Motorcycle Madness

Himalayas Faintly In The Background 

After finally going through the long and hilariously complicated process of getting a new passport and renewing my Nepali visa the final step remained of obtaining a new Indian visa - the last hurdle necessary in order to legally exit Nepal and head south for Christmas. After waiting all day at the Indian Embassy my number was finally called. I went up to the window and handed in my form. The wait was finally over. The visa official took my form, looked up at me, and said "Come back next week". He handed me a paper with the pick-up date of December 14^th.

After being in Nepal for over 80 days and Chris somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 days, we were at a loss for ideas on how to fill this last 7 days. The only one thing was certain - we had to get out of Kathmandu. After some discussion it was decided that we will rent motorcycles and take a trip south. There were two major problems with this plan. Neither of has ever technically driven an actual motorcycle before and Nepal has the craziest roads I have ever seen.

Us & The Hogs in Khadichaur 

We went to a rental shop near the guesthouse and rented two 150cc Bajj Pulsar's, which seem to be the most common motorcycle in the country. After handing over 2000 rupees each for a 4 day rental ($24 USD), leaving a passport as deposit, the keys and helmets were presented, and once the enormous parade passing by the shop gave us an opportunity we were off. The first hour was pretty terrifying. It was a real challenge to simultaneously get a feel for driving a motorcycle, get used to driving on the left side of the road, and also not get into an accident amidst the seemingly unpredictable swarm of motorcycles, buses, cars, people, fruit carts, animals, and trucks. Chris was having particular trouble getting a feel for the clutch and struggled a bit with first gear. Having never driven a standard transmission before it was especially challenging for him to grow accustomed to. We eventually managed to get through the traffic while being perpetually blasted at face level by thick black clouds of smoke from passing buses and trucks. After an hour we hit a major intersection where we hopelessly lost each other in the sea of trucks and cars. With no cell phones, there was no way to find one other. After searching for about an hour I got on the bike and continued along our planned route stopping at an internet cafe to email Chris the meet up destination. While I rode ahead, Chris gave up his search for me

No One Here Can Read A Map

I arrived in the town of Dhulikel as planned and got an email from chris who arrived about the same time. We soon found each other at the guesthouse and went out for an insanely cheap and not so delicious dinner of rice with cloves and unusual spices. Walking back from the restaurant through the old Newari town during a typical power outage the stars shined impressively bright unimpeded by any city lights. We made our way through the narrow streets past candlelit vendor stands and watched a lunar eclipse take place. The whole scene felt like being in another world of centuries ago and I kept an eye on the rooftops half expecting to see a ninja leap through the darkness. Despite the fact that it was the most appropriate setting for a ninja sighting I have ever experienced I still failed to spot one.

Jay Shredding Up The Dirt Roads

After breakfast the next day we continued heading south (or so we thought). Finally out of reach of the insane traffic of Kathmandu, the mountain roads and fresh air were a welcome change. We stopped a couple times to ask directions and our intended route (south to the warm lowlands) was confirmed by two locals. After heading on another hour along a gorgeous river valley we stopped again for a break and found out we were nowhere near where we were trying to go. Instead of going south we were driving north along the road to Tibet. It also turns out that some Nepalis are unable to read a map and don't know their actual geographic location on the planet. It does not help when the map is written in English either. Encouraged by the beautiful scenery and just going with the spontaneous nature of the trip we decided to head north to see Tibet.

Holiday Parade In Barabise

As the day wore on, the roads wore down. The mountains around grew increasingly higher as did the unprotected cliff drop off the side of the road. Trucks and buses often whip around these curves on the opposite side, but keeping with the road rules of Nepal we used our horns excessively to alert oncoming vehicles of our presence and to scare goats/dogs/chickens/cows out of the way. You would not understand how effective this is unless you actually drove here. We passed through a town along the way where we were held up by yet another parade (every other day in Nepal is a holiday of some sort). There was a sacrificial goat and masked people in colorful and creepy costumes in a large procession. After observing the festivities we continued north. We drove past some massive waterfalls dropping from the towering cliffs above, various stream crossings later, and a mishap involving chris breaking his rear view mirror off the handlebars while going over a hidden speed bump, we made it to the border. The mountains across the border were even higher and various towns dotted the slopes leading north to the Tibetan plateau beyond. We stopped just short of the gate and armed guards since my passport was left as the deposit for the bikes and its not legal to enter Tibet from Nepal anyway.

