Pokhara wasn’t at all what I expected... it was a very beautiful city, but all of Nepal was beautiful. There was a lake to look out on and one of the world’s tallest mountains, but on the contrary, I found myself in the middle of a tourist center with scores of hotels, strange bars and spending all my time riding around looking for a place to sleep, torn between all of the choice.
When I finally settled on a hotel to stay in, the haggling process began. The manager took me up to his best room and looked at me and said, “this room is very expensive. 40 dollars. And it has hot water.” I said “okay” without thinking twice. I thought, holy shit, this would cost me $150 in the states, or more, if the internet had worked
I decided to leave my “expensive” hotel room and venture around Pokhara. I was lonely. I was hoping to meet some people that night like I had in Kathmandu. Lovely people. I often feel like our impressions of cities are built solely on the experiences we have in them. Some cities are great and I think poorly of them and some cities are shit and I love going there. A place is made up of it’s people... I had a great dinner, and enjoyed every minute of the sunset and rise, but I left Pokhara early to return to a place that had spoken directly to my heart, Bandipur.
If you watched the video, I was underneath those power lines when they started sparking. Caught off guard, I ran into the street along with a few others as car horns honked at us, pumping their breaks. The entire side of the street lost power until the next morning. At least it wasn’t my side of the street.