Nepal: Barauli to Pokhara
We left our Barauli Community Homestay near Chitwan National Park early for a five-hour bus ride to Pokhara, Nepal. It was a perfect day, riding on that bus–watching Nepal wake up, and seeing the beautiful and peaceful landscape pass by. I never wanted to arrive.
As usual, our G Adventures guide, Khush, used the time on the bus to tell us stories, explain local customs, and answer our questions. Today, Khush explained facets of Hinduism, Buddhism and Nepal culture.
On the Road to Pokhara
Along the road, we stopped to stretch our legs, for bathroom breaks, and to take a walk across one of the swinging bridges. These types of bridges are high over river gorges, connecting small mountain villages to the main road. In the old days, rivers were crossed via two cherry-picker-sized buckets on self-pulley ropes spanning the gorge. To cross, people would hop in one of the buckets and heave-ho themselves across. Some of these old rope-and-pulley trolleys still exist, but are being replaced by suspension bridges like this one.
When we continued on, the bus driver played a CD of mantras chanted in English. To this soundtrack, brilliant Nepal passed by. A petite woman in a green sari sipped from a teacup on her porch, looking over the railing at her little garden below. Dogs slept in the sun on piles of rock near the road. Painted ads for cement, paint, fans, and alcohol decorated most concrete buildings. Buddha statues and stupas tucked into the mountains. Prayer flags caught the wind.
We stopped at Santas Restaurant for a buffet lunch. Khush told us that the owner relocated here after an earthquake destroyed his home and property on the road North to Tibet. Earthquakes. Nepal gets a lot of them. In Kathmandu, we would see remnants of the massive 2015 quake. But more on that later. This restaurant was a colorful, friendly place with good food, and better coffee.
Pokhara
At last, we arrived in Pokhara under a darkening sky. As we checked into Hotel Bougainvillea, it got dark as night and with that silence of waiting for imminent weather. We walked into our room overlooking the street just as a thunderstorm unleashed. What peaceful, lovely light as the storm rained down. I sat on our balcony, scrunched into a dry corner, sniffing at the mountain rain like a dog. I don’t think there is any better smell on earth than the rain.
SASANE: Combatting human trafficking in Nepal
That night, we went to SASANE, a non-profit supporting and empowering women survivors of human trafficking and gender-based violence. SASANE counsels and provides paralegal job training to survivors and those at risk of trafficking. G Adventures supports SASANE financially, and by bringing tour groups to raise awareness for the cause. SASANE also offers momo-making classes and dinner at their restaurant.
After a rainy ride over, we left our shoes at their door, and they welcomed us with creamy silk scarves and smiles. First, there was a brief presentation explaining SASANE, and the problem of human trafficking among poverty-stricken families. It is estimated that more than 7,000 women and girls are trafficked out of Nepal each year, often bound for brothels in India. We had an opportunity to purchase books about the topic, and crafts made by the survivors.
It was here at SASANE that I bought the book Sold, by Patricia McCormick, the story of a 13-year-old Nepalese girl sold into slavery by her stepfather. This book is a quick and devastating read. I highly recommend it, and Little Princes, by Conor Grennan, to learn about the heartbreaking and tragic outcomes for the trafficked children of Nepal. To learn more about trafficked children of Nepal, read this article from World Political Review.
Making Momo Dumplings
Next, we washed up and gathered around a table to learn how to make dumplings, the ubiquitous momos of Nepal. Momos are steamed goodness, dumplings filled with meat and/or veggies and an array of savory spices. First, we used little rolling pins to roll the dough paper thin on tiny wood cutting boards. Then we laid the dough across our palms, dropped in a dollop of veggie filling, carefully folded in the edges, and pinched it closed like a little cinched bag. The momos were whisked away for steaming and we helped tidy up. When at last it was time to eat, a SASANE participant sat with us and showed us how to eat our Thali set meal without utensils. A remedial student at best, my food mostly missed my mouth, and I resorted to using a spoon to get every last bite.
At the end of the night, we said goodbye. Not understanding that our scarves were a gift to keep, I folded mine to give back as I waited to put my shoes on. “No, no, it’s a gift. You must tie it to a tree one day for our peace and happiness.”
Up into the Himalayas
We got up very early the next morning to see the sun rise over the Himalayas’ Annapurna Range. In the pitch-black morning, our bus went up, up, up a twisting, turning road. We could see a few lights twinkling between trees far down in the valley below. Eventually, we reached the top, and stumbled out of the bus into the long beams and shadows of the headlights. Still without coffee, we ghost walked up, up, up steep steps in the cold morning to wait for the sun.
Sunrise in the Himalayas
The place we came to was quiet, though not empty. Stalls were still covered. A few people huddled around in hoods, talking softly. Over the next 20 minutes, the area became quite crowded as more people arrived for sunrise.
At last, we started to see the outlines of the mountains materialize from the darkness. Then it was light enough to see the white snow on top of the mountain shapes. We shivered and waited. Finally, the highest mountain tops caught the first rays of the sun, and we watched the glowing light move down, down, down the mountains. And then, like magic, the sun peeked over a mountain–rays of sunlight exploded into our eyes. Monks chanted a welcome. Smiles and sleepy eyes, clicking cameras, whispers and sighs, and the warmth of the sun. The mountains resplendent now in the light. The valley visible.
Walking down from Sarangkot
The bus waited for us down the hill. But, some of us decided to walk down. “Down” sounded easy, and it was a beautiful morning to be outside. I decided to take the hike. Bryan opted for the bus and a bit more sleep.
Turns out, the two-hour walk down the mountain was a highlight of my time in Nepal. We navigated down narrow, slippery stone steps and terraced lands of coffee trees and farms. From this viewpoint high above Pokhara, we could see the lake, and the World Peace Pagoda on the far shore. It was still early and cool. The light was soft and dewey. Sleepy guard dogs huffed and puffed at us, curious goats stared, and we walked on, stepping down, down, down the steep mountainside.
We tried to walk without falling, look and photograph without slipping or stumbling. It was so very steep, and such beautiful light on the terraces. My knees and calves began to sing about halfway down, and we shed clothes with the exertion and the warmth of sunlight. It was such an amazing two hours. For the next week, I crept along like a granny suffering from the aches and pains in my legs from that hike down a mountain in Nepal…and, I’d do it again in a heartbeat!
The World Peace Pagoda
After rejoining Bryan and having a well-deserved hearty brunch and more coffee, we poked around the town, exploring the shops and the restaurants for snacks. Later, Carina and I took a taxi to the Shanti Stupa World Peace Pagoda–the building we’d seen across the lake on our morning hike.
It was a quiet and breezy afternoon up on the mountain. As custom dictates, we took off our shoes and walked clockwise around the stupa, admiring the golden Buddha carvings and the view. From here, we could see across the lake to the mountain we had hiked down this same morning. An afternoon storm was coming, the sky getting darker by the minute, the prayer flags snapping in the breeze.
On our way down, we stopped at a temple where monks gathered and pounded drums in a rhythm to match a chant. Vendors sold prayer beads, prayer flags, and incense while dogs wandered among the stalls. Despite the brewing storm, it was peaceful here on the mountain, near the very top of the world, in sweet Nepal.
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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
