Tuesday, 24 December 2019

Nepal pt. 2: Fellowship leaves The Shire



Wednesday 23.10 - You shall be the fellowship of Annapurnas!

It's an early start today as I aim for the 7am bus, one that should take me all the way to the trail-head at Besisahar. I quickly pack up the remaining bits and bobs and quietly leave the room with everyone else still fast asleep.

After some light breakfast, I wave goodbye to Elbrus home for a while, but promise the owner that I'll be back at the end - after all, I borrowed some walking sticks from the hostel. Plus I left some of my own stuff there, realizing that it's not exactly mid-Siberia where I'm going and I don't really need two power banks and a solar USB charger. and the hoard of other shit I packed..

See you later, Elbrus home...

The bus leaves from the area around BG mall and I arrive shortly before 7. "Where are you going?" is a question to everyone that shows the slightest signs of being a tourist, me with my huge 85l backpack kind of being a clear case. I get quickly directed to the Besisahar bus and spying a few tourists through the windows, I am wondering if some of them will perhaps form my lovely companions for the next couple weeks, companions with whom I will form meaningful friendships that will bring us lifetime of mutual happiness... In other words, I wonder who do I get stuck with.

I get seated almost at the very back, and get an aisle seat which does not hold in its normal position, and thus constantly keeps reclining. Before I get a chance to object to the conductor, my neighbour arrives, introduces himself as Maik from Germany and offers a pretzel he just got of the street. I suspiciously eyeball it for a sec, then decide to politely decline, thinking back to the horrible bus journey I once did in Ghana on a bad stomach after some street food.

Maik's two friends are sitting just across the aisle, so we swap the seats and he gets the fun one. Not wanting to recline too much for the sake of the people behind him, he then spends much of the bus journey sleeping in a collection of funny positions, which would easily pass for "Fell asleep drunk in a pub" photo shoot. Given that the bus jumps around like crazy on its "suspension" and the "sealed" roads, I find Maik's ability to sleep at any time substantially impressive.

The first moments of the ride are exciting though with everyone awake, looking around and pointing to this and that, heads rotating 360 degrees and marveling at the chaotic nature of Kathmandu's traffic. Sellers and beggars hop on at the junctions and try their luck on us, boxes of various goods are taken on board for transport across Nepal and the local passengers come and go, usually occupying the benches at the front section of the bus, where the driver sits. It feels like getting us to Besisahar is just one of the many missions of this journey...

Just like almost every down jacket sold in Kathmandu is "North Face", literally every bus we saw on the streets was a "DELUXE" one, as usually printed with big letters across the back window. However, perhaps since the widespread "DELUXE" sign is now becoming too normal, some buses would be named "Fifa", "Volvo" or even "Google". I knew Google has passed the golden age, but if that's what's actually driving the Google employees around in Silicon valley, I guess I better switch to Bing.

Usually, the main DELUXE sign would be also complemented with plenty of stickers with symbols such as A/C, Power plug, Fan (that looked a bit like the radioactivity sign), or even DVD, LED, MP3 or Facebook - whatever that means for a bus ("this bus features Facebook, cool, eh?") . The reality was a bit different though, and I suspect that the only thing that actually worked on the bus was the steering wheel and the engine.

Free Wifi and Air Suspension. I think no comment is needed.
The initial excitement soon died off and most of the bus fell asleep, including the driver.

Haha, kidding. The driver was kept wide awake by his music, which was happily broadcast to us all, and which got often stuck for something like half an hour, repeating the same chorus about 479 times. Another entertainment for the driver was trying to keep the bus on the road with one wheel off the occasional deadly cliff, especially when descending from the Kathmandu plateau. At that point, I turned to Maik saying "No seat belt, no problem", to which he replied that I should not worry, for his friend told him that it's only one out of ten buses that fall over the cliff. As a statistician, I thanked Maik for the reassurance.

At Dumre, we left the main road to Pokhara and continued towards Besisahar for the final pull. Snow covered peaks soon appeared in front of us and I snapped the first pics of Himalayas, so that I could show off to my friends and family while I was still connected on 4G.

We stopped also for food a couple times, and at one of the stops I got to meet Oli from Australia and Emma from UK. They mentioned their plan to trek to Bhulbule the very same day, and since it was to be only 2 hours, I decided to join them. Later in Besisahar, the three German guys - Maik, Chris and Oli (from now on, Oli (A) for the Australian Oli, and Oli (G) for the German Oli) joined us as well, and thus the Fellowship of Annapurnas was born, and we ceremoniously commenced the journey to Mordor (Thorong La pass) carrying the ring (our bags?).

Leaving Besisahar - the starting point of the trek

The scenery of the first day - farm fields and forests of the sub-tropical zone

Dal Bhat power - 24 hour!
Checking my offline Locus maps, I expected only a short walk on the road for the day, and thus did not bother to reorganize the backpack or take much water. It turned out, however, that the official marked trail takes a rather hilly route through the farmlands and its tiny settlements. For sure it was worth it though, with nice views and a proper experience of the subtropical zone we were soon to get out of. However, when we arrived to Bhulbule already in dark, a shower to wash away the sweat and dust of the day was a very welcome sight.

I wasn't quite sure what to expect from the guesthouses on the trek, but the first one already made a very positive impression, well beyond my expectations. Definitely no luxury, but a pleasant ambiance with everything that one really needs, and - most importantly - great food. As Emma quoted from her guidebook, the place was known for its kitchen and so I ordered my first Dal Bhat here.

Rooms in the guest houses are simple, but not much is needed indeed.
We gathered in the dining area, eating and chatting. And although Vinny once told me that his conversation strategy is to avoid asking "what do you do" for as long as possible and try get to know people through different questions, I was curious to find out. So here we go, behold the Fellowship of Annapurnas!




Chris is a pilot, flying mainly long haul for Lufthansa, and thus constantly hopping around the world and exploring exotic places. He's also a big LOTR fan and at times played "Concerning Hobbits" from his speaker, or enlightened me on the details of Tolkien's world based on Silmarilion. Back on my to-read list! Finally he carries at least thousand USB chargers and various gadgets, making him the MacGyver of our group.



Oli (G) works for the German police and his work now involves "training the trainers", having done his bit of patrolling on the streets and shooting the bad boys (actually, he did not mention the latter, it's just my imagination adding it). He also climbed mt. Kilimanjaro, something requiring a complete expedition including guide and crew carrying kitchen and toilet. Finally, he laughs like crazy, which is very addictive.



Maik has his own business dealing with investment in properties, and it is only later in the trek when I question him on more details. In turn, he inspires me to not be afraid to invest myself (although for now, it ended with the inspiration). I also like Maik's attitude to life and to making decisions (supermarket decisions, I call them) and not being afraid to try new things, which got him to come to this trek. He's also the best person when it comes to annoying Emma.



Emma works for British Petrol where she does some higher management role in the company, and is now enjoying some well deserved long time off, continuing to New Zealand and other places. She's a weight freak when it comes to her gear, and her backpack is about half of the weight of mine. And if you ask her where she's from, she'd say "from Yorkshire", but then she admits to spend most weekends in Lake district, camping with her ultra light tent and a dog (the dog is not ultra light though).



Finally, Oli (A) is the youngest of the group, and also the fastest. An Australian from Melbourne area, his last job was on his family's farm, deeper inland, with temperatures commonly reaching beyond 50 degrees Celsius. His trademark Aussie slang phrase is "It's fucked", which I tried to copy and use in certain situations but it just wouldn't work that well as when he did it. It's simply fucked.

