Excuse me waiter, there are 3 flies in my soup...

The name Kathmandu conjures up a mystical image of far-flung lands, a whispered rumour of a medieval city hidden amongst cloud-shrouded valleys only seen by the most intrepid of explorers. Well that may have been true once upon a time, and indeed the medieval roots can still be glimpsed by the myriad tiny cobbled streets and alleyways, however modern-day Kathmandu has developed according to it's visitors needs, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the chaos of Thamel, the backpacker area.

Pedalo on Phewa Tal, British-style

Our time in Nepal was always going to be about trekking, so we chose the Annapurna Circuit which is widely acclaimed as one of the best treks in the world, however this is hugely threatened by the road which is in the process of being built the whole way around. Already half is complete and within 2 years time the majority of the circuit will be accessible by road. It seems a shame to us but all the locals are for it, bringing as it would a variety of modern benefits. Life in these areas is fairly tough graft so you can hardly blame the locals for wanting it.

Not even half-way and already celebrating... what fools we were

The first leg we travelled atop the roof of a disintegrating bus, trying not to be too alarmed when pieces of the roofrack came away in my hands! Jumping off the roof was the start of the hike, straight away scrabbling down the riverbanks and crossing the first of the mighty glacial meltwater rivers we would encounter. The first real trial was a 500m rise to the village of Bahundanda, which in the midday heat of 30+ was particularly excruciating - Tom was already looking for a taxi to take him back home at this point.

Tibetan prayer-stones, carved with 'Om Mani Padme Hum' mantras

This trek is called a 'tea-house trek' due to the numerous villages with lodges, teashops and restaurants dotted along the trail every few hours or so. Lodges are particularly cheap (about £1 for a double room) as the rules are that you eat where you stay, which is where they make their money. As such, standards can vary considerably, with some places sporting decorated rooms with solid walls and hot showers in attached bathrooms, while others being little more than a couple of planks of wood with a paper-thin mattress in a shack with more holes than a sieve. Menus, on the other hand, are mass-printed and circulated to all guesthouses in the area, with the same fare on offer everywhere (at least on paper). In practice, however, it became clear that many guesthouse owners have little knowledge of how the dishes they advertise should look or indeed taste. In contrast there was the odd gem to be found with beautifully home-cooked dishes in lovely environments.

The days seemed to get even harder, after a gruelling introduction we then hiked over 6 hours, climbing 850m in 18km - Beth even offered to take the big bag to give my shoulders a break - she managed to carry it for 5km which nearly killed her!

Taking a well-deserved break   

Climbing into Upper Pisang gave us a dramatic view overlooking the valley from our guesthouse (we sadistically chose the highest one!), as the weather closed in we settled into the fire-warmed "dinning" room with games of cards whilst we waited over 2 hours for our dinner (the first lady couldn't speak english so fetched her friend, who also couldn't read the english menu, who fetched a third guy who finally got the ball rolling).

Rambling fools

This was also the place where we acquired our team name of "The Howling Bitches" thanks to Beth, who couldn't stand playing cards with us 4 boys due to the level of good-humoured bitching at each other.

We decided to take a couple of rest/acclimatisation days in Manang, as Janine had some serious Delhi-belly going on. The healthy ones among us decided to take advantage of this time to explore the area and climb the nearby viewpoint, enjoying a 360 view of a glacier, lake and the valley, and some locally-made Seabuckthorn juice - delicious and packed with vitamin C.

Miniature dudes off to school

A broken Beth after walking up from the valley floor

Our real trial, however, came the following day when we decided to forego a rest day by hiking up to an icelake at 4600m before climbing back down to help us acclimatise more to the altitude. This proved to be a huge physical exertion - Beth named this "broken" day, as it involved 4 hours of relentless uphill from 3500m, and when we got up there the lake wasn't even frozen. Trying to cast wishes of a zip-wire back home, we stumbled back down with Beth suffering from headaches and nausea from the altitude combined with severe knee pain, taking us another 3.5 hours to return.

It's literally begging for a zip-wire

Yes, it was actually that cold!

Moving on from there we climbed into colder air through Yak Kharka (yaks becoming more and more apparent at this altitude), onto our highest camp of Thorung Phedi (4500m), where we found it particularly difficult to sleep.

A hairy beast

Another hairy beast

Climbing over the highest point in the hike, the Thorung La pass at 5416m, was a breathless early-morning ascent but physically easier than the icelake climb so it had prepared us well. Beth was extremely pleased at the top to have made it in her little green sneakers after her hiking boots fell apart on the 2nd day!

