Airport Security Love

And so we find ourselves in Delhi, having been thoroughly frisked and hit upon by both male and female employees of the Kathmandu international aiport. Helen got felt up a bit too enthusiastically by a female security guard - what exactly did they think she would be smuggling? - and I had a guy tell me I was very beautiful as he emptied my backpack, revealing my spare pair of (clean) knickers to the world. Ah, Nepal - land of riots, yak cheese, and sexual harrassment.

It's seems kinda pissy that there are only two posts for Nepal - but internet access there is excruciatingly slow, expensive, and unreliable, and besides, we were too busy having fun (and trying not to freeze to death) to want to sit still.

And it wasn't all political tension and curfews - we did have fun. The second night we were there, we hit upon a restaurant and guest house called the Siddharta Guatam, where the bored restaurant manager came for a chat and plied us with revolting - but free - Nepali whisky. Helen ushered over a Japanese guy from the computors, who we wound up kidnapping for a week. (If you're reading this, Mune, hi!)

We drove up and down the mountains with a taxi driver who became "our" driver, taking us wherever our whims dictated, and took photos of some village kids and their goats. We ate Tibetan food like fiends - mo mo, thukpa and fat stretched noodles. Drank heaps of masala chiya, the Nepalese answer to chai, but richer and creamier and much spicier.

We washed our hair in the morning and sat up on the rooftop to let it dry, playing backgammon and drinking tea. At ground level in Kathmandu there's no green to be found - the streets are dusty, and there are no trees whatsoever - the only colour coming from the spice vendors with their mountains of spice, clothes shops selling bright rags to the hippie/stoner crowd, and prayer flags fluttering in the breeze. But walk five or six flights of stairs and step out onto the rooftop and the city becomes a patchwork of hidden gardens, all facing the sky, with pot plants and greenery, chairs, tables, washing lines and the occasional vegie garden.

In the last few days, we even adopted a tribe of neighbourhood children, who sold us paintings they had done of the city and of themselves and followed us like we were the Pied Piper. We bought them biscuits for breakfast, and they insisted on having their photo taken first with Helen and then with me, on Helen's baby digi. They even gave us an email adress, and the instructions to send said photos. They were nice kids, who for whatever reason weren't in school, and who might have been a bit bored, seizing on our presence to entertain (and feed) them.

Throw in a lot of photography, some temple visits, blue skies, freezing nights, a lot of walking around, window-shopping, chatting to Japanese people and drinking tea, and that's pretty much the sum of Nepal. We were pretty sad to leave it behind - although the shenanigans of the airport security staff did make it that much easier.

We've spent the last few days in Paharganj; this is the first time I've been able to access this page, for some reason. We're currently having another government-enforced day of leisure, as we're avoiding the Republic Day crowds, and also, ecverything is shut. Except for the restaurants - we've spent the morning at our new favourite haunt, a tiny, sunken cafe known as the Momo Cave. It is perpetually full of Japanese hipsters and Fench yoga teachers, and looks like a minature Indian version of the Night Cat. Some things are the same the world over, it seems.

In any case, the food is great, and while not as cheap as our favourite street cafe, where we've eaten 'til we've dropped for about a dollar each, it's peanuts by Melbourne standards. Our plan to eat our way around India is off to a flying start.

Yesterday was spent browsing the bazaar. I accidentally bought a traditional Punjabi outfit - I only wanted the tunic to fiddle around with when I get back to Melbourne, but it came with a gigantic scarf and some very soft, billowy pants, which are the most comfotable thing I've ever worn. They have immediately taken the place of my mum's old tracksuit pants as pyjama bottoms, and the scarf is wound around my neck as I write, so it was a pretty good deal, all in all.

It's funny - Helen works at a jewellery store, and is going crazy for all the turquoise; I'm nuts about textiles, and am stopping every few metres to exclaim over embroidered silks. We can't walk down a street here without flitting to every window. It's a sickness.

Last night we went to see a Bollywood film from the eighties at the Imperial Cinema. It was in Hindi, of course, so we made up our own storyline and dialogue and enjoyed it immensley. We also tried to get to the Museum of Modern Art, but the autorickshaw driver didn't have a clue what I was talking about and when we stopped to ask someone he got really huffy and asked me to speak English, please. "Do you know English?" We just gave up after that, and had a relaxing day walking the streets we've grown to know.


Helen says:

Hi there !
It's great to be in India!
So many Japanese people!
(konnichi ha Mune san!)
I am currently in struggle-town trying to think of things to say. It's not particularly easy to follow Jess theJournalist on this blog! We're having SO much fun and look forward to seeing everyone again in a few weeks time.

(No new backgammon scores to relay, but if there were - I would probably be up by approx. 1 trillion points)

Love Helen