Arriving in Kathmandu

Arriving in Kathmandu

I should have known this was going to happen. This is not my first time flying into a third world country, and I should have known Kathmandu would be a large crazy city. After 28 hours of flying and one layover, I disembarked from the plane tired and blurry eyed. The first thing all the passengers had to do was to get their visas. Unfortunately, Nepal has barely made it into the modern world, and I stood in line for two hours while the officials entered every passenger’s information by hand in a large ledger. No easy swipe into a computer of your passport here.

After getting my visa, the real fun begins. I retrieve my bags and walk towards the exit of the airport, and I'm confronted by hundreds of taxi drivers rushing towards me trying to give me a ride. They are all in my face and trying to convince me to go with them. Luckily, I had arranged with my guest house to have a driver come pick me up. I spot his little sign with my name, and he rescues me from the queue of taxi drivers. I get in the car and breath a sigh of relief. Little do I know there is more shock to come.

Out on the street, I witness the rules of the road for the first time. There are few marked lanes and, to me, it seems like a free for all. The small cars and the many motorbikes are all jockeying for position, horns blaring. The driver keeps his hand on the horn and lays on it at every possible move he makes. We dodge in and out of traffic coming close to hitting other cars, motorbikes, pedestrians, and the occasional lumbering sacred cow in the road. Sitting in the passenger seat, I keep telling myself "don't panic, don't panic; this is just how it goes here." "Oh shit, don't hit that family on the motorbike!" I think to myself. There are motorbikes with the husband driving and the wife on the back holding the baby. The only one who is wearing a helmet is the father. I think about how back home we would recall any child car seat that had the slightest defect.

The dust, the exhaust fumes from all the vehicles, and the burning trash all burn my lungs. Many of the cities inhabitants walk around with some type of mask covering their noses and mouths. Note to self: maybe I should try to get a hold of a mask.

We wind through the narrow streets of the tourist part of town and finally arrive at my guest house. I pull my bags into my room and collapse on the bed for a long nap. When I wake, it's dark outside and time to go find some dinner. Great, the first time I get to confront the city on my own is in the dark. I take a deep breath and walk outside looking for a restaurant. The streets are busy with motorbikes with their incessant horns, shopkeepers selling their wares, other tourists, and the hash dealers. I dodge the motorbikes on the narrow street and hope that they zig when I zag. Some shifty eyed little dude approaches me, "Where you from, what's your name, how long you in Nepal?" he asks. Then in a quiet hush he says with the softest whisper, "Want some hash?" I give him a double take, not sure if I heard him correctly. When it finally registers to me what he said I laugh and tell him, "No thanks, I'm good."

I finally get some dinner and return to my guest house. Still exhausted from the travelling and time change, I crash into bed around 8:00 pm. The sounds of Bob Marley blasting from the night club down the street and the constant barking of the street dogs sing me to sleep.