Fond Farewells

Today is my last day in Nepal. To say I’m sad doesn't quite cut it. Obviously I am excited about seeing family and friends again, but I have felt settled here and feel strange to be leaving what has, for the past few months, felt like home. Wherever I lay my hat and all that – always did easily apply to me (after all, I have moved house nineteen times now!) I also feel that I have unfinished business here, and know that I’m leaving a job before I’ve finished it. To that degree, I’ve spent time this week talking with Ramesh from Icon Nepal about me possibly funding some further teacher training (through their company) for the schools I’ve been working with, to give them a bit of a chance. He’s getting back to me with the costings, but it would make me feel a little more confident about their future knowing that I haven’t just introduced them to new teaching ideas then left them high and dry.

This last week has been frantic and has gone so fast. I started the week having a bit of time out in a small mountain village called Astam. Only an hour from Lakeside, it was a different world and I felt utterly removed from the clamours of the city for a few days.

Run as an Eco Village, it is a small family-run guesthouse with farmland; everything self sufficient and environmentally precious, with Malaty and Bishnu the owners very much reminding me of Tom and Barbara Good. Complete with cows, chickens and big fat dog, this really was The Good Life.

The stone houses were all made with local stone and clay inside – sturdy (if not rather cold at night). The bamboo wrapping on the inner walls served purely for decoration. And apparently a giant hairy spider house. I am in no way exaggerating when I say that, on day one when I returned to my room after watching the sunset, there was a spider bigger (maybe even one and a half times the size) than my hand sitting on the wall. Watching me. Knowing there was no way in the world I could squish it (far too big) and no way in hell I was going to try and catch it, I opted for the “Bang the wall really hard like a lunatic” option to try and scare it away. Ten minutes of bashing all the walls with my shoe and I felt a little better. Luckily the bed came complete with mosquito net which to all intents and purposes is like a mighty shield keeping all evil out and making the vulnerable sleeper invincible, so I was able to get a good night’s sleep alongside Spidey and his potential eight-legged family of man eaters.

I awoke for sunrise, but this time, rather than having to climb a small mountain to see it, I simply opened my door, wrapped myself in a good blanket and staggered three paces from my bed.

Me, the birds and the dawn. Utter serenity.

There is something so empowering about seeing the crack of dawn, especially as it falls upon the snowy tips of those silent, majestic Himalayas. It is a sight and a morning that will remain in my memory for a lifetime.

I spent a quiet few days walking around the local hills, reading in the peaceful garden and watching the mountains.

Refreshed, rejuvenated and totally in love with the local eco-warrior family, I hiked back down to Pokhara.

Oh, one thing I forgot to mention: their freaky medieval torture weapon.

Seeing this alarming leather spikey instrument sitting in the kitchen one afternoon, I asked Malaty what the heck it was. She told me that it was the dog’s collar. Hmm.  Now, Setty the dog was indeed rather large

and I guess her neck is quite chunky, but what the heck were the spikes all about? Turns out that they put the collar on her at night to protect her from leopards that roam the local area. Apparently she had a bit of a mauling a few years back, and it’s always the jugular they go for. Like to see them try their luck on her now. Blimey!

My final day in Pokhara started with an eerie mist when I drew back the curtains.

A bad omen considering I had planned to climb the nearby hill that morning to the Peace Pagoda. A serene row across the lake and a forty five minute walk up a hill promises beautiful views across Pokhara, Lakeside and up to the mountains. That is, when you can see beyond the end of your arm.

Luckily, after a lazy breakfast hoping and praying the sun would shine, it bloomed in all its glory and I was graced with a beautiful morning for climbing. Chrissy and her new dog, Buttons, joined me for the ride.

A short row across the millpond lake and we started the climb.  It was beautiful, up through the jungle path and, even though it was steps, steps and more steps all the way, I relished the chance to stretch the legs again. Plus the views at the top were well worth it.

Dazzling in its whiteness, the Peace Pagoda sits proudly overlooking Lakeside, with Budha smiling down on all who wish to see him.

The rest of the day was spent saying fond farewells. I started off with Phil, the project manager for PoD Nepal, who was greatly amused with his gift of a “farewell toast”. Literally. He served me a piece of toast…complete with Marmite! Hoorah, I’ve missed you, you wonderous, salty little breakfast treat!

