sex throughout the ages, previous pics (!) and luxurious lines.

I´m writing from the cozy, somewhat thamel-y New Orleans Cafe (kisses for that hint, my dearest!), which offers free WiFi, real coffee and power. Yes, power! (The nepali word for electricity is "line", by the way.)

So, this place will be my main place of residence the next couple of days. Got the visa sorted out yesterday, by the way, and will hike to the nepali immigration office later today. 

Now, for some pictures, for those of a more optical inclination: 

Yes, this is ancient chiseled graffiti, found on the stone steps of some trail in the mountains. And yes, it says "puti", or "f*ck". Apparently, ages change, but peoples basic interests (and forms of expression) don´t.

This is yours truly, on the top of a mountain (quite foggy, one hell of an ascent) next to a Stupa donated by a Peter Steiner (A sibling of the anthroposoph fascist?) of Germany. Most of the people in this region are Hindu, by the way. On the way up, as I was struggling with the steep steps, heat, moisture and my own aching knees, a whole school class of local kids strolled casually up the mountain, hollering and cheering all the way. And this on a trail any school in Austria would never consider for a hike (because of the probable high body count). Somewhat demoralizing, that. 

And now, Sex!
Ah, isn´t this refreshing? Apparently, Shiva and Parvati decided to incarnate as doves, and happily proceed to procreate in the Ghorka temple/fortress. 
This is the dark side of Phokara: Bitumen, anyone? There´s practically no public recycling system, other than the occasional roadside burning of plastics.

so far, so good/bad/ugly - dave´s away.

Phokara-Land. Normality and Insanity.

When you´ve spent some time in Nepal, coming to Phokara lakeside really makes you wonder what country you´re in. You actually do cross a police checkpoint, and the impression couldn´t be any stronger.

Lakeside Phokara is like a really big amount of hotel-and-restaurant architects (sometimes with less, sometimes with more skill) were given a free playground. 

Oh well, it still isn´t Las Vegas (or Thamel, for that matter). It´s still somewhat quiet, relaxed and not too bustling with tourists (now´s not Anapurna season, by the way). 

Somewhere between the tourist who told me happy tales of (comparably) gigantic bakshish payed to the indian police, and the fact that, in the current season, I´ll probably be wet all the time (especially in the south, both from monsoon and sweat), I decided going to India isn´t such a good idea after all. Hey, just one month. For a subcontinent that size, you need about a year. Minimum.

Tomorrow´s back to Kathmandu, and change my flight, get a visa extention, check my indian visa, and then stay another month in Nepal. I kinda like it here.

Food, by the way: Momos. Whether veggies or chickens, buffalo or cheese: Momos are a wonderful variety, with some ties to Newari tradition. The name´s tibetan, however, and a lot of exiles are here and selling stuff. To tourists, mostly.

Getting back to the well-trodden trail has it´s ups and downs: On the one hand, you´re no longer the center of all attention wherever you go. Very relieving, actually. On the other hand, the kind of attention you attract is guaranteed to at least start some attempt at selling something. Anything. Be it a blessing or a bracelet, just buy. 

cheers, 

el d.