0787.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyg80zkv2TqLPKMY7hxwuUjvzvvvfcwwToweM8Woo4PMnez48MZOF3HE4mAvKgS-qtqRj7LRQA9cKU1hbPIwvM7lYoI1vpsAyBq-Y1HDVO_WWucvtwvt0GfuJWwlqqt9oG7Z2eShXXZ7G/s640/IMG_5089.jpg" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bumpy tractor rides make the buses seems pretty smooth - photo: RK</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxB2NndQakFZt94N4JX7CDeYtKn6IAMTMRdNrbzXnRckRO1P0VH_EEKrO_FtMbqT-jvheEdGtySsPBh559r0qkyzsx3VGnunos9fEFapUzJEf9_ab28lOUKKRICWJ_YYjrdZWjjk2ds2s/s1600/IMG_0811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> photos by Rajan Khatet where indicated</i></div>
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miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-83757307608859259842013-04-30T01:29:00.000-07:002013-05-09T01:36:54.264-07:00Chaupadi : Beautiful Laxmi & Old Customs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On the second night of our Rara Trek, we stopped in the village of Bulbule. It is the last village in Jumla before the Gurchi Pass into Mugu. You could call it fairly remote. The main village was a strip of only a handful of houses, two of which were guesthouses as this is the main entrance to Rara Lake National Park. I was quite taken by the picturesque place and in particular our young host.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-P9WNHLhUCMGVRYreAOhXikJKOjAzBPY5RLA9u1PInvWAN1MVx870uyd1_2H9qjYwNV4hdy4e5-P8nE7GZ_BkpRTB2Y_a990bwZ-voCDOcFGeTTEKfVeGBEzQghEDEzIfiEHRwlGmw6JH/s1600/IMG_8294a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-P9WNHLhUCMGVRYreAOhXikJKOjAzBPY5RLA9u1PInvWAN1MVx870uyd1_2H9qjYwNV4hdy4e5-P8nE7GZ_BkpRTB2Y_a990bwZ-voCDOcFGeTTEKfVeGBEzQghEDEzIfiEHRwlGmw6JH/s400/IMG_8294a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Laxmi is a young mother of two. She had an incredible air of serenity about her. I marvelled as I observed her at work, juggling handling two small children along with other village kids playing in her kitchen, running her guest house and cooking dinner for us and her family. Her husband was away in Jumla Bazaar for a few days and her brother in law and his wife were also not around that evening so she was managing everything alone. As she and Nisha talked, we found out that she was educated and in the evenings was teaching local village women to read. Along with all else she was managing! An extraordinary woman for sure. We spent a very pleasant evening in her company around the fire and enjoyed a nice meal before going to our room that was simple, but clean (by Jumla standards).<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARWFReiJOjXx1R1oqRMQ_aEHuut4A123Xe-Nn3KBABDpZVSMc5OVPkX1Chcs-Yje0a_egzcId0EpsEv2LFVi2oQfKiJ1CVRGhpRgBHaFIK9OkDNstzJ7qvuWz48fbHbUKXx22zOfzuqfY/s1600/IMG_8298a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARWFReiJOjXx1R1oqRMQ_aEHuut4A123Xe-Nn3KBABDpZVSMc5OVPkX1Chcs-Yje0a_egzcId0EpsEv2LFVi2oQfKiJ1CVRGhpRgBHaFIK9OkDNstzJ7qvuWz48fbHbUKXx22zOfzuqfY/s400/IMG_8298a.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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I was so taken with our new friend and her guesthouse that I wanted to stay with her again on our return from Rara Lake a few days later. We arrived in Bulbule fairly early in the afternoon having spent the morning coming back up over the pass. Although it made sense to carry on further as we still had a few hours
of daylight, I had liked Bulbule and Laxmi so much, I wanted to stay
there anyway. When we got to the village there was no one around so we waited a while and were about to give up and continue on to the next village when Laxmi appeared.<br />
<br />
She looked pleased to see us, but quickly explained to Nisha that we could not stay with her that evening because she was menstruating and was sleeping in the cow shed. Her husband was still away and there was no one in the house - and because of her observance of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chhaupadi"><i>chaupadi</i> </a>custom, she could not even enter their home. She could not go into the kitchen, she could not prepare food - not even to feed her two small boys. She was really hungry as she hadn't eaten much, relying on other people in the village to give her food. We gave her a packet of biscuits, which is all we had. We even offered to cook dinner in her kitchen for her. The boys were also sleeping in the cow shed with her as no one else was there. A local village woman helped her by getting blankets from inside the house for her and the boys to sleep in the 'shed' which didn't even have walls on three sides.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid66_Ba7q8GEBqxSvGCjn3KNm7QhHLDc0q1F9SD7Gext5vXWKs-eKftBTEaf-SBRGbeA4xJGdMgXFmS-z8tqk7SVXvJO4crOMQeQalvOTUdZ2lP25ddx2Hl4mqz1d5bSM5Pnvj1mazmCcS/s1600/IMG_8662a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid66_Ba7q8GEBqxSvGCjn3KNm7QhHLDc0q1F9SD7Gext5vXWKs-eKftBTEaf-SBRGbeA4xJGdMgXFmS-z8tqk7SVXvJO4crOMQeQalvOTUdZ2lP25ddx2Hl4mqz1d5bSM5Pnvj1mazmCcS/s400/IMG_8662a.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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I tried to imagine how cold that 'shed' must be in the middle of winter. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOWuaHkR7qxNcmBPUoBvNWR2VlVGakLovVR3azVccr45C7AMyViGs6eK8tU-i9oxrLv3HT6a0RX5W7xCdv0Fiu8RYm5DXFmSu3Uj3K2VArcSOM6D8ngd9QH5qZmbZ62xHjVYT2kLP85fV/s1600/IMG_8665a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOWuaHkR7qxNcmBPUoBvNWR2VlVGakLovVR3azVccr45C7AMyViGs6eK8tU-i9oxrLv3HT6a0RX5W7xCdv0Fiu8RYm5DXFmSu3Uj3K2VArcSOM6D8ngd9QH5qZmbZ62xHjVYT2kLP85fV/s400/IMG_8665a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I was horrified even though I am familiar with the practice of chaupadi. It has come up a lot in discussion as it is still widely practised in Nepal, particularly in the mid- and far- West. It applies to childbirth as well as menstruation. However, it is observed in varying degrees depending on where you are, the families attitudes etc. Some families just make women sleep separately and don't allow them into the kitchen but they are not made to sleep outside. This can still mean horribly cold conditions in the winter where the only source of warmth is around the kitchen fire. Some places have an actual chaupadi hut specifically for women to go to, although that in no way means it is pleasant. There is an ongoing hot debate about this archaic practice and there are many organisations working towards changing attitudes, particularly in rural areas, but of course, like any dismantling of 'tradition', it can be a slow process.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOihtS-Jx6KesSg0qZUTmDLkbtURuCAqlrDz5Smv7LFa5W_Jr2yDsgkKNRWvx9S7NswLlrR9Rmo9xUuDlCcTOel1BWTBb-NQG432WOrXueLUtxBNWBFQpuhUlrZIyjtwRHiRelYcUlgRV3/s1600/IMG_8666a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOihtS-Jx6KesSg0qZUTmDLkbtURuCAqlrDz5Smv7LFa5W_Jr2yDsgkKNRWvx9S7NswLlrR9Rmo9xUuDlCcTOel1BWTBb-NQG432WOrXueLUtxBNWBFQpuhUlrZIyjtwRHiRelYcUlgRV3/s400/IMG_8666a.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
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We talked further with Laxmi, trying to understand why she adhered to this archaic custom, even though it turned out her husband did not condone it. She explained that it was pressure from people in the village, these were their practices and it was the way it was. It just all seemed so ridiculous that she could not make money by taking our business and could not enter her own kitchen and cook dinner for her children. Here she was, this amazing, literate and educated woman and yet still so trapped in this societal structure where she couldn't stand up to the close-minded attitudes of her fellow villagers. Of course, Nisha had a lot to say about this. But it was clear that we could not persuade her to break from custom at this point. </div>
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Laxmi and another woman from the village had to go out to the fields because, of course, she still had to do her work. We walked along with them, heading to the next village and Nisha continued her heated dialogue about how they needed to make the change themselves and stand up to the old attitudes if they were to ever move forward. They knew these things to be true, but at the same time, somehow didn't feel able to take that stand. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2Kxm4-qW431kWgBUpP0DTNZ0ZD6oB1DkU2ZGUMhdwBXDn6AxwV6Z-3dPqBT-TLcMYxWTm72VUAi-yCK6qKQg8CG7sTIjLXZ-hdYQlM0V3e4u3prXKwbKz2gnWa1-yAa5b5vqMV3l3HPK/s1600/IMG_8672a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2Kxm4-qW431kWgBUpP0DTNZ0ZD6oB1DkU2ZGUMhdwBXDn6AxwV6Z-3dPqBT-TLcMYxWTm72VUAi-yCK6qKQg8CG7sTIjLXZ-hdYQlM0V3e4u3prXKwbKz2gnWa1-yAa5b5vqMV3l3HPK/s400/IMG_8672a.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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As we walked on after we'd parted company with Laxmi, we talked about how to combat this issue. How to raise awareness and change attitudes in these remote mountain areas? Even in so-called modern Nepal, educated women from middle class families (in particular Brahmins who are the most religiously strict) observe more manageable modified customs - usually not being allowed in the kitchen, eating separately from the rest of the family, not able to go to temple or attend ceremonies and celebrations (like weddings). For married women, not sleeping in the marital bed for 3-5 days, for daughters, not being able to 'touch' their fathers. If the young people of urban Nepal are still observing these rituals it is not surprising that in the rural areas, these beliefs are still in practice.<br />
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<a href="http://www.actionworksnepal.org/program/chaupadi-free-community-jumla">There are organisations working towards abolishing these practices.</a> <a href="http://www.myrepublica.com/portal/index.php?action=news_details&news_id=54180">In the news just a few days ago there was an article about a group of women taking action.</a> So that is a start, but for women like Laxmi, articles on the internet aren't going to keep her and her children warm at night in that shed.<br />
<br />
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chhaupadi<br />
http://www.myrepublica.com/portal/index.php?action=news_details&news_id=54180<br />
http://www.actionworksnepal.org/program/chaupadi-free-community-jumla</div>
miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-14173790833442195532013-04-21T01:32:00.003-07:002013-04-21T02:51:38.593-07:00Trek to Rara Lake : Part 2 - in pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">Day 1</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNFUB347WfyT3GdOg08PTxwocp-N8PwAh6ygLKru00u6xNU1xJ-LUWiS_IGjTDo8j6DnYkCFQEbbF1NiVsKne5-12yLi0ooftB6PA4iyWx2xIMftPKAXXHZXyIklyUQjmm1ZGWrM_n1KZ/s1600/IMG_8148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNFUB347WfyT3GdOg08PTxwocp-N8PwAh6ygLKru00u6xNU1xJ-LUWiS_IGjTDo8j6DnYkCFQEbbF1NiVsKne5-12yLi0ooftB6PA4iyWx2xIMftPKAXXHZXyIklyUQjmm1ZGWrM_n1KZ/s640/IMG_8148.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was particularly taken with these horns</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBVJT6ilEEHCgJkovmm_dMMsJoSRTswQDA2TQO0v9vX49QnWjzOnxIrPE_3jrY3yb1UGxV5Zshlrx2tJWLNVjTEHFdu7HToIokz45jDp_xGMBRbJYwIIrZPcYCOfjwbAB8w0SyUZOqc8m/s1600/IMG_8151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBVJT6ilEEHCgJkovmm_dMMsJoSRTswQDA2TQO0v9vX49QnWjzOnxIrPE_3jrY3yb1UGxV5Zshlrx2tJWLNVjTEHFdu7HToIokz45jDp_xGMBRbJYwIIrZPcYCOfjwbAB8w0SyUZOqc8m/s640/IMG_8151.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIE4pmlHPvBF1dvnNcRViNW0vJBmNO80Pa27NHQn6QGW2Az1X78zW3e9Z3VbkbC9_ifqyU5tRk2LVwAQaBfvMXcSeTRhNbmPrX3_WwtX6aw4FqTvfvrj1alQm0qTL4CqfrxQNxgLfwUGBE/s1600/IMG_8185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIE4pmlHPvBF1dvnNcRViNW0vJBmNO80Pa27NHQn6QGW2Az1X78zW3e9Z3VbkbC9_ifqyU5tRk2LVwAQaBfvMXcSeTRhNbmPrX3_WwtX6aw4FqTvfvrj1alQm0qTL4CqfrxQNxgLfwUGBE/s640/IMG_8185.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">looking back down the hill we'd just ascended - you can't see those mountains from Nisha's village</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7yu-Bf4natLOz3TFNQB92cVpkAC8ohEpNW7GURtIw6zL7Psw_kYfD6z7mr7G7LzZzTWIeKNsQVYcZdxMRCxkQKeLFV-nF32peeS8aTbW8Pz3qiSfZ2edzouATC9P9ck9Kx6Ffjy-OX0Yr/s1600/IMG_8197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7yu-Bf4natLOz3TFNQB92cVpkAC8ohEpNW7GURtIw6zL7Psw_kYfD6z7mr7G7LzZzTWIeKNsQVYcZdxMRCxkQKeLFV-nF32peeS8aTbW8Pz3qiSfZ2edzouATC9P9ck9Kx6Ffjy-OX0Yr/s640/IMG_8197.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">this is the path up</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6OBE7FjkiZL0MFfU_r2rU38HVcTCJBvxCK2tqpnj5mVwbqiZQneBb4WB_ghGKdcIAnsL4XQIbSDVetu9DBb6rqXG5UCtVD2ETadmb0RRXv9XBHBn3_8seENwOADaGEzIRWtOW9zR6bgbq/s1600/IMG_8198.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6OBE7FjkiZL0MFfU_r2rU38HVcTCJBvxCK2tqpnj5mVwbqiZQneBb4WB_ghGKdcIAnsL4XQIbSDVetu9DBb6rqXG5UCtVD2ETadmb0RRXv9XBHBn3_8seENwOADaGEzIRWtOW9zR6bgbq/s640/IMG_8198.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">final stretch to barren Kali (3642 M/11,948 ft)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">
Day 2</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPexHme_DVDiGA-RN85HjzLctNiCBpINv79Wy9c_fDU4FjNYaZ1V9PIO9QAUNkyYLV7VJIgfazUOoy3HTYWGCWYV2U0NpugiFAMQ1261-MXu5vmJpzZD8shMpdJg6vQzVAlFpheY185UhR/s1600/IMG_8244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPexHme_DVDiGA-RN85HjzLctNiCBpINv79Wy9c_fDU4FjNYaZ1V9PIO9QAUNkyYLV7VJIgfazUOoy3HTYWGCWYV2U0NpugiFAMQ1261-MXu5vmJpzZD8shMpdJg6vQzVAlFpheY185UhR/s640/IMG_8244.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgREGJ13mbcqvKyCY6puXvGYiNcY-PTxAc6jjjGLdFy4e4i-wxZRzKMW5qrBXbdOQI09B-CO3fmlIpi8ST7KcqSiF1bfn5KsDlGEyMTaTIOw_Py74ovAKuG48WFAFxi9VZgIQVwq0xDllPJ/s1600/IMG_8260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgREGJ13mbcqvKyCY6puXvGYiNcY-PTxAc6jjjGLdFy4e4i-wxZRzKMW5qrBXbdOQI09B-CO3fmlIpi8ST7KcqSiF1bfn5KsDlGEyMTaTIOw_Py74ovAKuG48WFAFxi9VZgIQVwq0xDllPJ/s640/IMG_8260.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">if in doubt, just follow the donkeys</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU1adcBZeys4m1NS4uDiF_DhjsP9Aq-aTCFc0VdE0kSMA2Q2e8T1qzE_93D-_UAT3rcCIVi2E3yiOu9bOSKEPYFKNyiG5HVz17YLpCwWNAXRzTDbaGJVgsBJwMakORphRqpnHVyv0OHrCl/s1600/IMG_8296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU1adcBZeys4m1NS4uDiF_DhjsP9Aq-aTCFc0VdE0kSMA2Q2e8T1qzE_93D-_UAT3rcCIVi2E3yiOu9bOSKEPYFKNyiG5HVz17YLpCwWNAXRzTDbaGJVgsBJwMakORphRqpnHVyv0OHrCl/s640/IMG_8296.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">amazing Laxmi, running the guesthouse in Bulbule with two small kids (and neighbour's)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Day 3</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSlk950gK5S60lxGdFHsxwvpad2tLbpIyk8Pxji4t1R0BHbsRYkyXhm_0KXj58ce0gjXV4e5pa1X5M8aVdZDrpz31ywZtoSD2q-9HPjrUTf9ib4vObSkGHbEKV-LW8bRdYY_TohyphenhyphenNS7zX/s1600/IMG_8313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSlk950gK5S60lxGdFHsxwvpad2tLbpIyk8Pxji4t1R0BHbsRYkyXhm_0KXj58ce0gjXV4e5pa1X5M8aVdZDrpz31ywZtoSD2q-9HPjrUTf9ib4vObSkGHbEKV-LW8bRdYY_TohyphenhyphenNS7zX/s640/IMG_8313.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ghurchi Pass (3446 M/11,305 ft)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ckUCsgYROFsEKzkhjvooo8DP6v1oGK2ZSEic_-_tSKRdl0JYg-nAWYMxK9IQkxK8hQyHKVg8acRUkU4tacQaxunczhbsUPzQ_47psgnf8aE_dMieB_z9ZntD0ap2w7nVVlB9lWk2TkPG/s1600/IMG_8321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ckUCsgYROFsEKzkhjvooo8DP6v1oGK2ZSEic_-_tSKRdl0JYg-nAWYMxK9IQkxK8hQyHKVg8acRUkU4tacQaxunczhbsUPzQ_47psgnf8aE_dMieB_z9ZntD0ap2w7nVVlB9lWk2TkPG/s640/IMG_8321.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>mandir </i>(temple) at Ghurchi - looking towards Mugu</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI78ldXDorSHRtuIebpCe2QwJHiUaMTqxla8KSBnATawYAw5xktqslfRN6uij7Mt74cr9qoXmwwdPjQ10a25AIvPkgMCBUOe-jZKnSG0gCWc04B6IUbf0FZ4sW2HyPfn27yHFmM2m0tFKX/s1600/IMG_8198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI78ldXDorSHRtuIebpCe2QwJHiUaMTqxla8KSBnATawYAw5xktqslfRN6uij7Mt74cr9qoXmwwdPjQ10a25AIvPkgMCBUOe-jZKnSG0gCWc04B6IUbf0FZ4sW2HyPfn27yHFmM2m0tFKX/s1600/IMG_8198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSUJTOgHmRUZck4JYJYZKrb_wacprgkhCTGE-KUbUPHr-D1JPbWHTQmMc5bAIf2_Mpb3K0ASR5Q0chne3wLqYdc-qdGpBUaICfi8IA9Ci2dowJ6G7JOm7pHH0EV7wLDnDgoYwz_pGZTXk/s1600/IMG_8420.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSUJTOgHmRUZck4JYJYZKrb_wacprgkhCTGE-KUbUPHr-D1JPbWHTQmMc5bAIf2_Mpb3K0ASR5Q0chne3wLqYdc-qdGpBUaICfi8IA9Ci2dowJ6G7JOm7pHH0EV7wLDnDgoYwz_pGZTXk/s640/IMG_8420.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I</span> was going uphill, completely out of breath while he smoked his pipe carrying a heavy load</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We were told there was a place to stay in a small village called Jhyari (although the conditions couldn't be vouched for), but upon arrival, we were informed that it wasn't suitable for us and we should go '15 minutes' up the hill to a place on the road. An hour later, I was dragging myself up the hill at a snail's pace as light faded and the 'hotel' was still nowhere in sight. As I joked to Nisha that we were about to stumble across a 3 star hotel, we heard the sound of children singing. We approached what could generously be described as a hut with a shelter to find an old woman and two small boys around a fire. They had just taken most of their pots and pans down to their house down the road as they weren't planning on staying the night but upon hearing of our plight, the old woman, Jaumati Budha, sent the boys running down the hill to their house to fetch pots so she could make us dinner.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh727iSC9Vo-NTdFAvNZs9EKKkcFmMoOYbE0f0XWrYX5XwrMDA7Vi69Hl1QZQKrbkl1wKHb_3yrIkCAnNDFS8KlTC8muzzeIPty0HKGtINNjSoxTe22ydCnva2Y4iJisvvmSb-OAUlaHCi/s1600/IMG_8431.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh727iSC9Vo-NTdFAvNZs9EKKkcFmMoOYbE0f0XWrYX5XwrMDA7Vi69Hl1QZQKrbkl1wKHb_3yrIkCAnNDFS8KlTC8muzzeIPty0HKGtINNjSoxTe22ydCnva2Y4iJisvvmSb-OAUlaHCi/s640/IMG_8431.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As she prepared our meal (they had already eaten), she
