Pokhara

This is the second of Nepal’s two cities.  Outside the main locals town, and accessed along a bumpy, potholed road, flanked by soft green roadside where fat, glossy cows munch contentedly, is a tourist town.  A modest, calm, town sat aside a large clean lake, sunk in the hills, and overlooked by a protective arc of the Annapurna range of the Himalayas.  The central lakeside is unashamedly touristy, bars, restaurants, hiking gear shops, adventure sports agents and souvenir shops vie for the visitors attention and outside the main drag of a few of hundred metres, the requests to spend dwindles, and the road becomes quieter, greener, lusher, calmer; and quite possibly close to what heaven is meant to look like.  At the north end of the lake, the road departs from the lakeside, and is replaced with a vibrant green carpet of gentle grass that is soft enough to lie upon.  Wooden hut cafes sit unobtrusively back from the gentle slope to the lake offering views across and beyond the tranquil mirror still waters.  Plump cows and goats, with lush, intact, coats share the space with chubby dogs and smiling people.  Men in wooden canoes paddle with unrushed ease across the lake, spreading their simple fishing nets behind them as they cruise the calm waters.  Across the other side of the lake are undulating hills, bursting with trees, each one clamouring for a bit more space as the terrain creeps serenely upwards.   

Each afternoon since I have arrived, the calm surface of the lake is broken by the thump of marble sized raindrops that pound down from the skies, accompanied by bright electric streaks that disappear behind the hills illuminating them in bright splendour, and the comforting growl of thunder as it rumbles around the valleys.  In the morning the clouds, having been dissolved by the previous afternoon’s downpour, are gone, and the white peaks of the Himalayas can be seen sitting ethereally, regally, god like in the sky.   When the sun shines, it is a warm sun that glows, and a gentle breeze skips lightly across the skin.  There is a calm in the air here that sits peacefully in the ears and mutes the stress within the soul.

And like Darjeeling, there is none of the hassle I have become accustomed to in India.  In every sense.  In addition to the wonderful temperament of the inhabitants here, the sense of apathy has gone.  All the rooms in the guest houses are spotlessly clean, not a single spore, nor a creeping grime line can be seen anywhere.  There is solar heating in most places.  Efforts are made to reduce electricity use (aside from the regular, but irregularly timed, power cuts).  Places boast of their commitment to women’s empowerment, donations of profit to orphanages, and considered treatment of the environment.  The place I have secured a room for the next month has used mud brick in the walls to keep rooms cool in summer and warm in winter, along with using through flows of air to cool rooms instead of fans and has solar heated water.  I have exquisite views of the lake, and the other side of the hills, a balcony, a beautiful room , immaculate bathroom, lovely gardens and when the electricity is out it is quiet, so, so quiet, all for £5 a night.  The Nepalese don’t seem to have a hand glued to the horn like the Indians do, neither do they feel the need to taint all things beautiful with a heavy scattering of plastic.  

However with this serenity comes a price.  Hippies.  Dreadlocked, morose looking fools, smoking way too much dope and taking themselves far too seriously.  When the electricity is on the thump of Goan trance music beats an obtrusive rhythm through the tranquillity.  Fortunately there is an 11 o’clock curfew that means it doesn’t go on for any longer than that, along with regular power outages which offer solace from the shit music that no one even seems to be enjoying.  For the younger hippies there are plenty of warnings of what their deluded, dope induced ramblings will come to if they don’t start thinking about what they are saying, in the form of seriously mentally unstable, toothless, shaggy looking twats.   It seems to me, after some study, that the young hippy starts with an uneducated search for meaning in their life, and instead of reading, learning and thinking about their perspectives, they make it up as they go along and feed ignorance off each other.  A few examples I have heard are, ‘the planet has DNA, and it is mutating at the moment to make seriously bad changes’, ‘drawing shapes and colouring them in can unblock past traumas’, ‘there are sadus that are able to sustain life for 12 years without eating’, along with the ever inane ‘the universe will give you what you want, just ask’, and ‘I’m an old soul’.   This is all obviously quite irritating to listen to, especially when challenges to their world view are received with accusations that I am closed and not open to the universe.  But the really worrying things is what happens when these bizarre mumblings about ‘life, the universe and everything’ are left to manifest and connect all the crazy neurons in the head.  They turn into people who believe they are ‘Shiva, the Buddha and Christ’ reincarnate, that they have the ability to control the forces of nature, that they have understood the mathematics of the universe and know its end, that they are ‘like the Buddha, but less arrogant’ insofar as they won’t tell people how to live their lives, but will just smile at them.  Some of these delusions are so well constructed and insanely far-fetched it is genuinely worrying.  Deeply twisted fantasies about their lives and journeys within it.  What is even sadder, is that in the 3 weeks I was there, I never heard much laughter.  People were so engrossed in their own sense of importance, they forgot to have fun.  Maybe this is the key to staying ‘sane’, laughing at your insanity.

But, aside from the hippies, this place feels like Shangri-La.  There is nothing else I can think I want from a place………..except maybe a loud speaker and a troupe of rational thinking, fun loving, mischief makers to poke fun at the delusional until they start to laugh at themselves and remember what fun is.