Knowing I was a fellow fan, he hunted out a supply in a local supermarket (catering for homesick  western tourists) and served me up a little slice of home to send me on my way.

I then visited a Tibetan lady, Karma, whom I had befriended during my stay here, with a bag of some of my clothes, as she has a large family living with her in the nearby Tibetan refugee camp, and I promised I’d help her out a bit before I left.

Then I met Ramesh and Krishna from Icon for a cup of tea, and was very touched when they whipped out a “Gift of Love” from under the table. To say it is The King of Kitch is an understatement. Yet it is so very dodgy I actually think I love it.

Is it a guitar? Is it a clock? Is it a lamp? Is it a pen pot? Is it a strange 'woodland scene meeting the beach-side' ornament? Yes, it is all of those things. How very marvellous! Just hoping it’ll make it through customs.

My saddest goodbyes were with the family I’ve grown to love during my time here.

Shambhu, Parbati, Ramesh, Pramisha and Pranish have shown me so much kindness during my time in Pokhara. From endless cups of lemon-ginger tea and banana pancakes, endless games of chess and interesting discussions, I have grown to love each and every one of them and felt so sad saying farwell. I bought them all a few gifts to say thank you – new hats for the boys

and some books and games for the kids.

Concerned that I might not find them when I come back to Nepal one day (as the lease for their café expires in a few months and they worry they cannot afford the new rent) they took me on their motorbike to show me their house that they are currently renting out while they live at the café. House is the wrong word. It was a tin hut, smaller than my old bedroom, in a tiny little corner of lane. Yet they were so proud of it, and their little bit of land that they also own, where they used to grow vegetables.

The bike ride back to my guesthouse was my final trip on a fearful motorbike during my time here, and yet it was my favourite ride. Not one, not two but four of us crammed on (Shambhu driving and the kids coming along for the ride). Cuddles, tears and lots of waving and kisses blown and we said our goodbyesl.

After another tear-filled farewell with Bindu and family the following morning

I set off back to Kathmandu. The eight hour bus journey was as grim as it was coming. The road is just incredible. Imagine tarmac that’s been melted to give it the consistency of say blue tac or dough. Then take aforementioned melty tarmac and mix it up with a spoon, nice and lumpy. Now let it set. Add in several hundred hair-pin bends, scary cliffs with no barriers and several stray dogs running around and you have the road to Kathmandu. Fun, fun times.

This time I decided to stay in Patan, an area twenty minutes outside of chaotic Kathmandu. It is beautiful: medieval in its architecture, exquisite beauty exudes from every nook and cranny in the temple-clad town.

Patan's Durbar Square is a UNESCO World Heritage sight and houses a remarkable array of intricate architecture. A really beautiful city with so much wonder waiting around each corner, it is a good place to end my days in Nepal.

And so back to England for a frantic few weeks of hospital tests, oncology appointments, swift London visits, Scottish family Christmases and cuddles aplenty with my adorable little niece.

Tanzania is already looming – I’m flying out on New Year’s Eve. Yet I’ve much to do in these frantic few weeks before then. And before Africa and before England comes goodbye to this part of my life. I always hate goodbyes. And I shall truly miss Nepal. I shall miss blue sky mornings that never fail to be there each morning when I draw the curtains. I shall miss Rex, the family’s dog, who is the worst guard dog ever, the most annoying barker in the world, but just loveable all the same. I shall miss watching eagles sour over the lake as the sun is slowly setting. I shall miss seeing glimpses of crisp snow-capped mountains each day. I shall miss the two wonderfully camp men who run La Soupe, a favourite lunch haunt of mine serving gorgeous piping hot soup to the blasting sounds of Whitney Houston pumping on the stereo. I shall miss playing chess and eating pancakes with the family that run New Beautiful Café. I shall miss Bindu and family and the smiles that light up their faces when you come downstairs in the mornings. I shall miss seeing children running happily, yes that’s happily, to school every morning, dressed so carefully in their uniforms. I shall miss the beauty of the people who struggle every day with the corruption and the chaos that is so rife in this exquisite little country.

It has been a greater adventure than I ever could have imagined; a greater challenge than I ever knew I’d face and is a country that holds a bigger heart than I ever thought I’d find. I know I have left a part of myself here and hope one day to come back to find it.

Namaste Nepal. 
Merry Christmas one and all. 
See you in Africa.x