Nepal, paranoid? or is it just the guns?

Well, we're still in Kathmandu, we're heading to Delhi tomorrow. Don't
you think Kathmandu has the coolest name of all time? Well, it's a
close second to Bangkok for obvious reasons.

Do you remember that movie, Gremlins? Where in the beginning the Dad
goes into this Asian junk shop that's spilling to the brim with stuff
that looks really cool, and he buys the cutest little Steven Spielberg
creature you've ever seen called a Mogwai? Well, there's a million
stores like that here.

How that guy ever got that creature through customs is a miracle. Can
you imagine, you're at Kingsford Smith airport in Sydney.

'You got anything to declare, mate?'
'Um, yes. Just a little Mogwai that multiplies when it touches water.'
'Well, it ain't my list, mate, so i guess it should be fine. Go ahead.'

But I'm getting off the topic, that shop, where you bought that
Mogwai, is the exact replica of what almost every store in Kathmandu
looks like. Imagine that one, next to another, next to another,
multiplied by a million, all stacked on top of each other like some
Lego experiment and then surround the sculpture by mountains and
you've got a postcard picture of Kathmandu.

But its very relaxed compared to the freaky Indian cities, like
Varanasi, where everyone seems to have lost their senses. There,
beggars touch you with scabby fingers, filthy bastards drink the poo
stained waters of the Ganges, and let's not to forget the one freaky
silk wallah that stalks you everyday, like he's been designated by the
government to follow you, so he can leap out from dark corners, make
you jump and hit your head on low hanging buildings, and say, 'Now you
will come to my brother's store!'

No, Kathmandu is much more chilled, there's still the same guys doing
the same stuff, low ceilings, beggars, dirty buggers, and crazy
wallahs, all playing the same roles in the a similar way, but they've
got a more relaxed approach. They no longer stalk you, instead,
they're little Tibetan ladies now, that smile their three teeth, and
say, 'You promised me you would buy from me, tomorrow.'

But its easy to get away from them because the biggest insult you can
give a Nep (short for Nepalese and i love that name because it sounds
almost racist) is to say, 'What are ya, a dirty Indian or something?'

'Oh no, sir, i am definitely not Indian.'
'Well, You haggle like one.'

Gets them every time. The price drops. No one wants to be Indian.

But in Kathmandu there's a definite underlying tension behind all the
relaxed front. In fact all over Nepal it seems like there's a two
faced mask to hide the huge paranoid political ball of fear.

'The King! The King!' they say, 'Long live the King!'
Yeah right. They hate his guts.

There's a large military presence with machine gun totting blokes
dressed in blue camo-uniforms on every street corner. I don't know why
they choose to wear blue, maybe they think they'll blend in with the
sky. But it's bit like, 'Oh gee, fellas, I didn't see you hiding
beside that red temple. I almost mistook you for a cloud floating
past.'

At first, their presence is confronting, because they'd often stop
your bus and check everybody in it.

"Do you have a
Maoist hiding under your seat?"
'No, but i understand your mistake. I have had some trouble with my bowels.'

- sometimes they even go so far as make you sign a little book, but
now, after a while, they seem more of a nuisance.

In Kathmandu, there's a huge population of homeless children. Kids
that would otherwise be living in homes in the countryside that have
come here to wander the streets. The conflict between Maoists has
forced them into the cities to make a living as rag collectors because
Maoists have claimed their parents' land for their cause.

The Neps I've talked to, guesthouse owners, restaurant owners, etc,
are cautious about what they say, like they've sewn their lips on
their opinions about the King and the Maoists because they might be
seen as offending either side that might end up in power.

Nepal's divided with 60% of the countryside being occupied territory
of the Maoists while the cities and towns are occupied by royalist
troops. Nobody will say anything but it hangs in the air.

At the pub, talking with other travellers, there's a feeling that
hangs in a bad smell, everyone knows the balance of power is in flux.
If the Maoists did decide to attack, the country could go into civil
war. This seems to be the opinion of most travellers and a couple NGO
workers I've talked with, but then, the papers from India seem to
indicate that India isn't happy with the King, but will be ready to
stop a revolution it happens on its doorstep, that is, if it comes to
that.