The first day was drawing to its end. The city life was behind us and chilly nights would soon be forcing us to our sleeping bags after the dinner. At 840m, Bhulbule was still reasonably warm in the night. But life in the mountains will have its way - and one slowly obeys and adjusts to the routine of going to sleep early anyway...

As I am drifting away, I feel good about the day and am full of expectations. I'm finally on the trek, the air is fresh, and the people I "got stuck with" are nice. Sure, trekking in 6 will be difficult and who knows if the fellowship will survive. But it's good. A good beginning. Or perhaps, a good end of the beginning...

Thursday 24.10 - Everything is Dal Bhat


A sunny morning welcomes us. The socks and underwear we washed the evening before are still completely damp and so we attach it all to our backpacks, like some sort of weird Christmas decorations.

We eat breakfast and soon set off for the first full proper day of hiking on the trip. We cross Margsyandi river and trek on the east side. The distant peak of Ngadi Chuli is right in front of us and we are all taking pictures as if it was the last 8k peak we'll be seeing on the trip.

Interestingly, Ngadi Chuli has so far been climbed only twice in the whole history! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ngadi_Chuli

Sun is already up and scorching us, and we stop by a a guesthouse in a small settlement, where I refill both of my 1 liter bottles, splashing some more over my head. Local kids are on their way to school and one of them eyes me eating chocolate and says "give me chocolate". Before I have a chance to react, the rest of the chocolate is gone and I thus leave half happy that I have 100g less weight to carry, half feeling a bit bad for letting it go so easily...

We climb steeply, through Lampata, and on our way to Bahundanda. The last part is literally a staircase to heaven but we persevere with the vision of a lunch in the hospitable village at the top. We opt for a viewpoint restaurant which is another few steps higher and then finally sit in the shadow.

A view from Bahundanda, facing south (where we came from)

View from the viewpoint restaurant in Bahundanda - facing north, where we head next


Another small group of trekkers is around, including Julie from Canada and two guys from US. Interestingly, we bump into Julie and her group here and there throughout the trek, but it is really only at the end in Pokhara when I properly get to know her after randomly running into her at the lakeside.

We open up the menu which seems quite diverse and hungry as we are, we all make our unique wishes for this and that, only to be eventually coerced into two choices (Macaroni and Dal Bhat) which seem to be the most convenient ones to cook for the chef :-D

Chilling out with food and beer in the shade is what we live for, but we need to move on, so that we can chill some more at other places. From Bahundanda, we descend a bit and then climb on towards Ghermu, a lovely village higher above the Margsyandi river, with picturesque waterfalls down below. Oli (A) sets a high tempo. Emma feels a bit sick from the heat. My underwear scratches my ass.

Based on the faces, I assume I am not the only one whose ass is scratched by their underwear


We meet other groups of tourists here and there, faces we will be encountering on many more occasions the next couple weeks. We also pass an elder couple from Manchester and Emma is excited as if she met her own mum and dad. I don't understand why, as Manchester is not in Yorkshire.

Interestingly, talking to the guide of the Manchester couple, I find out that he only did the route once before. Hmm.

We descend to Syange and cross the river. Here it's only a few more kilometers on the jeep track to Jagat, our destination for the day. Once again I can't really wait to take the backpack off my shoulders. I entertain myself by thinking of which items from the bag can be thrown away to reduce the weight. Some parts of the first aid kit perhaps. Some more of the snacks. The underwear that scratches my ass. Ok, maybe that one over the first aid kit.

We climb a zig-zag on the jeep track and there's surprising amount of traffic - almost every other minute a jeep or a poor mini truck loaded to the very limits overtakes us and leaves behind a cloud of dust. With rocks and boulders everywhere on the "road", the vehicles swing around and do not overturn only by what is seemingly pure witchcraft.

Finally we spot Jagat, another picturesque village wedged into the Margsyandi valley. We enter its lively premises at around 4pm and aim for the very last hotel at the end of the village, which promises nice views. Some of us bitch about paying 200rs (1.5 GBP) per night as we heard reports from hikers that accommodation tends to be free as long as we eat in the guest house. Eventually, Emma reminds us that "they are poor" and so we shut up and pay.

Jagat, perched in the middle of the canyon does not get too much daylight...


Jagat has a busy and lively vibe

"Dal Bhat" pizza
The peculiarity of the hotel are the doors to the toilets/showers, which feature a perfectly clear and see-through window exactly at the right level for people to look inside at their friends making a shit at the squatting toilets. Somebody skipped planning session here.


We gather for the dinner around 6:30 and order a variety of dishes, including Dal Bhat, Curry, Pizza or Apple pie. Interestingly, we realize that all of it is simply a variation of Dal Bhat - the Curry seems to feature the Dal Bhat veggies, the Pizza seems to have the Dal Bhat toppings and I would swear that even the Apple pie tasted a bit like Dal Bhat! Simply Dal Bhat everywhere you look.

Other than that, the mood is optimistic, mobile data are still available, beer got a bit more expensive but is still within reasonable limits. Oli (A) gets hold of the card deck and teaches us some funny game with about million rules that he uncovers one by one, seemingly at the time when the new rule earns him extra points.

Tiredness gets the best of me soon though and I am back in my sleeping bag at 9 for dreams which I no longer remember, but which were surely full of Dal Bhat.

Friday 25.10 - Pizza for breakfast

I slept well, but I seem to be the only one, and I fear that the others will gradually turn into grumpy zombies due to lack of sleep.

We eat breakfast at 7:30 and three of us go for a pizza - after all why not? It's nutritious, tasty and it's essentially just another type of bread. I use the moment and pull out my sausage (keep reading, it's not what it sounds like) which I brought from the UK (keep reading, almost there) supermarket, and we all have a piece, thus relieving me of extra few hundred grams of weight.

Pizza for breakfast? Why not!

I also order only hot water and use my own teabags, and I rejoice over shedding extra 1 or 2 grams off my shoulders as if I just offloaded a bag of cement.

The breakfast comes late, and we also end up waiting for each other before finally setting off only at 9, which sparks a grudge here and there and the mood gets a bit somber.

For the first mild 20 minutes, the route keeps to the jeep track, then splits off for a steep ascent of good few hundred meters of elevation gain. We're still quite low, the sun is already high and despite some shadows of the trees lining the path, I breath and sweat as if I just finished a marathon. Counting the number of times I refill my bottles, I calculate that I drunk at least 5 litres of water till we reached Ghatte Khola.

The small settlement high above the river surprises us with a small football field which we cross on our way to Chamje. There, we cross the river and continuing on the east side, we start climbing again. The canyon is deeply carved into the mountains and the cliffs are towering above us. Another - this time a bit longer - pull begins towards Tal Phedi. By now we are spread out quite thinly, with Oli (A) far ahead, Oli (G) and Maik at the back and the rest of us somewhere in between.

One's better off not playing the ball high here...
Emma and Oli (G)

We regroup for a moment at a small tea house on the way and agree to lunch at Tal Phedi, again towards the end of the village. We also feel the first signs of the colder climates that we slowly enter into. And although at this point it's a welcome feeling, I get my first "lemon ginger honey" tea of the trek, a brew that makes me instantly hooked, as if they dropped in a teaspoon of cocaine.

This tiny tea house brews excellent lemon-ginger-honey-cocaine tea


We continue through the narrowing canyon with high walls closing in on us. Through the small villages of Kharte and Korte we climb, sometimes more, sometimes less, but nonetheless gaining altitude. A gentle breeze joins here and there and me and Emma get finally content with the temperatures, while others start to put on jumpers. UK weather training for the win.