told Nisha her story. The boys were her grandchildren, her daughter's
sons. Their father had gone off to India and never returned. When their mother remarried (apparently to a man who had raped her), the sons were offloaded on to their grandmother who had taken them in and was raising them. She was an incredible lady, facing a very tough life in her golden years. Very inspiring and kind woman for we would have been stranded had she not taken us in. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG8ddzXu4zcN_QYY-4m5eoUEtYhq7RMX0n72vqeIbbNrjq_pJIMyy8nyLB-SjEQO5ADZ8YQWQYG5xtEAhoR0dtmGXmtXcBUOmy7qBljJx0dTGIiUNUQFcAeC9ly-m3jwtH2PWWRCod0Z0f/s1600/IMG_8436.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG8ddzXu4zcN_QYY-4m5eoUEtYhq7RMX0n72vqeIbbNrjq_pJIMyy8nyLB-SjEQO5ADZ8YQWQYG5xtEAhoR0dtmGXmtXcBUOmy7qBljJx0dTGIiUNUQFcAeC9ly-m3jwtH2PWWRCod0Z0f/s640/IMG_8436.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Hajur-aama</i> (grandmother) and the boys slept in the back part of
the room while we slept on a rather unstable assembly of planks, with my
legs dangling off at the calves. We slept surprisingly well, probably
out of sheer relief. It was a wonderful refuge from the cold and quite a memorable night.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZi6r0PEjBy9KcL6sLRhf8y_G_9kI-tgL861tIzWhF5-EjXZVyGDi6X_IDWJWTN5TfoyD8Gd5ml8mHonTbyG4HrPMcL_y_cOrIAZmo3M_2LMQiQmPlgTST9331PBw-UlQfuX6c0iETyUW/s1600/IMG_8438.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZi6r0PEjBy9KcL6sLRhf8y_G_9kI-tgL861tIzWhF5-EjXZVyGDi6X_IDWJWTN5TfoyD8Gd5ml8mHonTbyG4HrPMcL_y_cOrIAZmo3M_2LMQiQmPlgTST9331PBw-UlQfuX6c0iETyUW/s640/IMG_8438.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">our bed - although there was a padded matt(ress)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Day 4</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLrp8lTJjpo0x66_hGEI_8IueDPL1ydFmDN5r23BOowwUhzGzJ5T1n0068d0IH0SlgEvWMe6YF7mivOhRU8aYVN0AhrzChPH8qFTzSnznhpJ-M-79eUjDo-id4rlD_ceu7USTuqFXaC0wP/s1600/IMG_8448.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLrp8lTJjpo0x66_hGEI_8IueDPL1ydFmDN5r23BOowwUhzGzJ5T1n0068d0IH0SlgEvWMe6YF7mivOhRU8aYVN0AhrzChPH8qFTzSnznhpJ-M-79eUjDo-id4rlD_ceu7USTuqFXaC0wP/s640/IMG_8448.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">our "3 star" hotel in daylight</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In the morning, we walked on up the hill eventually reaching Rara Lake - a stunning body of water surrounded by snow-capped mountains.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaTGrZ5TD_qh1cfHQf1hOS8_Jw05h5gZqjO9egjfEkHOVmskUTgET-HEBC-56imJsrmEWj0gq6MFGgNk9XQgoIg732PSZhF17CgaQ2wnnWKF2Gs-EblihOOFSIXp7OCTGcjXyFNUMKrqu/s1600/IMG_8474.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaTGrZ5TD_qh1cfHQf1hOS8_Jw05h5gZqjO9egjfEkHOVmskUTgET-HEBC-56imJsrmEWj0gq6MFGgNk9XQgoIg732PSZhF17CgaQ2wnnWKF2Gs-EblihOOFSIXp7OCTGcjXyFNUMKrqu/s640/IMG_8474.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">we made it! - at Rara Lake</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day 5</span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> the 'airport' in Mugu</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4aRC1RRYF0_4O1pNeOlQ25GRHA0I-heuros_btqScIcFnPEzsD088WqO4mkf9yr687hT3BPg2zLObf5vMz7lYZksD9P0hRbx67BTp2yot5rMP7QfiuIBSzuU1rpyzBEuyPZtgnRzBMAu/s1600/IMG_8570.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4aRC1RRYF0_4O1pNeOlQ25GRHA0I-heuros_btqScIcFnPEzsD088WqO4mkf9yr687hT3BPg2zLObf5vMz7lYZksD9P0hRbx67BTp2yot5rMP7QfiuIBSzuU1rpyzBEuyPZtgnRzBMAu/s640/IMG_8570.JPG" width="640" /></a></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> Nisha plays carrom (on a very wonky board) while we wait for lunch</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0B4-tAwAZKKdnvkwL6eb_N1wE_LwZmGtUL32sKKsontWrnBZn5ut_0gQqvuebprJTbfxh0kX-V7XOsovOvUlyRcNJzQIY01azRyKUAoT1xZMjXR-R7-li8Qqg8lKgqeAYL_hs8fIFefX3/s1600/IMG_8589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0B4-tAwAZKKdnvkwL6eb_N1wE_LwZmGtUL32sKKsontWrnBZn5ut_0gQqvuebprJTbfxh0kX-V7XOsovOvUlyRcNJzQIY01azRyKUAoT1xZMjXR-R7-li8Qqg8lKgqeAYL_hs8fIFefX3/s640/IMG_8589.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">the road winds around the valley and loops back on the other side</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V3eLB-aL0oV4VqGAVOiJlHU9yOozVzSGWsQDMVl2DaZArqJa5KTcH62x2SBq7jCiEA8YORvK2Sa_xjyKHW6Aj_nVs5BsU8T-a2jgDqvLgfS_RwXJ15ztO_Qy96TWYZY5W7res7a5-4nI/s1600/IMG_8590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V3eLB-aL0oV4VqGAVOiJlHU9yOozVzSGWsQDMVl2DaZArqJa5KTcH62x2SBq7jCiEA8YORvK2Sa_xjyKHW6Aj_nVs5BsU8T-a2jgDqvLgfS_RwXJ15ztO_Qy96TWYZY5W7res7a5-4nI/s640/IMG_8590.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> you can see the road across so rather than going all the way around, we went down and up the other side!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJ-uyAWzgLQQkmnKsrIbJXOgZVqQ24t3phY_9Z-qMsGTFgXf875qfSa101qvfwULj4EEqy6lF-tG6_BxPHjZPsE6ivLdMoAo8K3BxYKHz_A3dk6is8Oq9Pn_jAfqgEkS9qHE-I-f90yx5/s1600/IMG_8606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJ-uyAWzgLQQkmnKsrIbJXOgZVqQ24t3phY_9Z-qMsGTFgXf875qfSa101qvfwULj4EEqy6lF-tG6_BxPHjZPsE6ivLdMoAo8K3BxYKHz_A3dk6is8Oq9Pn_jAfqgEkS9qHE-I-f90yx5/s640/IMG_8606.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> children gather to stare at the <i>bideshi </i>(foreigner)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">as we made our way through the village of Topla</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day 6</span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0CU4pWVvDVMn1vDl8Nj1FsJiOxMPabhijz9sBjY2cPJ4qQ9gIC2e3GfSlZknKykZtZfdoiYm481DBjcRz2-nB-2SUrk7tr8YpzYAhaGKIQ8bOmnbC0x0jsVX9MuLpii9dfrmvBu-8yGZQ/s1600/IMG_8644.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0CU4pWVvDVMn1vDl8Nj1FsJiOxMPabhijz9sBjY2cPJ4qQ9gIC2e3GfSlZknKykZtZfdoiYm481DBjcRz2-nB-2SUrk7tr8YpzYAhaGKIQ8bOmnbC0x0jsVX9MuLpii9dfrmvBu-8yGZQ/s640/IMG_8644.JPG" width="640" /></a></span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">looking back, you can see the road - we went down and up</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">and where the road ends on the right, is the runway</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht36NWPSOcclgf_Ju60vCL8TuhV16dFn0IEVkG4okA31kXPvxi3kZKFFXNLEv-h4u9WVxnxlB28MB9AQElcXXnqezE6nBcHDBe6GmgRSGttGfcJhACs7jWBJolYSqgQq9NiMOn-_S_B3ke/s1600/IMG_8654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht36NWPSOcclgf_Ju60vCL8TuhV16dFn0IEVkG4okA31kXPvxi3kZKFFXNLEv-h4u9WVxnxlB28MB9AQElcXXnqezE6nBcHDBe6GmgRSGttGfcJhACs7jWBJolYSqgQq9NiMOn-_S_B3ke/s640/IMG_8654.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> donkey jam - back down the hill as we head up the the Ghurchi pass</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day 7</span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7w2y4FLzjb1IR7Uos_gCFKnYkOfYCYVG82dQ-egumYSQXhyphenhyphenVzfbJ3iQpwu_SydlsX1oz6-QRRiPRD_NsAqQ0btiLiyG4_ymC4YIZTnWunfLbmV8KBVcRd730YLNFLl6_vyRyIqRF9sMa/s1600/IMG_8682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7w2y4FLzjb1IR7Uos_gCFKnYkOfYCYVG82dQ-egumYSQXhyphenhyphenVzfbJ3iQpwu_SydlsX1oz6-QRRiPRD_NsAqQ0btiLiyG4_ymC4YIZTnWunfLbmV8KBVcRd730YLNFLl6_vyRyIqRF9sMa/s640/IMG_8682.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"> moon in the morning</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">our host making roti for breakfast </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtk1pwvDoxYcflIm2Z31r_GRpiCnnVJuPqiGr3qOV0eBIePiXWiW7VZGQibKxIr9eJEpW0EqG8GDFUPbOyfX9OUiXhyiudYbJe7ONWS0S9afEgVHHIF3wtIdlY2Cex0h7_LpfpjeEAAx81/s1600/IMG_8723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtk1pwvDoxYcflIm2Z31r_GRpiCnnVJuPqiGr3qOV0eBIePiXWiW7VZGQibKxIr9eJEpW0EqG8GDFUPbOyfX9OUiXhyiudYbJe7ONWS0S9afEgVHHIF3wtIdlY2Cex0h7_LpfpjeEAAx81/s640/IMG_8723.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRT62_k2HpnJcezC0ZQUxlXwXyGucCFadDFiMX0PauvIoz6eKnQpH3ixW-gttOlTgcfj7hhipX3lL08Yezw1930-D044RuEqHfKh0hiduZQr2Ww-zvSxgGQLOb9uJkBux4VE8hAwtfQm2A/s1600/IMG_8731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRT62_k2HpnJcezC0ZQUxlXwXyGucCFadDFiMX0PauvIoz6eKnQpH3ixW-gttOlTgcfj7hhipX3lL08Yezw1930-D044RuEqHfKh0hiduZQr2Ww-zvSxgGQLOb9uJkBux4VE8hAwtfQm2A/s640/IMG_8731.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZTLoRXf0KiDBOCLzSPIP4zMOAHsMndUCQXVg4tYs1K7b-XuPsMW2gvFSgpYSGTnhc-t26IwwGYaoC7j3f2kcDsIt79BjhqoGjUHSW98pdiKGgGxodk7Bxx9h7AY8-pfOFA_xSIkyxzyK/s1600/IMG_8756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZTLoRXf0KiDBOCLzSPIP4zMOAHsMndUCQXVg4tYs1K7b-XuPsMW2gvFSgpYSGTnhc-t26IwwGYaoC7j3f2kcDsIt79BjhqoGjUHSW98pdiKGgGxodk7Bxx9h7AY8-pfOFA_xSIkyxzyK/s640/IMG_8756.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">the snowy, muddy road had actually dried up a lot on the way back </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5uhKcFqzf41vEuCYHBHe1tSR6LtX1cKzbMhVPGUGs18gElDhXp3gSdm25wgNfbGKokifoYbxU_8c6T-vkAv7cn6XwOwwKDVzr1JUrC5vn9JzzO7gik6WDKFE9NuyFWn_CYZ2rcW90E76/s1600/IMG_8764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5uhKcFqzf41vEuCYHBHe1tSR6LtX1cKzbMhVPGUGs18gElDhXp3gSdm25wgNfbGKokifoYbxU_8c6T-vkAv7cn6XwOwwKDVzr1JUrC5vn9JzzO7gik6WDKFE9NuyFWn_CYZ2rcW90E76/s640/IMG_8764.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"> donkeys on the road to Kali</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhumUwr-jhn5l6M_eJLdZhGOqHZQa1WiVT64EJ8OKnP4QN9uvV828p8oAC6TRIGy5wBqeS7u4_p0W8XDOsDbDsmHpZHGJe88NlLYYD5q_PK-iigLHzJy9NnDqSzanv5XgJSfMrjekUOSFBX/s1600/IMG_8777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhumUwr-jhn5l6M_eJLdZhGOqHZQa1WiVT64EJ8OKnP4QN9uvV828p8oAC6TRIGy5wBqeS7u4_p0W8XDOsDbDsmHpZHGJe88NlLYYD5q_PK-iigLHzJy9NnDqSzanv5XgJSfMrjekUOSFBX/s640/IMG_8777.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Kali pass - also much less muddy just 6 days later</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We approached Kali just before 4pm and were thinking we would sleep in Patmara as although downhill, we still wouldn't make it back to Urthu-Chautara before dark (it had taken us 6 hours on day 1 in the other direction but it was uphill all the way 1100 M/3608 ft). When we arrived in Kali, it turned out the tractor of Nisha's neighbour was there having just delivered goods. I still wanted to walk as we were in the final stretch but was happy to give them my rucksack (relieving myself of the shooting pains in my shoulder). Since we knew that we could jump in the tractor when they eventually headed back, we set off, and continued on past Patmara.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJJC3GOYcgpQIAbxmToUYO7_C8O0jZ4ItQl4Da3ewbH_jvskfPGRPI5Zh0teheMIbvWnFGLgxFF3AvCEPUo56FHRFPe0d0J0rcZiaEeDkUKwJO1uuU4UH8IUGH54WF8OeKq70o_TZAXBex/s1600/IMG_8825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJJC3GOYcgpQIAbxmToUYO7_C8O0jZ4ItQl4Da3ewbH_jvskfPGRPI5Zh0teheMIbvWnFGLgxFF3AvCEPUo56FHRFPe0d0J0rcZiaEeDkUKwJO1uuU4UH8IUGH54WF8OeKq70o_TZAXBex/s640/IMG_8825.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As darkness fell, just as I was pulling out my headlamp, we heard the growl and rattle of the tractor and its trailer, shuddering down the hill. It was a pretty slow and incredibly jerky, bumpy ride, but eventually we were driving through the village and pulling up outside home. It had been a great week, after the initial trauma of day 1, we had settled into a nice leisurely rhythm. But it was great to be home again too.</span></div>
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miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-20552115795682079962013-04-17T00:13:00.000-07:002013-04-17T01:33:30.670-07:00Trek to Rara Lake : Day 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">I’ve wanted to go to Rara ever since my
first trip to Jumla. Finally, on this, my fifth visit, I made it there. And
back. Just.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">I had been nervously anticipating our
journey, as I knew it would be physically challenging for me, even with the
walks we had been taking almost every day in an attempt to get me prepared. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People mistakenly think I am fit and strong
for some reason. Not the case. I’ve come to the conclusion that in the same way
I’m naturally quite flexible, I’m also naturally unfit. To say I am out of
shape wouldn’t be right as it would imply I’d been ‘in shape’ at some point. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Estimations for our journey times varied
depending on how much people realised the level of unfitness they were dealing
with. For locals, the journey from Jumla all the way to Gamgadhi (Mugu Bazaar)
can be done in less than one day of serious walking. My mind boggles at this
thought – that is crossing two mountain passes. It seems like locals don’t find
the gradient to have much effect on them. I watched many people who overtook us
along the way (in fact, everyone we encountered overtook us), keep a steady
pace going uphill as though they were strolling down the promenade. And
downhill, people pretty much skip down slippery slopes. Not me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">I have the ability to be slow in both
directions. Going up is just exhausting. Steep climbs with the air thinning at
every step (had to blame it a little on altitude). I had to frequently rest to
catch my breath. And going down was probably just as slow. I have had weak
ankles since I first sprained them years ago, so I’m always a little tentative
- afraid of turning one. And now, my knees aren’t in great shape, so
manoeuvring down precipitous, often gravelly and slippery inclines was treacherous
for me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Knowing that I hadn’t really trekked at all
over these past few years I have spent in Nepal, Nisha had warned me that the
first day was the hardest. The first part of the journey was to Patmara, a
village I had walked to before a couple of years ago, supposedly an hour and a
half from Urthu. I remembered this walk being exhausting the first time and was
pleased to find it not quite as much of a struggle, although it still took us
three hours. We soon learned that if we doubled any estimated times, we had a
pretty accurate idea of how long it would take us to get somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From Patmara it was again an hour or so up
(and I mean UP) to Kali. (3642 M/11,948 ft).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOtm4W2xkhFF5x4jQ1DyxmGCBoQck_pruFbZHHl4_et4mNCseZ35znYNoeZxCuu_4FK7GJJ3Jgvg-fEkZm6lR0P71g02Q9aueq5xNJuiLJmcPJNaq8qzZvaI4uUJR22uujX-ZQQK-id2_y/s1600/IMG_8205.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOtm4W2xkhFF5x4jQ1DyxmGCBoQck_pruFbZHHl4_et4mNCseZ35znYNoeZxCuu_4FK7GJJ3Jgvg-fEkZm6lR0P71g02Q9aueq5xNJuiLJmcPJNaq8qzZvaI4uUJR22uujX-ZQQK-id2_y/s640/IMG_8205.JPG" width="640" /></a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"> This also took us three hours, but as we sat
in Bali Budha’s tea house
having a (late) lunch snack of dal with leftover <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sabji </i>(vegetables), I comforted myself that we were now at the pass
and it was only downhill from there.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzDWH7CCDflQgrLJvyb0IQBQNTy9kW-11S47k__2UxvFy3-gFb-52QnmVtJaiMZcN1rOi5PxRCtHGEsjYlFcuRH_pvxn8PZjubtpnCyLW4-QdsstuDNDVjY0ar1liJ5YjSUDUC5GcvC6J4/s1600/IMG_8215.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzDWH7CCDflQgrLJvyb0IQBQNTy9kW-11S47k__2UxvFy3-gFb-52QnmVtJaiMZcN1rOi5PxRCtHGEsjYlFcuRH_pvxn8PZjubtpnCyLW4-QdsstuDNDVjY0ar1liJ5YjSUDUC5GcvC6J4/s640/IMG_8215.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bali Budha - who I knew from the trainings</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">We set off down the hill after lunch facing
