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Nepal (3) पोखरा

La fameuse ville de Pokhara, destination touristique par excellence du Népal. Autant dire que notre voeu sacré de ne pas dépenser d'argent inutile avant le retour à Kathmandou est mis à dure épreuve. Mais nous résisterons - et devrions être intronisées pour ça. Le premier jour à Pokhara est loin d'être passionnant puisqu'il est occupé par une belle grasse matinée (ah bah oui, la jungle, ça fatigue), un long déjeûner flemmard sur les bords de Phewa Tal et... un remaniement radical et laborieux de tous nos plans pour cause budgétaire. Nous décidons, après force discussions avec Marine, de ne pas prendre l'avion à Kathmandou pour rentrer, mais de quitter le Népal par la terre. Avec tous les problèmes d'annulation, de nouvelles réservations, de difficiles contacts par téléphone, de conseils contradictoires, établir notre nouvel itinéraire prend des heures, a fortiori toute la journée. Point culminant de la journée : un moment à buller comme des larves à All that jazz, un café jazz spécial touristes, à déguster des momos...

The first full day so not much wrong with being much more interesting. It seems that the world belongs to those who get up early (when necessary). So now at least Nepal belongs to us, with an awakening to 4am. The taxi booked from the previous day at 4.30 does not, bad luck, a foregone conclusion, but we jumped into the first taxi came, unexpected stroke of luck. The goal of our expedition is the morning sunrise from Sarangkot hill overlooking Phewa Tal. Despite the very early morning hours and again the atmosphere of a dark blue particles scattered, many Nepalese are already up and climb the hill. "The Nepalese are athletes!" Many women, alone or in small groups, wrapped in shawls, argue for a very assured, their calves and prominent hard to guess under their petticoats colored, usually red when they walk. Sarangkot, as Expected, is very touristy. Indeed visits "off the beaten path" from Lonely Planet does not stay long! The head of the hill, cleared of vegetation, an observation point is open to 360 °, parasitized by some dhabas and crafts stalls clinging like mussels on a rock. From this promontory, we can confirm that the terrain of Pokhara is unique and breathtaking: nowhere you can also admire the impressive elevations between 1000m and not even the highest peaks of Annapurna. The sunrise is delayed, but makes her entry into first subtly reflected on the highs. A newlywed couple from India, whose appearance and attitude as proof they were married out of love they come from a wealthy background, stands hugging the top of the promontory and maintains an air of perfect bliss. In the valley of the rivers run along the villages still lost in an uncertain light on the south lies the calm and majestic form of the lake, far down the mountain. When the sun finally appears, the light suddenly raining on the peaks and valleys, inundating villages, rivers, people.

At what point is the steep slope to get to the lake from Sarangkot, we do understand that in descending the steep path which usually looks more like a staircase for giants. After an hour down the legs begin to be trembling, heart trouble hanging. During a moment of weakness, a thin but sturdy Nepalese beyond us at full speed. "But how is it?" We finish to understand the trick of the natives galloping across the mountain every day that their gods are: great strides, tonic, supporting every step of projecting flat stones on the road. Do not still have cold feet when the slope is steep as the Titanic sank. The road is occasionally bends that can dominate a broad overview including large agricultural terraces lit through by the sun still low, and Lake with purple hues. Rockeries, square houses clinging to the slope ochres, courses populated by goats and buffaloes. Residents enjoy their free time to sit on the steps of their house under progress roof, smoke bidis, shouting "Namaste" on our way. Suddenly the slope becomes gentle and the lake appears.

Back to civilization and therefore dénichage taxi to spin in Old Pokhara - it comes up for lost time yesterday! This time the advice of Lonely Planet we are really crippled land far corners of tourists. Here time seems to stand still, with old shops, metal containers, baskets, gold jewelry. On older buildings, the edges of windows are carved lace wood that must filter the light from within. This type of sculpture is also present on the pediment of small temples lost in the streets, sometimes Hindus (but were not allowed to enter if you are not Hindu), sometimes Buddhist (welcome home). While I take close-ups of reliefs, the Navy has lost good idea; follows suit-survey-examination through the streets of Pokhara. "No, we have not seen." "Hahahaha you lost your girlfriend?" "A white like you?". Until I find a market place where she tried to find a charger for his cell phone turned off since the beginning of the journey. "Ah, but I thought you followed me! - Bah nan".