We finally arrive to Dharapani, a nice and busy little town that features a ACAP checkpoint and where other treks join/split off from the Annapurna circuit. There's still a couple hours of daylight left and so we decide to continue trekking to Bagarchhap.
  
Bagarchhap is an interesting village, though perhaps not much on the positive side of "interesting". The place feels a bit somber, almost devoid of life. The guidebook confirms this feeling, talking about a landslide that happened here a few years ago, literally wiping most of the village along with all of its houses and people. The effects of the disaster were no longer visible though and a couple of guesthouses were open for the odd trekkers that did not just pass through, but decided to stay.

The guesthouse we choose is empty (most likely just like the others) but the owner seems like a nice chap. After dropping our bags in the room, the typical fight for the shower follows. There's two options this time though - a "gas shower", which guarantees hot water (once the owner makes it work), and the solar shower in a little shed on the front yard. Since the day was sunny, I am feeling lucky and go for the latter, which indeed turns out to have nice and warm water. Much worse is the daily washing I do in the adjacent sink running water from a nearby stream - the water is freezing cold and my hands are numb within seconds. And as the sun sets, temperatures plummet and suddenly the realization hits me:

"You're in fucking Himalayas Fero. It's COLD here dude."







Indeed, until that point, we'd put on the odd jumper for the evening, but would otherwise feel little difference against the autumn evenings back home. This time round, all of us pulled out our warmest jumpers, down jackets and huddled round the table in the dining room, looking like a bunch of skiers on a lunch break. Only Oli (A) seemed to be fine just with his Patagonia hoodie.

I believe it's clear we're not exactly melting down in a heat


The (once again) long trek leaves us hungry and we order perhaps the most heterogeneous selection of foods that we possibly can, making me feel a bit sorry for the owner who'd likely prefer to simply cook a big batch of Dal Bhat. However, despite the humble kitchen equipment, him and his aide (wife?) get on with cooking and every now and then a new treat appears in front of us - soups, spaghetti, momos, noodles, fries and even deep-fried snickers. 100% skill.

We continue with playing cards but once again I drop out as one of the first and head to the room. I read for a while but eventually wrap up and fall asleep. My last thoughts are aiming to our group, and I can't help feeling that the good vibes that surrounded it the first day were disappearing a bit.

But that's for another day to resolve.

Saturday 26.10 - Meeting the King

Morning comes and we gather down for breakfast to get some typical breakfast dishes - tea, muesli or french fries for Emma. It's still super cold, but the moment the first rays of sun hit the ground, the whole thing turns around - a light T-shirt is suddenly perfectly sufficient and we hang the washed clothes on a line for a quick-drying process.

First rays of sun come and we're back to shorts and t-shirts
Chris gets a recommendation for a guest house run by the owner's sister in Chame, where we aim to finish today. We're ready at 8, this time much better coordinated than the day before, though the sun is already shining at a full power and many tourists that slept in Dharapani have already passed by. I finish Emma's fries and we set off.

The first couple kilometers are uneventful. Then the fun begins though, and we start a very generous and seemingly never-ending ascent. In principle, it's simply climbing up the stairs cut into the mountain. The route gets intersected here and there with the jeep track and eventually the steepness subdues, as we enter a forest. Chris is telling me all about Middle Earth and Simlarilion and I almost feel like we're two hobbits walking through the Shire, had it not been for the fact that we're both fucking giants.

We now must be in the heights of ~2600 meters above sea level - and I think I feel the first effects of the altitude. There's no headaches or anything like that, but I do seem to breath more heavily than usual. This is also the day I start taking Diamox.

We cross an old suspension bridge and soon we arrive to beautiful village of Timang. At 2700m and at a nice clearing, Timang has superb views in many directions, especially at Manaslu and Ngadi Chuli. Interestingly, these two monsters which were in front of us during the first couple days are now behind us, towards south east, making me realize how much progress we've already made.



Chris either contemplating the depth of the universe, or posing for a staged pic

We find the rest of our group already seated for lunch at a sunny terrace of a guest house. Somehow they've overtaken us, choosing a different route that followed the main road.

Our lunch spot in Timang. Just showing off here

The weather is stunning but the moods are not. Team dynamics, different ideas, as well as the size of our group are playing their part. Oli (A) is looking for a more quiet time and generally more proper hiking experience and thus decides to split off after lunch and go on his own. I am contemplating the same, but for now I stick with the group, although I do fall behind a bit to have some space to switch off.

(From now on - Oli = Oli (G))

Still the complete squadron - lunching in Timang


With fully loaded stomachs, the trail - conveniently - goes flat and even descends at times. After crossing the river to the west side, we climb steeply towards Tanchok. It's just a half an hour or so, but I pant brutally as I say "excuse me" to the phlegmatic cows having their afternoon snacks right there on the trail.

Cows trekking Annapurna circuit

Past Tanchok, it's more or less flat towards Chame, through Koto. I am full of expectations here though - the guidebook says that around this time we shall get the first views of Annapurna II, the mountain that for me remained the King of the whole region. True, Annapurna I with 8091 is some 150 meters taller, but its "smaller sibling" is simply an impressive sight. A giant towering high above the whole valley with its seas of glaciers... I once again take unnecessarily many pictures and walk with my head twisted upwards, despite knowing there are bound to be much better viewpoints later on.

It's there. And it's huge. It's Annapurna II

It is now just a few more minutes to Chame, a lovely and lively town, busy with tourists and with a very pleasant vibe. The numbers of trekkers were increasing every day so far, as many decide to skip the first parts of the trek and start much higher. Chame is generally the cut-off point as it is not too wise to get to higher altitudes too quickly (although there were quite a few exceptions, mainly from the locals who'd take a ride even higher up).

We get the last rooms in the guest house we aimed for and the usual ceremonies of shower and unpacking begins. I recall the advice from the guidebook talking about magnificent colors of sunset over Manaslu and Ngadi Chuli, visible from here, and we decide to go check it out later on.

Before we do that I hang around the front yard of the guest house and meet the smiley Amy from Melbourne. The conversation striker is a huge thick book that Amy is reading - something I would have long thrown away or swapped for a digital copy. Amy is one of the heart-thinkers here though, those that like the physical aspect of holding a "proper book". Had the ascent to Timang not been still so fresh in my mind, I would have almost said "I see what you mean".

Few people from Amy's group join the table - Wayne from New Zealand and a couple from Canada. We exchange our knowledge of Nepali language - Tatopani is hot water, Dharapani is drinking water, Koko is a dog. I link these pieces of information in my mind --> "Tato koko" is "hot dog"!

We explore Chame a bit before the sunset - there's plethora of shops and one almost feels like they can find anything they want, just like at the Oxford street. Not that I need or want anything though, still looking for ways to shed more weight of the backpack.

Chame downtown
The sunset is truly glorious and I snap something like hundred pics on my camera in addition to doing a timelapse on my phone, something I always regret when spending time filtering the images, but unable to help it next time again.


Sunset reflections over Manaslu and Ngadi Chuli

Just like the day before, with the sun gone for the day, the temperatures drop massively and we aim to the dining area for a dinner. Here it's nice and cozy, warmed up by a wood-fired stove in the adjacent room. Chris teaches us two card games which will form the basis of our evening entertainment for the next week or so. The first one is called "fucking", the second one "asshole", which I believe is purely coincidental. They're both very addictive though and with a nice dinner and a hot tea, it's a really a good evening, albeit in four, as Maik is not feeling well and Oli (A) is in a different guest house.