a long road of thick, icy mud and slippery snow. There is a new ‘road’ that
winds down the hill but it was a pretty hazardous squelchy journey that seemed
never-ending. After a couple of hours as the afternoon light started to fade we
encountered a group of lively women coming straight down the hill, intersecting
the muddy road. After the usual ‘where are you going’ conversation, we
discovered that the new road was the extra long route and the way was straight
down crossing the road as it meandered down the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They insisted that we walk with them even
after our protestations that we (or I) were so slow that we would make them
late. But they didn’t care and they chatted away with Nisha, leading the way
down what was barely recongisable as a path, but clearly a much shorter route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I embarrassingly fumbled along at the back,
climbing over boulders and felled trees, trying to gracefully slide down the
slopes as they were, of course, all laden with an array of bulky boxes stacked
on top of sacks and baskets. They skipped ahead laughing together - I wondered
if they were making kindly fun of the large, lumbering <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bideshi </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(foreigner)</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>taking baby steps down the mountain. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5iQU2KF9REaE71CIPbMh53fF77Y29I4-zj8Rw6js-pGzyq-rdQd_gvNojHOxXCKRa_76FZj9zhhDhcV8NJChLazMxUXxNPAfMVFttZZD0MzKPpdWTUV0lOeHG-mwxIGORKCaiddK9lW8/s1600/IMG_8231.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5iQU2KF9REaE71CIPbMh53fF77Y29I4-zj8Rw6js-pGzyq-rdQd_gvNojHOxXCKRa_76FZj9zhhDhcV8NJChLazMxUXxNPAfMVFttZZD0MzKPpdWTUV0lOeHG-mwxIGORKCaiddK9lW8/s640/IMG_8231.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">our new friends</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">By now I was feeling more than a little
weary. In fact, I was really suffering. We’d been going for 10 hours, I was
getting shooting pains in my shoulder, and aches in my knees at every step, feeling
weak and pathetic as I struggled my way down the hill. I thought to myself, ‘Maybe
I’m just not cut out for trekking, this isn’t fun. And this is only day 1 – I
have at least 6 more days of this!’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
had been thinking we were nearly at Nauri Ghat, where we were planning to stay
the night, so when they said we had another hour to go (at our speed), I nearly
burst into tears. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJbyer1tTgSMF_toivdSnrA_ckd4VHdGXhUl_5J-Pwd78t8MMKPWWvBU4Ub7AEIqv9S5Eh7hKE0wc3dl-NnRIQ5TiMlHqsUmTzQ0JOGxPRRIA50rmCsacunvdyl2zTAIbuproYIK_iTzO/s1600/IMG_8233.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJbyer1tTgSMF_toivdSnrA_ckd4VHdGXhUl_5J-Pwd78t8MMKPWWvBU4Ub7AEIqv9S5Eh7hKE0wc3dl-NnRIQ5TiMlHqsUmTzQ0JOGxPRRIA50rmCsacunvdyl2zTAIbuproYIK_iTzO/s640/IMG_8233.JPG" width="640" /></a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">But there was nothing to do but keep going
– one foot in front of the next. The nearly full moon appeared over the ridge
as we parted company with our new friends. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The short cut complete we continued downhill,
the remainder of the journey significantly more manageable, although I was so
wrecked by then Nisha even offered to take my rucksack and carry it along with
hers too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I refused, saying I’d carried
it all day and she wasn’t going to take the credit for the last bit! When we
finally saw the village up ahead, what relief! It was already past dusk and our
guest house was adorned with fairy lights like some kind of magic haven. When
we stepped into the kitchen and sat down, I could barely speak. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I attempted to struggle out of my rucksack,
but my shoulder was so stiff, I couldn’t get my arm out with out assistance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Upon inspection in the room, my opposing
shoulder was completely swollen. As I sipped my beer and thought about how well
I would sleep, I just hoped Nisha was right and the hardest day was behind me. </span></span></div>
</div>
miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-81666348381300663162012-12-02T22:24:00.001-08:002012-12-06T01:40:46.744-08:00Kathmandu Renasissance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of the things I love about living in Kathmandu is the burgeoning arts scene. It is a relatively small city so there are only a handful of venues but increasingly, there are cool events going on. <br />
<br />
At the beginning of November was <a href="http://www.jazzmandu.org/">Jazzmandu</a>, which I think is now in it's 10th year. It is jazz in a pretty broad sense bringing artists from all over the world and having a number of events around town including an afternoon/evening concert on the grounds of a fancy hotel just outside of the city which is like a mini one day festival.<br />
<br />
I was excited to discover not one but two film festivals - Human Rights Film Week run by <a href="http://www.hrffn.org/">Human Rights Film Focus Nepal</a>, a small locally based organisation run by volunteers that promotes human rights using film as a platform. The eight day festival featured over 30 screenings in six venues across the city - all for free! The films were from all over the world, mainly documentaries and all encompassing a perspective on human rights whether it was war refugees, victims of sex trafficking or people in some way fighting for their rights. I tried to catch as many of the films I could and found much inspiration in the work as well as what HRFFN are trying to do. They have a school outreach programme called <a href="http://www.hrffn.org/school-outreach-program/shaking-the-tree/?doing_wp_cron=1354512932.5628359317779541015625">"Shaking the Tree"</a> where they are trying to raise awareness through reaching out to young people by bringing thought-provoking films to schools. I think what they are doing is really wonderful.<br />
In addition, there is the more established <a href="http://www.kimff.org/">Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival (KIMFF)</a> presenting it's 10th season. This is a four day event presenting a mixture of short and feature-length films from all over the world in two large venues in KTM. They will also present travelling KIMFF in the spring of 2013 where they take the best of of the fest and screen them around the country, primarily at outdoor venues with audiences of up to 2000 people. And who knows? Maybe one day, our film will be featured!<br />
<br />
Before I got involved in film making, I spent many years working in theatre, so the <a href="http://www.mandalatheatre.com/kitf">Kathmandu International Theatre Festival</a> was another treat. This is truly an international affair with plays in all different languages - some with English subtitles, others not. I went to see a Nepali/English play by <a href="http://oneworldtheatrecompany.com/WhoWeAre.aspx">One World Theatre</a>, an English language theatre company based here. Until now I had heard of a theatre or two in town but had not checked them out. It is not massively a culture of theatre-going but I was impressed to see the audience was very mixed and probably more locals than not.<br />
<br />
Just to round it off, we have <a href="http://artmandu.org/">Artmandu</a>, the largest arts festival in Nepal, which is every three years. "This is about art for a social cause." This month long event features artists from all over the world - in addition to contemporary art, there are also film screenings and symposiums.<br />
<br />
Combined, it is these sorts of events that incite creativity, and remind us how the arts can create positive change. I think it is an indication of things to come and the slowly changing face of modern Nepal (which is essentially still limited to Kathmandu), that there are so many of these events going on. In particular, reaching the youth who are the future. I can see that this renaissance could be attributed to the approach of a new era in Nepal, albeit coming slowly.</div>
miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-67782155695685708302012-10-29T11:22:00.001-07:002012-10-31T23:15:11.269-07:00Retrospective: 5 months & 10 days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
FIVE MONTHS <br />
<br />
I find myself back at my desk, in my room in Kathmandu, taking stock of the last five months that has seen me cross half the globe and return. The common misconception is that my 'travels' are during my time in Asia, when in fact, I have travelled more in those five months than I did in the previous seven - most of which found me sitting at this very desk.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvk9-DVfOe_Ar4m_YdykSvswg5rPbrJtyYX6DOXsmyLqcEJiAhxyIvS_L6-RCGhNlG6WWSEHF7E8iec_6cBvgwJz2pkbqNQbwWedvb_IRobc6ilWjIQFDnzqZLkVQGU589h21yRdHrADVv/s1600/IMG_4871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvk9-DVfOe_Ar4m_YdykSvswg5rPbrJtyYX6DOXsmyLqcEJiAhxyIvS_L6-RCGhNlG6WWSEHF7E8iec_6cBvgwJz2pkbqNQbwWedvb_IRobc6ilWjIQFDnzqZLkVQGU589h21yRdHrADVv/s400/IMG_4871.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
Places to go, people to see, things to do - that is what travelling is about for me and in some ways, it doesn't matter what part of the world you do that, it is how you do it. The people you meet on the journey is what makes life interesting. I feel incredibly fortunate that this time in my life I am able to move around the world as I do. It is not as difficult as people think but simply a delicate balance of random pieces of paid work (often remote), no overheads, couch surfing, a little savings and spending as little money as possible other than on flights.<br />
<br />
My time in California was spent either working on the project, primarily preparing for the screening event that we held in Santa Monica in September (check the <a href="http://shaktipictures.blogspot.com/">Shakti blog</a> for a more detailed update) or various freelance jobs to collect a few pennies to help me along the way. It was busy - I seemed to be jumping from place to place spending only a few nights in any one spot - but ultimately productive. I did manage to squeeze in a few camping trips - desert and mountains, soaking up the majesty of the west coast of America. Suffice to say, I enjoyed my time - work and play.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvDHJzVBCyBDA3JoQ5l5fLfy99JeBaMVOZoRSv5gjRNDh1xMiua3pu8zZsepWj5DrriKHfRf3gqpo5xNn5-DmbljgZD-mfReniPP30bhJhRPqXG5xotf_244AKEBVbGb8VMA1LWkaK6Ey/s1600/IMG_2358.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvDHJzVBCyBDA3JoQ5l5fLfy99JeBaMVOZoRSv5gjRNDh1xMiua3pu8zZsepWj5DrriKHfRf3gqpo5xNn5-DmbljgZD-mfReniPP30bhJhRPqXG5xotf_244AKEBVbGb8VMA1LWkaK6Ey/s640/IMG_2358.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newport Harbor, CA</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzjEVedyQI56h0D7UpErsrOCgWRenMWVShsmNto76rqjE2XERdM8VhaSTOX9EbWH4Dg8HidJLGNaGDTNcFHeOK3zE7Ewg8JOji53Byq3ShTKzwJeyrMJ1cAb3lQ2c_Z6p3RyiP5j46QGs/s1600/IMG_3316.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzjEVedyQI56h0D7UpErsrOCgWRenMWVShsmNto76rqjE2XERdM8VhaSTOX9EbWH4Dg8HidJLGNaGDTNcFHeOK3zE7Ewg8JOji53Byq3ShTKzwJeyrMJ1cAb3lQ2c_Z6p3RyiP5j46QGs/s640/IMG_3316.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Toketee Hot Springs, OR</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOHCt_sZNLLB7qO_UPnd5iRl5JR_hosZrG4lh6T34cAm8mJFaT8uUZYiEP-itvAiJfx3IV2i8oWlzm1P0iZtDhb_TBQvDnb1WnL80rpSly5HB40f4fy7TMHwpmcknUyblMZzhZOjPJx_2/s640/IMG_4639.JPG" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El Mirage Lake Bed, CA</td></tr>
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<br />
TEN DAYS: EASTBOUND (WITH DETOUR)<br />
<br />
The last ten days has seen me hopscotch from LA to San Francisco to New York to New Delhi and finally landing in Kathmandu. The SF leg of that journey a last minute addition to secure my Indian visa for my transit through Delhi.<br />
<br />
INDIAN VISA NOTE: <br />
If anyone is intending to get an Indian visa in the States, beware of a few idiosyncrasies of the Travisa system (outsourced by the Indian government). Firstly, you MUST go through the office of your jurisdiction (which is why I could not get my visa in New York), even though that is not made clear on the website. Secondly, even though the online application allows you to apply for a transit visa through the SF office, when you arrive at the appointed time with a printout of your transit visa application and the SF office address, you will be informed that they do NOT issue transit visas there. So I had to get a tourist visa and opted for the 10 year, which fortuitously enough, I was granted!<br />
<br />
Visa in hand, my day in the Bay paid off and I got to squeeze in a meal with one of my best friends and a few celebratory visa drinks with another, so all in all, well worth the detour. Then back to the airport for the red-eye to NY. Sixty fun-filled (alcohol-fuelled) hours in New York saying hello and farewell to an assortment of friends there, then half a day on a plane to Delhi. I think exhaustion outweighed the jet-lag.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6Ord3cpc-LzGuHvCWZU3bweFXkUrDNYZ-3dx03R-zT7_uAvGPJIBNkkef3PSbhdwN-TdtCjiWXZyGcVh9S0YJf5v5nWL53rg9msDU8_I1IcSijsP8l-20acWheejKCodFktd5Gd_iCqm/s1600/IMG_4820.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6Ord3cpc-LzGuHvCWZU3bweFXkUrDNYZ-3dx03R-zT7_uAvGPJIBNkkef3PSbhdwN-TdtCjiWXZyGcVh9S0YJf5v5nWL53rg9msDU8_I1IcSijsP8l-20acWheejKCodFktd5Gd_iCqm/s640/IMG_4820.JPG" width="640" /></a> <br />
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My timing coincided with my friend Amit's birthday. <a href="http://mirandatravels2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/where-is-orchaa.html" target="_blank">He is the spice man I met on my first visit back to Delhi in 2010</a> and we've kept in touch since. He celebrated his birthday with a sumptuous meal on a rooftop overlooking the city with an interesting assortment of locals and foreigners - Russian, French, Chinese. After the meal, a handful of us went to a club in Gurgaon - my first nightclub experience in India. Gurgaon is south of Delhi and is actually in a different state so has different licensing regulations. It is also a very modern suburb and houses a lot of the international corporations and modern shiny malls. The club we went to, Empire, was in one such mall and I was surprised to find they had a fingerprinting system at the door.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9H7OMFL-fVJVDZjJi8_WKPVyioT_Q4OkhxGhBoM8dZthPH8chEQt02phgL4TpZqTSuevofLBiWDJsXEUgWSASHgVEP4Olhg0AtrQP-zQB3Ddv-4qtImuljEpAPYIxq1RMhrS0A-GQRTs/s1600/IMG_4824.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9H7OMFL-fVJVDZjJi8_WKPVyioT_Q4OkhxGhBoM8dZthPH8chEQt02phgL4TpZqTSuevofLBiWDJsXEUgWSASHgVEP4Olhg0AtrQP-zQB3Ddv-4qtImuljEpAPYIxq1RMhrS0A-GQRTs/s400/IMG_4824.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
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The ratio of men to women was probably about 20 to 1, so unsurprisingly, I got more attention than I have ever had in a nightclub - sometimes to the point that I had to kick someone in the shin - and Amit actually kneed someone in the balls on my behalf. It was a bit like swatting flies whilst dancing but I didn't take it too seriously. Understandably, the other girl in our party, Maria (Amit's Russian friend who speaks better Hindi than he) found it rather unpleasant. We were able to take refuge in the VIP area and before too long we were back in Amit's car speeding north through the quiet streets. In spite of the hassle, I have to admit to having had a good time - sometimes a little boogie shakes off the cobwebs of hours on a plane.<br />
<br />
The next day was my flight back to Kathmandu and I was much dismayed to be charged excess baggage for the first time in all these travels. As I paid with a card, I suddenly realised I didn't have enough cash for my Nepali visa. What to do? I guess figure it out when I get there. I was further inconvenienced at security when I was made to remove all 8 of my external hard drives in addition to my computer to send my bag through the machine again. Delhi airport did redeem itself though with it's relatively pleasant, albeit caged, outdoor smoking area.<br />