Magic Buddha Statue: Tatopani, Nepal

We found a guesthouse a half an hour south of the border town and walked around. While staring at a 40 foot high "Magic of Buddha" statue complete with severed heads on a stick and a strange mustache, we made friends with a local monk. Later that day while asking him for advice on a place to eat dinner our conversation was interrupted by a horn honking up ahead. Various monks walking nearby and some locals simultaneously started running towards the truck in a mad dash (including the one we were talking to). Without discussion or hesitation me and Chris ran with everyone and hopped in back of the truck. Hitch hiking with Buddhist monks by the border of Tibet is not an opportunity to miss out on. The truck brought us back to the bordertown again where we ate dinner and walked back through the dark mountain roads. The waterfalls we passed earlier were now just thin ribbons of silver illuminated in the dark by the moon, which barely gave us enough light to not walk off the side of the road.


The next day we rode back to Dhulikel. Now more comfortable and confident with the roads and motorcycles we made it back to town in two hours. Heading south from Dhulikel is the road to Namobudda, a beautiful golden roofed monastery on top of a ridge overlooking the Himalayan mountains where we decided to go next. Taking the bikes off road on the path to the monastery was a lot of fun. Some of the highest peaks in the world were visible the entire way along the skyline.

Our Home For The Night

The monastery was breathtaking and we were the only tourists staying there. Bells, Horns, and Tibetan throat singing was heard in the background while we walked around taking pictures constantly in awe at the views and the serene atmosphere. Having dinner in a room full of buddhist monks with their marroon robes and shaved heads was another first time experience, but it didn't last long. The servers walked around with enormous cauldron sized pots of rice and soup and filled everyone's plates up endlessly. Being the only meal of the day for the monks they ate at a shocking speed and the room emptied out about 15 minutes after we entered. Full after downing two mounds of rice and two bowls of soup I waddled back to the room. Being a monastery, bedtime was early and sleep came at around 730.

Namo Buddha Monastery

The next day we headed back to Kathmandu through a different route taking us off road to some very poor rural villages. We passed through a beautiful and neglected square of Newari temples along the way, which unfortunately seemed to have been the town dump and was also the location of the village trash fire gathering. Once back in the city we navigated the traffic like pro's weaving around the cars and trucks following the flow of the other motorcycles and made it to Thamel in half the time it originally took to get out of the city. Along the way we stopped for a new rear view mirror and it was fixed in 15 minutes by skilled 12 year old mechanics and for just 250 rupees ($3.25 USD).

View En Route To Monastery

With the bikes returned unscathed and my passport collected, it was time for a major high-five. We both agreed that our first motorcycle adventure was the most exciting activity yet. What a blast. I can't wait to get back on another bike and explore some more less traveled areas. Not only is this the best way to travel and get off the beaten path, it is really fun. Once we got used to motorcycle driving and rules of the road it turned out to be not nearly as dangerous as it seemed at first. The traffic here is far less chaotic than it looks.

The drivers in Nepal are far better than most back home. They communicate through beeps and signal for you when its safe to pass them. It is cooperative! People actually help each other while driving! Just about everyone drives defensively and I didn't see one accident anywhere in our 4 days of riding yet almost every day driving to work in New Jersey i would see a fender-bender or worse on the largest and most organized roads I have driven on. There is a certain arrogance and righteousness to our driving attitudes back home that causes accidents, which is completely absent here. There is no "right or wrong", people just stay out of each others way. There was minimal yelling, or angry behavior. If someone cut someone off, or failed to signal, it is just accepted. Adjustments are made and everyone continues on their way. Driving is not used as a tool to take out your aggression here. Americans could learn a thing or two from the roads in Nepal and believe me, they have a whole lot more to be pissed off about than we do....


