1st February 2017
Today, we planned to retrace our steps back to Kathmandu and continue further north towards the Everest range, staying at a mountaintop hotel in Nagarkot. While there, we were to enjoy an afternoon walk around a mountain village and witness the sunrise over Everest from the balcony of our accommodation at the Himalayan Villa Hotel.
That was the plan. Although we had another early breakfast and were on the road by 7:45 am, we wouldn’t reach our destination until 7:30 pm that evening. Our route took us along the same nightmare stretch of road from a few days prior, though this time it didn’t seem quite as bad. The same nose-to-tail traffic persisted, with clouds of fumes from poorly maintained lorries and reckless Nepalese drivers who appeared to have a death wish.
Despite the chaos, the journey progressed smoothly, with two rest breaks along the way. One stop provided a lunch of a very mediocre curry, but it was welcome nonetheless.
The astonishing thing was that nobody, absolutely nobody, took offence at such appalling road manners. Even when we eventually started moving, the reckless overtaking continued, despite the fact that the only visible gap between vehicles for the foreseeable light-year could be measured in millimetres.
When these drivers inevitably encountered an oncoming juggernaut, bringing all downhill traffic to a halt, they would slide to a stop. Then followed a five-minute pause as it slowly dawned on them that they would have to reverse since the lorry behind them couldn’t, thanks to the mile-long queue in tow.
Once they were tired of reversing, they would simply stop beside some poor, trapped vehicle and wait for the rest of the line to either squeeze forward or backwards, reducing the space between vehicles to a hair’s breadth. Eventually, after much effort, they managed to rejoin the queue of sensible and patient motorists, allowing the oncoming traffic to proceed.
No doubt this was happening further up the road, preventing the free flow of traffic in our direction. If anything like this had occurred on a British road, there would almost certainly have been bloodshed. I suppose, though, that having lived through the trauma of a cataclysmic earthquake, a bit of traffic trouble might seem trivial by comparison. Perhaps?
We arrived at our destination, weary and in desperate need of a proper toilet, shrouded in darkness. After a swift (by Nepalese standards) check-in, we found our room. Sue made tea but soon announced that the final leg of the journey up to Nagarkot had upset her stomach, and she was going to lie down.
I headed down to the bar, where I drank an Everest beer and devoured some peanuts before ordering a meal, joining other members of our group.
Nearly two hours later, our meals finally began to arrive. By this point, I had lost much of my appetite. The first dish brought to the table for a couple in our party was a chicken Kiev, a beautifully sculpted sitting chicken crafted from mashed potato, surrounded by vegetables. It was lovely to look at, but you could clearly see the chef’s fingerprints from where he had moulded his masterpiece.
Understandably, it was sent back to the kitchen. When it returned, the chicken was hot, but the vegetables were cold. After another trip to the kitchen, the vegetables were hot, but the chicken was now cold.
Meanwhile, the rest of us had received our meals and were eating with varying degrees of satisfaction. Unfortunately, I was so exhausted that I only managed to eat half of mine before deciding that sleep was more important. I retired to bed, though I believe a fully satisfactory chicken Kiev did eventually make an appearance.
Palmer Family 
Leave a comment