Nepal after quarantine

For obvious reasons, in 2020 Nepal fell out of the usual series of tourist seasons. For a whole year, the huge tourism infrastructure was stewing in its own juice, without receiving any money from outside. Considering that the country is, to put it mildly, not rich, this could have ended disastrously. Therefore, it is not surprising that in the spring of 2021 we flew to the finally opened Nepal with some excitement.

First impression: Nepal is open, but empty.

Firstly, there was no queue for a visa. It's confusing. Thank God, then at the renovated airport you see the usual chaos and calm down a little. Secondly, in Thamel in the evening there were no visible tourists except us. Motorcycles are running full speed through streets where you usually can’t squeeze on foot.

And most importantly, the Purple Haze club has disappeared somewhere. Without him, Kathmandu is not Kathmandu. I really hope that this has bugged me and that everything will be found in the morning.

Here we were walking in the royal square of Bhaktapur. Several temples have just been rebuilt there after the earthquake that happened 5 years ago. They put bricks in their places and installed sculptures. Very good, but just as unreliable as it was before.

It seems that by the time the reconstruction is completed, the wheel of samsara will make a full turn and the time for a new shock will come. And imagine, here it doesn’t look like Sisyphean labor, but something like a Buddhist ritual of drawing a mandala from multi-colored sand (guess what for?) That is, everything goes according to plan))

A dense haze has been hanging over Nepal for several days. The Himalayas are not visible, the stars are not visible. I wonder if this will end in a storm. Tourists are still more interested in whether they can see the mountains))

By the way, about the storm. When we were returning by boat from the Mira Stupa in Pokhara, a squall suddenly came, raised waves and scattered our punts a little. Oddly enough, rescuers came from a motorboat and evacuated one of the boats. Now there is something to talk about))

Typical dialogue with Nepalese

- Where are you from?

- From Ukraine

-You don’t have a crown there?

- Of course there is, it’s everywhere.

You say this and suddenly you realize some weakness of your position. If the disease has not yet been overcome at home, why the hell are you going to another country? Or not - we took the tests. But is this enough to whiten your conscience? Tourism seems to be gaining an unwanted reputation as a hedonistic attraction. Like, they got drunk and drove...

P.S. We set out on the route - a trek to the Annapurna base camp. While we are crawling around the gardens. By the way, the rice has already been planted - we missed this show.

Today, several Nepalese expressed gratitude to our group for coming to Nepal despite all the difficulties and risks. The tourism industry here is barely alive, there are almost no foreigners in the country (why?!), domestic tourism is scanty. The Gotheliers and others involved are happy for any penny.

On the other hand, it is not very clear how Nepalese who are not directly involved in tourism feel about the return of foreigners. Some peasants we met rushed to cover their mouths when they saw us. But maybe it’s my paranoia (and they’re not afraid of Covid).

We met a strange couple. He is from Tomsk, she is from Colorado, their dog was found in Nepal. For the last year they have been living with friends in Mustang (the former kingdom beyond Annapurna). Those friends are also somewhat exotic - a Ukrainian and a Kazakh woman permanently live in the Himalayas. You might have heard about the Ukrainian if you watched the Nepali season “The World Inside Out”. He built a hotel here, a high-mountain bathhouse, and feeds tourists borscht with dumplings.

Nepal continues to celebrate the new year 2078. Accordingly, it is now the beginning of the month of Baisakh, and not mid-April. In the village where we stayed (Gorepani, altitude 2900 m), amateur performances took place all day on a renovated sports ground, after lunch there were basketball competitions (not bad), and then a disco until one in the morning. Here I first saw Nepalese grilling kebabs!

By the way, 2020 was not in vain in this village. Those locals who had money used the time free from tourists to restore their hotels and shelters. The road approached Ghorepani from both sides almost closely. At the top of Pun Hilu (3200 m) a strange 3-room barn (hotel, shop, cafe) made of concrete was erected...

The haze over the Himalayas provides travel with an element of surprise. Previously, I clearly knew that tomorrow at lunch we would see 2 eight-thousanders and warned the group in advance to hold their jaws. And now, in the haze, you can’t see anything, but you walk around all the time so as not to lose your chance to see the mountain. And of course, I again tell tourists about those peaks, but for a slightly different purpose.

It’s cool that besides us, optimists, numerous Nepalese came to watch the sunrise on Poon Hill 3200, who celebrated the New Year until midnight yesterday.

We witnessed the festival of yak blood. You usually won't see yaks on the trek to Annapurna Base Camp (it's too hot for them). But now they have been deliberately driven down from the mountain pastures. Large numbers of Nepalese have gathered around the tiny village of Deurali (altitude 3100 m) to drink the blood of yaks for a week. Animals are not killed, but it still becomes creepy. It is believed that blood protects against diseases for a whole year. Therefore, amid the pandemic, the number of people willing is quite large - they are already being accommodated in tents and canteens.

We move on.

It started to rain. The first drops fell as soon as we stepped on the threshold of the planned shelter, and the last ones fell already at dawn. After the rain, there was less dust on the trails, but most importantly, we saw the mountains for the first time. The haze that previously reliably covered the Himalayas has finally disappeared.

