Nepal: Days 1-2 | New York to Kathmandu

The carpeting is a geometric menagerie of yellows, browns, oranges, and olive greens. You could say the colors of curry and coriander, saffron and chili. I am in India after all. With just 14 plus hours in the air I have made my first stop in Delhi and am snuggling in to a long night on my bed of industrial strength polyester flooring.

Flying is weird. Transporting to the other side of the world in a handful of hours. Cocooned in the plane with little sense of movement except for an occasional bump and shift. Just the constant of the cabin and the rehearsed routine of the flight attendants. With all the window shades closed, it could be any flight to anywhere. Time alternately stands still and moves forward. So when you arrive you can’t quite believe where and when you are. Large major airports look just about the same and Indira Gandhi International is no exception—I feel displaced and familiar all at once. As we approached to land I finally catch a glimpse out the window and see a large illuminated Buddha. Where am I? I keep saying to myself, “I’m in India.” If its Friday, it must be Delhi.

A half hour turns into 4 and I’ve come to know the carpeting of the Transfer Lounge quite intimately. My little group of Kathmandu bound travelers are parked on the floor and await our boarding passes so we can move to the departure area. As the clock ticks by we pace and fidget, snooze and sigh. At 2:30am I would kill for a shower and brushing of teeth. I’m light headed from lack of sleep and lack of a proper meal feeling as though I’ve been partying all night and heading for the crash. So it’s helpful that I’m approached by a security man with his rifle toting friends asking me why I’m there and to see my papers. I stand as a formality while I’m checked out and listen intently to the heated conversation in hindi ricocheting back and forth between the Transfer Lounge officials. My fellow travelers are now watching me with dazed intensity trying to glean understanding from a language no one can interpret. In conclusion, I pass but am now fully awake and ready for...more waiting. Where am I? India? Really?

With boarding pass finally in hand, I pass into the world of the Departure Area. It is a gleaming, glowing oasis of duty free shopping and fast food (curry in a hurry?). Having desperately to relieve myself, I am promptly cruised and discussed by the men’s room attendant and his friend. Stopped in mid-mop to ogle me. What can I say. I still got it after 20 plus hours of no bathing or sleep. But I move on, wandering what seems to be a mile, to my gate, snack on a chocolate protein bar and almonds, swallow some NY water from my still full bottle, stretch out on my spicy carpet, rest my head on my regulation sized overhead compartment fitting carry-on bag and doze off. Where? India.

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The morning sky is bright and blue above the clouds. I sip my lime water and stare at the vastness out my window. My eyes are heavy and my head is light from my short floor nap at Indira Gandhi International. India becomes Nepal as it passes beneath me and I make myself stay awake not wanting to miss the view. I see mountains rise ahead of me and excitedly realize I’m looking at the Himalayas—they seem to grow from the clouds. As we approach Kathmandu the clouds boil up and look much like mountains themselves, building and growing. But they begin to break and holes reveal the landscape below as the plane descends. I see the sharp ridges that lead up to the Himalayas lush and green as emeralds, layered terraces of crops and gardens, fields defined by stone walls, houses clinging to hillsides. I think, “Shangri La!” Then Kathmandu spreads out before us tightly packed in terra cotta and sandstone with the mountains rising beyond.

At ground level, Kathmandu is all chaos. I’m overloaded and all senses are on the alert—my eyes, nose and ears jumping from one scene to the next. Traffic is jammed with cars, motorcycles, trucks, bikes, pedicabs and people. Everyone is honking and out maneuvering. People run out in front of oncoming vehicles. Roadsides are thick with garbage and scavengers. Scroungy dogs lay by the wayside (are they dead?). Women wander in beautiful, bright colored saris. Children selling vegetables and fish. The air is warm and heavy with dust and smoke. After retrieving my bag and passing through customs, I find my ride and first meeting with our guide, Gnima. We weave through the crowded streets to the armed guarded Hotel Annapurna. After a much looked forward to shower and tooth brushing I collapse from 27 hours of travel and await the arrival of the BF on his way from Bangkok. Where am I? If it’s Saturday, it must be Nepal.

Photos from this trip and can viewed here.