Day 21: Kathmandu - Home

Sam and I woke early and didn’t take very long to pack.  We wandered through the now familiar passageways of Thamel until we found a restaurant we liked: New Orleans, I think it was called.  We ordered, and there was a minor kerfuffle with my meal, because they did not have the apple that was supposed to come with it, so they substituted with banana slices and were super concerned that I wasn’t happy with it when I didn’t eat very much.  I tried, but was so excited for the day that I couldn’t stomach a lot of the food.  My hot chocolate was strange and tasted a bit like mocha.  Suddenly, Sam remembered we had forgotten to pay our hotel bill for the room and our meals, so he dashed out of the courtyard to go back to our hotel and pay.  I sat, people watched, and sipped my warm drink while I waited for him to return.  The manager approached my table, very concerned that Sam had abruptly run away and (1) not paid for his meal, and (2) left me alone.  Once I let him know Sam would return, he was still concerned because I was sitting there by myself, I don’t know why, I felt quite safe where I was in the calm, quiet, lush plant filled courtyard – apparently that kind of thing just isn’t done.  They wanted to remove Sam’s plate, but I wouldn’t let them; I don’t think they fully believed me that he would come back to the table.  Of course he did, after about 15 minutes, and said the hotel manager was forlorn when it was discovered we were gone without paying and elated when Sam returned to take care of the outstanding bill.  Sam then paid for our breakfast meal, to the great relief of the still befuddled restaurant staff.  We then walked to find a taxi, which we found at the corner of Wal Mart (it bears no resemblance to the big store back home, much like my milkshakes).  The driver stopped in the middle of the narrow, but not yet busy street and offered us a ride.  I told him we were going to the airport and would pay 300 rupee.  He said no way and shook his head adamantly, offering a counter of 700 rupee.  I refused to get in the car, even though he was hurriedly motioning for us to do so, and again insisted on 300 rupee.  He said, “No, 500,” but rapidly agreed to 300 when I said we’d just find another taxi and started to walk away.  Sam and I kept our packs crushed in our laps, rather than put them in the hatchback, because it would be all too easy for someone to pop the hatch and grab our bags while we sat at a stop somewhere along the road.  No way was I losing my pack.

Final breakfast in Kathmandu.

Airport drop-off zone.

Here are some videos of the drive to the airport.  Sorry for the shakes and bumps, the taxi didn't have any cushion and we were jarred by every bump, rock, and pothole in the road.  Wish I'd taken more videos of our trip, but these show a bit of how many bikes are on the road and the crazy traffic.  Be on the lookout for the pedestrians and bicyclists trying to cross the road in traffic!

The airport was crazy and I tried to snap photos of the inside, but was swiftly and firmly told “no” by official looking uniformed men who materialized from out of nowhere, so I didn’t press my luck or run the risk of getting detained.  We were early, so we sat outside of the secure area and chatted with the Israeli couple whom we ran into again, and then, after wishing them well, we got in line for security.  There were two lines: one for men and one for women.  My line was by far the shorter of the two, so I was through with my x-rayed pack and pat down search long before it was Sam’s turn; this only meant that I didn’t have to stand so long, because I still had to wait for him.  I sat on the other side while I waited, at first garnering a scowl from the security men, but after I smiled at them, they shrugged and let me stay.  Finally, Sam and I were through security and found ourselves in a large square terminal that was absolutely completely packed full of people of all nationalities, colors, and smells.  Miraculously, we were able to find seats against the wall, giving a friendly nod to some travelers in front of us.  From time to time a man’s voice could be heard over the loud speaker, making announcements of some sort, but all we could understand through the crackling and muffled intercom was his ending phrase, that was always the same: “Namaste.”  After an hour and a half of waiting, we’d gotten there super early, to be prepared for any delay, a bunch of people suddenly, without announcement, got up and moved out of the room en mass.  Sam and I looked at each other in confusion.  The men across from us did some rapid questioning of the people around them and then they told us that our plane had changed terminals.  Thank you, fellow travelers.  So we rushed down to the other terminal, it wasn’t far, only to sit and wait for another half hour.  Our entertainment came in the form of a group of American schoolgirls, on some mission trip presumably: one of them suddenly couldn’t find her passport and a great search ensued.  Book bags, purses, and pockets were searched, the floor scoured, security notified, and the girl mostly just sat there and wailed “My passport is lost” while her friends moved in a flurry around her.  This continued for a decent 15 minutes before an adult, the voice of reason, finally ordered the sniveling teen to search her bookbag again.  She upended her bad and the missing passport plopped, anticlimactically, into her lap.  Then it was time to board our flight, so we again lined up into male and female lines, were halfheartedly pat-searched again, and set free to walk across the tarmac to our waiting airplane.

This is what our boarding gate sign said - though we were flying Korean Air and going to Seoul.

Covert photo taken by Sam, still fearful about the "no photo" policy.

Our first flight was uneventful.  I sat between Sam and a young Nepali girl and I showed her how to access the movies and games programmed into the headrest in front of her.  The cartoon, Sponge Bob, was in English, which she neither spoke nor understood, but she laughed at it anyway.  I had to help her again when she stood up mid-flight and said something to her mother who was seated across the aisle.  They waived a flight attendant over and asked her where the toilet was.  The Korean flight attendant didn’t understand Nepali and there was a minute of confusion as the two foreign languages tried to make themselves understood.  I finally blurted out “toilet” and all three looked at me and nodded their heads.  Problem solved.

We climbed Thorong La to a higher altitude than this plane is flying.  Crazy.

Seoul airport is amazing, which makes up for the long layovers that usually occur there.  Free massages, free showers with shampoo and heated fluffy robes and towels, free massage chairs, and a mini library complete with books, audio books, and a computer with free internet access.  There are stores that line the terminal halls, rivaling any upscale shopping mall, restaurants, and lounges.  Then there are the bathrooms: zen bathrooms complete with their own gardens.  I kid you not.  We had a pretty long layover and we’d planned to exit the airport and do a quick tour of Seoul in the morning, but I overslept, so we indulged in the comforts of the airport and then I dashed outside of the airport to take a look around while Sam watched my backpack, and then I easily checked through security upon reentry. 

Where we spent the night in the airport.

Burger King - first non-Nepali meal in 23 days.

Drinking fountain - get a stainless steel cup from the right and fill with hot or cold water and then put the used cup in a bin below the cup dispenser.

My brief foray into the South Korean sunshine.

Bathroom - see in the back?

Zen garden

I could get used to bathrooms like this - wonder if it would catch on back home...

Why not have a putting green on top of the boarding gate?

From South Korea to Seattle, we were twice fed full meals and passengers were plied with wine, which I guess made them happier and content to fly for 14 hours in peace.  I enjoyed my soft airline provided blanket, pillow, and slippers and felt moderately well rested when we finally reached Seattle and we considered ourselves, essentially, home.

The sunset and sunrise of the same day, because we are traveling backward in time across the international date line.

Seattle!  One more flight and we're home.

Namaste!