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I was quite intrigued by the cigarette lighter they provided.<br />
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And soon enough I was on the plane back to Nepal. It's a short flight and as we headed east towards Kathmandu, the Himalayas, poking through the clouds, were illuminated pink by the setting sun. My heart smiled. But I smiled even more when I found myself outside the airport at the ATM having not yet gone through customs or immigration because the ATM machine in the immigration hall was broken so I had to leave the airport to collect cash and then go backwards back up to the immigration hall to then exchange rupees into dollars (they don't accept visa payment in their own currency for some reason) to pay for my visa. They did hold my passport while I was gone, but still... Definitely back in Nepal!</div>
miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-26848176465930670332012-06-10T06:25:00.001-07:002012-07-11T13:55:54.352-07:00The Hitching Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A few key things to know when hitch-hiking:<br />
1. set off early to give yourself plenty of time<br />
2. find a good spot where you can be seen and people are actually able to pull over<br />
3. avoid city centres<br />
4. it is useful if you speak the local language <br />
<br />
<br />
It's been many years since I travelled by thumb. Years ago, I hitch-hiked a fair bit in the UK & Europe, primarily
with my boyfriend at the time but I also hitched across Finland alone. I
figured if you are going to hitch alone as a woman, Finland is a pretty
safe bet. And it was. Everyone was very nice and always let me use
their (Nokia) phones if I asked where the nearest payphone was...<br />
<br />
Anyhow, it's been a few years so I decided to dust off my thumb. I needed to get
from Dinard, France to Brussels, Belgium having forgone a lift directly to Belgium the previous day because I couldn't bring myself to leave the splendour of the magnificent chateau that I had called home for a week. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgN2epvohbMwsuKPsznJm3PKOMlGQ2-Uo5e9VpmbwVmMOjJ5gyTu9iXKtirvYqPV5WjY3KeZXTAAZ-gG3bD2llHkW0D3VKKCB8G-KakYWowTS4TSO99DWuCgQ-n77qNK6aq-ENGFxQD1mF/s1600/IMG_8907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgN2epvohbMwsuKPsznJm3PKOMlGQ2-Uo5e9VpmbwVmMOjJ5gyTu9iXKtirvYqPV5WjY3KeZXTAAZ-gG3bD2llHkW0D3VKKCB8G-KakYWowTS4TSO99DWuCgQ-n77qNK6aq-ENGFxQD1mF/s320/IMG_8907.JPG" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Villa St. Germain, Dinard - my room is the top left</td></tr>
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The setting for my dear friends Jane & Brendan's amazing, week-long festival of a wedding was extraordinary to say the least and I was finding
it quite hard to leave. I was considering looking into squatters rights
in France and staying or just hiding in the attic.<br />
<br />
Eventually, as our numbers dwindled, I came to terms with the idea that it was time to move on. To be precise, 642 kilometres. And according
to google maps, 6 hours and 24 minutes. Ideally, I should
have set off fairly early (in the morning) to get underway as it can
take a long time to do a 6 hour journey hitching. After a bit of
breakfast and a bit more faffing, or what I like to think of as preparation
(I had taken photos the google map route on my computer, made the relevant
signs and brought some extra large bin bags in case it started to rain), I was ready to go.<br />
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<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtpemI0DgGsXIzyyZA7GGsTLfus8O3JXUwkNye0bLKj-AjW5BFBUjdX0HpVsNYy0Hra-RraZQkWAFMFN92z8XtWSenMKNm_ozAqNiQ_L4d8P-GrM-kgbkswYqJoyQSgr7sgvUATdyLhNwd/s1600/IMG_9687.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtpemI0DgGsXIzyyZA7GGsTLfus8O3JXUwkNye0bLKj-AjW5BFBUjdX0HpVsNYy0Hra-RraZQkWAFMFN92z8XtWSenMKNm_ozAqNiQ_L4d8P-GrM-kgbkswYqJoyQSgr7sgvUATdyLhNwd/s320/IMG_9687.JPG" width="320" /></a> first to Caen<br />
<br />
then to Rouen<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyvZiwdyT-WR4kJImTAT1B2vl3iouN8-uEyZLtySZ6s90RcLP4duyDxIcgoloVSEs0kp65nzF3H8vXguxhO1q9pkbaN_fxeb2YM8yZgQMKiBFbvuoABsdzHE5cryYQVuQ36x6yMdGkpp9/s1600/IMG_9686.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyvZiwdyT-WR4kJImTAT1B2vl3iouN8-uEyZLtySZ6s90RcLP4duyDxIcgoloVSEs0kp65nzF3H8vXguxhO1q9pkbaN_fxeb2YM8yZgQMKiBFbvuoABsdzHE5cryYQVuQ36x6yMdGkpp9/s320/IMG_9686.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzySSCMaekPZMDbbQMHg0d8pj7pIok89mQrZ15MCDHBwddPBte4Q3iIBl1gmzNWXEw-52eDLhwsotUpYeKgNyDTNUwmciZXdOcXBVw0dL0oZv7u1Kn0X5kDWq_Zjrk_f7xLZ8RA4v0wr3L/s1600/IMG_9689.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzySSCMaekPZMDbbQMHg0d8pj7pIok89mQrZ15MCDHBwddPBte4Q3iIBl1gmzNWXEw-52eDLhwsotUpYeKgNyDTNUwmciZXdOcXBVw0dL0oZv7u1Kn0X5kDWq_Zjrk_f7xLZ8RA4v0wr3L/s320/IMG_9689.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZYepLKrMaUza4j91-pQBWN4AzWRRwyqV3egJUv7dHpELmQrMOKEG5HTOUVouHRoBjhbVdYE3Q6dhyphenhyphenkuUokw-Sk3L-tA_nF-QL2g_DLHREGW9y2toI4e-InQn0y21bxw2CWYfZtJIGTSb/s1600/IMG_9688.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<br />
then to Amiens<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZYepLKrMaUza4j91-pQBWN4AzWRRwyqV3egJUv7dHpELmQrMOKEG5HTOUVouHRoBjhbVdYE3Q6dhyphenhyphenkuUokw-Sk3L-tA_nF-QL2g_DLHREGW9y2toI4e-InQn0y21bxw2CWYfZtJIGTSb/s1600/IMG_9688.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZYepLKrMaUza4j91-pQBWN4AzWRRwyqV3egJUv7dHpELmQrMOKEG5HTOUVouHRoBjhbVdYE3Q6dhyphenhyphenkuUokw-Sk3L-tA_nF-QL2g_DLHREGW9y2toI4e-InQn0y21bxw2CWYfZtJIGTSb/s320/IMG_9688.JPG" width="320" /></a> and finally Brussels (Bruxelles). Simple.<br />
<br />
<br />
The few remaining friends at the chateau
were heading to Mont Saint-Michel to go and see the castle on the island
and offered to drop me off on the road there - already 58 km on my way!
So of course, it was silly not to wait for them.<br />
<br />
<h3 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Part 1 - The Road to Rouen</h3>
It was just past 15.00
when they left me at the roundabout on the N176 (a little later than ideal but what to do?). At least I was already underway with less than 600 km to go. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZYepLKrMaUza4j91-pQBWN4AzWRRwyqV3egJUv7dHpELmQrMOKEG5HTOUVouHRoBjhbVdYE3Q6dhyphenhyphenkuUokw-Sk3L-tA_nF-QL2g_DLHREGW9y2toI4e-InQn0y21bxw2CWYfZtJIGTSb/s1600/IMG_9688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzySSCMaekPZMDbbQMHg0d8pj7pIok89mQrZ15MCDHBwddPBte4Q3iIBl1gmzNWXEw-52eDLhwsotUpYeKgNyDTNUwmciZXdOcXBVw0dL0oZv7u1Kn0X5kDWq_Zjrk_f7xLZ8RA4v0wr3L/s1600/IMG_9689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK2ydRGgvT-Lkrer0MhCB11_oGKPZnBqvF9e8GaeNGzl4RGgcejmoKe0XFDfVUveVp7KG4pZMENKdefHqRQLID_EZLSViQ-fo-hMNyrgSilBawHlvCu7XP2BkiF0I9ja4JvnOwxAhos4S6/s400/IMG_9721.JPG" width="400" /> 15.18</div>
<br />
We had joked that if I was still there when they had finished at the castle that at least they could pick me up. But I felt hopeful. This was an adventure! And it has been a while since I hit the road. Equipped with my first sign, I positioned myself and then it started to rain. Sporting my new shiny bin bag poncho, I started to wonder if this was such a good idea when Frederick picked me up. He was going to Cherbourg but could take me 71 km further towards Caen! I was on my way!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhekM7jsUUpb-U2Hbso6l5OQxo1He2O9ypKL_vu8rbULO5h_ppczQ84WbNENX2jDDPP27oWccfTZIhEug8KvILZmRGDWjMrKDqTPxP_zOz29YMEni4gSrNKWFOQqNDjAnNGhJFhyphenhyphenf5GH-Bq/s1600/Frederick.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhekM7jsUUpb-U2Hbso6l5OQxo1He2O9ypKL_vu8rbULO5h_ppczQ84WbNENX2jDDPP27oWccfTZIhEug8KvILZmRGDWjMrKDqTPxP_zOz29YMEni4gSrNKWFOQqNDjAnNGhJFhyphenhyphenf5GH-Bq/s320/Frederick.tiff" width="260" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">71 km</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
He dropped me off at a hitching friendly spot at a major intersection where people on the road to Caen would be turning off the N174 on to the A84. The rain had stopped and it was quite scenic.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLoqxVEMU25fMTlpAZNOzKISmgCauS67vz5AsQ7iLqRJ4Rbni_OLhJt-VyzbyyZV9NhyphenhyphenwVTH22qOvHPPW0aBS8rZlSZV-uVcdCLa-DvPKN7qrsok6yGb0ccRn6BpYFDY4YNFpFAxR_dAC/s400/IMG_9723.JPG" width="400" /> 16.30</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh-5oFlKLPzkYynVK2l8vTt7kdWV1-PO4aKT8scAkjY3DLWmA6ALDDXg3EtvLIPYZTO1MQA9-MpgobRQPQYJKWkdn6DPI4nuUH4DIPSJRmQXes3ijsqETctB1lQDcmYl4DHWhjLJt8RP2/s1600/IMG_9724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh-5oFlKLPzkYynVK2l8vTt7kdWV1-PO4aKT8scAkjY3DLWmA6ALDDXg3EtvLIPYZTO1MQA9-MpgobRQPQYJKWkdn6DPI4nuUH4DIPSJRmQXes3ijsqETctB1lQDcmYl4DHWhjLJt8RP2/s400/IMG_9724.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
It wasn't long before Alexander appeared. He lives in Rouen but had meetings in Caen. He offered to take me there but I'd have to wait until 19.00. It was 17.15 so I felt it prudent to just carry on - another 53 km down so I was feeling newly hopeful.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxv1aI-Z8AqW3vzso-6cN4mElP1zdqj7A4-8yI0ucq0zTgcUc3KrbvLO7qP53ycz6pvUYnQzYWs2QluzHY8O9HCpCoHE2R-3t2Emwmnj5VGKaWRcO9Q5ZgVMJm04WG38unWv_iVp3QFPq4/s1600/Alexander.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxv1aI-Z8AqW3vzso-6cN4mElP1zdqj7A4-8yI0ucq0zTgcUc3KrbvLO7qP53ycz6pvUYnQzYWs2QluzHY8O9HCpCoHE2R-3t2Emwmnj5VGKaWRcO9Q5ZgVMJm04WG38unWv_iVp3QFPq4/s320/Alexander.tiff" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">53 km</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We stopped for coffee in Ifs and then he dropped me off on the ring road to the road to Rouen (I should have realised that the ominous sounding phrase was not for naught).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI29oBx2xhqW4n8FrsHxfIccLHr3677EvEWQMCGUmKvrAuLIHGH7rhbWPvjbol4Akc2d7akjx7tYkbA3huhlMc7T-Ha_a6Hz88b7ETY2YXpcrQrSRoSY94EVqZ8LgZxGVpv9UUzVPBk4vZ/s400/IMG_9726.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /> 17.15</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alexander- coffee in Ifs</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A busy motorway slip road heading on to the A13. Cars speeding up as they passed. I was starting to doubt that anyone would stop there when a BMW pulled up. Cesar was going to Paris and had to be there by 20.00. Hmmm. Tempting but not the direction I was supposed to be going in. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWUi6D39cl3mCkieXs8ionQ_hkAvYayYRk0QVcScLKx9MmRJJkQKfDLiRDD_L0qTRDHSgNrllz00OgOT6ivmfUaFQe8fqJ1PEk2SbdpdH796c12o8q7wQm1tQEawXyHICaPETTbH8PHJsS/s400/IMG_9728.JPG" width="300" /> 17.58</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cesar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
He ended up dropping me off somewhere a little further down the road at
what first appeared to be a handy spot right by a sign to Rouen. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnCKoIEU_F-iwGr3zSal4qDcF69muMN6g2WnXbuQiv8lR0Qnc7S0QfYyWwMskTqcR6N8v8DuvHPyQmnpYU3yUZC_oeNVrR35LTBZzWDOtP31pHngH_yZ6NfqKDkacl6YipDPCZ6T2RRnmT/s400/IMG_9729.JPG" width="400" /> 18.17</div>
<br />
<br />
I was holding both the Rouen and the Bruxelles sign on the off
chance someone happened to be going all the way... and I was getting
some quite entertained and incredulous looks from the passing cars. By now it was commuters and lots of women with kids doing their
school run. All looking fairly unimpressed at my roadside stance. I was just thinking how women really don't pick up
hitchers, when Adeline & Justine stopped.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnCKoIEU_F-iwGr3zSal4qDcF69muMN6g2WnXbuQiv8lR0Qnc7S0QfYyWwMskTqcR6N8v8DuvHPyQmnpYU3yUZC_oeNVrR35LTBZzWDOtP31pHngH_yZ6NfqKDkacl6YipDPCZ6T2RRnmT/s1600/IMG_9729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_7UhrAm1G1WBKr19QNfS9EdUDAHup3rxH5Fg6b9F1mpepU-PXwxpLG-0gdb0d2nDKtWAckz8LZD1TcD1bxth6UHiEOjSxYvvs0s5Sua6k8MQIkdtTDSyKiH2bPugE0h-nPe54Duzn4eY/s400/IMG_9731.JPG" width="400" /> 18.29</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adeline & Justine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was very excited to meet them, although a little dismayed when they pulled over minutes later. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBGOQV_70iKyEOE9ogtPYKOcudejzv1ZvH6m59I61VCtbyDfF6rjkhPCoREAbrO7Jwr84gkOCfFF2vQHKJ9pInXhDtvfxK40kkCumFMh4YmwO-bavbhRp_QsAD8PwSL_ylXg4nTmmPjN9/s1600/Ad&Just.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBGOQV_70iKyEOE9ogtPYKOcudejzv1ZvH6m59I61VCtbyDfF6rjkhPCoREAbrO7Jwr84gkOCfFF2vQHKJ9pInXhDtvfxK40kkCumFMh4YmwO-bavbhRp_QsAD8PwSL_ylXg4nTmmPjN9/s320/Ad&Just.tiff" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1.1 km further down the road</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXM15GwpmisjQnQYFk-6PXSZpH0ZstxosTG1s59XFRq2G9uCRSUyLGnGz6hd3fQBw8EQn4maXyg0yvgukbVUpcccZMdTNzKywO6Lvw4LZRQf4UNnUER-BFkXu2ePKODWw5A8WcAr7MsXI/s1600/IMG_9732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXM15GwpmisjQnQYFk-6PXSZpH0ZstxosTG1s59XFRq2G9uCRSUyLGnGz6hd3fQBw8EQn4maXyg0yvgukbVUpcccZMdTNzKywO6Lvw4LZRQf4UNnUER-BFkXu2ePKODWw5A8WcAr7MsXI/s400/IMG_9732.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4KQ3_dk076pR66NyVKE1ClRXB3RKNhnaA9aM-4TmeRYDJSn29zYitrnk-ar2kZYYdbKdc7NgmSHkvPDoMOmKolj3bbYu8KaxnwJQ-OmHluMMJTu-VLoNKr43Dop-23B3RKP2QkEOM65x/s400/IMG_9733.JPG" width="400" /> 18.33</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpBhSJ6LNueeQ_wzPYNmGBT6IHISahFcdt9raqC6ZaiGoNlqtlVvbHDZExUR0y_ZOZIJxGtWY-FlqvVYo99fTS0wLlVK_peG5Vf-ck5HDuG5XbABrmJVEs20iO3AgwbmYiCOufsg_sRv-/s1600/IMG_9735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpBhSJ6LNueeQ_wzPYNmGBT6IHISahFcdt9raqC6ZaiGoNlqtlVvbHDZExUR0y_ZOZIJxGtWY-FlqvVYo99fTS0wLlVK_peG5Vf-ck5HDuG5XbABrmJVEs20iO3AgwbmYiCOufsg_sRv-/s400/IMG_9735.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">these guys were all staring as I settled at this spot - they looked away when I pointed the camera though</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But soon Giancarlo, an Italian truck driver stopped. And he was going all the way to Rouen!<br />
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Cs6t9kNaEtLT0AoEKSPvQ01fUiACy7WTmOHZIib3CNtvGsZQZqDAD3uTgzATz469mCAkwVeXi71p86G2VGFKHPwGNmh24wkc8EkpxsEtkpiNcDFg-NqqpCLKF6SkJekkBdLz5O3Lq4el/s1600/IMG_9745.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Cs6t9kNaEtLT0AoEKSPvQ01fUiACy7WTmOHZIib3CNtvGsZQZqDAD3uTgzATz469mCAkwVeXi71p86G2VGFKHPwGNmh24wkc8EkpxsEtkpiNcDFg-NqqpCLKF6SkJekkBdLz5O3Lq4el/s320/IMG_9745.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Cs6t9kNaEtLT0AoEKSPvQ01fUiACy7WTmOHZIib3CNtvGsZQZqDAD3uTgzATz469mCAkwVeXi71p86G2VGFKHPwGNmh24wkc8EkpxsEtkpiNcDFg-NqqpCLKF6SkJekkBdLz5O3Lq4el/s1600/IMG_9745.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>18.45</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Giancarlo's truck was very comfy and soon we were cruising down the road attempting to chat in a combination of Spanish, English, French (although he didn't really speak French), Italian & Nepali (he didn't speak Nepali either but I kept accidentally saying Nepali words). </div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHd0fKSAxnSfOwNoqCjTZQJXPLMGOlVyZyEqSHyhqZregp1dC3Y9zqiIrOEakmiSbElThH6ibnVF7qbWbM759V3CJi5ebifT_QHQpDdAGIrtQmbGQP6ah2bCK9tPnQyucFLsY7lFSnwvv4/s400/IMG_9742.JPG" width="400" /> 18.53</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_mMAa3GwJ2mOEaWPzc3RqS0h6ZUlKgfZgrB-nDpUVyfODdvvpxTD-ai3IpBlFLyFrf0PLhKm9NsBzrzUhbPYyqrlmH-VDAypMSjSc1t3fJLQgZyGGdpSE8-c5KxAFo_Ro8fzRXF5ONEKp/s1600/IMG_9743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_mMAa3GwJ2mOEaWPzc3RqS0h6ZUlKgfZgrB-nDpUVyfODdvvpxTD-ai3IpBlFLyFrf0PLhKm9NsBzrzUhbPYyqrlmH-VDAypMSjSc1t3fJLQgZyGGdpSE8-c5KxAFo_Ro8fzRXF5ONEKp/s400/IMG_9743.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">trying to explain to Giancarlo what these words meant was quite funny</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQoK05qN1x0V2BV_06WHE1BM9Zw7Pvd32hBvseeaV4ZV4HInJLebOVFwfHSNg2EcEowTxA0uqz2uuuxtLskwfIyXnD_2x7xcXuPtEioZThxbB_PgwYdMKZrsEdraMKcayWRRJAP9ydwf0/s1600/giancarlo.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQoK05qN1x0V2BV_06WHE1BM9Zw7Pvd32hBvseeaV4ZV4HInJLebOVFwfHSNg2EcEowTxA0uqz2uuuxtLskwfIyXnD_2x7xcXuPtEioZThxbB_PgwYdMKZrsEdraMKcayWRRJAP9ydwf0/s640/giancarlo.tiff" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">122 km</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It seems, after exhausting our pleasantries, I dozed off and awoke in Rouen centre. Giancarlo parked and I hopped out wondering which way the road to Amiens might be. I walked to the main road, looked at a map at a bus stop and walked on further to a main intersection.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Cs6t9kNaEtLT0AoEKSPvQ01fUiACy7WTmOHZIib3CNtvGsZQZqDAD3uTgzATz469mCAkwVeXi71p86G2VGFKHPwGNmh24wkc8EkpxsEtkpiNcDFg-NqqpCLKF6SkJekkBdLz5O3Lq4el/s1600/IMG_9745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tNE6LZmqjpO3y6ZflZWzSbDHRY-r8qhpopFTY10u6_ezXUcH7ElVvjPK68wnqq7qrEeP8exJVYWpbpqjdwE8_xnWcqIUKtuoTQ1r4jHgITsfYlzum4egI6XlyPHibbJhKxMurRnYPfv-/s320/IMG_9746.JPG" width="240" /> 20.34</div>
