31st May 1992 Day 316

The Diary
We checked out, caught rickshaws to the station and bought first-class tickets without any problem or queueing at all. The train was 'The Bombay Mail' and it arrived on platform 2. To get seats we were told to visit the TC on platform 1. We wandered up and down platform 1, enquiring in the offices, receiving blank looks and getting directions back to where we'd come from. We eventually found the TC. A room filled with about 10 blokes lying around. "See the conductor, train is on platform 3". We thanked them for their ineptitude and went to platform 2. No officials of any sort.

When it finally showed up

We sat down. A stream of beggars filed past us, trains came and went but not the 10:40 Bombay Mail. I went to the Enquiry Desk to find out what had happened to the train. They wouldn't even come to the window so I aimed a torrent of sarcastic remarks in their direction and went to the Assistance Desk. "Go to the Enquiry Desk" they said. At this point, in a very loud voice, I said "they're not even coming to the window, tell me what's happened to the Bombay Mail? I'm going to Satna". Mr Assistance looked down, checked his papers and said "It's 2 hours late, it will arrive on platform 2". "Thank you".

We were in a station full of unfriendly, unhelpful, lazy buck-passers. My blood was boiling. The 10:40 eventually turned up after 1pm. We got on the first class carriage but the occupants wouldn't open the doors, claiming it was full. I cracked up. Expletives filled the air. The conductor was not to be found, no-one would own up to being an official. When the conductor eventually did turn up, he listened to me and then walked off. We resigned ourselves to standing by the toilets for the 3 hour journey, which took 4 hrs, and we were joined by three incredibly grumpy soldiers. 


We decided at this point that the Indians were the unhappiest, most uncommunicative race we'd encountered. No-one would approach us with help and they will only speak English if approached by us first. Then they seem not to understand our English although we can understand them perfectly well. Anyone that doesn't speak English won't even try to communicate. They'll shrug their shoulders, look the other way or walk away. Indian travel is one big battle. 

At Satna we caught an auto-rickshaw to the Hotel Park. "The Hotel Park" we repeated several times. "Yes, yes" our driver said and took us to the bus station. We tried again. When we got the hotel he wouldn't give us 5rp change from a 20rp note. But Oz stuck it out and he eventually, grudgingly got the note out of his pocket. Nothing's easy.


We found a restaurant to eat in. Chicken on, mutton off. But the service was quite good and it was cheap. Indian TV is crap though. I also noticed today that my old camera, as well as my alarm clock, had gone missing. Thieves about.

2012
TC ? Ticket counter maybe?


I'd certainly travelled on crowded trains before and also stood by the toilets - but not near toilets (a hole in the floor really) quite so smelly and disgusting.


Were we the only people to have trouble travelling by train in India? I think not. It can be quite complex and remember this was in the days before the interweb.
http://www.halabol.com/2012/06/08/irctc-bookings-painkiller-needed
http://www.lonelyplanet.com/thorntree/thread.jspa?threadID=1682786

30th May 1992 Day 315

The Diary
We weren't woken up by my alarm clock because it had disappeared somewhere between Pokhara and Varanasi but we did get up before 9am and left Om Lodge and headed to the station. We went to the tourist office, checked with the bloke there, I guarded the bags and Oz joined the queue he was told to go to. 40mins later he was back. "I've been standing in the wrong queue, he told me to stand in the wrong queue!".

We asked again and this time I went to queue for the ticket. The queue was in the other station hall and it was absolute pandemonium. Whereas in the first hall lots of people were just sitting about, in this hall everyone was queueing. And queueing in a very un-British-like manner. The queues were 50-60 yards long, single file apart from the melee by the ticket office window and everyone was squeezed tightly together as if several hundred people were simultaneously undergoing anal sex. I couldn't see Allahabad on the boards so I wandered towards the front. A policeman came up and asked me where I wanted to go. I told him and he said "follow me". He walked towards one of the windows and with the aid of a colleague he physically dragged people out of the scrum and told me to go to the front. I did just that but still had to push and shove and fight with people to get up to the window. The policeman was saying "shout at them". I did and after a couple of minutes I got the tickets. I dashed back to Oz barging my way through the queues - coitus interruptus.