In Chomrong we were screwed - our favorite pastry shop was closed. In fact, this is not surprising - due to the lack of tourists, more than half of the lodges and retail outlets are closed. But construction of the first Buddhist stupa in the area is in full swing. It is strange that the local Buddhists waited so long.

The magic of the Himalayas is in action - in the morning we were in the jungle, and in the afternoon we were already crossing a frozen avalanche. In the evening it began to rain again, 60% of which consisted of hail. Therefore, we were glad that we changed our shoes to “winter tires” in time - we replaced light sneakers with mountain boots.

Here, in the gorge that leads to the Annapurna base camp, there are significantly more tourists than at the beginning of the route. We met several groups from India, saw Russians, Poles and an international group of trekking yogis. However, this is very little for April.

Due to the danger of avalanches, we usually pass the upper part of the gorge leading to Annapurna Base Camp as early as possible (before breakfast). In addition, a shovel, probe and other avalanche equipment will come in handy here. After all, the winter snow in the valley has already melted, but due to precipitation there is a possibility of new avalanches.

For a significant part of the way we go to the left (orographically) bank of the valley - we go around huge avalanche cones under the waterfalls of the opposite bank. When the sun floods the mountains with its warmth, we traditionally stop for breakfast at Machapuchare base camp. But literally within an hour a black cloud rises from the gorge and we drive on to have time to reach 4100m before the snowfall.

By the way, last year MBC completed the construction of a “Korean” rescue center. I wonder if this means that in the future there will be volunteer doctors on duty here, like on high-altitude treks in the Everest region?

We arrive at Annapurna Base Camp (at an altitude of 4100m) with snowfall. But on the spot we are no longer fighting precipitation, but mountain sickness. Some suffer from headaches, some fall asleep on the go, some are just very hungry)) To take our minds off, we play “Alias”. Nepalese, as always, are delighted))

An hour before sunset, the snow pauses briefly and we quickly run radially towards the glacier. It's probably 50 meters away, no more. But the path is hidden under the snow and our movement is close to that of a penguin - we move slowly and comically. Someone is apparently laughing while looking at us from the window of the warm dining room. But these are small things compared to the opportunity to get the blood flowing in the veins (and reduce headaches).

In the spring of 2019, Annapurna Base Camp was completely destroyed by an avalanche. In 2020 it was rebuilt from scratch with virtually NO CHANGES! The same format of buildings, the same stones stacked on top of each other. And the same slope outside the window is dangerous for avalanches. Therefore, when we woke up in the morning after a heavy snowfall, there was a serious reason to rejoice in the sun, wind, and mountains around.

We quickly take a photo of the sunrise and tramp down. The sun has barely risen above the fish tails, and we are already melting - walking in shorts and crampons. Only in the evening does the rain allow it to cool down and stop us at about 2300 m.

While we were waiting for lunch in the next shelter, a Nepalese STONE CRUSHING artel was working nearby. I was looking through the photos from that parking lot and suddenly remembered the day before, May 1, our Nepalese guide Harry sent out congratulations on Labor Day to everyone he knew. Not a word about spring, extra days off or barbecue.

Yes, there are still such exotic countries in the world where people rejoice at the opportunity to work. Imagine - carrying someone’s luggage to the mountains, pounding a rock with a sledgehammer, or paving an endless road and sincerely rejoicing.

12 years ago, when we first trekked to Annapurna, the return to civilization lasted 2 days longer. Now, we wake up at 2300 (Bambu village), have lunch at the hot springs, cross the longest suspension bridge in Nepal (almost 300 meters), and in the evening we find ourselves in the city... and I’m just blown away by the news that a new wave of “quarantineization” has begun in Nepal. To dine in a restaurant after nine requires some special maneuvers and this is just the beginning!

Overwhelming heat and lush green color. Despite the quarantine, Chitwan National Park is happy to see us. The hotel manager offered us a free dinner to take a group photo in the restaurant. Now he can be proud that he received foreign tourists, and we can be proud that we endured our moment of glory with honor.

By the way, we are not the only tourists to Chitwan. There are several groups from India here and given some trends this is alarming. But so far the elephants and rhinoceroses have not gone on sick leave and we are quickly grabbing our share of summer.

An amazing amount of events can be squeezed into 2 weeks of a REAL trip. We are back in Kathmandu, again walking through dusty streets and rickety temples. Although the May holidays are just around the corner, there are still no tourists in the city. New realities: in the evening a health worker comes to our hotel to do a PCR test. You need it to get on the plane home.

In early May, Nepal suddenly decided to close its borders again and impose a quarantine. We were lucky to fly out of Kathmandu a few days before flights stopped. Therefore, our group was not stuck in Nepal, everything was ok - sincere gratitude to everyone who was worried. In general, it’s a very creepy feeling to lose opportunities. Except you were here, walking in the mountains, feeling at home. And suddenly all this disappears from your world map. It may not be forever, but it’s so dear...

In Dubai, Kyiv flights are now accepted at a large terminal. This adds 30 minutes to transfer between buildings, but this terminal has waiting rooms with carpeted floors and benches without handrails where you can take a nap. Real happiness for vagabonds like us.

Kirill Yasko, Kyiv, May 2021