<br />
It was drizzling and although the sign above me said Amiens, it seemed like all local traffic. Suddenly the parked car behind me started and I rushed to the window to see where they were going. I just needed to get to a road that was actually heading out of town. The driver said he was just going to get cigarettes and drove off. Five minutes later, Youness was back; he'd figured it out and took me another 500 m or so down the road where the road to Amiens started.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-yXdbeaaX-xQZeHpM5hvW7UitU6qCw2TXAZVUffAJ2EJVjYGmW19_FTQSuTm2k3gLDAyB5yHKRM0vQQcWkOPXPqdvRSl_RgO_kscmtA3cxUATmwmHurZvzxMAoPMpmFXa5Sw_VH4tXqLu/s400/IMG_9747.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /> 20.55</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Youness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
By now the light was fading. With over 300 km left to Brussels, I was beginning to mull over my options when Samir & Faouzi stopped. Paris? Again, the universe trying to send me to Paris... but this time, I thought it might not be a bad idea. It didn't seem like I was going to get to Brussels that night, and even if I made it to Amiens, what would I do there?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
As we drove through the lush green French
countryside, I was still thinking I might get out somewhere on the road
to Amiens. We were taking small country lanes, following the sat-nav
relatively unsuccessfully, it seemed, as we kept ending up in
cul-de-sacs. At one point when were driving down a deserted country lane, alarm bells started going off in my head. Of course, as a hitcher, especially a woman, there are certain risks and being alone with two men in the middle of nowhere as darkness approached could pose a very real threat. But after numerous U-turns, we were back on a main road. I tried to figure out where we were from the photos of maps
on my camera, but I hadn't photographed the road south to Paris from Rouen so it was in vain. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcC4EOoRlv182ht9IH4kO-1wzGieZBY5w-D2KT7J0PZPcCD3DM0wa9Urks0xBAtFi_wJ72CABsakAlEZ_GzoYr6rvpWP4ubI5R8_-7ZOfYtKrYz2to6Jqe6ZhNDBaVwQ2Fr1QU-eewix5-/s400/IMG_9748.JPG" width="400" /> 21.24</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sun setting over the countryside</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Neither of my hosts spoke much English so the conversation was fairly basic but it is surprising how much can be communicated with a little effort - and my French was improving by the minute. They were both French Algerian and impressed that I knew who Zinedine Zidane was. As the kilometres and minutes passed I settled more into the idea of going to Paris. The guys (who were actually very sweet), offered to put me up but that didn't seem like a good idea, so I got hold of the number of my friend Tom, who lives in Paris. I was planning to see him the following week when I was due to be in Paris... so I was a few days early.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksm_aRittda8U9K6eiHiX5yChmepvUIJfzwN1Dg4yCFtr7_nRPKH-jTjUixm5towPrckDad6xHuGs1yqZyVfbEv8UXxcAZDj9OYQw-laA9HtcvrJ4vxC3P0DmNYCBdtsgVVKE4_Ev1Vn4/s400/IMG_9749.JPG" width="400" /> 22.54</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samir (Faouzi didn't want his picture taken)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We arrived in the bright lights of gay Paris close to 23.00 and dropped off Faouzi. Samir then punched Tom's address (who thankfully had responded with welcoming enthusiasm) into the sat-nav and we proceeded to weave our way through Paris, again driving in circles and taking wrong turns until we arrived at my friends doorstep.<br />
<br />
As it turned out, Tom already had house guests, two friends of mine, (another) Tom & Margie, who were visiting from San Francisco with their little daughter who I haven't met yet. So it was such a treat to spend a couple hours in the morning with them going to the farmers market.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZv0YtuiHHHUqlV9sgFcpZDCLI76ZR9FTP0J-drpRwRnRz4TJNeSkq7DS1HUnm_S6wK559xAmd9q2SPHYCtZqoDk6ON4mKF5vt8RUNYSxc7OKSucBPvMZhTHBXKn4F7iUVVkcMrCmrxHqL/s1600/IMG_9764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZv0YtuiHHHUqlV9sgFcpZDCLI76ZR9FTP0J-drpRwRnRz4TJNeSkq7DS1HUnm_S6wK559xAmd9q2SPHYCtZqoDk6ON4mKF5vt8RUNYSxc7OKSucBPvMZhTHBXKn4F7iUVVkcMrCmrxHqL/s320/IMG_9764.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIcTNRPplKVav89vEOl30jAELb3Yqk8ywiT_-fULb7qVn-mAHXDUuP9P_HFwPMRQ5587Lq0oZTOrLU6rmNMenkdxhRn3VRqbKowqlZ3FFyyjm_QMYA0Xx_aVmoHYhNAxGh6pl0ETRo0z0/s1600/IMG_9762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIcTNRPplKVav89vEOl30jAELb3Yqk8ywiT_-fULb7qVn-mAHXDUuP9P_HFwPMRQ5587Lq0oZTOrLU6rmNMenkdxhRn3VRqbKowqlZ3FFyyjm_QMYA0Xx_aVmoHYhNAxGh6pl0ETRo0z0/s320/IMG_9762.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In hindsight (which is, as I always say, a wonderful thing), I was very pleased to have taken the detour to Paris. I hadn't seen Tom & Margie in years and they were leaving on Saturday so I would have missed them when I returned the following week. Had I known, I could have arrived in Paris 3 1/2 hours earlier with Cesar. But for me, the adventure and the challenge was what made the journey fun and I met a lot of people even if our communication was somewhat limited.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Part 2 - Paris to Bruxelles</h3>
I had looked into buses to Brussels but decided I still really wanted to try to hitch. It was only a three hour journey and I was determined to do it in one ride. After taking the metro out to the end of the line where it looked like the A1 road to Brussels started, I situated myself with my sign. It was pouring with rain and I was grateful Tom had insisted I borrow an umbrella as I would have been drenched otherwise.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLpYfoJrNvNniRoCKqTjhvjaNTfky-ob1Gl5WxmPU68BNSuWhp8tS8gJuTl7Ak-X3qCWe_t442_FO6l_4V49N4ko4WygEIfiPiwglOgHDhBTeCN5ZP-kXCNw1qzD4mzU63AQYRm9eZoqO/s320/IMG_9767.JPG" width="320" /> 14.03</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Within minutes Gedo pulled over, kind of in the middle of the road jumping out of the car to help. He told me this was not a good spot to hitch and before long we were on the périphérique. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj_bNg-VEujYXEHfpdSPl7U1S8YXpJUK7ENrbIAFQB_zFjURz2EDeDJma4rXUw-xL4mqlOLLtxbASXg_y-69vJMBpfrNy7aN9e8NIW4E8OML_w-8tYfKayMbOREBo-lGOhaGjJMSiPqVIx/s320/IMG_9769.JPG" width="240" /> 14.08</div>
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<br /></div>
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As we drove he chatted in animated English about how hitching was not a good idea, that French people, particularly in Paris were not that helpful, and that I really should take a train or bus. He even offered me money. By the time we got to the spot where people do hitch, he had talked me into going to the euroline bus station to find out how much the ticket would be. Time was slipping by and it was pouring with rain, plus, I was enjoying Gedo's lively banter.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When we go to euroline, he parked in the structure and then handed me his car keys. At first I was confused, then I realised it was so I could leave my bags in his car without feeling uneasy he might just run off. </div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZZ8nzkhi_m6l7w4QMmiI_P5zg_7k2WqghdrKmmTb7Zk6ekMt8U-a9arkn_w0coIj1sCB2EEmoaUg_eP8MZWk_NneBIUedxgAlwF2gn-7T2iZ2JoPxhnFJsOFxIjvfV9dJoQvaBeK7QSsn/s320/IMG_9771a.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /> 14.38</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gedo at the ticket counter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Gedo is the friendliest person I have met in a long time. He struck up conversation with everyone he crossed paths with during our two hours or so in the bus station. My bus was due to leave at 15.30 but ended up delayed until 16.00 and he stayed with me the whole time escorting me right to the bus itself. We parted company arranging to meet upon my return the following week.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Although I was a little disappointed that I hadn't succeeded in my mission and made it to Brussels by thumb, at least I had made a new friend.</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5yhceJIrlmUH7QWm5ZWsm_ue2N1BIsElS6JC8W3qgwIP8RQUI8Lr2BvxXIGTqVBxyo9oUboeGJmMxTf0Ppuk4zHD5CQBNWzljLrYf_O_RbKBGOGKehFFyaaE9uZXiJUig0e3rPty3U-l/s1600/IMG_9777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5yhceJIrlmUH7QWm5ZWsm_ue2N1BIsElS6JC8W3qgwIP8RQUI8Lr2BvxXIGTqVBxyo9oUboeGJmMxTf0Ppuk4zHD5CQBNWzljLrYf_O_RbKBGOGKehFFyaaE9uZXiJUig0e3rPty3U-l/s320/IMG_9777.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gedo kept my sign as a memento</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-28294841449347923072012-05-22T15:28:00.002-07:002012-07-13T14:08:29.713-07:00A Change in Climate - English Weather & Nepali Politics<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6XKt2wsdVDqSCsiTKrYPZ7V7I3p7gXLb-iPijw4AlAjOODXozOaOCFPvuzjC8moMe7DG9yoK7epYUu9CC1l1-P6J4DG_EE433IEyysommF3ZDRTeV7v_-NoKSS0OlMGhyB3jV_UUhvE0M/s1600/IMG_7474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">I now find myself on a train from
Fratton to Bristol, the second leg of a small south England tour. The last few days has been lovely if a bit of
a daze as I re-assimilate to being back in England – so familiar and yet so
different to the life I have become accustomed to these past seven months.
Everyone is very pleased that the run of terrible cold and wet weather seems to
have passed and I am enjoying that surge in cheerfulness that sweeps across the
country when the sun finally comes out after a dismal period. Lots of flesh
exposing skin crying out for sunshine, people lolling around in the many green
spaces, benches outside pubs full as, pint in hand people soak up a few rays.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6XKt2wsdVDqSCsiTKrYPZ7V7I3p7gXLb-iPijw4AlAjOODXozOaOCFPvuzjC8moMe7DG9yoK7epYUu9CC1l1-P6J4DG_EE433IEyysommF3ZDRTeV7v_-NoKSS0OlMGhyB3jV_UUhvE0M/s1600/IMG_7474.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6XKt2wsdVDqSCsiTKrYPZ7V7I3p7gXLb-iPijw4AlAjOODXozOaOCFPvuzjC8moMe7DG9yoK7epYUu9CC1l1-P6J4DG_EE433IEyysommF3ZDRTeV7v_-NoKSS0OlMGhyB3jV_UUhvE0M/s320/IMG_7474.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">I guess my timing is pretty good as
this is the perfect weather for the English countryside in summer. All is green
and lush as the train takes me down the coast. I do love England and appreciate
how culturally rich my life here is. In the few days I’ve been here I have seen
<a href="http://www.towertheatre.org.uk/paris.htm" target="_blank">Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream</a> (directed by my Dad no less!), been to
the semi-finals of the <a href="http://www.liveandunsigned.uk.com/" target="_blank">Live and Unsigned band competition</a> in which my (sort of)
nieces, an </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">amazing quartet of talented and beautiful sisters, <a href="http://www.thefourfits.com/index.html" target="_blank">The Fourfits</a>, got
through to the finals at the O2 arena and then to Brighton Fringe Festival to
see a wonderful three piece performance incorporating shadow puppetry, aerial
work and music from my friends who form the <a href="http://www.feraltheatre.co.uk/" target="_blank">Feral Theatre Company</a>. Bristol and
Somerset are next on the agenda. It may sound, and to be honest, is, a little
exhausting but it is also what feeds my spirit and inspiration – going to
different places, reconnecting with different people – these are the things in
life that propel me forward. It puts things in perspective and makes me
understand the journey that I am on. Talking to my friends who are all so
excited, supportive and interested in what I am doing on the other side of the
world, breathes new life into my soul.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">My timing is also handy in a less
joyous way. It seems I have left Nepal at the point where the turmoil has taken
on new wings. The political situation over the past years has been less than stable, to say the least. Strike season had begun before I left and I myself had gotten
stranded in Pokhara for a couple of days. But as the deadline for the
constitution gets closer, the intensity increases. There have been strikes
(called by a variety of groups) almost every day since I left, crippling the
nation – transport of goods has all been halted, medical supplies are not
reaching where needed, people are dying due to an inability to get medical
attention, people are fighting across the country. It is turning into a truly
tumultuous time there as ethnic groups vie for their rights within the new
constitution. The discord is quite unsettling. Although I know I should be glad
not having to deal with the inconveniences (I wouldn’t personally be in any
particular danger) of being in Nepal during this time, there is a huge part of
me that does wish I was still there. It is an important time in their history that
is being written now, and I suppose I feel a connection to the place that I now
view as much a home as any other of my homes across the globe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">The political situation in Nepal is far
more complex than my understanding or ability to explain but for those
interested in learning more (since media in the west doesn’t seem to take much
notice), </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://www.ekantipur.com/"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">www.ekantipur.com</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";"> and <a href="http://www.myrepublica.com/" target="_blank">www.myrepublica.com</a> a useful resource.</span></div>
</div>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-85444454082526389412012-05-17T14:57:00.000-07:002012-05-23T00:47:47.185-07:00An Unexpected Spice Route<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnJ7rpg_A7QJu1yFut2jiW9wzimO3oLOcI2B_xrZ5m69FD0IVZEB3G19aekt4gLqSfZRX0i_HnDl5CYJ9-urGHQ5t-5FOcuh29n2K3Bsy4o6VRktuDEdkZMuKs-JK19Z6SQeNL_LaEVbP/s1600/IMG_7442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">I'm sitting in the Spice Jet office at
Kathmandu's Tribhuvan Airport. An unexpected afternoon spent in the company of
the incredibly lovely, helpful and accommodating Spice Jet staff here -
particularly considering I'm not even flying with them! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">I was feeling traumatised as it was
when I arrived at the airport this afternoon to catch my flight on Kingfisher
via Delhi to London. Given how much I travel, one would think I would have
mastered the art of packing, and moving on, but once I'm settled somewhere (the
seven months I've lived in KTM is significantly longer than anywhere I have
stayed in nearly three years), then I get all sad and sentimental at leaving so
the process leading up to the departure with bags packed can be a little drawn
out and emotional to put it lightly. Once I have managed to rearrange my life
into a couple of pieces of luggage, and am on my way, I am ready to face the
journey and destination. In a weird way, I am usually happiest where I am - and
right now the Spice Jet office is working well for me!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Anyhow, I digress...</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";"></span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Equipped with my 3 day Indian transit
visa (which cost me a hefty 3850 Nepali rupees - about $45
- almost half of which was an extra 1700 rupees because it
was a US passport), the print out of my e-ticket and in relatively decent
time, I arrived at the airport. My flight had an overnight layover in Delhi so
I had reserved a room at my old guest house in Paharganj, Cottage Yes Please
and had dinner plans with my dear friend, Amit, the spice man. He was even
taking me back to the airport in the morning to catch my onward flight to
London. So all sorted and ready to soak up a night in the spicy heat of
Delhi. The first red flag came when, coming into the airport, the guard who
checks people's tickets said that Kingfisher doesn't fly out of this airport.
