Kathmandu, August 14

Out of the wilderness, into the urban jungle. Nine years ago Jolien and me shared a night on a camping in Wiltshire with an old Brit, who proclaimed: 'this country is going to the dogs'. He meant England of course. He should have seen Nepal. This is a place where the canines truly rule.

It takes Lonely Planet's trek description seven days from Namche to Jiri, the nearest place where cars can get, and more importantly: public transport. It took me five. The "road", if you can call the track over loose grind and boulders that, is supposedly making progress into the mountainous jungle here: every year another few kilometres are supposed to be finished. In 2020 it may reach Kenja, a day's walk from Jiri. If there is enough money. For some reason the communist parties in this country are big proponents of road construction. They make it sound like some kind of magic, as if building a road will suddenly lift people out of poverty and ignorance. Who knows their zeal may help construction, but somehow the abandoned piles of cement and gravel along the unfinished tracks gave me the impression that some big boss had decided on a new car for himself, instead of hiring workers. We have to think positively: at least the cash was spent on transportation.

Arriving at Jiri was something like a culture shock. Green mountain slopes dotted with shags, where the ethnic Rai, Tamang and Jirel people make their living from a field of potatoes, two goats and a buffalo, surrounded by their own litter and excrement yet oblivious of it, make place for the marvels of civilisation and progress, as the Maoists see it. Two dozen shabby shops line a dirt track: this is Jiri. Everything is for sale here: mobile phones, plastic toys, tropical fruit, twenty different types of crisps and cheese balls imported from India, as many different types of cheap clothes imported from China, Coca Cola, posters of Indian celebrities, dried spices, you name it. After 50 days in the wilderness, it felt almost like a metropolis.

The bus was booked full, but in Nepal that is hardly ever a problem. I was sold a "cabin seat", which means I could sit on the tiny bench next to the driver, together with three other lucky ones. The first one was an older lady who wrapped herself in a purple scarf and fell asleep on top of the others; she only awoke now and then to vomit over our bags. The second was a lean Tibetan who smelled strongly of tsang (rice wine). The third was an old man who fell asleep on my lap. These were the lucky ones, some thirty others had to stand in the corridor, between the seats. Twenty others sat on the roof. And off we were! Only once did we stop, to let the 80+ passengers have a quick meal in a dirty concrete barn that serves as a road side eatery.

The landscape between Jiri and Kathmandu is still very beautiful, if not as spectacular as in the high mountains where I came from. This can not be said of the human settlements we passed though. Garbage is everywhere. Vendors selling small refreshments (slices of cucumber or pineapple, bottles of water) sit along the road, waiting for the next bus. Women are washing, men are chewing tobacco. Children play with a ball in the expanse of pig or goat shit that is the road. Did I already write that garbage is everywhere? It is. The people seem poorer, more stressed and dirtier than in the Khumbu, where the road is absent. I suddenly begin to wonder if the Maoists have it wrong. Maybe the road doesn't bring progress, just dirt, misery and cheap consumption goods? But the Khumbu became rich on tourism so the comparison is unfair. There are no tourists here. And where the tourists are absent, the NGO's they founded and man are absent too. No new schools, hospitals, bridges or electricity plants here. The government is only present in the form of military checkposts where the papers of the bus drivers are checked (not the discrepancy between the bus' capacity and the actual number of passengers though - although the people on the roof are sometimes ordered to get off). The soldiers seem friendly enough, but it's doctors, teachers, engineers and garbage-men these communities need.

After 10 hours crammed between the old man, the alcoholic and the barfing lady the bus passed Bhaktapur and rode over the only two lane highway in Nepal - 10 kms, built by a Japanese NGO - into the cloud of smog that covers Kathmandu. I must have forgotten how dirty, overcrowded and hectic Nepal's capital has become, cause it was an even bigger shock than Jiri. I still like the city. Even in my own neighbourhood, I can stroll around for hours. Kathmandu is so full of friendly people. Of course there are slums, beggars on the space meant for pavement (some politician drives a new car), dirty cows roaming the city and many people working hard for incredibly little salary, but still. Yesterday I discovered a beautiful small temple I never knew was only 5 minutes from my guesthouse. Today I walked over Basanthapur Chowk and found I can still admire the beauty of the temples and royal palaces. And still be ripped off be the vendors.

Unfortunately a nasty surprise was waiting for me in Kathmandu too. The immigration police will only extend my visa for two weeks, because there is a rule that you may not stay in the country longer than 5 months every year. Besides they tried to rip me off of course, but I was prepared for that and told them to piss off. That probably took away my chance to bribe my way out. It also meant I had to tell the NGO where I was going to work I couldn't take the job after all. That was quite a sad conversation.

When I can't find a single star to hang my wish upon; I just move on, I just move on.

Two weeks are fortunately enough to arrange a visa for a next destination: India, again. There was little choice because Nepal only has borders with two countries, of which one is closed to foreigners. The personnel at the Indian embassy are the kings of corruption. Compared to these guys, the Nepalis look like angels. Unlike the Nepalis, the Indians don't work on Sunday. And tomorrow the embassy is closed too: it is Independance Day in India. No good reason for celebration, after all the place was much better off under the British, but still they don't work. The Indian officials also have strange rules for visas just because they like to annoy you. For example: you are not allowed to enter India again if you've been there in the past two months, even if you have a valid visa which allows you another entry. This only applies if your visa was issued in certain countries (among them Nepal). The rule is so absurdly confusing that it apparently took India a couple of years to make all its officials aware of it. Since then, you can still bribe them of course, but that's quite expensive and you need to find the right guy.

Well, wish me luck with the bureaucrats when I go through another visa application in the coming days.