Nepalese Village Door 22ins x 15ins Oil Pastels on paper 2014
My interpretation of the door to a house in the village of Khumjung, Nepal, high in the Himalaya on the Everest Trail. I was pleased with how this turned out and I’m thinking I should try one or two more similar paintings.
It seems unbelievable (to me, that is), but it’s now fifteen years since I last visited Nepal. This is just a selection of some of my favourite photos from my trips there. Some you’ve already seen, some you haven’t.
Travelling from India to Nepal
Temple in Swayambunath, Kathmandu Valley
Carved wooden window, Kathmandu
Sunset light on Everest.
Rhododendron forest, Poon Hill
Carrying a load…
Wall of carved mani stones
It could have happened.
Everybody needs a challenge.
Sunset on Everest and Nuptse from Tengboche, Nepal.
Well, most do. I guess there are a few people who are so content with their lot they have no wish to stray out of the round of their day to day life, but I think they must make up a tiny minority.
And while it is a great achievement to be satisfied with your life, and not to constantly want a more expensive car, or clothes or jewellery, we all need something to strive for, otherwise we tend to stagnate.
Even the most altruistic, who might strive to eradicate poverty, or bring justice where there is none, need a more personal challenge sometimes.
For some it might be speed – the need to have a go on a fast motor cycle or racing car somewhere. Maybe to try a bungee jump. To feel the adrenaline surge that comes with the mixture of excitement and fear.
On Lake Dal, Srinagar, Kashmir, India.
For others it might be the very opposite. Many of us need the opportunity to spend time away from the 21st century. Those of us who do not like the noise and speed and intensity of our modern life, need to find respite in places like the mountains, or deserts, or somewhere else remote from modern life. Woodlands at night, perhaps, or a windswept beach on an island. The challenge is frequently to find these places or to access them. Perhaps even to make the time to do so.
Monks on their way to morning Puja, Bodhgaya, India.
Those are the sort of places I need, and where I often feel I can do my best creative work. The only places I feel I can really relax.
And the reason I had to walk the Annapurna Circuit.
Just while putting together this set of posts, at times I have looked around the room at the photographs of the Annapurnas, the maps, then at my rucksack in the corner, and felt an almost irresistible urge to just…go.
This sense of adventure is frequently in conflict with the other strands of my life, though, because (like most people) my lack of money and the demands of work and family, and other commitments, prevent me just scooting off for a week or month away whenever I feel like it.
A track through fields and woods a mile or so from where I live.
But I have always tried to take the opportunity to go off to these places when I could, as I reasoned that I couldn’t know how long I would still be able to.
What made me determined to do this was a missed opportunity when I was working temporarily in Peru. I knew that when I finished my six week stint and returned to UK, I might no longer have a job. So when I was offered the chance to stay on for a week to visit Cuzco and Machu Pichu with friends I declined, even though it would only have cost about a hundred dollars for the whole trip. And I regretted it ever afterwards.
Little Adam’s Peak, Ella, Sri Lanka.
I have no intention of looking back on my life later and wishing I had done these things when I had the opportunity.
To compare with the photo in the previous post, this is the same view in the morning – but with the addition of Ama Dablam on the right of the picture. This is possibly my favourite mountain; the classic ‘mountain-shaped’ mountain, similar to the Matterhorn.
This view must have been photographed so many times, but how fantastic is it?
Sunset on Everest (left) and Nuptse (right), photographed from Tengboche.
Tengboche is a monastery complex and a couple of trekking lodges on the route up to Everest Base Camp from Lukla, in Nepal. It sits high above the waters of the Dudh Khosi.
Inside Tengboche monastery following a puja (ceremony).
Rightly or wrongly, I don’t like taking photographs of pujas in monasteries. It feels intrusive and bad mannered. I would feel the same in a church, mosque or temple. This has nothing to do with any beliefs of my own, but is born of simple respect.
I noted in my diary: We have just sat in on a chanting puja, but my meditation failed dismally. I was completely unable to concentrate on my breath as all that I could think of were my freezing feet!
It was blooming cold!
Our guide was waiting for us on the edge of the airfield, with a porter who would load our bags into a large basket on his back.
‘Let’s go to our hotel and settle in,’ said Bob. ‘Then we can go and look at some sights, maybe after lunch.’
‘I’m afraid not, Bob. We’re not staying here. Tonight we’re staying in a little place about six or seven miles up the trail.’
