Just recently a friend and former colleague of mine sent me a YouTube clip from The Mind of a Chef with the renowned world traveler Anthony Bourdain. Bourdain claims that he fears the inner hippy inside of him, the comatose and inactive potential inside each one of us to unwittingly allow years of waking up late and watching reruns of the Simpsons to easily pass by us without interruption. That fear occasionally permeates into my otherwise mostly peaceful thoughts here in Pokhara.

I made the bumpy ride to Pokhara a week ago in relative comfort on an air-conditioned tour bus. Since that time I have been trying to find ways to fill my days as I wait out the monsoon season so that I can start hiking the Annapurna Circuit. I wait. Patiently. So far, no Simpsons reruns…

I am taking a yoga class at 7:00 every morning. I don’t really love it, but having a commitment in the morning gives me a reason to get my day going. My instructor is perhaps 18 years old. He will begin university this year. The classes take place at his family’s guest house where he lives with his parents and his sister. He has been running the place while his father has been away on business in Kathmandu. His mother has invited me to dinner a couple of times, but it has not exactly been like one might think. She serves her son and me dinner at a little table on the terrace and then stands around as we eat. Both times she has prepared for us the traditional Nepali food called dal baht, which is basically a lentil soup that you pour over white rice. It is often served with curried pickles.  Meanwhile, her younger daughter studies in her room by candlelight. The electricity comes and goes here; the government has planned times when it will turn out. My hotel has backup power, but the fan and the bathroom light only work when the electricity is running.

I am taking a Nepali class for an hour each day. The teacher, Sudin, is also young – 22 years old. His brother-in-law started the school years ago. He basically spends the hour writing down phrases on the board and I hurriedly copy them down. Later I make flashcards and try to memorize them. I am well behind.

When I first arrived a week ago there was nary a sign of other tourists. A bevy of restaurants and guest houses line the street along the lake, but everywhere I looked appeared to be completely empty. The locals have been worried that the earthquakes and the recent political violence will keep people away during the upcoming busy season. But I’ve seen more and more ratty-haired young tourists trickle in, and I am no longer the only patron when I go to get something to eat.

To fill my day,  I have also read, played solitaire, and tried to brainstorm about upcoming travel plans. I recently completed in one day a book called The Ascent of Rum Doodle, a farce on early climbing expeditions in the Himalaya. It is filled with inept characters who without the local porters would surely have failed at their mission to climb the highest peak in the world at 40,000 and a half feet. It was written in the mid 1950s and proved entertaining.

Weather-wise most days here are pleasant, but clouds cover the tops of the lower lying mountain peaks. The higher peaks sit beyond and cannot be seen. It often rains in the late afternoon or evening. The last two nights we have had survived two humdinger thunderstorms. One strike clapped so close that I remained stunned and awake for a good hour afterwards.

I couple of days ago, I walked up to the Peace Pagoda, a Buddhist temple built by the Japanese some years ago that sits along the ridge above the lake. I returned by taking the shortcut to the boat ramp and hiring a ride across the lake to Pokhara.

It’s strange having so much down time, and I am sure it would make many of my teacher compatriots jealous, all of whom are currently racing full bore through a hectic and stressful time, the beginning of the school year. I don’t mean to be facetious when I say that it’s unnerving sometimes. I have been going and going for four straight school years and summers, and sometimes I go through spouts where I feel that I need to accomplish more with my time. I don’t even shave anymore. Apologies again if I come across as flippant, but I am doing my best to enjoy the calm and quiet that is Pokhara during the monsoon season. So far today, I’ve done my yoga and had tea and breakfast. Next, on the agenda, taking in the view below. After that, we’ll see…

Above: The view from the establishment where I  just had breakfast

Below: The city of Pokhara, second largest in Nepal at 250,000. Picture taken from the Peace Pagoda