Nobody seemed to be able to tell us which carriages we should get in and we weren't sure it was the right train when it turned up. We decided just to get on and we got a seat in one of the filthiest, fly-infested carriages I've had the misfortune to travel on. It wasn't long before the train was packed to the rafters with Indians and their luggage. The train slowly trundled to Allahabad, we ran out of water and the seats were really uncomfortable. Still, it was only an hour late when we arrived. Two rickshaw-wallahs almost came to blows over who had our fare but we soon made it to the tourist bungalow. Luxury. We had the usual argument over change - we haven't got any and neither have they. 

Another rickshaw to the Nehru's house, Anand Bhawan. We were stopped taking a photo of me sitting cross-legged by a plaque that said "Gandhi worked here". I'll never be a Mahatma. Going back the rickshaw-wallahs didn't seem to want our money - "try getting a taxi south of the river' said Oz. The one we finally did get couldn't find the tourist bungalow so we got out and walked. We ate at the bungalow. More meat and yet again no mutton.

2012
My recollection of the policeman was that he smacked quite a few of the queuers with his big stick to get them out of the way. It was very surreal.


Travelling on trains in India is just a tad different from inter-railing in Europe.


"try getting a taxi south of the river" - London reference. Come on you get it.

29th May 1992 Day 314

The Diary
Om's omlettes for brekkie again and then we headed to the nearby Golden Temple through windy cow-pat infested lanes. As with many of the temples in India only Hindus are allowed to enter - which is fair enough. And you cannot be converted so if your parents aren't Hindus, forget it. LP said the temple could be viewed from a balcony across the way. A local tried to lead Oz to what he said was the balcony but was probably his shop but I spotted the right place and in we went. The top floor was closed and the view from the first floor could be described as disappointing. We watched the alleyway from above and saw cows shitting on the piles of flip-flops outside the temple and then a man - obviously an untouchable - come along to mop up the cow shit. What a strange country.

We then wandered down to the ghats avoiding the boat sellers and head massagers and found ourselves at one of the burning ghats with a cremation about to take place. A young lad came along and asked us to move but said we could watch from the second floor of a building. We went up and discreetly took a photo each. He seemed to think it was OK as we hadn't been seen but then more Indians came up and accused us of taking photos and started threatening us with the police and 3 months prison. At this point I said "come on, Oz" and we strode out with the young lad shouting behind us "baksheesh". We disappeared into the maze of alleyways until we were safe. Had we been set up? I'm not going back to find out.

We wandered through the alleys and after asking directions several times we made it back to the river and wandered along to the mosque. It didn't look very spectacular and when we climbed the steps it was shut. We ventured through the alleyways yet again and eventually found the road. We hired a rickshaw driver to take us to a Chinese restaurant near the station. He seemed to be struggling with the destination but another local explained it to him and we were off. He took us straight to Aces where we'd eaten the previous night. "No", we complained and after much frantic pointing at maps we were on our way again. He stopped on the way to ask directions but we got there. He seemed disappointed with his reward but then everyone here always does.

Meat! We broke our enforced vegetarianism and went to the station. The station had a tourist office. "Come back in the morning and buy your ticket then" we were told. This is easy. We then went in search of a temple opened by Gandhi which Tony Wheeler had got in completely the wrong place on the map. The LP maps are pretty atrocious at times and they quite often don't even have a scale. I threw a strop when they wouldn't let me put my shoes in my bag to carry them in. I didn't fancy leaving them outside, too many people about. "Who cares about your effing religion anyway?". I'm sure it's not going to be the last time I lose my temper in India.