Fucking and Asshole games lift our moods. (This may have sounded weird)


In the middle of a round of "fucking", the doors are flung open and two Chinese walk in, one of them wearing sun glasses (despite it being pitch black outside) like Bono from U2. They just arrived all the way from Kathmandu, with a combo of a bus and a jeep and plan to press on to Thorong la direction the next morning. Chris mocks them a bit, asking if they have also ordered a helicopter already, but they counter that they know what they're doing, as they hike a lot in Tibet. Well, fingers crossed. When they later light a cigarette or awaken us the next day with a 20 minute session of loud coughing and spitting, I get some doubts too.

But that's another day already. Long live the King!

Sunday 27.10 - I did not come here to fuck spiders

The decisive moment of getting out of the sleeping bags gets less decisive every day, though we manage to become homo erectus again at around 7. It's freaking cold, few of us are coughing and sneezing and the Chinese are spitting loudly, forming interesting morning beatbox session.

After breakfast Emma gets the contact for Amy who might join us in the guest house in Upper Pisang, and we start trekking at 8:30. As usual, the sun comes out and forces me once again to my usual outfit of short sleeved Devold t-shirt and shorts.

Leaving Chame, we continue on the main road. It's a dusty business though, and every time a car passes by (which is more often that I'd like) I have to keep my hand over the mouth and nose to breath. Not the best part of the trek, although the canyon below does offer some beautiful turquoise colors to admire.

Road to Pisang is carved to the cliff
We get to Bratang eventually - a recently rebuilt settlement where one feels like in Austrian Alps. Loads of tourists, expensive coffees, fancy wooden cottages. Few hours later I bump into the first Slovak people on the trek, who confirm that a few years ago, Bratang was just a place to pass through. Coming from middle parts of Slovakia, they also tell me that Bratislava (capital at the west of the country) is nicknamed "hovadovo". I am not surprised by none of the two bits of information.

Past Bretang, we gain altitude more steadily. The jeep track is literally carved into the mountain with sudden drops off into the river below, not giving a very stable vibe... We make it alive though and eventually cross a bridge to continue on the east side.

Off and on on the jeep track, we make it to Dhikur Pokhari, which seems like a good place for lunch. We're not alone in that thinking and plenty of other groups sunbath at the guest houses' roof-tops, cherishing the splendid views. After a few days, I opt for Dal Bhat again and ask for refill too. The sun really packs a punch now, and I constantly migrate between the sun where it's too hot and the shade where gets a bit chilly..

Dhikur Pokhari - excellent lunching spot


Oli, Emma and Chris scorched by the sun, while I am getting chilly in the shade just meters away


As usual I finish Emma's meal and we slowly get back on the road. It's not far now to Pisang, but every elevation gain at this altitude (3200m) is now making itself known, especially with the lunch in the stomach. The dust on the road does not help, now being whirled by the wind that picked up in the afternoon. The views are magnificent though and so there's something to keep us going.

Mmm, yak...


A drone-like pic, taken from...

...here! This one taken by me:- )


We aim for Upper Pisang as compared to its Lower sibling. Oli (A) is holding us a couple rooms in a guest house almost at the very top of the town and I am a bitching a bit climbing all that altitude at the end, but am later thankful for the guest house is a really nice one with superb views.

Maik, enjoying a cigar at the Upper Pisang


Amy's daily chore captured on her new profile pic

Our hotel up in Upper Pisang. Kudos to Oli (A) for booking this for us


I get a shower and my mood eventually improves as I'm writing this blog in the cozy dining room with a meal on its way and occasionally chatting to a nice couple from Slovakia that also stay here. Amy comes later on and eventually we all gather in the dining room for some more food and rounds of fucking and asshole. I explain to everyone that I like to "be the asshole" in the game, as it's the feeling of working one's way up to the President that counts, not staying in that position... A parallel that I try to use is that of finally taking a hot shower after having only cold one for ages - the first hot shower is super enjoyable, but then one gets used to the comfort. Others don't seem to take the idea on board too much though and seem to prefer staying President and having hot showers. Hm, pussies.

Chris and Oli order a huge pot of Masala tea, where even a small cup was described to me to "pack a solid punch". Perhaps that, combined with the high altitude and general tiredness adds to a lighter mood and it ends up a good and fun evening in my memory. Amy teaches us some useful Aussie phrases such as "I did not come here to fuck spiders", which I invariably twist to something like "I did not come here to mess around with monkeys" every time I try to use it. Other useful phrases are "That's cooked" and "Does a bear shit in the forest?" which leads the conversation to shitting, especially around how to do it on the squat toilets. The strategy of Oli (A) is finally quoted - simply sit down on it.



Well, I'll think about it.

Monday 28.10 - How about these red bananas?

Today is the day of excellent views. The guide book said that. The New Zealand people I met in Kathmandu said that. I just said that.

It's the upper trail from Pisnag to Manang, that goes through Ghyara. Our agreed destination is, however, Brakha, for we plan to do Ice lakes the day after.

The Fellowship of Annapurnas takes another hit and cracks some more. Emma takes a "day off" and opts for the easy lower trail. Amy goes with her, though would continue beyond Brakha to Manang and re-join her former group there. Chris did not sleep well again and looks for some time for himself, setting off on his own. That leaves me, Maik and Oli and so we get on the trail.

I myself take it easy and fall behind a bit, saving the energy for the dreaded "25 zig zags" promised on the way to Ghyaru. Tourists are funneling to this part of trek from both Pisangs and the trail is busy. The sun comes out fully and the first zigs and zags are a true struggle. I continue super slow though, "little by little, inch by inch", as John Mayer sings in one of his songs, unaware he's in fact describing the ascents at Annapurna circuit. I catch up with Oli and Maik and we're puffing together, creating a new style of techno that will become popular in 2023. A Russian dude runs some hip-hop from his phone though and so I press on to avoid listening to this unsolicited music.

The dreaded zig-zags, captured once conquered.


About two thirds up the hill, we stop at a tiny tea house. Maik asks for a banana and the lady running the tea house, not having one and being a proper business woman, offers Maik a carrot instead with the words "here, red banana".

We finally reach Ghyara and its viewpoint terrace swarming with tourists. Selfie sessions are followed with a small refreshment break where me and Oli give a go to yak cheese. It's a bit strong taste but a nice energy boost all the same. We make some comments on hot Russian girls walking around and eventually get back on the route.



Picture of yak cheese. Unfortunately I have no pictures of the hot Russian girls...

The next segment is relatively flat and full of splendid views. We stop for pictures all the time and find my favorite one with the view of Ghyaru, Annapurna II and IV in the background. Later in Kathmandu, I get a painting exactly from that viewpoint.

Painting depicting Ghyaru and Annapurna III


The same scenery as on the painting, a bit more from the distance
Maik, Oli me and another impressive Annapurna behind us
At Ngawal we think about lunch, though we also know that it's not too far now to Mungji, where we are to meet Emma and the rest at a restaurant. We thus decide to keep going and I propose an alternative route via Chulu - one that should avoid the tourists on the main trail and offer a bit of off-the-beaten-track experience.

Maik and Oli agree and we climb up a bit on a road that does not appear on my offline maps, though eventually joins a marked trail. There's picturesque views and indeed the enjoyable absence of tourists. On the other hand, Maik is not feeling too well and I feel a bit bad for prolonging the distance to the finish line. Might be a sunstroke, bit of altitude sickness, perhaps both. But he keeps going and also keeps assuring us that he's ok.

Annapurna III

On a very dusty hiking trail, we descend steeply to Chulu where time stopped long time ago, it seems. The village is just a few kilometers from the main road, but has a truly peaceful and untouched vibe. We cross a little stream and take a small break, admiring the views of Annapurna III now right in front of us.