Anyway...regardless of any further bureaucratic surprises with our visas, the next post WILL be from India. If necessary we will resort to "Plan B" and sneak inconspicuously over the border in a two person horse costume.

about the same time and decided to grab some lunch nearby where he checked his email where received my message. It is very likely I ran right past him at the intersection while frantically looking for him.e most chaotic traffic I have ever seen. The city is infamous for its roads and the mountains are equally dangerous however, we were really desperate to leave the city. The excitement and challenge of a new experience was too much to turn down.

Kathmandu & the Osho Tapoban Commune

Hanging with Osho in our robes

      After a few rest days in Pokhara we returned to Kathmandu to wait on the arrival of Jay's passport. The city is not charming by any stretch, but returning to a city again and again provides a certain comfort when on the road. The streets, sights and vendors are familiar. The small charms of daily life slowly materialize, a good hole in the wall restaurant here and a quiet street there.

      The hustle of the city began to wear so we headed to a meditation ashram to wait out the remaining time before the passport was ready. A short taxi ride brought us to the Osho Tapoban Forest Commune, a spiritual hermitage just outside of Kathmandu. Tapoban is one of a huge number of ashrams based on the teachings of the guru Osho. India & Nepal are full of Gurus, spiritual as well as religious. These are the people who promote spirituality, meditation, love, peace, brotherhood and other humanitarian values. In the world of gurus Osho is somewhat controversial. Before his death in 1990 he drove a different Rolls Royce every day of the week while preaching free love, responsibility to ones self and the evils of institutionalized religion.

      Although fairly culty, I found it it to be interesting and amusing. I dont think Jay was quite as amused as I was. Full length robes must be worn at all times in the ashram, maroon by day and white by night. Osho's face was plastered everywhere. A huge closeup hung over our beds. Open the bathroom door and theres Osho again, staring you in the face. 

      Osho promoted a practice called dynamic meditation. Basically he believed that meditation as traditionally taught is very difficult to achieve in the modern world. Our minds have become clouded due to overexposure to stimuli and the increasing complexity of life . In order to properly meditate we must purge ourselves of subconscious thought processes and urges that are supressed due to adherence to societal norms. 

      Dynamic meditation has five stages, with music accompanying four of the five. Stage one is essentially hyperventilation, breathing in and our of your nose as deeply and powerfully as possible. It brings tremendous energy to the body. During stage two the music becomes frantic. You use the energy gathered during stage one to freak out. Scream at the top of your lungs, cry, laugh, roll around on the floor. The idea is to remove yourself from the process mentally and allow your subconscious and body to work in perfect union. People don't hold back in this stage and it was somewhat alarming initially. Stage three the music changes and you jump up and down yelling "hooooo" from the depths of your stomach. Supposedly this releases some form of pent up body energy. The music cuts out for the fourth stage, silent meditation. After fifteen minutes music starts up again and everyone dances, celebrating life. Again, people rock out completely unselfconsciously during this time.

      Dynamic mediation is just the first of five that take place throughout the day. All involve some type of movement or dance. Before bed there is a final meeting of everyone at the ashram called sangha. Sangha is a celebration at Osho Tapoban. Everyone dances like crazy people to surprisingly good Indian beats then lays down to listen to excerpts from osho lectures. Each song ends with everyone throwing their hands in the air and yelling "Ooosssshhhhhooooo!" As we are all wearing white robes, you can imagine the cult- like nature of the scene. I freaked out, danced and threw my hands up with the best of them. Jay sat down and closed his eyes, occasionally opening them and laughing.

      After a few days we received word that Jays passport was ready for pickup and we prepared to leave the ashram. Although I didn't agree with all of Oshos teaching, there were some points that resonated. Either way, the short stay in a commune and out of my comfort zone was a great experience and one that I will not soon forget.