Later in the evening we hunted out El Chico's which turned out to be Yelchikos but it did good meat curries as long as the meat was chicken. Hindus won't eat cows, Muslims won't eat pigs, mutton is always on the menu but never in the kitchen and that leaves chicken (that was starved to death). We bumped into Jack in the restaurant and talked to him about dodgy stomachs, work, holidays and Japan amongst other things.


2012
Had we been set up? Of course.

28th May 1992 Day 313

The Diary
We had omelettes (made by Om) and toast for breakfast and then headed to the ghats at the nearby riverside. "Change money, good rate, this way, you want boat, 10rp, come see my shop....." on and on it went. As bad as at Kuta. Nobody takes no for an answer until you've said it 10 times, ignored them for 5 minutes and then walked away. Shouts of "hello" from 10 yards away were invariably followed by "you want boat, 10rp". 


Despite this the ghats were still quite a sight and had an unreal, ethereal feel about them. People were bathing and washing clothes all along the ghats just yards from floating sewerage and garbage. It might cleanse the soul but it'll probably pollute everything else.

We walked south along the ghats in the midday heat. It was hot but it surely isn't the hottest place we've been to. When we got to the end of the ghats we came inland and then more by accident than design we arrived at the pontoon bridge that crossed the river to the fort. We walked across, got up to the entrance and were told that it was closed until 2pm. LP wrong yet again. We sat down in the shade and had a drink. A few people sat and watched us, some even tried a conversation although some were more successful than others. 
"Which country is Afghanistan in?", 
"Sorry, I don't understand", 
"Which country is Kabul in?",
"Afghanistan - you just told us!"


Oz replied with "which state is Dallas, Texas in?". At least it wasn't the usual "which country?", "How long in <insert current county>?" etc.

Oz scrubbing up

We waited 45mins and then we were let in. 3rp each for entry to the museum. We walked around guided by the arrows but a few explanations would have helped the displays which definitely had potential. We had to wait for a while, while a queen was sneaked out (!!). No-one was allowed to look at her. As if anyone cared. We walked on to the outer walls, everyone else disappeared into a temple, so we left.

Sweaty

We bargained with an auto-rickshaw driver and for 12rp he took us to the monkey temple. I'm not quite sure that LP has got all its facts right regarding the monkey temple and what it is properly called. I don't think we saw the one described in the book. It had lots of monkeys though but it was very unremarkable. We then dd the long trek back to Om's but our auto-rickshaw driver made a couple more attempts to do business with us. I attempted to buy a newspaper but absolutely nobody here seems willing to part with change. 100rp = 2 quid but it might as well be 200quid.

So far we'd only eaten a packet of biscuits so we set out in search of food. The Chinese restaurant was closed so we settled for Aces which did a large selection of, surprise, surprise, vegetarian dishes. It was like a British Rail waiting room in a small branch-line station that was about to be closed down. The food was edible though. We went back and Oz phoned home. "Worcester lost" said his Dad.


2012
Varanasi was an assault on the senses and even the previous 4 months travelling in SE Asia had only partly prepared us for it.


The driver probably did take us to a completely different monkey temple. Maybe I shouldn't  be so hard on Lonely Planet. The Thailand LP was rubbish though.


John Osborne - Worcester CCC tragic

27th May 1992 Day 312

The Diary
A day of wasting time before the flight. Nothing at Poste Restaurante, another visit to the British Council Library, we changed some more Nepalese rupees into Indian rupees and then tried to waste the few Nepalese rupees we had left. Cadburys did quite well out of us although I wonder how much they worry about vendors selling out of date stock? It'll get them a bad name. We wasted a bit more time and then caught a taxi to Tribhuvan Airport at 4pm. One of the least picturesque airport routes, even worse than the route to Teesside Airport that goes past Urlay Nook.

We encountered complete confusion at the check-in desk. No real queue and the least helpful staff anywhere. We got through, customs seemed to be non-existent, nobody wanted to check exchange receipts so we sat down to wait. Eventually the boarding signal went up and there was a mass charge. We waited calmly to the end and wandered through. Our baggage hadn't been labelled but when we got to the plane it was all laid out on the tarmac. We identified our bags and they were loaded on. 