Nobody likes the king but the people don't want to become a communist
country. How could they when they're so rich in religion? And the
Maoists, though they call themselves Marxist revolutionaries, they
don't have strong ties to being anti-religious or anti-capitalist
-they just wanna get rid of the king.

An NGO worker i was talking with said,' China doesn't want a Marxist
revolution its doorstep either, because it might make its own peasants
thinking about their revolution that has never quite finished. And
they're more capitalist than the western capitalists.

It's a messed up situation and yeah, Kathmandu a great city, but it's
like a time bomb waiting to go off. So yeah, we're leaving tomorrow,
back to the unfathomable hectic-ness of India, but at least it's seems
all above board there. I'll get my stalker i assigned to me entry.

But tonight, I'll probably just drink a beer, stare at those mountains
and enjoy not exactly knowing what the political situation is and
hopefully stop on the way back our guesthouse to buy a Mogwai .

Nepal, I nearly died!!!!!

I nearly died because I caught Sandy's sickness. I had my money riding
on it being different and being the dreaded chicken flu only because i
think it sounds funny, but I'm such a wimp when it comes to being
sick. I turn into the biggest souk and previously I'd been telling her
to stop being such a baby about it and get over it - she'd only had to
go to hospital once!.

'I'm sure the rooms are much cleaner inside.' I kept telling as we walked
into the hospital. 'They have to be educated about these things. Much cleaner
inside.'

We got shoved in a waiting room full of about a hundred curious yet
pale faces all staring at us while we all waited to be next to see the
only doctor available. Anyway Sandy was fine, he just gave her some
antibiotics and gave me some very serious conversation while he
managed to ignore the existence of his patient, Sandy, all together.

'The reason there is so much corruption in Nepal is because the
politicians want to drive cars like mine. I have a BMW. They're
trying to keep up with me.'

'uh huh'

'How could they possibly afford a house like mine without their bribes.'

'Thanks, mate. You've been truly fascinating.'

The pills he gave her seemed to work. I stole them off her when i got it.

Imagine your face heavy and feeling like it's sliding off - a cough so
deep it touches hell and makes you talk like the devil and a fever to
match the inferno of hell where you feel like you're heading.

Yeah, cool i think I'm up for walking, i said, 'I'm a bloke.'

A day latter I'm vomiting on the beautiful scenery of the Himalayas.
This is where i feel like I'm going to die.

'Just a bit further,' Sandy says, 'We've only got to another 10kms to go.'

The mountains are vertigo above and below me. Clouds are in the
valleys and blues skys above. Another puke shoots from my guts. The
yaks are bleating and conversation is starting to make sense.

I've got a list of places I've puked on now, my first and personal
favourite is Ullaru -Ayers Rock - when i climbed it stoned, in the
middle of the day, and bare footed - a good way to get heat stroke and
blow chunks on the sacred site.

So if i get a few more natural wonders under my belt (or is that out
from under my belt?) i might be setting some kind of new record.

It was then I did decided to steal Sandy's pills.

You can hire Sherpas up there to carry your stuff, and of course I
considered this but there's a whole bunch of philosophies that go with
this

- I'm giving someone a job/I'm encouraging slavery -
- it's giving them something to do/I'm a lazy bastard -

On the whole though the reason i didn't go with the Sherpa (because i
am a lazy bastard) is that the Euros I'd seen marching down the hill
holding their professional walking sticks (pointy ones), dressed in
their skintight Lycra shorts with their ball sack bouncing (or a nice
firm camel's foot bulging for the ladies) while a tiny man stumbling
behind them carrying their lorry load of packs. He'd be all bundled
together with ropes and bags and have then all strapped to his
forehead. The package would be bigger than him and he'd look like an
ant carrying a boulder on its head from a distance with two glamour
queens marching in front of him discussing the latest prices of fake
Gucci handbags.

I guess, somehow, I'd feel like a little uncomfortable letting a
little man carry my load, I'm too proud, but looking back i should
have. I might not have puked on the mountain and had some pair of
glamorous Euros turn their noses up at me as I was doubled over
emptying my guts into the most scenic place on the earth. The Sherpa
said, hello.

So i got better, i even gave up smoking, it's been a whole week
without a ciggie, and we had a lovely walk down the hill. Very nice
views.

Anyway, just though i'd add the little bit about how i nearly died!!!!!