Go to Air India, he said. Maybe they are dong joint flights or something, I
thought to myself. As I queued to go through security, I noticed that there was
no flight to Delhi on any airline at the time listed on my print out. Second
red flag.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">The Air India desk was in that last minute
flurry of check in when a flight is about to go - one family with a lot of
luggage and some harrowed looking desk staff . They sneered at my ticket,
Kingfisher doesn't fly from here anymore and I could not get on their
flight - last of the day, too late and full. They really weren't
very pleasant or helpful other than to suggest I check at the Spice Jet office
as they still had a flight leaving. My London connection wasn't until afternoon
so I figured it was going to be a matter of just getting on the first flight
possible to Delhi.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">At the Spice Jet desk, a group of
friendly faces saw the look of distress on my face. How much is the flight to
Delhi? They took me into the office to look it up - 14000 NPR which is about
$160. Meanwhile someone called their Kingfisher contact who informed them
that Kingfisher doesn't fly internationally AT ALL. So my flight to London also
didn't exist? Shit man, typical. And for once, airport drama that was not my
fault.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAJCjoBgugN5hmVs4mfzHQ5ww-VbdvIhfL7v_S0e5Il30auZ-mr8jBJ_ZdoNUyiAyKV16VmsDxOk2nJGpNSgu42T7nbfD_8gisK2MR0LIShxchtYospbkbj0D6uihH58k9XRriSLGqr9Y/s1600/IMG_7434.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAJCjoBgugN5hmVs4mfzHQ5ww-VbdvIhfL7v_S0e5Il30auZ-mr8jBJ_ZdoNUyiAyKV16VmsDxOk2nJGpNSgu42T7nbfD_8gisK2MR0LIShxchtYospbkbj0D6uihH58k9XRriSLGqr9Y/s400/IMG_7434.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Shagun & Sagar, the manager</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">This is the point where I become
Spice Jet's KTM staff's biggest fan. They let me sit in their office
(where I type now) and use their computer to look online for flights after
suggesting I was better off getting a direct flight with one carrier all the
way rather than booking their flight and then having to buy another ticket
out of Delhi and lugging all my stuff around in the interim. Turns out
that Kingfisher stopped all international flights a couple months ago. I called
Cleartrip (the site I bought the ticket from) to find that they had sent a text
to my Indian mobile number (which I had listed in the booking as I was to be in
Delhi for 18 hours before the flight to the UK). But since that number doesn’t
work in Nepal it had been of little use. I still don’t quite understand why
they didn’t email me as all other communication, booking confirmation, ticket
and now cancellations are done via email. I have yet to complain to try to
recoup the cost of my pointless visa, but at least I get a full refund. And as
luck would have it, I found a flight at 9pm via Bahrain that is slightly
cheaper and gets me into London Heathrow 12 hours earlier than my original
itinerary. All worked out for the best – probably would have got into too much
trouble on a night out in Delhi anyway – and now I am committed, whenever
possible to pledge my loyalty and fly on SpiceJet. Imagine the treatment I’ll
get when I’m actually their passenger!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAJCjoBgugN5hmVs4mfzHQ5ww-VbdvIhfL7v_S0e5Il30auZ-mr8jBJ_ZdoNUyiAyKV16VmsDxOk2nJGpNSgu42T7nbfD_8gisK2MR0LIShxchtYospbkbj0D6uihH58k9XRriSLGqr9Y/s1600/IMG_7434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnJ7rpg_A7QJu1yFut2jiW9wzimO3oLOcI2B_xrZ5m69FD0IVZEB3G19aekt4gLqSfZRX0i_HnDl5CYJ9-urGHQ5t-5FOcuh29n2K3Bsy4o6VRktuDEdkZMuKs-JK19Z6SQeNL_LaEVbP/s1600/IMG_7442.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnJ7rpg_A7QJu1yFut2jiW9wzimO3oLOcI2B_xrZ5m69FD0IVZEB3G19aekt4gLqSfZRX0i_HnDl5CYJ9-urGHQ5t-5FOcuh29n2K3Bsy4o6VRktuDEdkZMuKs-JK19Z6SQeNL_LaEVbP/s400/IMG_7442.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Shagun (leaving against my desk), Pabitra & Niranjan</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";"> </span></div>
</div>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-57482159785041714282012-03-25T03:43:00.005-07:002012-05-17T04:08:14.972-07:00A Crunchy Samosa<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-GB">Halfway through the shoot, we had a couple of days in Jumla Bazaar, the only town in Jumla. After the smaller villages that offer little variation when it comes to food, we were excited to be in the bright lights of Bazaar where we could find more than one kind of biscuit and our dining options had expanded from just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dal bhat </i>(Nepali standard meal of rice and dal, eaten two or three times a day, every day, by almost the whole population) to chow mein and fried rice too. We fancied a snack so went and found a place serving samosas.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjny-X0lmazLQ0AL3kFhsDms1ofPFK_uRGtx6XAOwEtn7UXByCKcWv3sFPR779cc-1Hj8Bh2vl3DmPgPBFCMxhdeaJb2xDaiwqdzbXh5z4mEvH92zvn8XkqZbjIWBhdT5HQt1peaEYVmjoj/s1600/IMG_1223.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724442894177531410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjny-X0lmazLQ0AL3kFhsDms1ofPFK_uRGtx6XAOwEtn7UXByCKcWv3sFPR779cc-1Hj8Bh2vl3DmPgPBFCMxhdeaJb2xDaiwqdzbXh5z4mEvH92zvn8XkqZbjIWBhdT5HQt1peaEYVmjoj/s400/IMG_1223.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The deep fried pyramids of potatoes with a spicy sauce were going down very well when I suddenly crunched something. Fishing the hard object from my mouth, I found a white-ish piece that looked a little like a shard of bone. I wasn’t too bothered but I showed Nisha and she told the man who was serving us who promptly chucked it on the floor. In that moment, as I watched it hit the ground, I thought to myself, it looks like a tooth. As the word tooth flicked across my mind, my tongue darted forward in my mouth as I realised with a sinking feeling that something was missing. It was my tooth! Or one of my caps. I quickly picked it up from the floor and dusted it off. I must have bitten into it and swallowed the other piece as it was only 3/4s of my cap. Still, better than having eaten the whole thing!</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Since we were in Bazaar where there are dentists (of a sort), I thought it wise to try to get some tooth cement so I could stick it back on – the stumpy tooth underneath was a little sensitive and also somewhat unsightly. When we got back to the hotel, Nisha went off to find me some tooth glue. She returned saying that the guy had some but I had to come there, so off we went.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">It seems that Dalgit, the ‘dentist’ was also the local optometrist as there was eye charts and an eye tester there too. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ke garné?</i> This is Jumla, so one can’t be too fussy and I only needed to stick it back on. Dalgit told me to lie down on the bed, which I thought seemed a bit unnecessary but I obliged, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. I was reassured when he went to wash his hands and even more so when he put on rubber gloves. He dried my tooth off with some cotton mesh and then started fumbling with the box of adhesive. After a minute, Nisha said, “He is confused.” Oh dear. I looked over and saw that there were instructions in the box so I pulled them out. There were many languages, although not Nepali. As I lay there I read the English directions out to Nisha, who translated how to mix the powder with the drops. One small scoop, one drop of liquid, stir for 15 seconds…</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cP3F4z3uaH9XhLGeDtq9pZRdxnlwEV09rzjEefRuhXJBpc3dlWL6jQt3FFBivE10ZEhYFIf7hafN_G3_KVVplYtM6x_Q1WQyYGhx0qjuGhpoydQzjWuNtAyw_ktrzz2E4WgvsJZUt4mY/s1600/P130312_12.10_%255B01%255D.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723787376471490066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cP3F4z3uaH9XhLGeDtq9pZRdxnlwEV09rzjEefRuhXJBpc3dlWL6jQt3FFBivE10ZEhYFIf7hafN_G3_KVVplYtM6x_Q1WQyYGhx0qjuGhpoydQzjWuNtAyw_ktrzz2E4WgvsJZUt4mY/s400/P130312_12.10_%255B01%255D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTKkc3GNRmTyKxVVbgmUseMqVPiSw4hu9t4PSgAcG4XbZNQhoYle3zCLhwyPAr-sMjk56jeG0PJhuIimnmvgS9Rd5yDWzIIlJQLg6ee87yJGlBVFlrwRqwFC8YhVD9SYtYcG9camGz1myz/s1600/P130312_12.09_%255B01%255D.jpg"></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">With the cement mixed, he stuck the tooth back on, keeping my mouth dry for the required time. When it had set, I got up to look and realised that he had put it on crooked. Oh well, what to do? At least it was on! When I asked how much, he said he didn’t want to charge me because he wasn’t sure if it would last. As it turned out, he was right. The tooth fell off again the next day!</span></div>
</div>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-6376064813679347132012-02-27T19:11:00.012-08:002012-02-27T22:18:54.262-08:00Everyday Images of Kathmandu<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSEtw6O4Hb48PhmaOR4Rh80LI4ZAC5HdgZqdj9FOBPgEQAY8FdQ23miMt_KqwcwpaCgp5r60JF_YToOK-7A-hpbURYQ2BGeSjgRyrhpNr9NT43SDAKI6kgKuC-9VrebG_01Mxcn7st9-Jk/s1600/IMG_4994.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSEtw6O4Hb48PhmaOR4Rh80LI4ZAC5HdgZqdj9FOBPgEQAY8FdQ23miMt_KqwcwpaCgp5r60JF_YToOK-7A-hpbURYQ2BGeSjgRyrhpNr9NT43SDAKI6kgKuC-9VrebG_01Mxcn7st9-Jk/s400/IMG_4994.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714019385644059314" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">monkeys at Narayan Temple at Thapathali Chowk<br /><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpXwIM8iqSTH3E17Sd4BoHcQES2_N1jimY3VaWE3Cp1I6N6lvSuqOSbRVTsc4uKLbd5iqiJ4n3OCje0CofaWP_T69LDtNlHezxQ9ir0kZe28CaQLk6zo2_6giWD2fNL30spQ-uM2TplL3/s1600/IMG_5839.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpXwIM8iqSTH3E17Sd4BoHcQES2_N1jimY3VaWE3Cp1I6N6lvSuqOSbRVTsc4uKLbd5iqiJ4n3OCje0CofaWP_T69LDtNlHezxQ9ir0kZe28CaQLk6zo2_6giWD2fNL30spQ-uM2TplL3/s400/IMG_5839.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714021853779925394" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">my favourite momo place<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOoLjOpt5zO74sm0HPGnz07eBoqvOxkkydHdDLo-dddTOyB64QYsTVE9xjnu8IiXsYoeUeX4xprZspYoreGYCnaHu9oy5C04I7E5FUzD9h05DKOazevItkTOLVGeKPNveTdNJqNv-a3dLy/s1600/IMG_5841.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOoLjOpt5zO74sm0HPGnz07eBoqvOxkkydHdDLo-dddTOyB64QYsTVE9xjnu8IiXsYoeUeX4xprZspYoreGYCnaHu9oy5C04I7E5FUzD9h05DKOazevItkTOLVGeKPNveTdNJqNv-a3dLy/s400/IMG_5841.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714021865773149794" border="0" /></a> momos<br /><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWCmOt0HRtjG1MWW8CQ4plKemUQx7CMYbD24h42QWphz8L5VA2kh3RnrPepQznKl4TMBTr8ZJHmNJJQzzMaiD_LE-tamT0sLfsLVowx6KM6kVI8QmdYljI6ddplyjqJKjk2Onf9ITEJOk/s1600/IMG_5760.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWCmOt0HRtjG1MWW8CQ4plKemUQx7CMYbD24h42QWphz8L5VA2kh3RnrPepQznKl4TMBTr8ZJHmNJJQzzMaiD_LE-tamT0sLfsLVowx6KM6kVI8QmdYljI6ddplyjqJKjk2Onf9ITEJOk/s400/IMG_5760.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714021850259330514" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">mountains & mountains<br /><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7CKtXCILurJSHln2YnsY8f_I1n8w_Q1cmzh25ruq6afbA4QIEKK0bgzIUDuIVIBDSV4PNzs4gsg0aFv4xsAJ3CIrajdSpzqrDPQoH0vp95hya6HvikJv-Ah65xUkfHf1FnqhkFyi59voS/s1600/IMG_5699.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7CKtXCILurJSHln2YnsY8f_I1n8w_Q1cmzh25ruq6afbA4QIEKK0bgzIUDuIVIBDSV4PNzs4gsg0aFv4xsAJ3CIrajdSpzqrDPQoH0vp95hya6HvikJv-Ah65xUkfHf1FnqhkFyi59voS/s400/IMG_5699.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714020627332612114" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">fruit shop down the road by candlelight<br /><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjztPO4Q-E4HTr4WsPmOMeDgJxLv3cA8stGNDf24Xt_zjTroF8qFxC0q6DhADJkuQIZMOLhpU0ZaghesUsnTPE5Ya_aHwmRx47TQ4bpW-orx-ZBNh8hcOt23oDvNwkZeWTdwn1ZBuiNgiK_/s1600/IMG_5305.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjztPO4Q-E4HTr4WsPmOMeDgJxLv3cA8stGNDf24Xt_zjTroF8qFxC0q6DhADJkuQIZMOLhpU0ZaghesUsnTPE5Ya_aHwmRx47TQ4bpW-orx-ZBNh8hcOt23oDvNwkZeWTdwn1ZBuiNgiK_/s400/IMG_5305.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714019969905709954" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">my favourite snack - <span style="font-style: italic;">chat pate </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">- </span>a mixture of puffed rice, onion, chilli, potato, crunchy pulses, lime & other stuff<br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZWJE4HzpYphEP2VbP-coDAKJ4OG_xltv_tiRGSRe5F2-WShpelARQP3QQ5p9pnOOTjk5Tl5hUkz1YF0RwrLZlfk4AcHrPU-KTRHhxRKiZoeqWJHNdft3468VFSKg6ioQK93aYnhwdxMc/s1600/IMG_5300.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZWJE4HzpYphEP2VbP-coDAKJ4OG_xltv_tiRGSRe5F2-WShpelARQP3QQ5p9pnOOTjk5Tl5hUkz1YF0RwrLZlfk4AcHrPU-KTRHhxRKiZoeqWJHNdft3468VFSKg6ioQK93aYnhwdxMc/s400/IMG_5300.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714019962768570066" border="0" /></a><br />during a <span style="font-style: italic;">bandah </span>(strike)<br />the rare sight of seeing the busy streets devoid of vehicles<br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSjSIyJjs45h6EESIgOCZGGfHfHkKcAbOJxpVHiH-72vZb5Uov9rSEskVrMHX0va_Dnu6uYbXIqbdPw-mVnB7rqt12Shtw0AxjpSnVf0jFc2HtUZY2h2blrJAK_q8NAde9RXZy2hILUut/s1600/IMG_5358.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSjSIyJjs45h6EESIgOCZGGfHfHkKcAbOJxpVHiH-72vZb5Uov9rSEskVrMHX0va_Dnu6uYbXIqbdPw-mVnB7rqt12Shtw0AxjpSnVf0jFc2HtUZY2h2blrJAK_q8NAde9RXZy2hILUut/s400/IMG_5358.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714019980645076178" border="0" /></a><br />the beautifully polluted Bagmati River<br /><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqZzxmj7BWiFDfA_0qrfaIO-tacX8mMREb8b9ZwpI0HNvOjr3zTiAa9ajjpGjxpRKBpfeYdsIlF55SHPNjIjWHl6_fJiZYkUXVEcUjRPbhnETQI5gjJ7Vn4DvFk1enNsipbK1o1vbD5fy/s1600/IMG_5191.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqZzxmj7BWiFDfA_0qrfaIO-tacX8mMREb8b9ZwpI0HNvOjr3zTiAa9ajjpGjxpRKBpfeYdsIlF55SHPNjIjWHl6_fJiZYkUXVEcUjRPbhnETQI5gjJ7Vn4DvFk1enNsipbK1o1vbD5fy/s400/IMG_5191.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714019390186220114" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">colourful washing lines<br /><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9cLYXBIzBLe4tS4qKj9JkE5YHJSMzsYlk4lJecpDW852HtbvKRoEj8_rZ2OrwiTB6WmrFqQGZpK_9EaBjkyNGKRKtBeRibxC6akOX6qeeYVpyztSB2DQmfViYIKPLRRvUWP2GWOEiiI48/s1600/IMG_5361.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9cLYXBIzBLe4tS4qKj9JkE5YHJSMzsYlk4lJecpDW852HtbvKRoEj8_rZ2OrwiTB6WmrFqQGZpK_9EaBjkyNGKRKtBeRibxC6akOX6qeeYVpyztSB2DQmfViYIKPLRRvUWP2GWOEiiI48/s400/IMG_5361.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714020615906620178" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">colourful neighbourhoods (near Boudha)<br /><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTghTBzr7tRuTboGELqGUNPj4Mdno1TwZ0TeURsnnVmOXDskl7E7KzIl0JOQLQ981njvfKi7Y7lQtTQ9UAoUXnUns8QyIp4CmS_RYXsVWr9wZ21ZXlX3wHhXtc8fUPTcYmnBixgXqpFWo/s1600/IMG_4982.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTghTBzr7tRuTboGELqGUNPj4Mdno1TwZ0TeURsnnVmOXDskl7E7KzIl0JOQLQ981njvfKi7Y7lQtTQ9UAoUXnUns8QyIp4CmS_RYXsVWr9wZ21ZXlX3wHhXtc8fUPTcYmnBixgXqpFWo/s400/IMG_4982.