The view from the plane was fantastic as we were overland all the way, it was light and I had a window seat. The mountains disappeared and then it was completely flat. The in-flight meal consisted of a plastic beaker of water and a cardboard box marked 'vegetarian' which contained a tiny tomato sandwich (no butter), a pastie filled with vegetarian curry (a samosa?) and a slice of fruit cake all served by two unsmiling stewardesses in their Indian Airlines saris. On a par with United Airlines.

By the time we landed it was dark. Customs and Immigration were slow, strange and bureaucratic. The English speaking foreigners on the plane - the two of us and six Yanks - grouped together for moral support. The passports were checked by two people and then passed to a third who checked our visas against a huge computer print-out. Then we had to pick up our bags and join a queue and declare the amount of money we'd brought with us. Nobody seemed interested in checking our bags. This might have been slow for us but the majority of Indians were not even past the passport check.


The three American backpackers, 2 girls and a very old-looking young man called Jack, suggested the five of us catch a taxi together. We agreed and stepped outside. At that point, all hell broke loose as we were engulfed by the most insistent and persistent taxi-drivers and hotel touts encountered anywhere. Jack did the bargaining and got us a cab for 150rp. Even after we'd got in the cab people were opening the doors, pulling down the windows, shoving their cards in our faces, trying to tell us the cost was more than 150rp but we stuck it out and eventually moved off into V.S. Naipaul's 'Area of Darkness'. We reached the town and drove for miles through bustling streets full of pedestrians, rickshaws, cows, dogs, donkeys and auto-rickshaws. Eventually the cab stopped and the driver said we were there. At first we weren't convinced but it turned out we were in the right area.

We walked around being helped and hindered by more touts and 'helpful' locals. Through a labyrinthine bazaar area we went to the Yogi Lodge; not enough room, awful beds and full of hippies.Then we went through even more impossibly windy back streets and found the Om Lodge. Oz and I took a room and Jack went off to find the others. They were eventually led to the Hotel Ganges which they reckoned was far better. We were OK at Om as the owners were exceedingly helpful and friendly.


We were shown the way to a local restaurant but by this time it was 10pm and everything was shutting. We gave up and went to bed. The moral of the story? "Don't arrive in the dark". Why can't they follow the British example and have summer days that end after 10pm?


2012

26th May 1992 Day 311

The Diary
A day of unexpected happenings. We jumped from 9 and 10 on the waiting list to confirmed for the 27th. We had our tickets amended and cancelled on the 28th. We went to the bank, I bought some travellers cheques and was allowed to take some US dollars as well. We then went to the Poste Restaurante and I received a letter from Katrina from Sport and Rec. Now I'm up on all the gossip and she also mentioned that Brad had been to Nepal. It's a shame we missed him and Sean. Oz phoned Beth, everything we'd sent home had arrived and she'd got a week off at the end of July.

The local neighbourhood

Next door's pig - it lived in the living room as far as I could tell

We then wandered around trying to spend our Nepalese rupees on useful articles. I bought Walkman batteries, a spare camera battery, film including enhanced colour film and a T-shirt. We also had a couple of strange pizzas. A sort of curry with wooden peas on a pizza base. My stomach is back to normal now so we celebrated by having a proper pizza at the San Francisco Pizza House and listened to a group of Americans seated at the far side of the room. Why do they all talk so LOUD?


2012
"Poste Restaurante" - see yesterday.


Sport and Rec people are here


A Walkman? Remember them? 80s iPods without the fanbois.

25th May 1992 Day 310

The Diary
Oz's first lie in for 6 days but as usual we were woken by the howling dogs. When we got outside it was drizzling and it continued in the same vein all day. We tried IA again, still 9 and 10 for Wednesday so we bought a ticket for Thursday. We got talking to an ex-Gurkha in a restaurant who'd been at Aldershot from 76-80. We guessed he'd been in England in the 70s because he kept talking about discos and birds. He looked a bit past it now though. We also visited the British Council Library and dived into 2 week old copies of The Independent, Telegraph and Times. It made me a little homesick , but it's not long to go now and I'm feeling better as the tablets are doing their stuff.