‘Oh, alright.’ He looked a little miffed, but then brightened as a thought seemed to strike him. ‘We could have a second breakfast when we get there.’
‘We won’t be there until mid afternoon.’
‘Huh? Why on earth not?’
‘The paths are pretty steep in places, it makes for a long walk.’
‘Walk?!!?!’
‘Yes, walk. We’re trekking, Bob, remember?’
‘Yes…but…I…’
Walking up the path with Bob was a pleasure I can only compare to dancing in a deep sea diving suit. Every few steps I took I would hear a plaintive ‘Mick…wait for me…’ from behind.
By lunchtime we had covered approximately half a mile and could still see the buildings of Lukla. Our guide, the impassive Pasang, calmly directed us to a nearby teahouse, and then left us as we ordered.
Bob wasn’t terribly impressed with the menu, though.
‘Do they have pizza?’
‘Is it on the menu?’
‘I can’t see it.’
‘Then, no.’
‘What are momos?’
‘Tibetan dumplings.’
‘Yuk. Dahl baht?’
‘Rice and lentils.’
‘Oh, God!’
We had fried vegetables. At first, I thought Bob wouldn’t eat his, from the face he made when it arrived, but walking half a mile that morning had clearly given him an appetite, and he managed to force it down.
As we ate, Pasang reappeared with another Nepali. They stood in the doorway for a while, looking at us and talking in low voices. The other man seemed a little upset and kept shaking his head, then they both left again. After about ten minutes, Pasang was back, this time with a much larger man. Again, they talked in low voices, with a lot of head shaking from the stranger, but they eventually shook hands, although neither looked particularly happy, and went back outside.
After we had finished lunch, Pasang took us outside where our porter was waiting, as was the large stranger, who also had one of those huge baskets on his back.
‘You will sit in his basket,’ he said to Bob.
‘What? No fear!’ He looked horrified. Pasang was clearly struggling to keep up his ‘impassive’ image.
‘If you do not,’ he said, sharply, it will be midnight before we reach the guest house. And,’ he looked at Bob meaningfully, ‘you will miss supper.’
Reluctantly, Bob did as he was told. I may have mentioned this already, but Bob is not a slightly built chap. His love of pizza and his fear of exercise combine to produce a body guaranteed to strike fear into the heart of any fitness instructor.
I looked at the stranger with a deep respect.
They carry large loads, although not usually as large as Bob.
We set off. Pasang led, the two porters walked just behind him, with Bob peering unhappily over the top of the basket, and reminding me strangely of a cat in a basket going to the vets.
Which led to a few unkind thoughts, I’m afraid.
However, two hours later we were at the tea house where we were to spend the night, with no further mishaps. The afternoon had been lovely, and I had wandered along happily at the back of our little group, taking a few photographs but mainly just enjoying being there.
Bob clambered out of his basket and looked around. Then he whipped his phone out of his pocket. ‘We’ve done really well, haven’t we? Let’s take a couple of selfies!’
The following morning we were woken at six o’clock for an early start, but Bob wasn’t feeling well.
‘I think I’ve caught pneumonia,’ he moaned hoarsely.
‘Oh, it doesn’t look that bad,’ I replied, brightly. ‘Probably just a bit of a sore throat due to the altitude. Let’s see how you are after breakfast.’ He dragged himself out of bed and shuffled wearily to the dining room, where he managed a light breakfast of porridge and banana, omelette, bread, toast, jam and coffee.
‘What do you think?’ I asked Pasang.
‘It is definitely best he stays here until we return,’said Pasang firmly. ‘We should not take the risk of him getting any worse.’ I was about to say that it was only a slight cold, but I saw the wisdom in what he was saying, and so I agreed.
So, it was a shame, but we had to do the rest of the trek without Bob.
Silver linings and all that…
Everest is the one in the middle!
I’ve not commented much on anyone’s blogs, recently, as I’ve rather gone into my shell for a bit. I do this at times, I’m afraid…engagement feels difficult…
And I’m fed up with having to sit around all the time with my foot in plaster and bandages. Even reading and writing is becoming a bit boring. Probably those two things are connected.
For my previous post, I revived my spirits somewhat by taking a virtual train journey in Sri lanka, so perhaps I should try something a little more adventurous this time, and put my virtually healed foot to a bit of a virtual test.
What about a trek up to Everest base Camp, then? That’d certainly test it out. And since I’ve got all of this virtual time at my disposal, perhaps I’ll do it the hard way.