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714019378979317810" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Narayan Temple at the end of the road<br /><br /><br /></div>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-90774591290411087462012-02-24T22:10:00.011-08:002012-02-28T00:28:20.803-08:00A Temporary Pseudo Ex-PatGiven that this is essentially a travel blog, and that I have not been travelling, I can excuse myself for letting this blog lie idle for the best part of two months. At least that is my excuse. Being settled in one place has given me the opportunity to just be and live and work rather than the roaming that peppered my life the last two years. When you are constantly on the move, exploring different places, meeting new people, eagerly soaking up the culture, there is a bounty of stories to choose from - when you are living like a pseudo ex-pat, it is easy to settle in to daily life and then the streets that once seemed alien and exciting are just the way home.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlmCyrJNEpzubdqTII0sX0uEXccs8_waMFoNvd3KiwqAO_P-rh_-IxPQbXzDphmxojhGnPxZPdw5VLQM2VdpvgaiRzZtSRq_pBWkYsZniisNCq7C4h9KlNMQ62-HtBALXyzW1b5pAqTrE/s1600/IMG_5769.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlmCyrJNEpzubdqTII0sX0uEXccs8_waMFoNvd3KiwqAO_P-rh_-IxPQbXzDphmxojhGnPxZPdw5VLQM2VdpvgaiRzZtSRq_pBWkYsZniisNCq7C4h9KlNMQ62-HtBALXyzW1b5pAqTrE/s400/IMG_5769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714054005655926434" border="0" /></a><br /><br />You soon get used to living in a place that once seemed so different. The piles of rubbish in the gutter, the cries of vendors pushing bicycles full of fruit, veg or household goods (not dissimilar to sound of the rag-and-bone man pushing his cart through my neighbourhood in London), the incessant nocturnal barking of dogs, the stench of waste floating up from the river - these things all become familiar, become part of the local neighbourhood.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCBXKD4U5TfxO7KwQCdY_VhM0p8-fuy_Kv3k8f4MofQWUlgPba_Lj5UgDxTItMfzry_l1-ABwCPEIZE6IKCq6LZyRlmlkZ56kgVjYAf16OIpaTgwSm7caT8f_aNTE5yyyIl5veVzXOyEg-/s1600/IMG_5770.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCBXKD4U5TfxO7KwQCdY_VhM0p8-fuy_Kv3k8f4MofQWUlgPba_Lj5UgDxTItMfzry_l1-ABwCPEIZE6IKCq6LZyRlmlkZ56kgVjYAf16OIpaTgwSm7caT8f_aNTE5yyyIl5veVzXOyEg-/s400/IMG_5770.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714054001301220146" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I live in Thapathali, a neighbourhood in Kathmandu on the banks of the Bagmati River across from Patan (also known as Lalitpur) which is actually another city.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5R2zsK7yFHT5uJkeybV6xsmNjldsgICLwSMWat_BB61QkYrHCsk7cg75AzjxQFInN5mAfIVtoLqJmohn31gnZRzXD5tYYvmq2TaUvyMXbIPELm7uMwZFhTmOaSir3C8nH95xsXYRA8ni/s1600/thapathali+map.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5R2zsK7yFHT5uJkeybV6xsmNjldsgICLwSMWat_BB61QkYrHCsk7cg75AzjxQFInN5mAfIVtoLqJmohn31gnZRzXD5tYYvmq2TaUvyMXbIPELm7uMwZFhTmOaSir3C8nH95xsXYRA8ni/s400/thapathali+map.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714052555268100130" border="0" /></a><br />Life in the city continues to be noisy, dusty, crowded and polluted. The traffic can be pretty ridiculous during the day (although with the ongoing petrol shortage, there is a noticeable decrease in the amount of vehicles on the road at the moment), and then not long after nightfall, the streets empty, as even in the capitol city everything shuts down. The early night mentality is compounded by the lack of electricity which, for most people, leaves evenings lit by candlelight and of course, no TV, music or other electronic entertainments that are taken for granted elsewhere. You can also find the quieter side of the city by simply diving into the back streets off the jammed main roads.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_q-fxt1UdXDyCh3ZCClgPEtZc0HTIxrJBFmeYN3VdopHW_w40RkapjL2T8ish9W3p865aXfknVc9QVWLc80iTpuADizMDrBXqIw_pAW06H6QCbJXcLASniUASm89Xw6dxSmYVvQ4nfsX/s1600/IMG_5778.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_q-fxt1UdXDyCh3ZCClgPEtZc0HTIxrJBFmeYN3VdopHW_w40RkapjL2T8ish9W3p865aXfknVc9QVWLc80iTpuADizMDrBXqIw_pAW06H6QCbJXcLASniUASm89Xw6dxSmYVvQ4nfsX/s400/IMG_5778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714053996719997074" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzIWVE1_GSeiw_ShJiIeHqPxlh469-JO2va_dW8MIQcIMD7QuDHAr8f3mslg7VgbqyQWjmMILyHASRyG_nLiMiKFyWjk3nqk8-zJkNIhhY2U41rKNncVH5oOtDVcdZWhhlNoxNLv4gU9jR/s1600/IMG_5780.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzIWVE1_GSeiw_ShJiIeHqPxlh469-JO2va_dW8MIQcIMD7QuDHAr8f3mslg7VgbqyQWjmMILyHASRyG_nLiMiKFyWjk3nqk8-zJkNIhhY2U41rKNncVH5oOtDVcdZWhhlNoxNLv4gU9jR/s400/IMG_5780.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714052044162027810" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">my local cobbler in one of the back neighbourhoods<br /><br /></div>Kathmandu and Patan are full of a lattice of tiny lanes, some paved, some not, some incredibly picturesque, which you could easily be fooled into thinking were pedestrian thoroughfares until a motorcycle comes beeping through or even a little Maruti/Suzuki taxi (no wonder they are all so small).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7MGMUWauFBM_svJORfchO95TKFkYLPBHr58TZahGBrZlN4HQc0b0xEoitXELPJUZs4j2jYsmWs-qCEBxpH44AbdmWAbh38AOjgObgg-q6bdtGI3JDy5DaWerYc5NAwaE2yJdrQNzaFrp/s1600/IMG_5773.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7MGMUWauFBM_svJORfchO95TKFkYLPBHr58TZahGBrZlN4HQc0b0xEoitXELPJUZs4j2jYsmWs-qCEBxpH44AbdmWAbh38AOjgObgg-q6bdtGI3JDy5DaWerYc5NAwaE2yJdrQNzaFrp/s400/IMG_5773.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714053988597798242" border="0" /></a><br />I've taken to going for walks around the maze of little winding alleyways behind our house - partly as I hadn't been getting any exercise sitting at my desk all day and partly to get to know the neighbourhood a bit. (Not leaving the house for days on end made me start to feel like I wasn't in Nepal at all!).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHG5lWt0WT_1-MvWGDO6b5USk4UVgb06RoHuHapGRwGUGxAhSMY2wwJq4fYP4AiolOoCpV_bilVEbcsj8LBX6v-rwO59nZ6JdtTRHkbX7PvZgzqWAn9wWrxZCwj4K6lNZ87PxilccpLYGy/s1600/IMG_5758.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHG5lWt0WT_1-MvWGDO6b5USk4UVgb06RoHuHapGRwGUGxAhSMY2wwJq4fYP4AiolOoCpV_bilVEbcsj8LBX6v-rwO59nZ6JdtTRHkbX7PvZgzqWAn9wWrxZCwj4K6lNZ87PxilccpLYGy/s400/IMG_5758.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714052051004538242" border="0" /></a>As with any place one spends an extended period of time in, existence takes on a different shape. I rarely do any sight-seeing. It is easy to stop noticing the small temples at every turn or not bat an eye at walking out into the chaotic traffic when crossing the road (it is the only way to get anywhere). When you are a 'foreign' local, you soon find the ex-pat community, where life could be considered a bubble compared to that of a Nepali living in the city - but a life it still is. Who is to say it is any less 'real' just because it is accompanied by certain comforts? There is a new food delivery service, clearly geared towards the ex-pat community - Foodmandu (a bit like Pink Dot in the States) that picks up food from the fancier restaurants and delivers it to your home (although I haven't used it yet). Computer repairs, dental appointments, plumbers, where to find good cheese, dinner parties (and planning the use of the oven around the load shedding/power schedule) all contribute to the feeling that I am home. At least for now.<br /><br /><span><a href="http://mirandatravelsblog.blogspot.com/2011/04/march-in-dusty-city-of-gods.html">A little over a year ago I wrote a post about Kathmandu as I started to get to know it. It is interesting to see what I saw then compared to now</a>: http://mirandatravelsblog.blogspot.com/2011/04/march-in-dusty-city-of-gods.html<br /><br /><br /></span>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-69031107755579071902012-01-06T20:29:00.000-08:002012-01-06T21:24:38.013-08:00Staying PowerThe life I currently lead lends itself to flexibility. The lure of the warm tropical beaches of Kerala has been outweighed by the practical considerations of how much more productive I can be if I stay in Nepal. Aside from having easier access to translators, I am very much enjoying my living situation and appreciating being in one place for more than ten days - something which hasn't happened much in the past two years. Thanks to the gracious hospitality of my host, Dries, I am given the luxury of having the choice to stay in a place where I can continue my work until Sophie comes back in March for the second shoot.<br /><br />So, I have decided to tough out the Kathmandu winter - although as I write, I am in Jhapa for a few days visiting Nisha who is here over the winter, warming myself in the milder Terai climate of south eastern Nepal (near the Indian border of Darjeeling).<br /><br />Winter in Kathmandu is actually not as bad as it might sound (and certainly no where near as cold as Jumla which is now covered in snow), for although it is very cold at night and in the morning (I can see my breath when I wake up) and we don't have heating, the days are usually bright and sunny and surprisingly warm in the sun. It makes such a difference to be able to walk out in the sunshine and feel the warmth on your face.<br /><br />And the longer you stay in a place, of course, the more you see and find out about it. I plan to write more about living in this magical, manic city as I learn more myself, seeing it through the eyes of a semi-resident as opposed to tourist or traveller. I am sad that I won't be making my journey to south India, a place I still feel so strongly compelled to continue exploring (as well as seeing friends there) but I am accepting that you can't do everything all at once. Not if you want to do it well.<br /><br />Posted some photos from November's shoot in Jumla on the <a href="http://http//shaktipictures.blogspot.com/">Shakti blog: </a><br /><a href="http://shaktipictures.blogspot.com/2011/12/images-of-jumla-urthu-chautara.html">Images of Urthu-Chautara</a><br /><a href="http://shaktipictures.blogspot.com/2011/12/images-of-jumla-ghodasin.html">Images of Ghodasin</a><br /><a href="http://shaktipictures.blogspot.com/2011/12/images-of-jumla-tatopani.html">Images of Tatopani</a>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-9558050202697405902011-12-04T20:16:00.000-08:002011-12-21T20:45:01.276-08:00Cold & Hot Winter - Kathmandu to Kerala<style>@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">I am a filmmaker. It has been something I have found hard to say, and one could argue that I haven’t actually made a film yet, but we are well and truly deep into the process now and I have a stronger sense of purpose than I have had in years. The shooting went amazingly well (check out the <a href="http://shaktipictures.blogspot.com/">Shakti blog</a> for more information about the shoot and photos). We have moved into the next phase of reviewing and organising all that we shot in our month there. Sad as I was to see Sophie leave, it signified the turning point in this project and a monumental moment for me as we had done it. All the planning of the last year was leading up to Sophie coming to shoot and now we have done it, it is completed - wrapped. The first, big step in production process. We are truly out of pre-production and making this film happen. It was a proud moment for me. The idea in my head, like a seed planted, is starting to grow.<br /></p><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal">Now I am settling in to my temporary home and office in Thapathali, Kathmandu. I have the good fortune to have a recently acquainted old friend, Dries, who lives and works here and seems quite happy to have me as a housemate for a spell. It is nice living in Kathmandu as opposed to staying.<span style=""> </span>Winter is setting in and the ‘load shedding’ or rolling blackouts are becoming more a feature of life. But this house has an inverter and wi-fi, so I can work at all times on the long desk in ‘my room’. The living room has an enormous fireplace, so we can combat the cold nights with cosy, festive evenings by the fire. Being quite a sociable chap, there are often people staying or folks round for dinner or drinks so I well and truly feel like I have a life. And I’ve especially been enjoying the kitchen – cooking and dancing in it.<br /></p><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">As I have said before, in spite of the dust, pollution and traffic, Kathmandu is a great little city. And I am enjoying getting to know it on a more local level – going to the vegetable market or calling the plumber. I am clearly bound to Nepal for a number of years with this project and the thought is appealing. My Nepali is coming along, albeit slowly. I had thought I would improve more in Jumla but being with Sophie the whole time, we spoke English. And Nisha, our production everything girl, has really come a long way with her English, so my practising was certainly more intermittent than last time.</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">During my time here – before the cold really does send me to the beaches of Kerala – I am going to focus on reviewing interview footage and sequences with dialogue. Although I am beginning to understand a little Nepali, I certainly can’t translate the hours of talking we have on film. I am essentially making a foreign language film. Over the coming weeks I plan to work with people here who can speak good enough English to help me understand enough that I can work on it.</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">So I shall spend Christmas and New Year with friends in Kathmandu and then head south to India in the early weeks of January. The idea is to rent a place in Kerala for 6-8 weeks, to again, settle one place for long enough to develop a routine and work productively. Somewhere warm and near a beach…<span style=""> </span>I have a lot of work to do before Sophie comes back in a few months for the second shoot, so I might as well do it in a lovely place – I just need a room with a desk, constant electricity, internet access and a swimming beach nearby.<span style=""> </span>I suspect the warmth and beauty will be a creative inspiration and I certainly feel drawn to spending more time down there so this will be the perfect opportunity.</p>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-84846057539362230272011-11-15T09:33:00.001-08:002011-12-03T06:19:38.155-08:00Happy Birthday to Mirinda!<style>@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Our second day in Jumla happened to be my birthday. We were settled in our rooms at Pooja Pattarasi Hotel in Chautara where we were to be based for the first half of shooting. This is also my Jumla family, the people and community that I have forged bonds with over the past year and a half.<span style=""> </span>We had the warmest welcome when we arrived and were covered in garlands of marigolds and red tikas across our foreheads as soon as we arrived in the village.<br /></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-wgxW6TDBOrj73HFk38DEnTitqE5NxtNhN0GPJBLBV_2HD4mbhJsNdz-pJPxmZcru94h7OyUkPOm-LvQ9Q9rdlsA3d6LHH5k-8dFUqIxdZMa1PM-lPXhnPMRvShm2Cyby34Pk5OAsxt2/s1600/IMG_3231-edit.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-wgxW6TDBOrj73HFk38DEnTitqE5NxtNhN0GPJBLBV_2HD4mbhJsNdz-pJPxmZcru94h7OyUkPOm-LvQ9Q9rdlsA3d6LHH5k-8dFUqIxdZMa1PM-lPXhnPMRvShm2Cyby34Pk5OAsxt2/s400/IMG_3231-edit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681903362382927634" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My birthday was our first full day of shooting and the first time that I felt like I was actually ‘directing’. We were up at the crack of dawn to shoot Rama’s morning routine and the day wound round the twists of village activities from there. Rama was also making a buckwheat cake for me, so of course, we shot that too.