This photo brought to you by Evian Mineral Water - FRESH!

At the peak we celebrated with a large bar of Dairy Milk carried all the way from the UK (thanks Mum!).

The photos say for themselves the amazing scenery we witnessed on the route down to Kagbeni, a delightful green oasis in a desert landscape, like a green snake slithering through the barren valley. This was where we spent our first day off for 12 days, in the comforts of a very welcoming guesthouse.

From here onwards a dust-track had appeared that supported jeeps and seemingly indestructible buses, so we crammed ourselves in and rode down to Tatopani, passing more incredible landscapes but unfortunately descending back down to the oppressive humidity and ubiquitous mosquitoes. Tom was delighted to be back into beef territory after being a forced veggy for 12 days (with the exception of a less-than-pleasant experience with yak) and settled down to a good steak.

Spot the peak of Annapurna II (7939m), momentarily visible through the clouds

I insisted on us trying to climb Poon Hill, but 15 minutes from the top it started to rain hard and the clouds closed in spoiling any chance of a view, so we turned around before the summit - quite fitting really, the Poons couldn't be bothered to climb Poon Hill!

Everyone's favourite critter

 A not-so-friendly Praying Mantis came a-knocking on our door

Our final day of hiking was Beth's 2nd broken day, a monstrous 2200m descent mostly down giant stone steps - after 2.5 hours Beth's knee gave up the ghost so after a shocking lunch (of tomato-soup with no less than 3 flies adding a bit of protein), Beth was forced to offload her backpack on mine and with my assistance painfully hopped down the remaining 4.5 hours where we swiftly jumped into a taxi driving through an impressive thunderstorm back to the comforts and relaxation of Pokhara.

So our next move is a flight to Hong Kong tomorrow, a first-world culture shock that's been a long time in coming! The usual patisseries and random signs to finish ;)

Planes, trains and auto-rickshaws

India... wow. It doesn't matter what you've heard, read or seen, the end result still shocks you. I often found myself wondering just how it is possible for a country to function in such a chaotic fashion.

It's a deeply religious, highly materialistic, beautifully colourful and unbelievably filthy place - but now I realise that before coming here I didn't understand the possible extent of those words. A sensory-overloading mix of absolute filth and pure nirvana seems to coexist here. Any traveller to India is quick to learn it's go-with-the-flow or get out... so we jumped straight in.

Snoozing in Kolkata train station local-style

From landing in Kolkata (Calcutta for the good ol' boys) we stumbled out into dry heat for our first hour-long cross-city rickshaw ride to the train station. This initiated us to Indian road laws, or rather the 2 golden laws of continuous horn use and size rules - with buses and trucks often playing a deadly game of chicken on the single-track roads until someone swerves at the last moment.

Recently I read an article in the paper about the notorious Blue-line buses, which are portrayed as killing machines running pedestrians down at will. The article stated that one of these buses had mowed down 12 people on the street (at the exact place and time we were one day earlier, worringly) before coming to a stop. Another of the deaths attributed to these "dangerous" machines was where the conductor pushed a guy off that led to his death. Clearly the sensationalist news stories wouldn't sound as good if they placed the blame with individual conductors or drivers...

In Rishikesh we were greeted with an interesting welcome (among other things a grumpy Indian shoo-ing James out of his shop - guess he didn't feel like selling anything that day) but we were relieved to finally arrive after 40 hours of travelling from our hotel in Bangkok, via metro, plane, taxi, train, metro, bus, coach, bus and finally tuk-tuk. We had a slight diversion (our Delhi "tour" as we called it) as we arrived in Delhi looking for the main bus station, little did we know there are actually several main bus stations so we went 1 hour by metro then another hour by bus to take us back to almost the same place we took the metro from. But hey-ho, we did get to catch a glimpse of the hectic Delhi life, even if it was just to let us know we wanted to get out of the city as soon as possible.

Some extreme rafting down the holy Ganges

Staying in Rishikesh was a great lifestyle for me and also James. I spent my days doing yoga twice a day and wandering along the Ganges river bank while I was getting achy-but-bendy muscles in preparation for our soon-approaching trekking in Nepal. James took another approach - he became a stationery figure either absorbed into the computer or reading. It had been so hot we are quite happy to be lazy all day, so not much site-seeing went on.