But to start with, I’ll have a few days in Kathmandu; I always feel better for that. Just walking around Thamel and browsing in the shops there, stopping occasionally for tea or a snack or a beer at the Rum Doodle, ending up with armfuls of books I didn’t really intend to buy, handmade paper to paint on, handmade notebooks with beautiful cloth covers, some wood carvings…
Luckily, this is a virtual journey, so I don’t have to carry them around with me. I’ll send them back home in a virtual package. But before I do that, I’ll just nip into this inviting looking restaurant for some lunch.
Oh, hell’s bells! Here’s Bob! ‘What on earth are you doing here, Bob?’
‘I heard you were a bit bored, so I thought I’d come along to cheer you up.’
‘Oh, that’s most, er, kind of you, Bob. Where are you staying?’
‘Kathmandu Guest House, Mick. Same place as you. In fact, I got the room next to yours.’
‘Ah. How…nice. Um, have you eaten, yet?’
‘I was just going to order. Oh, they don’t seem to have pizza here.’
‘No, they don’t. there’s a restaurant nearby where you can get one, though. Would you like me to show you where it is?’
‘No, that’s okay. Tell you what, I’ll try whatever you’re having. I’ll have the same.’
‘Really?’ Bob is probably the last person I’d describe as adventurous. I’ve never known him try anything new, and I just can’t believe he’s actually come to Nepal. I’ll ask him why once we’ve ordered some lunch. ‘I’m having the thugpa*, Bob. And a lemon and ginger tea.’
‘Sounds good.’
I order, still slightly shocked, then turn back to Bob.
‘What on earth brought you to Nepal, Bob?’ He looks down at the tablecloth, and seems a little embarrassed by my question.
‘Ah, there was a little, um, confusion, there.’ I wait, but he seems reluctant to continue.
‘And?’
‘I was planning to go to Naples. I think the travel agent must have misheard me.’ He looks up. ‘But it was great to bump into you. We’re going to have a brilliant time!’
‘So it was nothing to do with me being bored, then.’ He looks hurt.
‘Oh, it was! I just thought you’d gone to Naples, too. That’s where your wife told me you’d gone.’ My wife is, indeed, under strict instructions not to tell Bob where I am, and Naples must have been the first place she thought of.
Such is life, though. We chat a little, and the food arrives. Bob looks down at his with an expression best described as ‘disappointed’.
‘They’ve brought us soup.’
‘It’s thugpa, Bob. What we ordered.’
‘But I…’
‘You said you’d have what I’m having,’ I say, firmly. ‘I’m having thugpa.’
‘Oh, okay.’ He watches me eat for a few moments, then asks ‘Can I have bread with it?’
‘You can ask.’
He asks. The waiter shakes his head. Bob argues. He doesn’t want rolls. He doesn’t want brown bread. The waiter disappears, and moments later a boy dashes out of the kitchen and out of the front door of the cafe. A few minutes later he is back with a small package wrapped in newspaper. He runs into the kitchen. After another minute the waiter is out again with a plate, holding two slices of white bread, a knife, and a small mountain of oily butter, which he places down in front of Bob. Then he gives Bob a look that I can only describe as ‘withering’ and returns to the kitchen.
‘See, I knew they’d have it,’ Bob says, triumphantly.
Afterwards, he suggests we go sightseeing. ‘Let’s go to Swayambunath,’ I say, ‘You’ll find that interesting, I’m sure.’
‘Oh, what’s that, is it a castle?’
‘They don’t have any castles here, Bob.’
‘None?’ Sightseeing for Bob means castles. Or gardens. ‘I’ve got my phone with me. Let me take a look.’
‘Oh, I was rather hoping you’d have left that at home.’
‘No fear! I don’t want to get lost in a strange place! Now, what was that name again?’
‘Don’t worry about that, Bob. We’ll get a taxi.’
‘Oh, great!’ His eyes seemed to light up at the thought. ‘I know all about that! You have to haggle, right? For everything. I’ll do that, Mick. leave it to me!’
Well, although I seem to be saddled with a virtual Bob, I’m not going to let that put me off. Although I am painfully aware of the potential for him to offend people left, right, and centre, and possibly cause an international incident.
I suppose we’d better find a taxi.
*thugpa is a Tibetan dish, usually a clear soup of noodles and vegetables
Mick Canning 