The patatje pindasaus,
an invisible river and
the man covered in vaginas

“No, I don’t want anything, I really don’t.”
“Come on, we’re going to check out the town, walk around a little, do some window shopping, visit a temple.”
“No, I’m not. Not now. I am going to stay in bed; you can make me a sandwich, make me a pot of tea and just let me lie in bed.”
I am tired to the bone. Peter is also tired, but he doesn’t want to admit to it yet, now he has finally reached Walhalla. There is too much to see and to do. Actually he thinks I’m right: in sixty-one days we have cycled over 2.500 kilometres on bad roads, climbed 33 passes and slept 49 nights above 4000 metres. It has been an attack on body and mind, which will take at least two weeks to recover. We are very skinny and feel hungry all the time.

The second resting day Peter manages to talk me into a walking tour of Thamel, the tourist quarters of Kathmandu where our hotel is situated. Hundreds of small and bigger shops with knickknacks, outdoor-clothing and mountaineering materials, Tibetan keepsakes, books and postcards, woollen clothing, silverware, internet computers and religious statues languish for the attention of the few tourists who dare to come to the still politically unstable Nepal. Salesmen, beggars, cycle-rickshaws and hawkers of treks and hotels impose themselves onto us whilst we try to take a quiet stroll through the narrow streets.

We feel dizzy because of the noisy motorcycles, the favourite means of transport of the average Nepali who has some money, and the Suzuki Alto-taxis that force their way through the people, whilst constantly blowing their horns. After an hour of walking both of us are exhausted because of all the impressions and the noise, and it is clear that Peter will be fed up with this part of town very soon. We end our tour at BK’s, a French-fries-joint set up by a Dutch man where Dutch patatjes oorlog (French fries with peanut-butter-sauce, mayonnaise and raw onions) and patatjes pindasaus (French fries with peanut-butter-sauce) are on the menu. Undoubtedly one of the few French-fries joints in the whole of Asia. After years of noodles, spaghetti and soups this is the gastronomical highlight of our journey, and we completely stuff ourselves with al the unhealthy food they have on offer. Rating: five stars.

After three days of Thamel we accept Jan and Brieke’s invitation to stay at their place for some time and we move to the more southern quarter of Thapatali. Jan and Brieke have been living and working in Nepal for a couple of years and are cycling enthusiasts just like us. Thanks to them we get to know the partly authentic Patan, the southern sister-town of Kathmandu, the village of Chobar that is built on a steep hill and hundreds of beautiful country roads in the Kathmandu Valley.
Slowly but surely we discover the cities of Kathmandu and Patan: the narrow meandering roads where we lose our way at first, the German bakery Herman Helmers who sells brown bread and mature and sweet-smelling cheeses, the governmental dairy shop with its different kinds of yoghurt, the small mouse-shops that are cheaper than the big elephant-supermarkets, dozens of big and smaller temples where the daily rituals to appease the gods are performed, the big and strictly guarded palace where the very unpopular king Gyanendra and his family try to maintain their diminishing power, the cheapest and best liquor shop in the valley and the many restaurants that slowly but surely replenish our strength.
Life is sunny, literally and figuratively: we feel more and more at home in Nepal and decide to stay as long as we want to.

After a short retreat back to the tourist district of Thamel, Kari of the Dutch consulate helps us to find a small apartment for a reasonable price. In November we have an entire furnished living room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom at our disposal, for the first time in years. We push Gyanendra off his wobbly throne and become king and queen of Patan.

From November it starts getting colder in Nepal; winter is setting in and the time arrives for Nepalis to go outside to warm up; the unheated houses are cold, but outside the sun is shining. We adapt to their culture and go out more and more in order not to freeze to death in our beautiful but cold apartment, which unfortunately is situated to the north and has no warm-water facility.
One of our cycling trips in the valley leads to the legendary village of Panauti where the oldest temples of Nepal can be found. On a steep path we sweat ourselves up to one of the passes that gives entrance to the eastern valley. We cycle through ancient Newari-style villages where the locals are still busy processing the main harvest of the year: rice.

According to one of the legends Panauti is built on a single enormous rock, which should make it a safe heaven during earthquakes. However, recent history tells that the most important temple, the Indreshwar Mahadev, got seriously damaged in 1988 … during an earthquake.
In Panauti the Brahmayani, the Krishna Narayan and the Indreshwar Mahadev Temples can be found. Brahmayani is Panauti’s main goddess and every year her image is drawn around the village during the chariot-festival. Around the Krishna Narayan Temple many things are happening: children are playing, old men play music and women perform a puja, a religious ritual. Some woodcarvings date from 1294 AD and look very weathered. Like many holy buildings, this temple complex is also situated at the confluence of two rivers.
Another legend states that Ahilya, the beautiful wife of a sage, was seduced by the god Indra, who conceived her by taking her husband’s shape. When the sage discovered the betrayal he took sweet revenge upon Indra: with his magical powers he covered his whole body with yonis, female sexual organs! Indra was really sorry and together with his wife Indrayani repented for many years at the confluence of the rivers at Panauti. Parvati, Shiva’s consort, took pity upon Indrayani and changed her into an invisible river, which joins the two visible ones. Many years later Shiva decided to free Indra from his sticky situation. Shiva appeared in Panauti as a great lingam (male sexual organ); when Indra took a bath in the river all his yonis disappeared. The Shiva-lingam is still standing in the Indreshwar Mahadev temple.

Nowadays the river’s water is strongly polluted because every Nepali throws anything that vaguely resembles garbage into it. We are glad that we aren’t covered in lingams or yonis; a bath in the year 2006 would guarantee the obtaining of typhoid, diphtheria, skin ulcers and sixty-one inflammations.