Hours of waiting in the cold.
Amongst swirls of dust brushed up by passing ladies futilely sweeping and by bikes and cars roaring down the pot-holed road.
Tediously waiting for the verdict of the Indian consulate. Will we be allowed into India?
Forms accepted. Come back in 5 days to see if you get in!
Well, we would, but we couldn’t bear to twiddle our thumbs – covered in dust – in Kathmandu. So we hopped on a bus and skid-addled from the capital and headed back to the mountains. This time North-East and the Langtang mountain range.
It was not to don our macs or to squeeze tired feet back into boots, but to sit, read, relax and gaze out at the majesty of the Himalayas.
Two long and bumpy bus rides later – one in which I stood stooped in the aisle, unable to straighten myself in the confined bus – we had arrived in town, or at least the outskirts. Peace and quiet at over 2000 metres and a beating sun lifted the spirits whilst a gentle spring wind blew the remnants of dust that continued to cling to our clothes.
Perched on our little hilltop retreat we gazed out at the terraced paddies below and looked beyond the valley. Langtang.
And so the days unfolded as we had much expected. A book read here. A picture taken there. A meandering walk along disused trails. And just some simple slumber…
…In a hotel we had to ourselves!
We fell into accord with the mountain. Rising before sun-up to catch the glowing orb in all its fiery glory…
… And remaining vigilant as the sun fell from the sky and tucked itself in behind the mountains. Its dying embers catching and glinting on the far off mountain peaks (…that we could see from our bedroom!)
For us the day was not yet over. Before we would turn in for an early night we would catch the stars as they hung silently in watch over the listless langtang range…
Must we go back to Kathmandu?