Happy Holi!

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Flashback to my first few days in Nepal:
To cut a long story short (like I'm capable of that), the cab driver, who lent me the Visa money, took me to a guesthouse in Kathmandu, where I discovered that Nepal's capital is not unlike Bangkok, only smaller, dirtier and more frantic still. In my imagination Kathmandu had been a quiet, chilled-out town, surrounded by picturesque mountains and catering to a small select group of people, who come to Nepal to experience the wonders of the Himalaya. As it turned out, Kathmandu is anything but quiet, it caters to every kind of tourist and you can't see the mountains for all the smog. In any case, I was here to trek, or hike as we say in Oz, and had barely settled into my room, when I was approached by Mani, the manager of a local trekking company, of which there must be hundreds here, in the courtyard of my guesthouse. After a couple of days' deliberations I agreed to the services of one of Mani's guides, who would safely lead me around the Annapurna range for two-and-a-half weeks. However, first I had to survive the local celebration of Holi, a religious festival, which involves the spraying of water and coloured powders by children of all ages onto passers-by, particularly those of the Western persuasion, accompanied by screams of "Happy Holi". Needless to say that by the end of the day I was covered in all the colours of the rainbow (including something that felt and smelt like engine grease) and soaking wet. I managed to get some of my own back though by picking up a fairly dry and clean looing kid and proceeding to rub some of my Holi cheer onto him, to which he responded by giving me a big kiss on the cheek. In this state I made my way to the reception of the United Nations building in neighbouring Patan to meet up with Amra, an old colleague from Canberra who now works for the UN in Nepal. That evening, after a month of travelling through Thailand and two days of Nepali-coloured madness, I all of a sudden found myself sitting in an apartment, which could have easily been in Melbourne, surrounded by Aussie ex-pats, drinking beer, eating pizza and discussing the Australian government's long overdue apology to the Aboriginal people. A surreal moment to say the least.
I spent the following day walking the claustrophobic streets of Thamel, Kathmandu's tourist district, shopping for warm clothes and some other bits and pieces, and mentally preparing for the trek. Luckily I was distracted from any potential pre-departure jitters by the stories of Cavey and Dylan, two crazy Aussies staying in the same guesthouse as me, who had spent the last few months riding their bicycles from Siberia up to Mount Everest Base Camp and made my impending trip seem like a walk in the park.

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Comments

[ME]

And I thought you played paint ball and got seriously hurt. Your face in the photo looked so serious/hurt. Oh well, I'm glad you were only paying with the kids.