Maik leaving Chulu towards the main trail

There's a further alternative trail up above, but we decide to go straight down to Mungji. All the same, it's not a very pleasant hike, with the main trail often covered with inches of snow, making our boots go completely gray, whatever the original colour was.

At a small tea house we pause and get some drinks. Me and Oli chat to a lady who's just completed an expedition to Chulu East - a 6400m tall peak.

Long business = 70rs, short business = 30rs. Time's running.
You got to love their spelling


Maik is not feeling well at all and so we get on the road again for the last 2-3 kilometers. In the dust and thirst we finally eye the welcoming village and in it even more welcoming Emma, stroking a cat at the front yard of a restaurant. Chris and Oli (A) leave to Brakha, which gives us some time to eat and relax and not worry about booking guest house rooms.

Recharged and feeling better, we get on with the last bit too and arrive to Brakha and its Hotel Himalayas at around 4pm. A warm shower, good food and a rounds of card games lift the moods even further.

Before coming to Nepal, I got a recommendation to avoid eating meat, for the way it's processed here often leaves a lot to be desired by our standards. However, meeting some big hairy yaks on the way, I could not but succumb to the temptation of trying some yak meat. Oli joins me on this dangerous path and we both eventually not only survive, but also enjoy the delicious meals! My only fear is meeting an angry yak the next days who'd see it on my face that I ate some of his mates and decides to revenge...


A planning session is next and it looks like another day of splitting apart. Me, Chris and Oli (A) with his group are planning an acclimatization round trip to Ice lakes at 4600m. Emma is indecisive, though eventually opts for a lazy day off in Manang with Oli and Maik.

Past 9pm we wrap ourselves in sleeping bags and I add a cotton liner and a thick blanket provided by the hotel (likely from yak's fur). I look around the room which I share with Emma that night - my bit is full of mess resulting from the "exploded bag pack syndrome" while Emma's part is tidy and neatly organized, adding a bit of homely touch to this remote and temporary accommodation...

Tuesday 29.10 - The "day off"

On the AC trek, it is recommended to take a "day off" for acclimatizing and the time has come for us to do so. And although climbing 1200m of elevation to Ice lakes can hardly count as a "day off", there's certainly one thing to look forward to - going light. We leave the big bags in the guest house and with a small pack each, progress is inevitably faster. All the same, the altitude is unforgiving regardless of the weight of the backpack and the climb is very steep, so the initial super fast tempo set by Oli (A) slows down and we each plod our way up the mountain. I eventually find the best indicator to be my heart - when it beats too fast, I slow down or take a break, admiring the invariably superb views just behind us.

Brakha, from the trail to Ice Lakes

In essence, we know a few facts. My guide book says "long, dehydrating climb", i.e. no water along the route. Chris estimated distance of 6km from Brakha to the lakes. Elevation gain is supposed to be 1100-1200 meters. And a local we asked about the route the day before gave us a 3h up and 1.5h down time estimates.


Annapurna III posing for a pic with the dudes

About two thirds up we pass a tea/coffee house. Surprisingly though, it is closed and thus there's virtually no possibility of getting water till the very top. We're well equipped though and so we keep going, but on the way back I meet the Slovak couple from Pisang who were relying on the tea house being open, so I give them a bottle of water I would not end up using.

Time passes more easily in conversations and it's never a problem with Chris - he talks about his profession as a pilot and I find out a lot of details about the industry, some of which I perhaps don't really want to know (e.g. that Ryanair does not keep much extra fuel to save costs).


We finally reach the lakes after the well predicted 3 hours and the heart takes a bit of a break from the fast beating. We take plenty pics and we're lucky to get nice mountain reflections off the still lake waters, which gets stirred by the wind only minutes later. Several happy and tail-swinging dogs come over out of nowhere and sit next to us, secretly wishing that we brought fried sausages just for them. Instead, they only get bits of dry bread from another tourist, a selfie with Chris and a stroke behind the ear from me.

Chris with the stupa at the top. Annapurna III and Gangapurna in the background

It's the Usain Bolt pose, NOT heiling!

At 4600 meters above sea level.
Our new friends

At 4600 meters, the effects of altitude can be already quite strong. Yet we don't really feel much - a slight headache or the odd pressure at the back of the head is the most I can feel. It seems like either Diamox does its magic, or we simply acclimatized well by doing the trek properly day by day. Still, we don't linger too long and after half an hour at the top, we start to go down.

We say hi to Oli and his group who are laying at the other side of the lake, nicely chilled and stoned after a joint, with altitude perhaps amplifying the effect.

Annapurna III and Gangapurna - the view we enjoyed for the whole day. The sharp peak at very right seems to be Khangsar Kang, which we got very close to when going to Tilicho lake. Annapurna I is somewhere behind and we do think we saw a bit of it at some point.

The way down is fast and easy - after all, the distance is only 6 kilometers and the altitude does not mind us going down. All thus goes well, that is until the moment Chris suggests an alternative route and I stupidly accept. We soon get into very steep and dusty slopes full of thorny bushes where we seem to be more skiing than hiking. Once again completely gray and dirty up to our knees, we finally reach the trail and wash ourselves a bit by the water source just above the village.

We reach Brakha something past 1pm and find out that Emma, Maik and Oli are already in Manang. We decide to use the rest of the day and head to Manang too, but not before a quick lunch at a "fast food" across the road from our hotel. There I also spy an old guitar which calms slightly down my guitar withdrawal symptoms, even though it's not exactly a custom-made Taylor (i.e. it's a bit shit).

On the way to Manang, we run into the chilled out trio just returning from their lazy holiday in Manang. We continue to the town all the same and soon the regional centre appears in front of us. Manang is an interesting place, placed on a somewhat elevated plateau just some 15 meters above the rest of the valley. Thinking of the dusty and crumbling geology of the region, I am thinking it's just a question of time till some part of Manang will be washed away. Today is not that day though, and entering the town through it's gate I feel like entering some important Nepali king's premises.

Manang certainly has a special vibe and I immediately understand why every guidebook recommends spending the day off exactly here. Other than a plethora of excellent restaurants, bakeries and chic almost-London-like cafes where it's easy to get spoiled (and spend money), there's also two cinemas or daily lectures on altitude sickness at the local clinic.

I just catch the end of the lecture while Chris gets some medicines for Oli (A). We do not linger too long in the town though, as it's getting darker and so we head back to Brakha.
Oli and the inhaler

Can juice, our "little treat"
Back in the hotel, we meet the rest of the group, share the experiences from the day and order the well (and for some not so well :-P) deserved dinner. Oli goes for a tomato soup, as he seems to do almost every day. He explains that he heard a saying "if you want to go to the peak, you have to eat tomato soup", which to me sounds like a quote from a badly designed TV advert, but it perhaps does hold some wisdom. He then continues with a yak steak and when ordering breakfast, he opts for spaghetti bolognese. And all along, there's an eucalyptus inhaler stuck in his (and Maik's) nose - an invention that they were sold in Manang. One simply must like Oli.


Best ever chocolate cake
Green shit n. 2
We all also discover the "can juice", which is our "little treat" that always lifts the mood, just like a huge piece of a delicious chocolate cake sold in the hotel. To round off this food blabber, I cannot not mention green shit - the omnipresent spicy green sauce that I nicknamed according to the popular drink from The Moon at Cardiff's Womanby street.

Another rounds of "fucking" and "asshole" follow, but after especially rough loss in the former I pack it up for the day and head to bed.

The "day off" was a good acclimatizing exercise, there and back. From tomorrow on though, the real trek in the altitudes begins, culminating with the day of crossing the pass and heading. Only then we will return to the elevations below 4000m. Are we ready? Let's see.

