A croissant in Kathmandu
When I landed in Kathmandu for a few days of work, I was expecting to have some time to let myself be surprised by such a beautiful and exotic country as Nepal. What I wasn't expecting was that the surprises will come from the least expected things.
I must confessed that the beginning wasn't promising, mostly my fault. As soon as I landed I rushed into immigration sure that all my planning and travel wisdom will pay off... But it didn't. They have advised me to get the Visa in advance to avoid the long queues, that trying to get visa on arrival was as difficult as getting a good politician. And they were wrong. As soon as I got to the arrivals hall, I saw a massive queue of four hundreds passengers from the previous flights, all with Visas and just besides, an empty counter where those how didn't know, were getting their paperwork done on arrival in less than 3 minutes. I was tempted to rip off my visa from the passport and pretend I didn't have one. They were so nice in the other counter that they will take the required pictures for you if you forgot to bring them.
After more than 1 hour waiting, I finally reached the outside, but made immediately my second mistake. I needed to go to the toilet. I was wondering, should I wait till I get to the hotel or take the risk to go at the terminal. Needless to say that the toilet was outside the building in a kind os shed behind some bushes. I am not sure if it was my naturally adventurous character or just that I was in need and the thought of being trapped in a traffic jam for hours, but I decided to go ahead. I wont comment on the state of the place inside, just in case some sensitive people are reading this. Lets just say that the place did not have running water and it must have been the busiest toilet in the country.
When I thought the nightmare was over, I faced the real problem. I come out of the building and a person stop me. I had to pay. For what? I thought to myself, for the experience? For a psychologist to help me forget the whole thing? His response was clear and without any doubt and full of pride he said: to keep it clean. Thats my job. I was speechless and had to bite my tongue to avoid offending him. If he had told me that they were collecting money to hire a cleaner, I would have join the cause, set an international campaign and raise money from among all my friends and family. Never could have found a more honest cause.
In any case, I wasn't going to argue and I know how hard life must be for him, so I decided to pay but Idid not have any local money. Again my travel wisdom have betrayed me. I have my pickup arranged ,so I have decided to chance the money in a bank and not at the airport where exchange rates are ussually bad. So I offered him some euros or pounds. Even a five pound note I found in my wallet ( most expensive toilet experience of my life) but he wouldn't take it, and didn't let me go either. Next, he called someone that was around there, started shouting at him pointing at me, and after a minute he joins in the claim and says to me that I have to pay the other guy. All the hasstle attracts more people, and at that time I am surrounded by a mob, looking like a criminal for not paying the equivalent of 0.0000001 cents to pee in a rubbish bin.
I checked my options. I resent that the military service was abolished in Spain the year before I was supposed to do it. That would have given me for sure, some sense of strategy and army tactics. Finally I managed to spot in the distance my hotel taxi (I bless the day I corrected my myopia). I raised my hands, he saw me and come as a hero to rescue me from the angry crow, paying the hard working cleaner his 10 nepalese rupees.
Lesson learnt, never wait to change money in the city. It can save your life.
I spent the taxi ride recovering from the situation. I had just the right time to get there, have a quick shower after 16 hours of travel and have my first meeting, when I got to the hotel and I find out that my room wasn't ready despite it was almost 3 pm. I was about to despair between the tiredness and the emotions. But my luck was about to change. I didn't complaint or argue with the lady at the check-in, It wasn't her fault after all. I just smiled and went to the hotel bar, to grab a coffee in a desperate attempt of staying awake ( haven't slept at all previous night on the plane) and suddenly I got my first surprise of the trip. They brought me a perfect espresso with a fresh croissant, that rated higher than anyone you could find in the best patisserie of Paris. Maybe it was just because I was tired, but it really was something great.
From that point, I knew nothing could go wrong and the day had prepared for me more surprises.
Second hero of the day will come in the shape of a razor. I have forgotten mine and want it to look presentable for the meeting. As I was running out of time to go out and buy a proper one, I call the housekeeper to provide a hotel one. A few minutes later, I was handle a old Gillete disposable razor. Unused ( I want it to think that) but at least must have been produced in the 1970's according to the stage of the packaging. I faced a dilemma of showing of my two day beard or risk my throat to be cut into pieces using that. I was brave again, all for my company I said to myself to give me some confidence, looking at myself in the mirror. And then, the miracle happen, it was smooth, the perfect finish and no blood, better than any of the sophisticated and expensive ones I was used to in Europe, and even without any type of shaving cream or oil. I looked at the razor, couldn't believe, was I dreaming? But not it was real, another unforgettable experience. How did it happen, I cannot explain. Nepal country of a thousand mysteries.
After a few hours of meetings, I decided to go to the gym. I know, how could I be thinking of doing that after a day without resting, but it normally helps me to go to sleep and adjust the jet-lag, so I went. When I was walking around the facilities, I discovered they have a clay tennis court. It wasn't central court at Roland Garros and Nadal wasn't there, but instead there was a short old man in a run down sporty outfit with an even older jumper on top. He told me it was a trainer. I looked again and I thought he was kidding, but after what happen in the toilet I have learnt people in Nepal don't joke about their professions. I could not resist the temptation of giving him a try, just for curiosity. It was 10 dollars per hour only. And here it comes the surprise again. Like if it was Mr Miyagi in Karate Kid, that old men was the best tennis coach I have ever had. Not only he was fitter than me he correct my backhand making me look like Federer. If you happen to pass by Kathmandu, Bassam is his name.
At that stage I have figured out that Nepal was a strange country where the most bizarre things may happen, but the pass of the hours also confirmed me that despite my initial back luck, this country is full of nice honest people, very peaceful and willing to talk and help you. I can recall really nice conversations with the hotel staff intrigue of my ipad and why I wasn't italian. Yes italian, because another truth of Nepal, is that when you are here, it looks like you are in Rome, and not only for the chaotic traffic. This city is full of italians, but not just few of them. There are italians everywhere, whole families, complaining that the pasta in the hotel buffet is not aldente ( seriously). Young, old... Single in couples...
I may have encounter at least 100 of them and they did not belonging to the same group. I am not sure if there were exiled here, running away from Berlusconi or his "bellinas" but between the croissant and the italians, if I close my eyes I could think I was somewhere in Europe.
