This happened a month ago, but I am still happy to write about it.
One of the great things about living in Nepal is that you don’t have to go very far to enjoy some exquisite nature. Shivapuri is a prime example, a National Park teeming with wild animals and spectacular views of the Himalayas. A conservative estimate says that if I left my home now and drove my car to the park entrance I would be on the mountain top in less than three hours, albeit at a brisk pace. On my way to the top of Mount Shivapuri I would cross paths with ermines, reptiles, Himalayan black bears, and snow leopards. The handful of people you encounter would be merchants on their way to or from Kathmandu. The summit itself stands at 2,600 meters, a gnome in this country. But from the top of this gnome you will see its much bigger cousins, snow capped 7 and 8,000 meter giants with no equal in the world.
When we returned to Nepal with the baby, Liebi and I decided that we can travel with the boys, thanks to the baby’s sweet disposition. We would drive ourselves, a twenty-four mile drive to Nagarkot, east of the Kathmandu Valley. Accompanying us would be Sal, a colleague of mine and Kyoko, his Japanese girlfriend. They would be traveling on motorbike. Twenty-four miles is a lot in this country, in this case it translated to one and a half hours in the car. That’s a sluggish pace at best, owing to bad roads, a steady uphill climb once we leave the valley, and bad traffic. We finally arrive at the Courtside Hotel, clearly an independent hotel, but one that does it the right way. Our rooms face the east, and the highest summits of the Himalayas will be revealed to us in the morning when the air is clear. We also have a gorgeous view of some of the villages in the valley. No matter how many tourist buses come up here: this is nothing close to Kathmandu. These are villagers who will have just unwillingly degraded you to fishbowl status. However, it is perfectly clear they don’t mean any ill will whatsoever, so we are encouraged to take a stroll to the villages.
Sal and Kyoko understandably go their own way, they have more of an ambitious hiking project in mind, and we will not see them until the evening. In the meantime, I study an unpaved rocky road that has just taken us up here and see where it continues. Adequate for a hiker yes, but for a stroller holding a toddler and a baby? There is quite a decline from our hotel to the other side of the mountain, so this will require a little muscle. Thank God I’m in shape. The stroller holds the boys while I skillfully dodge the rocks and potholes in the road. We make it to the first village a klick away and are treated to a traditional folk dance group, accompanied by some local musicians, all donning traditional garb. When the stroller arrives at the scene, a good fraction of the crowd divides their attention at our children. Axl is in front, so he will get the brunt of it. Axl hates being fussed over. It doesn’t help here that he is a as white as Casper the Ghost and has outstanding blond hair for a two year old. The villagers, in particular the mothers and daughters, slobber over him as if he were the Buddha himself. Axl wants no part of it. The baby’s sleeping, bless his heart.
What goes down must inevitably go up. Now the boys will have to be pushed back up the hill. The sun is beating down on me. Forgot the suntan oil. The dancers also stop at our hotel, and Axl can now watch them from the comfort of the stroller. He likes what he sees. Nobody here to bother him.
Later we meet Sal and Kyoko at the restaurant, our tables on a balcony. Beer, an Everest, let’s have it! Later Liebi and I sit on the balcony of Sal’s room. The clouds are beginning to lift, revealing some peaks that are just too high for the clouds to hide. We sip whiskey on ice. “Life is good,” Sal says simply. Hard to disagree.
My postcard moment comes the next day. After breakfast I climb down into the valley, Axl in tow. We cover a great distance when we arrive at a Buddha statue surrounded by tall grass. In the background you can see the snow capped mountains. Click. The easiest photo I'll ever make.
It wouldn't be long before I would return here, and then under extraordinary circumstances.
One of the great things about living in Nepal is that you don’t have to go very far to enjoy some exquisite nature. Shivapuri is a prime example, a National Park teeming with wild animals and spectacular views of the Himalayas. A conservative estimate says that if I left my home now and drove my car to the park entrance I would be on the mountain top in less than three hours, albeit at a brisk pace. On my way to the top of Mount Shivapuri I would cross paths with ermines, reptiles, Himalayan black bears, and snow leopards. The handful of people you encounter would be merchants on their way to or from Kathmandu. The summit itself stands at 2,600 meters, a gnome in this country. But from the top of this gnome you will see its much bigger cousins, snow capped 7 and 8,000 meter giants with no equal in the world.
When we returned to Nepal with the baby, Liebi and I decided that we can travel with the boys, thanks to the baby’s sweet disposition. We would drive ourselves, a twenty-four mile drive to Nagarkot, east of the Kathmandu Valley. Accompanying us would be Sal, a colleague of mine and Kyoko, his Japanese girlfriend. They would be traveling on motorbike. Twenty-four miles is a lot in this country, in this case it translated to one and a half hours in the car. That’s a sluggish pace at best, owing to bad roads, a steady uphill climb once we leave the valley, and bad traffic. We finally arrive at the Courtside Hotel, clearly an independent hotel, but one that does it the right way. Our rooms face the east, and the highest summits of the Himalayas will be revealed to us in the morning when the air is clear. We also have a gorgeous view of some of the villages in the valley. No matter how many tourist buses come up here: this is nothing close to Kathmandu. These are villagers who will have just unwillingly degraded you to fishbowl status. However, it is perfectly clear they don’t mean any ill will whatsoever, so we are encouraged to take a stroll to the villages.
Sal and Kyoko understandably go their own way, they have more of an ambitious hiking project in mind, and we will not see them until the evening. In the meantime, I study an unpaved rocky road that has just taken us up here and see where it continues. Adequate for a hiker yes, but for a stroller holding a toddler and a baby? There is quite a decline from our hotel to the other side of the mountain, so this will require a little muscle. Thank God I’m in shape. The stroller holds the boys while I skillfully dodge the rocks and potholes in the road. We make it to the first village a klick away and are treated to a traditional folk dance group, accompanied by some local musicians, all donning traditional garb. When the stroller arrives at the scene, a good fraction of the crowd divides their attention at our children. Axl is in front, so he will get the brunt of it. Axl hates being fussed over. It doesn’t help here that he is a as white as Casper the Ghost and has outstanding blond hair for a two year old. The villagers, in particular the mothers and daughters, slobber over him as if he were the Buddha himself. Axl wants no part of it. The baby’s sleeping, bless his heart.
What goes down must inevitably go up. Now the boys will have to be pushed back up the hill. The sun is beating down on me. Forgot the suntan oil. The dancers also stop at our hotel, and Axl can now watch them from the comfort of the stroller. He likes what he sees. Nobody here to bother him.
Later we meet Sal and Kyoko at the restaurant, our tables on a balcony. Beer, an Everest, let’s have it! Later Liebi and I sit on the balcony of Sal’s room. The clouds are beginning to lift, revealing some peaks that are just too high for the clouds to hide. We sip whiskey on ice. “Life is good,” Sal says simply. Hard to disagree.
My postcard moment comes the next day. After breakfast I climb down into the valley, Axl in tow. We cover a great distance when we arrive at a Buddha statue surrounded by tall grass. In the background you can see the snow capped mountains. Click. The easiest photo I'll ever make.
It wouldn't be long before I would return here, and then under extraordinary circumstances.
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