Monday, 23 December 2019

Nepal pt. 1: Entering the new world


Saturday 19.10 - Bye now, UK


The guitar stayed home. Weight-wise it would have probably fit in the bag, but it would just make it a bit too bulky. And possibly the extra two kilo would matter - especially up there in the altitude where I'm likely to feel every gram of weight… Well, packing is about compromises (just like life, if we want to get philosophical from the very start)

It is a warm and sunny mid-October day in Cardiff. Shutting the door on the house at South Luton place, I have a funny feeling I am going away for much longer than a month. And a feeling that when I come back, things would be different. And perhaps I would be different. The guidebook said "you don't go to Nepal to change it, you go there so that it changes you". Deep shit.
At Queen street, still in Cardiff.



The 85 litre Fjallraven backpack must weight solid 20kg, especially with a small 16 litre hand-luggage one strapped to the top. A thought passes through my mind to get a cab to the bus station, but then I realize I just cannot be a chicken now - I'll need to climb over 4500m with this on my back! A flat walk through Cardiff City centre suddenly seems like a piece of cake.

In the bus to Heathrow, I go full on to use the last few hours of guaranteed connectivity. A few calls, last minute research, downloading maps or recruiting Catrin as a backup "weather (wo)man" (someone to keep me posted about weather in the mountains should I have no connection).

Not sure it's only me, but it is usually at this kind of times, when I arrive to the airport and it's too late to go back that I get some sort of irrational panic attacks. This one went like this: "Hm, where did I put my passport? Do I have it? Oh gosh, maybe not... I should have double checked... I DON'T HAVE MY PASSPORT AND I'LL HAVE TO RETURN AND EVERYONE WILL LAUGH AND .. Oh, here it is".

At Heathrow, I once again marvel at the size of the whole thing and how far we got as a humanity, building mammoth structures like this. I check in my bag (turns out it was 20kg by itself, so the guitar would not fit in anyway.. :/) and commence the several hour weight at the Elizabeth's terminal 2.

Checking out the gadgets at Dixon's, I find a nice lightweight Bluetooth keyboard for 40 quid and the moment is decisive - I'll write a blog from this journey!

Find one problem on the board


The waiting proves to be longer than expected, as the flights is delayed. And as one of the last scheduled departures of the day, the airport hall is getting somewhat eerily empty. At last, the gate number appears on the board and an hour or so later, I get on board of the Air China flight to Chengdu. See you later, UK.



Sunday 20.10 - Through the scary China

It was probably already Sunday when we took off and the dinner was served. I always enjoy the airline food, the funny and creative way the things are packaged, and usually even the taste of it. Air China was no exception here and I gobbled up the fish with potatoes as if it was my last meal.

The lights were dimmed shortly after and I fell asleep. But since we were flying "against the rotation of the Earth", morning happened much earlier than normal. Breakfast was thus skipped and an hour or so before landing, we were served lunch. Thus, in the span of 6 hours, I had fish for dinner and chicken for lunch, which felt like breakfast. A mind fuck!

In Chengdu, I had to first fight my way through the various security and control checkpoints. A short-term visa application had to be filled out. It felt a bit like visiting a high security prison, but I somehow made it and entered the People's republic of China.

Pandas everywhere. First I didn't know why and thought it's some Chinese nation-wide mascot. Later I found out that Chengdu is the place to see Pandas! But more on that towards the end of my trip :-)


I was somehow to contact a driver from the hotel where I was staying. This turned out not to be so easy though. WiFi - does not work. Chinese - cannot read. Almost no one speaks English and even Google is powerless in China. I suddenly realized my helpless situation and almost activated the panic mode again, when I suddenly spotted a guy holding a board with the name "Frantisek". Phew!

I exchange some GBP to the Chinese yuans and a minivan soon comes to drive me to the hotel. Since I never really had a drive from the airport included in the price, I feel like a superstar, but only till the moment when I hop on and realize that the van has about as much knee space as the Great Western Railway trains to Portsmouth. Bummer :-(

The journey takes 15 minutes or so, and meanwhile I marvel at everything I see. My quick impression is that the city is quite well developed - definitely in terms of infrastructure - but without much character. Things seem to be focused on utility, rather than aesthetics and it all feels a bit sad...

I question my driver on the size of the city (20 million, he says) and whether the fog I see is a fog, or smog, but he does not understand (though smog is the likely answer). I half ponder going to the city centre and see for myself, but I am too tired and decide to simply go to the hotel and get some proper sleep. Who knows what will happen in Kathmandu! I type up some of these notes, set the alarm and soon I doze off to the sounds of the busy road and honking cars down below…

Busy streets down below.


Monday 21.10 - Kathmandu welcome

I wake up at 2:30am and can't really sleep much longer - it's something like dinner time back home. I somehow pass the time till my scheduled alarm time and bang on 4:30, the reception gives me a wake up call. By this time I am fully awake though and am drying the socks I washed the other day with a provided hair dryer (easy - just stick the hair dryer in the sock for 5 minutes. Success guaranteed!). A cup of tea (Chinese!) follows and I am off to reception for a drive back to the airport.


At the airport, I chat to a lady from Taiwan, who's also on the Kathmandu flight and who's about to do the Everest Base Camp trek. A million other controls follow, where my passport is checked every time, as if some new content could magically appear in those 5 minute intervals between the checks.

Thinking of the strict rules (e.g during the flight, a perfectly smooth English recording informed us all about all possible reasons for which we can be legally "punished" under the rules of People's Republic of China) and the constant camera surveillance, I pull out my kindle and start reading Michael O'Brien's book Prisons exposed - about the UK's prison system and its flaws. I suddenly realize how easy one can lose freedom if being at a wrong place at a wrong time, and how difficult it then is to get back to the other side, even if one was innocent. These dark thoughts linger for a sec, and I decide to lighten the mood by exploring the store at the gate, which is full of stuff that I've never seen before, and I'll probably never see again either. When I pick a package of what looks like boiled chicken feet, I decide that reading about prisons perhaps wasn't that bad after all. 

Eventually, the 9:40 departure time approaches and we - the passengers - get hauled to the airplane in what must have been either the longest airport bus journey ever, or a planned airport excursion without commentary. 



This time round though, the flight has a much different vibe. Already at the stairs to the airplane, I meet someone doing the Annapurna circuit. Once seated, more and more tourists stream in, all seemingly heading to the mountains. A Bulgarian dude named Vas across the aisle is doing the Sanctuary trek and Polish couple next to me is also trekking.




Upon landing and after sorting out the visa for our trips as well as a Nepali sim card (16 GB of data for 7 quid, so staying connected after all!), we share a cab with Vas to the city centre. A Nepali guy hops on too, and he turns out to be a mountain guide and gives us some good tips free of charge, which instantly makes me suspicious, but it turns out to be just a bit of good exposure for him and his company. He also adds us on Facebook, and a couple weeks later in Jomsom, I actually spot him leading a group of tourists.

I jump off at the border of the city centre (Thamel) and make my way through its busy streets towards the hostel. Since I have been to Ghana before, it's not such a culture shock, but I later realize that Nepal is perhaps even one step crazier and more chaotic than Ghana. The backpack is heavy on my shoulders and the whole day is still in front of me, so I don't linger and aim straight to check in.
The Elbrus home hostel is a really nice place



Elbrus home was recommended to me by Botond, who stayed there a few years ago when he did the Annapurna Circuit. And a great recommendation it was! Straight away I run into a roommate whom I click with, a Dutch Caribbean (whose name is probably written something like Ri-Angelo) who came to Nepal for a two week "visa run" from India. We chat and arrange meeting up later for food in KC restaurant, and I set out to the city to do various pre-trek bits and bobs. 