 - The question is not whether life exists after death but whether your are alive before death.  - Osho    

Trekking the Himalayas

And...... we're back. For the past ten days Jay and I have been hiking throughout the Annapurna region of the Himalayas, northwest of the city of Pokhara. The blog map is now fully functional and I've charted our course through the mountain villages of scenic Nepal (for all the map junkies out there).
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The bus screeched to a stop in the village of Nayapul following a bus ride from the outskirts of Pokhara. Thankfully, we had managed to procure seats in the far back of the bus, saving us from a two hour game of duck and cover with the compartments overhead.

The strong sun was refreshing following two weeks of overcast fog. Passing roadside refreshment stalls we headed down our first of many dirt paths on our way to Birethanti, the starting point for the 10 day trek to base camp of Annapurna I. Having finally reached the countryside of Nepal, we laughed over the presence of candy wrappers that littered the ground. As the trek progressed we would see less of these eye sores, replaced by the heights of snow capped mountain ranges.

For three days we hiked through lowland forests and terraced cliff side farm land, stopping for water or a rest at the villages that appear every two hours along the route. As the sun lowered over the horizon each day we searched out a guesthouse for the night. Lodging costs are very cheap ($1/night), but its an unwritten requirement that all guests eat overpriced dinners and breakfasts at the guesthouse. Daily routines took form as the trek continued. Early wake ups and turn ins book ended six hour days of hiking, the morning air becoming crisper each day. Discounting a sick day we made good time on our way through the villages of Gorephani and Tadapani.

On day four Annapurna I and its neighboring behemoth, Gangapurna rose even higher. A strange phenomenon that I have never experienced, the longer we hiked into the mountain range, the larger the mountains seemed to loom.   Following days of occasionally glimpsing a mountain peak the range became our permanent backdrop. Altitude increased and thick vegetation gave way to stunted scrub and blue white glacial streams. During the day we sweated through our t shirts. At night the temperature quickly dropped. Guests wore down jackets and gloves at they hungrily gobbled down starchy dinners or poured over a book.

Our foresight in bringing spare food and snacks was offset by the mistake of not hitting the ATM before leaving town and we anxiously worried that our money wouldn't carry us throughout the journey. Asking the locals for an their nearest ATM location was useless. Buffalo are staunchly opposed to financial institutions.

On mid day of day seven we reached Annapurna base camp, altitude 4130m (13629 ft). White snowy peaks surrounded us as we craned our necks upward toward Annapurna I, towering ominously at over 8000m. Our legs ached as we posed for victory pictures, our new hippy friend from Colorado taking off his shirt in the freezing wind that blew across the glacier below us.

We stayed the night at Macchapucchre Base Camp, feasting on pizza, pasta and steaming hot mint tea as fog crept eerily up the valley to envelope our guesthouse. The next morning we barreled down the trail, conquering the thousands of stairs that run through Chomrong to reach the hot springs of Jhinu. Our final day of the trek was spent lumbering through the idyllic countryside buffering the river. Our legs ached as we boarded the local bus back to Pokhara, this time with beers in hand. 

14 days in Pokhara

We originally assumed we would be in the small lakeside town of Pokhara for around 3 days before going trekking however this was not to be the case. A string of various incidents involving chris's debit card not working, my being locked out of my own bank account despite having told them before leaving the US that i would be traveling, and finally the loss of my passport have forced us to remain here for two weeks. After around a week or so the financial issues were all worked out and we were preparing to leave when my passport and i were permanently separated on a local bus forcing me to go through a long process. I filed a police report and took the long ride back to Kathmandu to put in the papers for a new one at the US embassy and then again returned to Pokhara. I am definitely ready to get out of here. We have spent too much time walking up and down main street while continually hearing "yes please" left and right from local shop owners gesturing towards useless obscure items such as Tibetan singing bowls, wooden flutes, or questionable Pashmina fabrics. Despite the overwhelming psychological power of this sales tactic we somehow managed to abstain. The highlight of the two weeks was probably getting a haircut and having getting my terrorist-caveman beard shaved off. Nice to look like a human being again although i will miss the heightened problem solving abilities that result from contemplative mustache twirling.

