Day 74-77 (5th-8th August) Ho Chi Minh to Kathmandu

On 5th August we got a taxi to Ho Chi Minh International Airport, which is adjacent to the domestic airport, and got the first leg (Bangkok) of the flight to Kathmandu. We were under the impression that, after waiting for 12 hours at Bangkok, we simply checked on to the next flight to Kathmandu. But no: we have to obtain an internal visa which involves using an on-line visa registration device. There was a row of them with queues of travellers uncertain how to use them. Eventually we found a free one and filling it in is not a problem. You then submit it to your email. Jennifer did hers but, when I did mine, I used her email because BT have blocked mine and I can’t contact them until I return to Britain. My email then replaced hers which has disappeared into the ether. Fortunately, one of the many officials we had spoken to suggested that we take photos of the filled in form. When arriving at Immigration Registration with our photos of forms, we were told that there is no problem; go into Departures and wait to check in for the flight to Kathmandu. It was now 1 AM, so we decided to find the Amari Hotel and get a room for the night. By the time we found it and were told it charged $250 a night it was 2.30, so we decided to bed down on the seats in the Departure Lounge and had a good night’s sleep free of charge. This is all rather boring, but I’m recounting it as a warning to people wanting to do this trip.

The flight to Kathmandu was uneventful on 6th August and I was looking forward to seeing the Tribhuvan Airport again. The first time I came through it (having hitch-hiked to Kathmndu on previous occasions) it was a small scruffy place with not too many people, where you filled in a paper form with a heavily-chewed pencil and bought your visa for $15. Now, its big and modern made of glass and concrete and heaving with people. Not wanting to get ripped off by taxi drivers, we got a bus with the conductor standing in the entrance and continually shouting where it was going. A helpful girl told us to get off at Chakribar (where?) and, with no idea where we were, we got a taxi to the Nepali Heritage Hotel in Thamel which Jennifer had booked on booking.com. The driver managed to find Pakrijol Marg, but had no idea where the hotel was. So we spent a happy hour trudging up and down before collapsing into the excellent Blueberry Coffee House (plug plug) where the very kind man showed us where it was, up a narrow little alley hidden from the road. We had several meals there while in Kathmandu; the food is excellent and cheap. I recommend his Blueberry Special Breakfast for about £4.

On 7th August we went visiting old friends. We went to Genuine Gems where the owner, Tarik, effectively introduced us by giving me Jennifer’s email on my Everest expedition in 2012. We met his 84-year-old father who was looking after the shop while Tarik was at his shop in Chengdu. We had a very pleasant lemon tea and nice conversation with him; his family has shops in Kathmandu, Jaipur, Chengdu and Copenhagen. We found the site of the tour agency which organised my Everest trips in 2012 and (with Cyrus) in 2014, but it has closed and Nabhiraj Thapa is now running a money-change shop while Rishi has emigrated to Canada. We then walked to the Children’s Library where Jennifer worked in 2012 after her husband died. I knew exactly how to get there, but Jennifer was dubious and gave me a certain amount of aggro until there it was, right in front of us. I have been glowing with self-satisfaction ever since. We met the manager, Sapena, who was delighted to see us, and has invited us for dinner at the Library on Sunday. I followed Jennifer when we left, assuming that she knew the way back into Thamel, and we got lost. Shortly after arriving back at the hotel, our dear friend Ananda, who Jennifer looked after for 4 years while he was studying in Birmingham and working at a Nepali restaurant in Burton, turned up, and we went to the Blueberry for a coffee.

On 8th August, we checked out of the hotel as we are to stay in Ananda’s house. Jennifer’s feet were badly blistered so she sat in the hotel while I went to see the Durbar Square. I have fond memories of the three-tiered temples when I went as a long-haired hippy in 1971. I stopped at the nearby Shrestha Lodge (which didn’t have electricity and you pissed in a bucket) for £1 a night and ate at the adjacent Hungry Eye restaurant where I had a 24-course meal to celebrate returning from my failed attempt on Everest. Happy days. Now you have to pay to get into Durbar Square. I would gladly pay if I was certain that the money was going towards the restoration of the temples after the earthquake. My suspicion is that some rich bloke is trousering it, so I climbed over a low wall and went in through the back.