Pedestrians, mopeds and occasional cars all make for a dense mix in Thamel's narrow streets


One of the more fluid roads in Kathmandu

The main item on my agenda is to get the TIMS (Trekking Information Management System) card and ACAP (Annapurna Conservation Area Permit). After plodding through Kathmandu's thick traffic full of exhausts, I finally reach the Nepal Tourism Board and get the relevant permits just in time before they close the ACAP desk at 3pm.

I then shop around a bit, getting e.g. a physical map of Annapurna region at Pilgrims' book store.

We meet up with Ri-Angelo at KC's around 4:30. The restaurant is empty and a very young waiter who speaks about 5 words of English tries to appear professional, but unfortunately does not understand anything we say, so we end up using Google translate.We explain we need to leave by 5, as I (and Ri-angelo was up for it too) want to visit the local Toastmasters club meeting at 5:30. 

View from KC restaurant. How many cables can you find?

I get a hot&sour soup and it literally blows my mind. It is by far the spiciest thing I've ever eaten and manage about 5 spoon-fulls before I sweat like a pig and can't feel anything on my tongue. The young waiter comes back to check how we like the food, but I only muster a polite thumb up. Is this the spiciness I can expect for the next 4 weeks? (Luckily, the answer was no here).

The spiciest thing I've ever eaten


Once again we fight our way through the traffic and soon we enter the Yellow Pagoda Hotel, where the Toastmasters meeting is held. I am instantly impressed by the professional setup and quite a solid attendance numbers. The meeting itself does not fall short of expectations either, and I hear an excellent speech from a Nepali Toastmaster who addresses a difficult topic - LGBT partnerships in Nepal. A brave, but well delivered speech, and I leave feeling proud to be part of the worldwide Toastmasters community.




Upon return to the hostel, we find a guy in the room very much in the process of packing his backpack. It turns out he's about to set off for the AC trek. He's one of those super-confident Americans that don't say they come from "United States", but just from "The States" (almost prompting me to ask "which states do you mean", but I bit my tongue :-P) and that will "probably do them both" when I ask if he does the Annapurna Circuit or the Sanctuary trek. On the other hand, I admit I am a bit inspired by his enthusiasm and as I am falling asleep, I am imagining the huge snow covered peaks, all around… Soon…

Tuesday 22.10 - In search of the answer


Morning comes after 9 hours of good sleep, and I am glad that I so quickly adapted to the new time zone. The times of the flights definitely helped too, as they got me tired enough to later sleep at the right time.

I get down for the breakfast, which is held at a lovely courtyard with palm trees and provides a great setup for conversations and meeting new people. I sit down to a table with two New Zealanders who've just come back from the Annapurna circuit and it' proves to be the most useful conversation of the days. They tell me the fresh insights from the circuit, the do's and don'ts, that I should do Tilicho lake and the high route to Manang, that I don't need a guide, where to go in Pokhara and various other pearls of wisdom that I later quote during the trek to the others, like some sort of underground facts from KGB.

Upon return to the room, two English girls just wake up, coming back late from a wild previous nights. They too, had been trekking tho, and seem super enthusiastic about the whole experience. One of them gives me her spare Diamox, cursing the fact that she bought it in UK for 30 quid (just like I did) when it can be bought over the counter in Nepal for a fraction of the sum… The other one is questioning whether she'd be able to bring through the UK customs 4 large Nepalese machetes that she got as a souvenir for her friends and family. I wish her good luck.

I don't have too much more prep to do before the trek, so we decide with Ri-angelo to go and do some touristy stuff during the day. We head for the Monkey temple, some 45 minute walk away through the busy streets of Kathmandu. It's a hot day and the traffic smokes and fumes are heavy, so we get a face mask each and thus look like a ambush commando.

Ambush commando officer above the smelly river


We pass a river - if it can be called that way. It's obvious that many things don't work well in Nepal, and one of them is for sure is garbage handling. The river is full of it, has a horrible colour and smells like a sewage. The other possibility is that it actually is sewage, and it was never a river. But as my colleague in pizzeria used to say whenever we swapped the order of ingredients on a pizza: "it doesn't matter - tastes the same".

We keep going and reach the Monkey temple at around noon. The sun is scorching us and the shades of the trees in the Monkey temple offer some refuge. The stupa at the top however requires to climb hundreds of steps and in my mind I am once again pondering the elevation gain of Annapurna Circuit, which I am to scale with the full weight of the backpack on my shoulders.

Up there, we take a few pics and observe the monkeys fooling around or the city below, which seems to be either in a fog, or covered with smog. We sit down eventually in a nice cafe with a nice viewpoint above the stupa. Ri-angelo is looking for some flights in India and is using the cafe's WiFi, to save his data. Since it's not the first time he's considering every rupee he spends, I question him about it and he explains - he's travelling for months, not just weeks and that's when the expenses start to add up. Thus he is thinking in the local mentality and in local prices. And after all, I think he's right - why should one throw money away just because you're a tourist? The flight was expensive and I take unpaid leave, so I, too, enter a bit of money-saving mode. Not too much - but it gets more fun this way too, and one at least ends up looking for less touristy spots and the ways that local people live.

Kathmandu from the Monkey temple hill

Me and Ri-Angelo

Monkeys messing around. It's said that you should not smile or show your teeth at them

After he's done booking his flights, we head back to the city and really don't have much better goal than to go for some food. We aim to Western Tandoori Naan and Bread House, on recommendation from one of the English girls. Another recommendation gold struck! The place is small, always packed, with tourists and locals alike, affordable, efficient and above all - super tasty! No wonder I came back several times later on.

After the food, I split off to do some shopping. I am mainly after some warm down jacket, as I feel like it may not be as warm up there as I thought. There's tens of sports gear stores around Thamel, all of them proudly displaying merchandise by brands such as North face or Raab. A bit suspicious are the prices though, whereby a North face down jacket can be bought for as low as 7 quid. What a deal!

I don't get fooled and look for some more high-end fakes with bit better quality. All stores sell essentially the same thing though, and after visiting about 30 places, I end up coming to the first store I visited and negotiate the price further down. I end up leaving with a lovely yellow "North face" and "Gore-tex" down jacket for about 30 quid.

Later we re-unite with Ri-angelo for some live music and food at a roof-top bar. A Nepali guitar/singer duo plays popular tunes and a large group of Dutch guys sings loudly (and quite badly) along. It's my last evening in Kathmandu before leaving very early the next day for the trail-head in Besisahar, but when we leave around 10, we are still in the mood to try a local night club "Lord of the Drinks", again on the recommendation of our English roomies. It seems like a place worth a visit, but one that keeps its standards too, and since Ri-Angelo wears flip-flops, we're ruthlessly denied entry, and instead decide to get one more beer on the roof-top of our hostel. 


Chatting to Ri-Angelo, I find out that we're in quite similar life situations at the moment: both around 30, both living outside of our own country for last few years and both contemplating the same question - do we stay where we are long term or not? 

For me, this question has been bugging me incessantly and growing stronger and more pressing for quite some time now. It has been a frustrating point of indecision and something that was at the back of my mind no matter what time of the day or what I was doing. For it is not just a matter of simple job change or location move, but everything that follows from there on. It feels like a two-way junction with a huge ridge in between the two roads, which makes it impossible to see to the other valley. And a junction where once you choose, you can't really go back, for when you do choose, you'll become a different person. 