The afternoon continues with a trek on horseback. No matter the effect of rest: you remember that Nepal belongs to us? A trek on horseback, that is to say a hike in the mountains pony, accompanied by a guide 13, on foot and armed with a stick to move the ponies. That obey the blow to any other order, despite my efforts authoritarian. The first part of the trek seems unpleasant, because it must first leave the city, a gallery on the asphalt in front responding to countless "Namaste" children and adolescents ignore the taunts by bus or car (being White means being already an attraction in itself, so being a white horse ...), horses frightened by the sounds of metal, but surprisingly unreceptive to the mass of honking - animals evolve adapting to their environment. Unpleasant part that lasts longer than all the guide realized after more than a half-hour drive it takes us in the right direction. Once the city and left the road, the ride is much more clearly the scope, with a steep road winding through the terraces and small hamlets. After breaking off a strip of land in an extremely abruptly above the terraces sits a large neem in whose shadow tightens an entire family. Our little guide manages the difficult path crosses with a few jeeps, while exposing us his desire to migrate to Australia and become a doctor ... The ultimate goal of the trip, Pakoda World Peace, a white stupa of regular proportions enthroned atop another of those typical stairways l'ascension-de-Buddhist spiritual. This is definitely the day of the stairs. I HATE stairs.

The return seems shorter but equally unpleasant portion bitumen. The summary equation the day is grand staircases multiple horse trek + = very very bad everywhere. We walk in slow motion and bow-legged like Henry Fonda to a restaurant with a show of folk dances finally singularly lacking enthusiasm. Enthusiasm later found in front of a buffalo steak and lemon meringue pie - it may be good to be real simple for tourists once. Extinction very soon after that, I did not go to bed so early since the eve of my return to 2nd.

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Pokhara Nepal (2)

Let us now leave the city, temples, and also the freshness. This famous Chitwan National Park is located in the Terai, and just a little reminder just to laugh

The Terai is where it's green, so flat. Really flat. In yellow is the hills. In brown, it starts to get up. And white, very high, too high elsewhere, we will not (but next time I'll be a trekkeuse surentraînée and go). Basically, from Kathmandu to Chitwan you can slip the mountain to the arid plain, and it will take ten to fifteen degrees warmer in the figure.

Exit Kathmandu is also a great adventure. The first is to cross the city congested, polluted and chaotic. And then we end up outside the city at once , making a leap into the vegetation but also a dive from dizzying heights: one dominates the cliffs, steep slopes where the rock is not apparent. Everything is very green even if the vegetation is varied, a forest of pine-scented fresh and salt to a humid equatorial jungle in just five hours by bus. The road winds dangerously on a mountainside, it often exceeds vehicle accident, the bus is sometimes coasting just before a bend in the elbow, cultures and landscapes and terraced houses with floors stacked punctuate the trip.

Upon arrival in Chitwan, a dozen hotel touts waiting like vultures, and we congratulate once again travel package organized their escape. The journey to the cottage is in a jeep of the oldest, on unpaved roads through villages with many thatched roofs. The impression that the Nepalese are more hospitable than the Indians began to seriously be confirmed, and our room clean and comfortable is revealed. Visit a Tharu village is organized, interesting, even if the knowledge Historical our guide should be checked (him, it does not shock may be to hear that Mumtaz Mahal died in a car accident - reference), especially on the reasons for the migration of the population of India, but he knows a lot about the fauna and flora. Comes the poignant moment of our first encounter with the elephants that we will soon go up - it seems he must go slowly.

The river that marks the entrance of Chitwan National Park is not far away, so we continue walking up this big a drop, it seems charged with electricity, falls on my shoulder, anticipating the huge deluge that struck a few seconds later. Tourists flee in a jeep or take refuge under the shelter of straw that are far from being a great consolation to face the wind and hail. The mood is electric too, excited. Puddles rise of several centimeters within a few minutes, the rain becomes impenetrable curtain, green vegetation becomes blurred, then flees the deluge a few minutes and we benefit from thinning to rush to the hotel barefoot in puddles and streams of mud.

The next day the clock is hard to 6am, to the point we cut our already solid reputation of late. Our small group went on foot to the river where we sit on a long slender boat reminiscent Shikaras Kashmiri. In the day yet clear, the plain of Terai, so flat that seems supernatural in a degraded stretches of green to the mountains in their smooth dark blue. The stated aim of the expedition is to observe wildlife in the river, and many breeds of birds and their names are forgettable, except perhaps the Marabou, bird supposedly extremely rare but saw several times during the day . Many kingfishers too, including diving energetic suddenly crumpled the smooth surface of river. This huge flat space as a carom that any relief is seen as a failure, and the slightest sign of life, animal or human, is a message that resonates in this world green and blue.

Suddenly the guide tells us two small dark triangles protruding from the surface of the water and we enjoined silence. We eventually realize that these are the eyes of a crocodile ... "This One Is not eating French breakfast!" Thank you, glad to know ... After the meeting the nice crocodile eating fish, gharial (voice-extinguishing according to Wiki-Bible), we continue with a march from one hour to through the jungle. I can not see other animals, but the passage of vegetation to another is fascinating enough in itself, as the transition from a lush, tree tops, and twisted vines trimmed, sheltering multiple nests, a sudden clearing in the short grass and magical light, framed by trees, but for as high as cathedrals.

