To a certain extent I do wonder why I visited Pokhara. I am not a trekker. It is a base for walkers and trekkers. That wasn't my scene. So why was I there?
The answer might just be that I thought I might as well visit. I had been reasonably familiar with traveling in Turkey so I had an idea of where I might go, why and how I'd get there. I had researched India (by reading the Lonely Planet Guide on the train, practically cover to cover). However I hadn't done enough research on Nepal. It was a bit like the reason a lot of visitors go to Nepal. They go simply because the mountains, in particular Mt Everest, are there. I was touring India and it seemed that given Nepal was where it was it might as well be visited. "Kathmandu or bust". That was the clarion call in a time gone by. For me it was just a stop on the way.
As I said Pokhara has some of Nepal's most popular trekking. The draw is its position below the Annapurna range, Mt Annapurna itself overlooks the place. The place was mostly full of people who had just come back or were just about to go on the various famous routes. I'm sorry, it's not for me. I have scrambled up a couple of Welsh mountains in Snowdonia. It is jolly good exercise and exhilarating to gaze around from the various tops. Most of the time, however, you seem to be staring at your feet as you walk or climb. You have to be careful not to slip over. The idea of days on end of that doesn't attract me at all. Anyway I didn't have the necessary kit.
I spent my first whole day, after breakfasting at "The Hungry Eye", chilling on the shore of Phewa Tal (Phewa Lake), Nepal's second largest lake, writing letters. At some point or other a young man called Bim introduced himself. I didn't mind. I was getting a bit isolated and welcomed some interaction. Somehow or other we got on to the topic of ganja and before I knew it Bim went off and came back with some fairly raw grass. It was a bit like homegrown but at least it was something.
After a day of doing next to nothing I retired to the Butterfly Lodge. It was probably getting chilly and I continued my writing at the little desk in front of the window rolling up pungent cheroots the while.
At some point there was a knock at the door and I let in a French guy who wanted some help translating a letter he had received from a Japanese traveler he had clearly been traveling with. I tried my best to decipher the letter. I can't remember very much of it but it was polite and was just thanking the fellow, who was called Bruno, for his company and saying how much he had enjoyed their time together. I didn't mind the distraction but did eventually have to indicate to Bruno that I wanted to get on with what I had been doing.