We will be getting on a bus out of Pokhara tomorrow morning to begin the two week Annapurna Sanctuary trek after which we will be returning to Kathmandu to get my new passport/visa and heading south. Sometime around the beginning of December we should be leaving Nepal for warm climates, spicy curries, and seafood in India. A lot has happened and been learned here, but I have stayed a little longer than anticipated and its about time to move on.

Patan To Pokhara

We stayed in Patan. It is the old part of Kathmandu - originally its own city, now a part of the metro. The architecture there is incredible. Building facades covered in ornate wood carvings. Elvin doors lead to hidden courtyards surrounding individual shrines. Hindu influenced Buddhist temples dot street corners and intersections, with animistic iconography carved alongside the enlightened being. Meeting up with Jay was excellent, as I was feeling very out of sorts. Its much easier to cope when you are not alone.

Explored the area on day one. Ate traditional Nepali food; bakery goods, momos, then Newari food for dinner. The Newari consists of curried meats, primarily buffalo. The restaurant was empty when we walked in and the meats unrefrigerated. I was hesitant because of these reasons. We drank Chang, alcohol fermented from millet. Milk

white in color, it tasted like acidic watered soy milk. My stomach churned.

Walked back home past teenage Nepalis out for their night. The city closes down completely at 10pm but its lively until then. Ate delicious ice cream (very popular in Kathmandu). Passed old by men in a dimly lit rooms drinking masala tea.

Tightness in my stomach wakes me up throughout the night. Buffalo taste stuck in my mouth. The next day was not good.

The morning shower cannot break my daze. We walked down the streets looking for breakfast and I drag my feet like a zombie. The sights are too bright. Everything feels disorienting and alien. Smells are overwhelmingly strong. I feel empathy for pregnant women and go to lay down.

Lazed around all day watching Breaking Bad on our computer. At night we headed to a restaurant and ordered anything other than Nepali. I ate chop suey and Jay, Indian Masala. On the streets I breathed through my nose

to avoid the smell of buffalo.

The next day is better. Having exhausted Patan we taxi to Bodinoth, an apparent oasis of calm withing the city. Buddhist monks circle a gigantic golden stupda. Prayer flags rise to the stupa pinnacle. Gift shops encircle the stupa. Tourists raise their camera in all directions. It is not peaceful. Lonely Planet has failed us. We take a cab to the shared taxi station.

Traffic is very bad in Kathmandu, pollution is worse. We sit in the cab for 40 minutes. People burn trash along the road. My eyes water. Jay seems used to it by now. Many people cover their nose and mouth when walking around the streets.The cab approached the shared bus station. It looked like a market with many touts. Fifteen passenger vans troll the market periphery and hype men yell out the vehicles destination.

Our cab stopped and the hype men began banging at the windows. They yell "WHERE YOU GO?" A man pulled my bag away from me and told me to get in his van. I pull my bag away from him and tell him to get lost. Drivers crowd around to bargain.

How Much? I ask

------500 they call out

I laugh - 300

They collectively scoff

350 a voice offers.

Jay and I agree.

We pile into the last remaining seats in the van, bags in lap. The rise is bumpy. We ride through the Kathmandu Valley and the air becomes clearer, the views better. It rains outside and the pollutionof Kathmandu is replaced with the earthy smell of the country.

I put my headphones on and listen to the Grateful Dead and Kanye West, ruminating on the line
"Im living in the future so the present is my past". Either Ye is experiencing the thrill of living some futuristic existence or the struggle of staying in the present moment.

We wind down tight turns on the slippery dirt roads. Two cars have collided head on. People gather around but our driver doesnt blink as we roll through another muddy switchback. The rain pours down and brings a feeling of clean and refreshment, so much different than the dusty city. My head feels much better at this point.

The passenger van arrives in Pokhara after dark. We don our rain jackets and jump out of the van and into a cab. The driver crawls into the darkness and down to the lakefront of Pokhara.