After that it's time for elephant bathing, local sports probably judging by the description of the thing: it is dressed to climb on the back of the elephant enthroned in the middle of the river and play with him to make bath time fun, with lots of random tilts in water and watering by mistake. As the Blue Elephant logo in France. And then it helps break the ice.

For it is then when the famous safari on elephant back. To rise above, not much effort, it requires a ramp like a maharaja lazy, and I violently jealous that the driver climbed onto the head of the elephant through the tube. We are four more on the elephant driver, both say that comfort is limited - I pity the Maharaja finally forced to parade hours on this perch. We cross the river where children play in the village, and penetrate the reserve in the light of late afternoon. After only a few minutes, a peacock blue king at the wheel crashes on our way, is total silence apart from the heavy tread of elephants on the carpet of leaves larger than the hand, a deer darts, and a further whole herd of deer. Movement almost surreal as only glimpsed, but which leaves an imprint in the hearts of both heavy and air. Feel privileged. When a rhinoceros is seen by the driver, the observation becomes almost flush to surround the animal elephant loaded with tourists. The elephant is the worst enemy of the rhinoceros, remember Babar and Rataxès. So no tiger, luck was not on our side, but that of someone else that morning, shortly after dawn.

The third day is the start though with a little treat in passing, a rafting. We leave early by local bus to get to the point of departure. This first experience of local bus is initially refreshing, far from the comfort sanitized (but still on) the bus for tourists decorating whimsical and colorful garlands swinging rhythm ruts and bends elbow, not a single tourist, Nepalese music or Bollywood. But the joy is short: only a few minutes after the chaotic bus stops on the side. Flat tire. We will need some time to understand that in this type of roads and terrain combined with a somewhat antiquated equipment such incidents is more than common. That's why we were the only ones to be surprised or even bothered, eh. "Five minutes waiting," it will be much more of course, and yet for some reason I do not have the reflex to stretch my legs out and I'd rather take the opportunity to write a little crushed the front seat and wedged by my backpack. After at least an hour wait and repair observed closely by Army Navy his camera in front of a window of the bus - it was so privileged to witness the transportation of a warthog in a backpack, here we go again. As always the trip is even more chaotic than the driver seems to catch up. Not a chance elsewhere, but what we need anyway to wait two hours longer on site, two Englishwomen come even later than us, surely at least two punctures.

The rafting boat waiting for us below to the end of a rocky road who joined the torrent. While a couple of Indians in Chandigarh laboriously puts a life jacket, above the white kurta for Mr. and above all to Madame kameez with enthusiasm, are recommendations for use, including most memorable is "If you fall in the Water, Do not Grab the Sandeep Sandeep IS OTHERWISE swimming too" (Sandeep being the little guy in charge of kayak rowing to the rescue of any survivors). The rapids are expected, but enthusiasm for the landscape it is now. The river exhibits a beautiful color "caramel" (according to Navy and is close to the truth) and winds through hillsides in their usual gradient blue and green. Sometimes a strip of road trucks loaded colorful, noisy and appears wreathed in a clear shift in height, and staggered terraced houses scramble to the edge of cliffs, stairs carved into the rock flow to the shores of a white sandy. The descent of nearly two hours that alternates water barely rippled and foaming rapids. Ms. Chandigarh tends to systematically rowing in the opposite direction while reprimanding others while Mr Chandigarh is too busy to exclaim "lag raha hai Kitna maaza!" (It's really fun too!) To paddle effectively. When the current permits, I'm always the first to switch back to swim a little. I like the feeling of floating effortlessly on the surface of an authoritarian power. Mr Chandigarh, for that matter in the water it has a little wandering hands. A quick more important than the others eventually do fall, just punishment - but it falls inside the boat, too bad. Regular, long, thin rope bridges stretching from one side of the river to the other, suspended in the air, almost surreal fragility, and are traversed by women carrying heavy baskets filled with rocks or branches and whose weight is borne by forehead. "Paddle High Five", as is the ritual that installs quickly after each was defeated ...

After the rafting, drying and picnicking, rafting head refourguer we seek a local bus - after all, we were promised to us to bring in Pokhara. After an hour they finally succeeded. No punctures this time, a changing but always the same height were found after the Terai and worries of traffic. In Pokhara, a tourist town par excellence, I can hardly keep my composure in front of all these touts Hotel who harass us. We end up finding a cute room in a guesthouse not far from the street "temptations" filled with the range of items to buy in Nepal, not far from a restaurant with paper lanterns, where we enjoy a buffalo steak . It is well worth the beef, and it avoids the two years in prison under the murder of a cow ...