At times I would even wish that I never traveled or lived abroad...That I'd never saw so much of the world, and that I'd never had so many options. For sticking to a single place would make things and decisions somewhat easier. But then I know that it's stupid to think that way - for all the places I've been to, the experience I've gained and the people I've met - it was always worth it. And it all gave me chances - to have a better life, to be a better person and even to make better decisions.

So embracing the cliche phrase of "whatever the choice will be, it will be the right one" was the key here. And somehow, I perhaps already knew what I will do, and I just waited for the right moment to accept it, and to fully embrace it.

Ri-Angelo travels for over 6 months. I decided to search for the answer in the depths of Himalayas.

Move to London or stay in Cardiff? 

Annapurnas, tell me. Here I come.

Tuesday, 17 December 2019

Cardiff, I'll be there now in a minute

I came to Cardiff back in 2015, on a Megabus from London. It was a rainy September evening as me and Tina got off at Kingsway and walked by the Castle, through Westgate street and on to the central station. There we joined the masses off people queuing a good hour for the trains after a world cup rugby game between New Zealand and Wales. You see, our destination was actually Newport, but our Megabus service did not stop there and thus we got to experience this brief taster from the Wales's capital. Rain, crowds, waiting... I had a huge backpack, another big bag and two guitars, and after over a day of travelling in the coaches, I had enough.

Just before boarding the bus to London
Fast forward a few years. It's a mid-December evening in late 2019, as I am standing on the same bus stop and waiting for another Megabus service, this time bound for the opposite direction towards London. It does not rain, I have just one guitar with me, and I'm alone. But this time, I'm not saying "I had enough"...

If someone told me back in 2015, that I'd come to feel this way about Cardiff - as if it was my real home - I'd probably laugh in their face. Too much did I think that the UK society, including Cardiff's, is shallow and consuming and not really for me, and that I'd be long gone by now. Yet thinking of Cardiff as my home is exactly how I feel when writing these words some 4 years later. Cardiff has become a part of me, and I became part of Cardiff.

But what is it, Fero, about Cardiff, huh? Is it the seemingly omnipresent danger of torrential rain? Or the strong winds that blow away your guitar case when busking, along with all the money in it? Or is it the red dragon that's always up in the sky, keeping an eye on the crazy folks going for the Saturday party? Well, yeah, all that for sure. But that's just a part of it.

My former studio in Cardiff - cozy, warm, affordable and walking distance to the city centre. Doesn't get better than this!
But if you want some reasons, here you go, mate. There's the ideally sized city centre. Not too small to find a restaurant or a pub suiting any taste - best ever pizza at the Real Italian, lively Womanby street with its rock n'roll bands and Green shit at The Moon or a whole selection of hipster cafes for those unique catch ups on life with Alex...

The most memorable post-green-shit pic, with Beerjamin, Smelliska and Lady Gaga herself
But a city centre not too large either, making the odds high that you'd run there into a friend or two on a Saturday afternoon, especially when busking around The Hayes. It's simply the ideal size, and the crowded streets after a rugby match that we've seen on the first evening are actually something I came to enjoy, creating a unique atmosphere like nowhere else.

Christmas busking for Llamau 2019 with some amazing voices sourced from the ONS choir.

Best pizza in the world can be found at Real Italian. Obviously I am completely unbiased having worked at RIPC in 2015/16

Next, we have the surroundings. You could argue that that's no longer Cardiff - but anything reachable for a nice summer day trip counts (reminding me of Vinny's story, when he rented a car in Cardiff, did a trip to Neath and when he asked about "what's there to see", he got a response "well, you can do a day trip to Cardiff"). And the Cardiff area has it all - the hills, lakes and waterfalls of Brecon Beacons or Black mountains, the cycling options around Caerphilly or Monmouth, or the unique shores and cliffs around Llantwit Major.

My favorite part of Wales. This cliff that we saw from Nash Point on our cycling trip with Jon was photographed by the best photographer I know - Gareth Llewellyn. I then got the pic painted by the best painter I know - Miles Johal and it's hanging
above my head while writing these words...
There's much more than that which makes Cardiff such a unique city. The lovely Bay area, the affordable living costs, the many societies and clubs such as Cardiff Toastmasters, South Wales Agile group, PyData or AI meetups...

After seeing the September sunrise in Cardiff Bay


The people of Cardiff Toastmasters
But if there's one main thing that made my time in Cardiff so unforgettable and enjoyable, it just must be the ONS, and the Methodology department in it.




This workplace not only taught me so much and helped me grow professionally, as well as on a personal level. It was also a place I'd simply look forward to go to every single morning, almost not feeling a difference between being there and being at home. Well, it just was another home...

The best corner of ONS....
It was there where Andy would say "you learn just as much from the bad line managers, as you do from the good line managers" on our first catch up, instantly making me wonder "is he saying it because he'll be a bad line manager?". Hah, he was the best, just like Nigel... Karen would make for the best project lead I could ask for, giving us all opportunities, trust, support - and most of all - the feeling that she cares. And Owen would always recognize where the junction of my strengths, potential and next challenge lies, and push me gently towards those projects...

Some of the nicest people I've ever met were from the ONS.

Kostas at the bus stop - a typical and a welcome
morning sight!
It was there at ONS where Phil, sipping his coffee, stroking his beard and looking out at the trees outside while thinking would always have the right answer for my question, sometimes even when I was not sure what I'm actually asking. It was there where I'd find the nicest colleague doubling up as the best rubber duck Huw, one that would usually sit just "by'ere". And it was there where Eleanor's arrival would lift my mood every day, invariably showing up with a wide smile, usually cheerfully commenting on how she got wet cycling in through the rain.

Already on the way to work, meeting the awesomest Greeks Kostas and Nicki at the bus stop would be a moment to look forward to. On the way back running into Hazel, I would look for every opportunity to dig for the golden nuggets in some of the most meaningful chats one can possibly have. And on the days when Jon'd give me a ride back, I knew in advance I'd end up walking from Mackintosh place, as we'd always end up so involved in discussion that he'd forget to take the right turn off A48.

On occasions, we'd feel sporty and cycle in or out with Jon, Danni, or Rose, through the pastures green with cows and canals, or over the hills of Caerphilly.

Cycling through Caerphilly on the way back from ONS, with Rose and Danni.

I'd forever see Vinny as the breath of fresh air in Methodology, someone who made us all more social with pub evenings, movies or philosophical brunches. Atanaska would take care of my sourdough while I'd be away, kind of like neighbours do with plants or dogs. Denise would make the supreme Millionaire's shortbread and the late addition to the office Sarah would baffle the whole directorate by anonymously making the best Tiramisu ever to see the light of the world, leaving only a teasing message saying "Enjoy, happy Thursday".

Is it now clearer why it was hard to leave ONS? ;-) Another superb cake made by Sarah for my last day
Christmas choir concert at the nursery on ONS premises
It was a night to remember. But it was somehow hard to remember the next day... :-P

I could go on and on, for there's no shortage of good memories involving ONS. But that would likely make this blog post reach some sort of length limits... Therefore to put it simply:

Thank you so much, ONS.



And thank you so much Cardiff. 

You are a unique place and a place I will never forget. You've been full of fun, warmth, beautiful countryside, music, and most of all, full of amazing people and friends.

And although it may be time to move on, I will damn make sure that the ties won't be cut.

Vinny standing perfectly up to the task of keeping my thinking positive about the move, while moving my stuff to London

For as Ben put it: "you can take the boy out of Cardiff, but you can never take Cardiff out of the boy".

Well, we'll see what happens. It's too early to say. So perhaps best to use that Welsh phrase which kind of doesn't make sense (or was made for these kind of situations):

"Cardiff, I'll be there now in a minute!"