Some photos from Pokhara.
Photo Supplement: Pokhara, Nepal
Nepal
Nepal 52: Something to Do With Your Hands
I shook hands with my opponent across the chess board. Beams of early-afternoon sunlight broke through the roof of the Pokhara cafe where we were sitting.
My opponent grinned a toothy grin. He was dark-skinned, freckled, missing one of his front teeth, and had a big, bushy white beard. He wore a light scarf wrapped around his head. This was the Malaysian.
Fifty-one years old, professional itinerant, and damned good chess player.
He’d just taken four out of five games from me, smoking hash almost the entire time.
Nepal 51: Why Do You Want to Move to Austria?
When I finally reached the coffee shop where I had played chess with the Malaysian, I ran up the stairs with a spring in my step.
I had my interview. I had time to arrange a trek. I would trek, I would leave Nepal, return home, and show up on Holly’s doorstep with a dream in hand, ready for our next great adventure.
That was one option, anyways.
Regardless, as the Malaysian I was coming to see had said; it was time to rearrange my life.
Nepal 50: The Pieces Fall Into Place
I walked out of the bathroom shaking in silent mirth. I had just been forced to use letterhead from a 5-star hotel as toilet paper.
The absurdities of travel.
Nepal 49: Wiping My Ass With a 5-Star Hotel
Wrenching my attention away from the paragliders, I looked back to my coffee. It was cold. I downed the ristretto in one shot, and chugged the remainder of the Americano. I opened my computer, and then immediately closed it.
I got up and asked the barista where the bathroom was.
thisisyouth 