Wonder if this was why I got sick?

Something for the weekend sir?

I phoned Christy and discovered Sarah and Dave had been refused their visa extension, Dave's quit Oracle, Sarah's stopped seeing John Curry and it looks like Christy will move home after her sister's wedding. Never a dull moment. Christy's life seems to have disappeared from around her though, although I suppose Dave and Sarah's has too. A few weeks ago it was marriage and a life in Oz and now it's neither. Christy talked about getting a 2 year working visa for the UK as she's been granted citizenship bar the ceremony and she thinks it will be very difficult to get UK residency. I think her plans change every time I phone her. It's not worth worrying about it as there's nothing I can do about it at the moment. I joked about the disgusting letter I'd received the previous day and mentioned I'd received one from AB as well even though he did address it to Poste Restaurante!


Back at the guest house I added a page on to the end of Oz's letter to Cat and Amber and then it was time to brave the rain and eat. We finally got in KC's but what was the fuss about? Overpriced and we've had better food elsewhere. Still, the main thing is I've only been to the toilet once today and I'm already feeling much better.

24th May 1992 Day 309

The Diary
I took a particularly obnoxious stool in a 35mm plastic film case to the clinic to be examined. The verdict? Gastroentiritis and the previous pills were completely useless. The stool was described as very pussy! I was to take some new tablets once per day and to eat whatever I wanted. I wandered back to Thamel after trying the British Council Library which was closed. I headed for the San Francisco Pizza House and indulged myself and then went back to wait for Oz.

He soon arrived and greeted me with the words "are you better then?" mistakenly believing that I was. "No" I could only reply and proceeded to explain what had happened. The people at the ATS and Hotel Lake View had told him I was better and that that was why I'd gone back to Kathmandu. Wrong.

I asked him about the trek and he said he'd had a good time, been caught in the rain a few times and the view from Poon Hill was spoilt by the weather. He'd met quite a few people en route and also been to his guide's house.

I told him about the flights and we went to Indian Airlines but we were still 9 and 10 on the standby list. Try again tomorrow. Rum Doodle for our evening meal and this time the service was a vast improvement.

2012
The view from Poon Hill





Poon Hill Sunrise, Annapurna in Nepal

23rd May 1992 Day 308

The Diary
25rp breakfast in the Everest Steak House, failed to book a flight to Patna (stopped 3 years ago) or Varanassi (computer down) but left a note with my requirements. Temporarily halted by a sudden urge to use the toilets in the Hotel Sherpa I then headed to the telecom centre to make a phone call home. Everyone OK, mam has quit job, small room is to be done out (planned), England had beaten Pakistan again (too late now), Leicester v Blackburn play-off final, parcel had arrived from Singapore, Sean had just rolled into bed after a night round Louise's (oh yeah!), Frank Cook is still our MP and the Holgate End will be 8quid next season (it was 4.50 last time I went) and Andy was getting ready for exams.


Went back to Indian Airlines, wait listed on 27th, confirmed on 28th. I went to the Nepal International Clinic to tell them I need help. As it was Saturday, everyone bar a nurse had the day off. She made me an appointment for the 24th and gave me a plastic photographic film container for a stool sample. It'll never fit!

Graham Gooch?

Went to get some food. Appalling service at the Run Doodle so I left and at the Third Eye they were making the prices up. Took 'The Big Red Train Ride' back and bought Deutsch Leicht Gemacht. In the evening Silence of the Lambs was spoilt by a crowded restaurant. 


Nachste woche werde ich nach Indien abreisen, Mir stehen nur funf Wochen zur Verfugung. Guten Abend Kinder.


2012
I remember this phone call. It was the only time during the trip that I was close to calling it a day and going home. The International Clinic was my last local hope.