Cows and pilgrims on the bank of the Ganges

I love the diversity of this country and the people who are always beautifully coulourful and probably one of the most versatile nations we have seen. I have to admit the culture is intriguing, even the little we have seen of the country is incredible, however I do not have a great desire to spend much time surrounded by fowl-smelling stench (often momentarily masked by the strong sweet incense burning everywhere) and daily observing several people going about their 'private' business on the path in front of me... I witnessed a cow feasting on a repulsive-smelling soiled nappy in the center of the street. Only metres from this were people sitting eating! How this is possible is beyond me. I wonder if cows are so holy here then why are they not cared for instead of eating plastic and all the other options that lie along the street and open drains? The filth of India is one reason I cannot fully embrace the country's culture. However the level of teaching for yoga is second to none, plus the food is as expected very cheap and very tasty - if you follow the golden rule of avoiding all meat.

We finished up in Rishikesh by taking a gruelling 15-hour bus ride north to the small mountain station of Dharamsala (on advice from the seasoned India traveller Mr Stevens), which was a nightmare overnight mosquito-infested journey on a decrepit bus with a suicidal driver on steep windy roads. Needless to say we didn't get much sleep.

I found two great yoga teachers who soon had me growing muscles I didn't know existed and bending in positions that I was sure would break things. In search of yet more mindfulness and body-bending I found another great teacher in Dharamsala, Mcleodganj who continues to fuel my fascination with yogic lifestyle.

The Tibetan influence made a colourful difference

Dharamsala is home to the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in exile, and as a result the atmosphere is hugely Tibetan, with the people of Tibet largely outnumbering the Indians. The Tibetan people are a quiet and peaceful bunch, and thankfully have a much better idea of hygiene than the rest of India. We very much enjoyed our relaxing time in the mountains, one day wondering along to the home of the Dalai Lama and peering through the windows to try and catch a glimpse of His Holiness. He is a wonderful leader with such a joyful and caring expession in every photogragh, despite the plight of his people.

On our walk around the Dalai Lama's residence we came across a Tibetan temple, in an area strewn with prayer flags from tree to tree and surrounded by rows and rows of prayer wheels, which in busier places are kept constantly spinning by the locals.

The mother-of-all prayer wheels

All the animals seemed to be bigger and well-fed here (if not fat!), which was a joy to see after the mangy maimed and ribby beasts ubiquitous to the rest of India. We even encountered the most chilled-out bull who was truly huge, but lovely and was happy for a nose rub.

BFB - Big Friendly Beast

After using up most of our time in two relaxing places and enjoying more yoga than most manage in years, we felt as ready as we ever were going to be for the hectic mayhem of India's cities. We took yet another delighful 12-hour bus ride to Delhi, only to get on a train for another 3 hours, finally arriving in Agra, so tired  that we slept for the rest of the day. The sunrise visit to the Taj Mahal was worth the effort, a beautiful building of enormous proportions and completely made of marble and gem stones. very elaborate and decorative, highly skilled workmanship involved and the attention to detail is abundant.. however despite it's prestige it somehow reminds me of a very posh bathroom!

The surrounding gardens are full of wildlife fun, particularly green parrots and chipmunks who entertained us with their skittish behavior.

Another of Agra's interesting sights is the unusual hobby of pigeon-fancying... at dawn and dusk every day you can witness the local men on their rooftops, exercising and (to some extent) controlling their hordes of pet pigeons.

It's a highly respectable hobby, so they say, and although we only witnessed some basic manoeuvres (circle, dive), apparently once you've reached the rank of 'Grand Master' you can control individual pigeons in a kit (collective group name, don't ya know) so presumably make them fly in true formation - sadly we didn't get to see this much.

Trains are by far the best way to travel here, one of the few good things that the British Raj introduced back in the day, but require booking way in advance to secure a seat. Apparently one week wasn't enough (some are booked up 2 months ahead) so from Agra back to Delhi we had to take the local bus - a 5-hour sweat ride with the usual delightful throat-clearing chorus and an unbelievably loud horn (easily over 120 decibels) filling our ears the whole way (drivers are obliged by law, it seems, to honk at least once every 5 seconds and often continously).

And so it was that we finished our final leg in Delhi, covered in dirt and sweat, to meet up with a our devonshire chums Janine & Tom - who by contrast were looking far too clean but in fairness they'd just stepped off the plane and had all the joy to come ;)

A few random shots to finish with, as always!

James' hunt for patisseries is never over...

Check it out Tang!

Mmmm...... SAFE!