<span style=""> </span>By the evening, we’d been shooting for over twelve hours and now the festivities were getting underway.</p><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkc-GVB2EYus9YtaavxSzTgcugGjzcV2a9dOVJ_IXcUY0-zcULuiN9m4XuFDEaQHDSuQbM6k9a-GguzwPzucdxi3YuyO0_UNTpt_6qloGDASE1ZRolZim4zph6uQJqQNTYdj1Cx8h65Xb/s1600/DSCF1211.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkc-GVB2EYus9YtaavxSzTgcugGjzcV2a9dOVJ_IXcUY0-zcULuiN9m4XuFDEaQHDSuQbM6k9a-GguzwPzucdxi3YuyO0_UNTpt_6qloGDASE1ZRolZim4zph6uQJqQNTYdj1Cx8h65Xb/s400/DSCF1211.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681901607551257778" border="0" /></a></p> <p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">I didn’t really know what to expect as I was under the impression that people don’t really celebrate birthdays here, but that was certainly not the case. The upstairs room where we held the training in May was set up with a table and my birthday cake with what seemed like far too many candles on it.<span style=""> </span>On the white board behind, in big letters ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MIRINDA’ and the date. A chair placed like a throne at the table with a cloth over it and I was ushered into my seat facing the room of smiling faces seated on benches and chairs.</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVH34hEb2wGK-D04vVT6p1SrgiufV47QQpM_MJk__jrdntaXs2UmDZqiT0WELWcLGIKKZURciceG_ki1c1nho9Mtm7-sP172Rww9hErNNMfNAJLeQ98-uo3Y9yI6B1s9hDtsk-EPIQ3L_H/s1600/Mirinda-Birthday-Picture-1-crop.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 366px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVH34hEb2wGK-D04vVT6p1SrgiufV47QQpM_MJk__jrdntaXs2UmDZqiT0WELWcLGIKKZURciceG_ki1c1nho9Mtm7-sP172Rww9hErNNMfNAJLeQ98-uo3Y9yI6B1s9hDtsk-EPIQ3L_H/s400/Mirinda-Birthday-Picture-1-crop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681901611248344418" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AMddh7YSRydwEdXcHRd8gmeCntQXn92EUpkkRH3WD4bwVD4eVbgYxo8mjg120BqopZBbcyJ_dw88pl1boakv4tNKds2IVz-sjIb1H_hMESYLMBAsTwPlWmJpeVgPrZOofJEi9VWt0Er4/s1600/Mirinda-Birthday-Picture-2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AMddh7YSRydwEdXcHRd8gmeCntQXn92EUpkkRH3WD4bwVD4eVbgYxo8mjg120BqopZBbcyJ_dw88pl1boakv4tNKds2IVz-sjIb1H_hMESYLMBAsTwPlWmJpeVgPrZOofJEi9VWt0Er4/s400/Mirinda-Birthday-Picture-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681901622668322770" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">Everyone started clapping and I was instructed to light my candles. Rama had to come to assist me as it was taking me so long to light them all. And all the while, the clapping continued. Eventually my cake was ablaze, I made a wish and blew and a garbled rendition of <i style="">Happy Birthday to You</i> was sung. All very birthday and incredibly sweet. What I wasn’t expecting was what came next. One by one, everyone in the room came to wish me happy birthday, giving me a red tika in ever increasing smudges on my forehead and cutting a piece of cake and feeding it to me. I soon realised that I was supposed to also feed them a slice. Soon half my face was red and half the cake was gone – half of it in my tummy.</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiiuNHGxR5FBRlwEi01_1Vg4oo7EvUv7w4ocGcf2E-j2VAb41w6rNBaQo4o_olEgpirf6ikVmorX76dADJ_4_4PVQe_DOlq0pnMmj8Fjyj8vY5yDCdxvKbHjffIgJzDbCzdYRIOcKnS3Y/s1600/DSCF1231.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 281px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiiuNHGxR5FBRlwEi01_1Vg4oo7EvUv7w4ocGcf2E-j2VAb41w6rNBaQo4o_olEgpirf6ikVmorX76dADJ_4_4PVQe_DOlq0pnMmj8Fjyj8vY5yDCdxvKbHjffIgJzDbCzdYRIOcKnS3Y/s400/DSCF1231.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681901606548075058" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">Singing and dancing followed and then the rakshi was brought up. More singing, more food. It was a really special birthday. The effort everyone made was incredibly moving and half the village came to wish me well. I don’t think such a fuss has been made of my birthday in a long time. Combining the evening’s festivities with the full day of shooting, when I went to bed, I knew I would sleep well. It was a wonderful day. And I was a director.</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmec5MuC0_CWwKquXKfdO61gM4CnHwjgLJ8CipgfNeU0LR05ctggNVDtv7PJMcsxPa4JhlfMsFbapP1KbboeqNrtmgqEwVQleoFNacIrJz9MKb-nOxwsjoNZcaVJSsTP2ZyhY0TbvSwoR/s1600/IMG_3253-crop.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmec5MuC0_CWwKquXKfdO61gM4CnHwjgLJ8CipgfNeU0LR05ctggNVDtv7PJMcsxPa4JhlfMsFbapP1KbboeqNrtmgqEwVQleoFNacIrJz9MKb-nOxwsjoNZcaVJSsTP2ZyhY0TbvSwoR/s400/IMG_3253-crop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681906517707252450" border="0" /></a></p>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-10839282648760487962011-10-31T09:29:00.000-07:002011-10-31T09:59:04.305-07:00Whirlwind tour of Tihar<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj09zIRxi3ajQ8xvRLC5_PdErHMDWiUcWeNMfQrxIE_FpYwtuygaXfrfo32rsG-vzul2WmuYW1hy7rUR41U-fQxLXqNt_wWjCexUHFOiVgR0hUM9ZUnlFXLG7CamMgMcVhgqnx9JksDOn-5/s1600/IMG_8612.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1ieIkiSjY_WDwWg5AvFkRXrQF9Yh4sdqdpeC6NsXtc1M_7hNcCyQPsRYnXaVwmNcUfvsai9AeALzIVkc3lXSpDow7VTyZhD4gvU-4wEkUsZwhNNn6PRuxB0JT1C8dC3J1N8S7dM2iZ__/s1600/IMG_8562.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1ieIkiSjY_WDwWg5AvFkRXrQF9Yh4sdqdpeC6NsXtc1M_7hNcCyQPsRYnXaVwmNcUfvsai9AeALzIVkc3lXSpDow7VTyZhD4gvU-4wEkUsZwhNNn6PRuxB0JT1C8dC3J1N8S7dM2iZ__/s400/IMG_8562.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669696497746305218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLna_nDL1skzAaetsOTRpaG-XEtkg32QsWRZV0lRlzJaXhCQkjcVCyoJGx2H8OdsTmHsdLUxojZgSuk4jR6mX9f_n7jEVIx05ubf1uXJ8lE_TnBB3sGUovfuY1m69KeW-llfQpy2xCX-mm/s1600/IMG_8560.jpg"><br /></a><br />I arrived back in Nepal a fortnight ago and I've barely had a moment to catch up with my thoughts or words on the page. Sophie, my partner in Shakti Pictures and DP/co-director on the <a href="http://shaktipictures.com/projects.html">film project </a>was due to arrive a week later, just in time for Tihar Festival and there was much to do to prepare (not to mention helping my friend move house).<br /><br />I must admit, it is great to be back. Had a few Nepali classes in an attempt to dust the cobwebs off what I had learnt earlier in the year. Made sure all our travel arrangements were confirmed and an array of other bits and bobs to ensure that once Soph arrived, all would run smoothly. And shopped for my friends new house and house-warming party!<br /><br />To her credit, after a 24 hour journey, Soph managed to take it all in her stride and showed only a mere hint of jet lag. The hustle and bustle (illuminated during festival time), noise and dust and sheer quirky madness of Kathmandu didn't faze her. It was good timing, as once the festival was underway, there were less people and traffic in town as people return home to their families.<br /><br />Tihar is the festival of lights and all over Kathmandu, shops and homes string lights and lay out little oil candles to coax Laxmi to bless their homes. In the meantime, groups of enthusiastic children make a tidy sum from going from house to house singing and dancing - doing incredibly elaborate routines, I might add! One boy in particular clearly has access to music videos. He was impressive to say the least. Think Nepali folk dance mixed with breakdancing - not something you see every day!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLna_nDL1skzAaetsOTRpaG-XEtkg32QsWRZV0lRlzJaXhCQkjcVCyoJGx2H8OdsTmHsdLUxojZgSuk4jR6mX9f_n7jEVIx05ubf1uXJ8lE_TnBB3sGUovfuY1m69KeW-llfQpy2xCX-mm/s1600/IMG_8560.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLna_nDL1skzAaetsOTRpaG-XEtkg32QsWRZV0lRlzJaXhCQkjcVCyoJGx2H8OdsTmHsdLUxojZgSuk4jR6mX9f_n7jEVIx05ubf1uXJ8lE_TnBB3sGUovfuY1m69KeW-llfQpy2xCX-mm/s400/IMG_8560.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669696497857614738" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">this beautiful piece of artwork was on the street made of grains, rice and petals<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOHakbEBC3gDGVMJ9k3uIDsnW5rnkb48e1aZ28qvcyMfuewzaEGpWS9ZsyJqw0oXAaCJppN504N9Aw7uqdkgeH03YhLOghnkPWlqy0FH3wRh1p2tIWJu7bh8eotVOe_Inq_7-Mua_4W19/s1600/IMG_8598.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOHakbEBC3gDGVMJ9k3uIDsnW5rnkb48e1aZ28qvcyMfuewzaEGpWS9ZsyJqw0oXAaCJppN504N9Aw7uqdkgeH03YhLOghnkPWlqy0FH3wRh1p2tIWJu7bh8eotVOe_Inq_7-Mua_4W19/s400/IMG_8598.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669696499354130290" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Tihar lights adorn the whole city.<br /><div style="text-align: center;">We did a manic drive-by viewing from one side of town to the other,<br />just to get an idea of the festivities<br /></div> </div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj09zIRxi3ajQ8xvRLC5_PdErHMDWiUcWeNMfQrxIE_FpYwtuygaXfrfo32rsG-vzul2WmuYW1hy7rUR41U-fQxLXqNt_wWjCexUHFOiVgR0hUM9ZUnlFXLG7CamMgMcVhgqnx9JksDOn-5/s1600/IMG_8612.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj09zIRxi3ajQ8xvRLC5_PdErHMDWiUcWeNMfQrxIE_FpYwtuygaXfrfo32rsG-vzul2WmuYW1hy7rUR41U-fQxLXqNt_wWjCexUHFOiVgR0hUM9ZUnlFXLG7CamMgMcVhgqnx9JksDOn-5/s400/IMG_8612.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669696508680346786" border="0" /></a><br />On the Friday of Tihar we flew to Pokhara where children continued to busk the neighbourhoods and lights make it feel like Christmas. I was able to introduce Sophie to my family at Bishnu Lodge and EWN. But days later and we were on the move again - in car bound for Nepalganj (11 hours).<br /><br />I write now from a darkened room in Nepalganj, probably disturbing the sleep of my production team, but I wanted to send out a brief update before we disappear into the mountains of Jumla where internet accessibility is somewhat limited.<br /><br />If and when I can (power, net & time permitting), I will be doing blog updates that are more specifically about the shooting experience on the <a href="http://shaktipictures.blogspot.com/">Shakti Pictures blog</a>.miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-21906975309469295332011-10-20T19:09:00.000-07:002011-10-31T09:29:05.349-07:00Road TripOnce again, the time slips by so easily and suddenly I'm on the verge of another phase of life. My few months in California slipped by and now I am back in Nepal.<br /><br />Before I left, I had the opportunity to go on a short road trip with my Dad who was visiting from London. While his intrepid wife rafted and camped down the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon, we took a drive from there to Oakland, stopping at a couple of California's finest National Parks.<br /><br />Here are some pictures...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">double rainbow at the Grand Canyon<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDDyPa8G4z4dhUWO52J0CpCfV-Es1GI-meHQbH7tm8XknXbxP3LYgY7Ygenwhff-ybbkaHIk7BliMQuuk459Lvo4K5nc4ycLvAg7pg3_Xx_KwAkD1BJUd-Kc_j-RuGn_rjNgVe5P0B0OO/s1600/IMG_2700.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDDyPa8G4z4dhUWO52J0CpCfV-Es1GI-meHQbH7tm8XknXbxP3LYgY7Ygenwhff-ybbkaHIk7BliMQuuk459Lvo4K5nc4ycLvAg7pg3_Xx_KwAkD1BJUd-Kc_j-RuGn_rjNgVe5P0B0OO/s400/IMG_2700.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669689735583816354" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hDoBoebMZXu4j0eqBGOkZqAWlKXLW2Ajf9LXXyFsPyMM0hBdy0kXCyHtO5pdG2T3mfAAgA58tmumlPlDwjpaVDTw271bfrvNI3IBjwA9w6MhKGh3Yc8z9A1PHLMLUybhMH4d0a6zqOOg/s1600/IMG_8239.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hDoBoebMZXu4j0eqBGOkZqAWlKXLW2Ajf9LXXyFsPyMM0hBdy0kXCyHtO5pdG2T3mfAAgA58tmumlPlDwjpaVDTw271bfrvNI3IBjwA9w6MhKGh3Yc8z9A1PHLMLUybhMH4d0a6zqOOg/s400/IMG_8239.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669690283937591506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKykI4P28GlHL_qeLP1OwsZIRHnj8I1AxAvQ3rel7Vn5fCJCiU5WWfJqtPrytY3o39vNmF9GuF7y2GghrL6K1n0ngCMmXN8DckhaDtjxFCjMlcaSA3F6wgcx4jtp07rYIwfjeAPDJKcse/s1600/IMG_8234.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKykI4P28GlHL_qeLP1OwsZIRHnj8I1AxAvQ3rel7Vn5fCJCiU5WWfJqtPrytY3o39vNmF9GuF7y2GghrL6K1n0ngCMmXN8DckhaDtjxFCjMlcaSA3F6wgcx4jtp07rYIwfjeAPDJKcse/s400/IMG_8234.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669690280255217682" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Hoover Dam<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1DPV9oqDaEG5MU65RyA659eLrGnB-x9DN0iVsw_pjPpYkT6j46FEmZyYHO_YNMlLxogbxOAm2aIg9oxgeNrw5uH_95NngR8WKQ1ZFM8Gj_NbgY3tdXJbFvmI0Thd03VIC16qq2I-320Y/s1600/IMG_8252.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1DPV9oqDaEG5MU65RyA659eLrGnB-x9DN0iVsw_pjPpYkT6j46FEmZyYHO_YNMlLxogbxOAm2aIg9oxgeNrw5uH_95NngR8WKQ1ZFM8Gj_NbgY3tdXJbFvmI0Thd03VIC16qq2I-320Y/s400/IMG_8252.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669690286455026722" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">me in Death Valley (by Dad)<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPywotE27ZaQl_lSro381AcfipvUo1AoUlMynCT3oJvQFU1Jzkx2BrNNNtpbTQ2d3OdbPKad8HzUIN9t47wjzT_3nigFrzVKFtWCmV6KLMDFBTfI07enai0NmOWcJKko0XV6Mv9X3EQWs/s1600/IMG_1129.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPywotE27ZaQl_lSro381AcfipvUo1AoUlMynCT3oJvQFU1Jzkx2BrNNNtpbTQ2d3OdbPKad8HzUIN9t47wjzT_3nigFrzVKFtWCmV6KLMDFBTfI07enai0NmOWcJKko0XV6Mv9X3EQWs/s400/IMG_1129.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669692043695896930" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Yosemite<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoGCd9YgGfrJnhUuzkMUx9LZlBinjHpnleqHWcVl5r4bzK34uj6CE05QIuE83dr-PiMmyyYDMXvTiSJkBso_qxZYJrLg6ZOnzNMrfhyr0E3_IVM90pJ2rTrxE5hB9-j9EWpIVAllgwF6J9/s1600/IMG_8422.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoGCd9YgGfrJnhUuzkMUx9LZlBinjHpnleqHWcVl5r4bzK34uj6CE05QIuE83dr-PiMmyyYDMXvTiSJkBso_qxZYJrLg6ZOnzNMrfhyr0E3_IVM90pJ2rTrxE5hB9-j9EWpIVAllgwF6J9/s400/IMG_8422.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669692050499987954" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiC4yv67NFEQBSuvAMce9Yr4jmja4lbZpUZZQXL9eGZbR0fihbA-oExjNHR-EJpLzi432pqgsJWMn6bKe_X4Bd-2nqATHZ8uylIkJuHqzUTjDMZfLAbmMHRd9Xsvk4DyGRao7JKTB2E30_/s1600/IMG_2771.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiC4yv67NFEQBSuvAMce9Yr4jmja4lbZpUZZQXL9eGZbR0fihbA-oExjNHR-EJpLzi432pqgsJWMn6bKe_X4Bd-2nqATHZ8uylIkJuHqzUTjDMZfLAbmMHRd9Xsvk4DyGRao7JKTB2E30_/s400/IMG_2771.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669692048591787506" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsThSx1P_A9rBnYZ-Dii0RBu7KhEJkWNN7AQYuGgWFAdByXozsLcxKVWgB4bW1VZXddCka-9vnqv55rIepm_RejLviLhyrimG9Z2LazRw6X94yryXiK6JxsiGw8sZOAEHz5iegFkJb4Rn7/s1600/IMG_8484.jpg"><br /></a>Two days after my Dad left Oakland, I flew out of San Francisco to Hong Kong and then Singapore en route to Kathmandu. A wonderful holiday road trip before beginning my journey back to Asia to start shooting the film in Nepal.miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1317876498628712798.post-4236833898815966492011-07-13T17:23:00.000-07:002011-07-13T17:30:59.471-07:00Minor updates<span style="font-size:130%;">In lieu of more tales of adventures, for the time being, there are <a href="http://shaktipictures.com/photos1/photos1.html">some photos of my time in Jumla</a> on the <a href="http://shaktipictures.com/gallery.html">Shakti Pictures website</a> and a posting on the <a href="http://shaktipictures.blogspot.com/">Shakti blog about postcards</a>...<br /></span>miranda xhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05974526789755234961noreply@blogger.com0