Deutsch Leicht Gemacht - German Made Easy (I think!)


Frank cook - our ex-next door neighbour.


Sean and Louise - still married, so it must have been a good night.


The Holgate End ceased to exist in 1995 when Boro moved to the Riverside. First game at the new stadium was the day Sean and Louise got married. 

22nd May 1992 Day 307

The Diary
Outside the Annapurna Travel Service at 6:15am, the owner and the bus turn up at about 6:50am. The bus turned out to be a minibus in which the seats were too narrow and overall it was less comfortable than one of the bigger tourist buses. The trip to Kathmandu was just as bad as the trip to Chitwan and it was cold and rainy and the driver kept putting awful Nepalese music on the stereo. Hopefully this was one of the last bus trips I'd have to make.

Back in KTM, I dropped my bags off at the Dhaulgiri GH and raced to poste restante. Shades of Bangkok, early closing and I'd missed it. I walked back, put a film in for developing, took a book back, bought a Herald Tribune, picked the photos up, read some more of the 'Big Red Train Ride' and that was Friday.


News: England beat Pakistan in the first one day by 79 runs - why wasn't that the news on 26th March? Suchinda Kraprayoon looks like he will resign, the demonstration death toll could be in the hundreds, BT report a GBP3.1billion profit, a quarter of the money that the West is giving to the ex-USSR and O&Y have filed for bankruptcy in Canada.


2012
Why was I interested in O&Y ? Because in 1989 and 1990 I was working in the shadow of this big building site

21st May 1992 Day 306

The Diary
10 months to the day that we flew to the USA and I wish our next country was USA and not India. My bottom certainly does. There's probably more chance of getting to see some of the European Nations Championship in India though. Frank from Chitwan reckoned it was going to be England v Germany in the final.

I got up late, skipped breakfast and made it to 'the strip', as the Yanks would say, in time for dinner. A plateful of chips which is about as daring as I'm going to be at the moment. I booked a bus to Kathmandu and found that the lad in charge of the ATS will be on it too.


Progress. Went to the toilet about 3pm, first time today and the brown liquid has been replaced by lots of mini-stools. Oz should be somewhere near Ghorepani at the moment, enjoying the views.


Visited the owners of the Lake View to pay up and chatted to them and the 'babu'. Failed to get the babu to show any interest in rugby played with 3 coins.


2012
Dinner = lunch


There's some irony in my comments about USA and India. A few years later I was on a business trip to Michigan and had such bad food poisoning from United Airlines food that I spent two weeks in my apartment room and never made it in to the office. A friend who was on the same flight spent about 2 weeks in hospital after eating the same food as me.


I'd decided I'd had enough of hanging out in Pokhara and was going to leave Oz a note telling him where to meet me in Kathmandu. 

20th May 1992 Day 305

The Diary
The least exciting day of 1992. Toast and jam for breakfast and 2 packets of biscuits for the rest of the day. The daily showers came early so I stayed in and finished "An Area of Darkness", which managed to fill me with dread about going to India, and started "The Big Red Train Ride". 

If anything else happened it was even less remarkable than the events so far described. The pills haven't started to do their stuff yet.


2012
Oz would have been on his way up to Poon Hill - I'm sure it was much more interesting.

19th May 1992 Day 304

The Diary
I posted letters to Christy and Neil Stewart and cards to Howie and Sylvia Hobbs and Ling Khoo. I popped in to see the Annapurna Travel Service to see if Oz had left yet and they said I should see a doctor. They phoned up the clinic and said if I came back at 3:30pm they would take me there. I bade Oz farewell and retreated back to my room.


At 3:30 I went back to the ATS and talked to them about Oz's inflatable globe that was now hanging in the shop. They made several more phone calls to the clinic and at about 4:15 I was put in a taxi with Krishna, the owner's younger brother and taken to the clinic. Krishna paid for the taxi, which surprised me as I'd assumed he was along for a free lift into town as well as to help me.