Arrival at the Gates of Hell

To say that arrival in Delhi was a shock would be an understatement. As I exited the airport the air smelt slightly smokey, reminiscent of burning plastic with a distinct rubber finish. Thick heavy smog hung over the parking lot lights. I got a cab and headed for Paraganj, the backpackers ghetto of Delhi. Taxis and motorbikes coast down the road without acknowledgement of traffic lanes, lazily changing lanes on a whim. The pace was unhurried, drivers seeming resigned to move slowly but steadily in a city where traffic is ever present. Honking seems to be regarded as a courtesy used to warn others of their intention to pass or merge. Many vehicles have “Please Honk” painted on their rear bumper.

    Delhi is not what we would call a “vacation destination”.  In my case, its a destination of necessity. Incoming flights are cheap and the location is in close proximity to Nepal, where Jay and I will be trekking in the coming days. Deep puddles pockmark the dirt roads that cut through narrow lanes of dilapidated storefronts. Many buildings are missing their facade entirely. Mangy stray dogs line the streets, rising to their feet to dodge oncoming taxis and rickshaws. A thick film of filth covers everything. Touts harass with offers of guesthouses, tours and taxis. And why is there so much poo on the streets? Needless to say, the place is a hell hole.

I woke up extra early (due to the time difference) and sat on the street drinking chai tea and talking with the vendor. Before the frenzy of the day began the street was filled with people going about their everyday business. Children in uniforms headed off to school. The boys wear these excellent cauliflower blue pants that crack me up. Shop owners open their doors before gathering around to chew betel leaf, a mild stimulant with bright red juice.

I walked the city almost all day just scoping it out. Confirming that it would be best to get out of

Delhi as soon as possible. I headed to the ATM to take out some cash to discover that Indian ATMs did not recognize my card. After many worried hours at the computer Mike was able to patch through some info that activated an ATM card I was carrying for Jay, saving me from sleeping in the Delhi train station. I booked a 42 hour bus ride to Kathmandu and slept through the night.

On and off the tourist trail

Much has happened since my last post. The mountain climb never happened as there were no boots that the company promised would be brought by the porter and no rental shop in all the Everest area had size 13 boots. I was surprisingly given a refund on my return to the office in kathmandu, so it wasn't much of a problem. I got out of the tourist area of Thamel as quickly as possible and vowed to avoid tourist areas at all costs. Tourist areas are halfway houses of overpriced mediocrity where people have flown 14 hours to the other side of the world to eat practically pizza and sometimes spaghetti. Who spends 1200 dollars for a round trip flight to experience some foreign interpretation of the very environment which you spent so much time and money to escape from? Most people it seems... they stay around all the other tourists thinking it is the safe choice to stay in a familiar habitat even though this happens to be where all of the shifty mcgriffs preying on tourists and aggressive touts gather to find creative ways of parting you from your money. It is also where the majority of beggars will be found.
Escaping the sushi and wifi I found solace in Patan where the architecture is hundreds of years old and pretty good meals can be eaten at street stalls for around a dollar. I spent a few days taking in the scene at other-worldy Durbar Square sitting on the temple steps reading the paper every morning with a cup of Masala Tea and a coconut roll. I even made some friends who lived in the area. Rahul who is a college student in Nepal took me out for dinner where we had a spread of different types of Newari food washed down with Chang, a local rice beer, and even insisted on paying - what a nice guy!
The contrast in what one experiences on and off the tourist trail is unbelievable. Two people staying less than a mile away will go home with descriptions of drastically different countries. If you want to get drunk, eat pizza, and go shopping for goods from another culture, you could accomplish this without even leaving your couch.
On another note chris frinally arrived after taking the nightmarish overland journey from delhi to Kathmandu. I cant say i didn't amuse myself with thoughts of his experience in Delhi and the bus trip having gone through the miserable experience myself. It is so outrageously awful you can't help but laugh about it. We since have left Patan spontaneously and are now in the cleaner lakeside town of Pokhara (on the tourist trail again) and are leaving soon to the mountains for a couple weeks to trek to Annapurna Base Camp once he gets over his fever induced by the feast of buffalo meat we had in Patan. Newari food is various parts of the buffalo served with beaten rice (practically woodchips). I found it pretty delicious, but his stomach may not have been ready as he has been here barely a week and probably not adjusted to all the foreign substances in the food. Photos coming very shortly.