Kieron writes... Ode to the Sacred Cows of Kathmandu Valley There was a sacred cow called Daisy Who like Stace was incredibly lazy When her hind legs she parted With serenity she farted Contributing to making Kathmadu hazy Osmotherlies are not good at lazy days. Whilst Cav and Stace parked on the verander, doing whatever people do when they relax - I dunno, I shuffled off in search of the mythical Summit hotel “petite gym”. Having deciphered contradictory staff advice as to it’s whereabouts, I failed to resuscitate any of the dusty, disused equipment (except for [View Full Entry]

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Kieron writes… We’re on this trip, among other things, to do things outside outr comfort zone. As such, when tree huggers, particularly veggies Stace and I, read about the local animal sacrifice rites, we initially thought “no way are we going to see that”. So we rented 3 super-dooper Mountain Bikes and set off on the 40km round trip to “sacrifice central” Dakshinkali, ascending to the rim of Kathmandu Valley in the process. Progress was slow. We inevitably got lost in Patan. The Nepalis don’t believe in road signs or even street names. Instead, a [View Full Entry]

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Kieron writes… We were still surrounded by clusters of uncategorised prospective baggage, our backpacks as distendedly skinny as Stace’s belly. The airport transfer was due in 90 minutes, but we remained locked in the moral and ethical case for packing a 10th t-shirt each. I felt the need to stride purposefully into my bedroom to re-examine (for the umpteenth time that fateful night) my underwear choices including the appropriate ratio of regular versus trainer socks. When I returned to the living room, a growing air of tension hung in the air (or perhaps it was the continuing [View Full Entry]

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