Jazz and candles for squirrels

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All is booked for Pokhara. I am leaving Saturday morning at 10:00, flying with Shangri-la Airline. This gives me some time to do some further tourist things in Kathmandu for the day.

After a late wake up, I feel like a colony of bats have taken hold of my head (a peculiar feeling, I assure you). I decide that a shower will do the trick; it fails miserably. I head out into the painfully strong sun to plunge my head underwater in the swimming pool. It helps a little. I try to explain to the waiter that I am in need of a super-strength espresso but I get instead a large cup of weak coffee. 2 swims and a small nap later, I finally feel ready to tackle the bustle of the city.

I take a taxi and head out to Patan, a nearby village renowned for its untouched beauty (6kms from Kathmandu). The village of Patan is so close to Kathmandu that I fail to see a boundary. At first sight, it is very similar to what can be found in the capital. The Durbar square is smaller but more impressive.

The village has a more medieval look, modernisation is less visible, the buildings look older, a lot of woodcarving adorns the walls, doors and windows. I visit a number of temples, including the Golden temple - a large temple so named for the colour of its roofs. It is a jewel of sculpting and chiselling, everything is carved, wood, metal and stone. It seems that the entire temple is dedicated to this fine art. A most impressive sight, if a little heavy on the eyes.

I also pay my respect to the nearby Maha Buddha. This temple is very similar in form to those found in Tibet. As I sit in a dark corner, a flittering butter lamp is hanged from a chain in the centre and, suddenly, all the gods and devils in the Buddhist pantheon take life and chase each other through the shadows of the ancient tapestries and wall paintings which cover the walls.

Patan is interesting but differs little from Kathmandu: it is quieter and more provincial, it has a more concentrated area of buildings with a religious, historical or cultural importance, yet I am glad to be back in the city.
I return to the hotel, have a quick last swim and go out for supper to a nearby Malaysian restaurant. The restaurant is one of those new trendy places where it is good to see and be seen: it has gurgling water fountains, pretty waitresses, funky colours, menus written on glass and, sadly, not enough light to allow me to see what it is I am eating and - more importantly - what I am reading. The food is good if a little overpriced.

I go back to the hotel, with a twitch of excitement: the manager had informed me earlier that they had a great Jazz band coming specially from India to entertain us tonight.

It was a sad concert. The band was there, they set themselves up in the garden which, for the occasion, had been lit with hundred of candles. There was a magnificent buffet, full of lobster and other delicacies at the garden restaurant and no one to enjoy it. The 250-room hotel had 12 guests, over 2 nights: a French group and myself. For the 3 hours I sat in the garden sipping a whiskey, I was alone. At one point, a young couple came in, had a look and left. It was truly sad to see it all go unappreciated and to waste (I mean the food).

There is a distinct lack of tourists in Kathmandu. Since the King has dismissed his parliament and has assumed full power of the state, there is a perception of insecurity in Nepal. The city is suffering: so many tourism-oriented businesses have opened and they are all empty and begging for custom. I can literally name my price for anything I want, they are so desperate for business, any business.

I walked in a restaurant in Patan at lunch and had a look at their menu. It was cheap and reasonably priced. I said jokingly at the waiter that I would eat there if they gave me 50% discount, he accepted immediately, so afraid that I would go elsewhere.

I hope the tourists return: it is a gorgeous country, with so much to offer. The insecurity is there, of course, but not to the extent shown by the western media. Not a single tourist has been attacked in the civil war. Both sides know how important tourism is for them.

With those thoughts in mind and the music of the Indian Jazz band playing for the benefit of hundreds of candles, and a couple of squirrels, I go to bed.

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