Krishna did the talking at the clinic and I bypassed the queue to see the doctor. He did a thorough examination, pulse, blood pressure, listened to my chest etc. without doing a stool examination. He explained the stool exam wasn't too precise and even if it came up negative there was still a 30% chance of something being there. He wrote out a prescription for 5 days supply of tablets and some re-hydration powders and I gave him 200rp. I declined the receipt as 2 pound 50p was not worth the hassle of an insurance claim.


Krishna had a pair of walking boots polished, I bought us both a drink and then we wandered down to the King's statue with him trying to teach me Nepali and me trying to understand his English. He even paid for teh bus back to the lake side.

I retreated back to my room, only surfacing for a salami pizza. Big mistake. Tomorrow it's back to the plain diet. I might as well help the drugs do their stuff. I bought a couple of Rising Nepals and discovered a State of Emergency had been declared in Bangkok as the demonstrations had forced the military into action. Nigel Mansell had won his 5th straight GP of the season - surely he'll get to be world champion this time - and Gary Lineker had missed a penalty and the chance to tie Bobby Charlton's England goalscoring record in a 1-1 draw  with Brazil.


2012
Neil Stewart, Sylvia Hobbs and Ling Khoo were all from PW Sydney I think. I really only remember Neil as he was the partner there.


Oz's inflatable globe - I'd forgotten about this. In the days before ipads and google maps we carried an inflatable globe around to track our progress around the world.

Nigel Mansell did win, Gary Lineker never equalled the record. Mansell's 5 straight wins at the start of the season were a record until Schumacher equalled it in 2004.

18th May 1992 Day 303

The Diary
Most of the shops in town were shut and we discovered this was because the communist party had called a strike. To work was at your own risk as dissenters shops were usually stoned. It was quite peaceful down by the lake side but apparently there was quite a bit of trouble in the town. And all of this is just because of upcoming local elections. 


We decided today that Oz should go and do a 5-day trek in Ghorepani and I should continue with my recovery. If we wait until I'm completely better it may be a long wait. Trips to the toilet were still becoming less frequent so I risked a lasagne in the evening. Oh to be well again.


2012
Communisn in Nepal seems to be quite complex. This chart shows links between the various communist parties. Shades of the People's front of Judea.

17th May 1992 Day 302

The Diary
My slow recovery seemed to be continuing so we hired a couple of mountain bikes for the day. The place we hired them from was the same place that Oz had taken some negatives for reprints. Not only had they taken a day longer than promised to turn up but when they did they had an early 70s white border. It's lucky Oz didn't give them my finished film to develop. More of the photo shop later.
  

We set off into town and it was a lot further than it appeared on the map. The town had no historical interest at all as far as we could discern. and like many other towns in Nepal, and Asia, was built of concrete and brick shoe boxes liberally covered in badly painted adverts. Coca-cola is a difficult logo to escape from. Cows roamed the streets, taxis and bikes and pedestrians wildly weaved in and out of each other and the shit and the dirt that cover most of Nepal's roads.

We went to the end of town, turned round and then it was downhill all the way. By the time we'd got down to the airport, fatigue, hunger and illness had got to me. I left Oz and headed back. I stopped to watch a demonstration by the Nepali Congress Party (tree) as it wound it's way to a big tree and stopped for a few speeches. I'm sure most of the people carrying banners continued walking past the tree and went home.


In the evening I decided to have a proper meal as I thought I was going to die of hunger before the diarrhoea got me. I had a chicken enchilada and seemed to survive the night relatively well. 


Back to the story of the photo shop. When we returned our bikes a big crowd had gathered in the shop listening to a Canadian or an American (they're the same anyway) protesting about some photos he'd had developed by them. He was very unhappy and was insisting he shouldn't have to pay. We didn't discover what was wrong with them or whether he got satisfaction. Shades of Oz a few days earlier although Oz's protests were a little less vehement and didn't pull in the crowds.


2012
Instagram seems to have popularised the look that we were all trying to avoid.