Tigers, eagles, and time to come home

Farewell, Nepal.

I’m safely home - it was an interesting journey. Priority was given, rightly, to getting relief supplies to the earthquake area; I’m not so sure that the international media, having taken their disaster photos, should have been able to barge their way into flights home. But I’m back.

And before I came back? I made it to Bardia - a national park in the south-west. It’s hard to reach, and so far away from the main tourist trail. Animals are less disrupted by the army of jeeps that career around Chitwan. It’s easier to see tigers …

These footprints were made by a tiger about an hour before we passed on the jeep. Shall we follow on foot? Let’s not. I’ve been too close to a tiger before and it’s an excitement I don’t need to repeat. Though we did see fairly fresh tiger poo further down the path, so the chances are he’d eaten and might not be looking for another dinner quite yet.

Sorry, no photo of tiger poo. The things you can learn from poo! Rhinos stand still to poo while elephants can do it while they trundle along the path. And langur monkeys (like howler monkeys) think it’s funny to pee on tourists who stop under their tree to take photos. (You will understand why I didn’t hang about with my camera.) Eagles, however, are more interested in searching for unsuspecting rodents.

For me, the quiet of Bardia was the point. We stopped for lunch with a view over a blue river, wending its warm way along a sandy valley. No river dolphins, no rhinos coming to drink. Just the heat and the dust and the chirrup of crickets. After lunch we paused by countless watering holes like this - some of my fellow travellers on the jeep were disappointed there were no animals coming to drink, only that wet woodland smell with a hint of animal. But frogs leapt about in the shallows, and the reflections clear and glittering.

I could have lingered, but with  30 day visa my time was almost up. Back in Kathmandu I had one day to potter about before coming home. 

Kathmandu was devastated by the earthquake in 2015. The city itself appears to have recovered: markets are thriving, streets are clogged with motorbikes, festivals (Dashain and now Diwali) are celebrated with as much joy as ever. But looking closely … not all the temples in Durbur Square are fully restored. There are still heaps of rubble and buildings hidden behind scaffolding. And, in the corners where people are living, some buildings have been beautifully restored and look down on grateful shrines, while the homes next door are still leaning on props to stop the building collapsing. 

And so I’m home. I have clean water and predictable traffic and shops full of Christmas razzmatazz. Back in Nepal they are lighting candles for Diwali. It will take me a day or few to relocate myself.

More mountains, and another earthquake.

I need to start with the most recent earthquake. Tremors are common here, and surely we all remember the devastation in Kathmandu and beyond in 2015. Three days ago, the earth shook in the remote north-west of Nepal. People have died; you will have seen pictures of people sleeping in the streets for fear their houses will collapse on top of them.

The relief effort will be challenging: this area is hard to access and supplies may need to be carried on the back of porters - most of whom, at this time of year, are in the mountains with the trekkers. But the Nepali are extraordinarily resourceful. They will not be wringing their hands and waiting for help to trudge over the mountains: that will take time. Meanwhile these villagers will be busy looking after each other. They will harvest what they can and cook over open fires. They will share blankets and any available shelter. 

Meanwhile, I was asleep and felt nothing. And, in true Nepali fashion, my hosts continue to insist that life for tourists must carry on as if nothing has happened. My plans remain unchanged and I’ll be home by the end of the week. Do I feel guilt? Of course. But even if I could reach the stricken region I’d be a hindrance, not a help. 

So let’s backtrack. My last post was written just after I left Lumbini. I had a week or so in Pokhara, pottering by the lake, wandering in and out of shops, lounging in cafes with my notebook. 

Twice I went higher into the mountains. Trekking is off the agenda on this trip, and so Tika drove me to a ridge hotel, where I could watch the sunrise over Annapurna. 

Later in the day, when clouds play in the mountaintops, this is a view down the valley:

My pottering also took me into a little temple by the lake. Hinduism remains a mystery to me (I’ve tried), but half-forgotten temples are peaceful places; I understand the appeal of peace. Though did smile at the pigeon that paid no respect to this sacred bull:

There’s a huge, new Shiva temple high on the ridge above Pokhara: this was full of visitors and an altogether noisier place. Shiva, however, looked down on it all without flinching.

And, across a little valley is a smaller temple. This is the mountains (again - can there be too many mountains?) framed by an archway of bells.

If only ringing a bell could help those rebuilding their earthquake-flattened homes.