The airport of Kathmandu is old and busy. The heat beats my face like a wet blanket and dust is making my white shirt her home. We are early, I wanted to be sure of a a place at the window. A place at the window of a ramshackle plane that occasionally crashes though. I step outside and see the aircraft standing there like a small, shivering little bird. The propellers look rusted out. There are eight seats and we even get a piece of candy. I miteme between the locals and get a spot at the window.
On to Pokhara, the gateway to the frenzied trekking in the mountains of the Himalayas.
Pokhara is a relief after Kathmandu. It’s a little bit sleepy over here, but in a good way. You are surrounded by Nepalese nature and there are numerous local restaurants and hostels, small shops and pastry shops. It almost feels like Switzerland. It’s one of those spots on earth where simply being there is enough, where you feel good and where you would actually want to stay. Forever. Here we meet our friend Tony, a fantastic guy who pulls us into his world of Nepali, drones and enthusiasm. We get to know the locals and avoid the rest of the tourists. We discover the area on a moped and see frenzied villages, rivers and temples. I feel at home here. The Phewa Lake has a soothing appeal. We join a yoga retreat. I feel human again, sitting on the shore of the lake, staring at the colored boats. We decide to hire one and let it take us to the heart of the lake. I see temples and green hills, playful clouds and white mountain peaks. Soft snow and sharp edges keep me in their grip. It is impossible to describe the atmosphere of Pokhara. I’ll just show you. Pokhara, you still brings a smile to my face.