A Rafting and Yak Fondue Adventure

After a 6 a.m. wake up call, we arose with stiff necks from sleeping on our rock hard bed, slathered on the mosquito repellent and headed out the door for our rafting adventure. We didn’t run out the door too quickly without first devouring some crispy French toast sprinkled with some sugar because syrup would have been too much to ask for. This was quite a nice mix-up from the regular dry toast we consume daily for breakfast in India. We then jumped in the car; cameras charged and in hand, ready to snap pics of the Nepalese countryside during our two and half hour drive winding our way through mountains, small villages, rice paddies and cornfields. This was really a great way for us to experience the true terrain of Nepal. As we curved up and down the steep mountainsides, at times we only had a few inches of tire room to spare from the cliff’s edge. We had to share the narrow, rugged road with big dump trucks, buses, and little Nepalese men and women carrying heavy bushels of the summer’s harvest. Thank goodness for our tiny Suzuki car and a swift driver at the wheel, we were able to zip in and out of the slow moving trucks that chugged their way up the unforgiving hills. Off in the far distance we could see the grand Himalayas reaching their peaks up over all of Nepal. Every time I got a glimpse of the mountains I was astounded by just how big they really are, the books don’t lie! What really caught my eye was the terrace style farming the Nepalese practice in order to grow rice and corn. This type of farming is used to cultivate sloped land and decreases erosion and surface runoff. It was not uncommon to see colorfully robed Nepalese women harvesting the yield on a roadside cliff; a tractor would not stand a chance.

 
With time to spare, we made it to the river drop-in point, and we were introduced to our river guide, Mohan. Nepal has very little o-zone and the sun had already begun to beat down on our fare skin, but lucky for us we finally made it to a place where the water was safe to splash in! An hour later the rest of our rafting team arrived, with life jackets affixed, helmets buckled, and paddles in hand, we headed back through a cornfield to the Trisuli River. After some quick paddling and safety instructions we launched off in our rubber raft with the value of life trusted to seven new strangers. Our team was a nice melting pot, or should I say melting raft of culture, an un-athletic, weak and feeble couple from China, four boys from the Northeast region of Nepal, and a family from India, but we made it out alive and most importantly we had a blast. Tommy and I being the most athletic of the bunch were the lead paddlers, naturally. We were in charge of setting the pace for the rest of the team to follow, which was seemingly difficult for most. The river started off meandering slowly, similar to the oh-so “thrilling,” famous lazy river that you wish would someday just move a little faster, but never does. However, my yearning for speed was granted and soon enough I was being tossed like a rag doll, slammed into deep river holes, and dripping wet from the three to four grade exhilarating rapids and whirlpools with names like Ladies Delight, Upset 1 and Upset 2, Surprise, Butterfly, and Electricity. After about an hour and half of exhausting paddling, laughing, screaming like little girls, and finally a refreshing swim, we stopped for lunch to indulge on the official national food of Nepal, Daal Bhaat. It was not good. After all, we needed to refuel for another hour of paddling our team to victory over the treacherous Trisuli, which we were told on the river, swallows buses whole without even spitting out the tires. During a lull in the river, we struck up some small conversation, where I mistakenly let it slip that the first thing we did when we landed in Nepal was visit the steakhouse. One boy sadly replied we ate his god; I looked him straight in the eyes and said “you can’t claim ‘em all” (the cows). Arms sore, necks sore, backs sore, legs sore, butts sore, the powerful Trisuli had us worn out, our adventure had come to a close, but the workout felt great after doing little to no exercise in India. We would definitely be feeling this one the next day. Our driver met us downriver; we apologized in advance for being drenched and unprepared with a change of clothes, but couldn’t wait to get in the car to catch a nap on the ride home. The car ride home was silent, we were so tired from the rafting adventure, but at the same time all I could think about was getting home in time to go back out for the excellent shopping in the boutiques that line the streets of Thamel.

 

After a short rest back at the guesthouse, we took to the streets again; we now had a real sense of direction and could maneuver the avenues better than mice in a maze. We only had about an hour of shopping time because stores in Thamel open around 7 a.m. and close around 7 p.m. I did some last minute buying, and Tommy had his mind on beer. The sounds of live music caught our ears and we ventured into the Nepal Bar for some hookah and a few cold ones. The band was playing a mix of American Classic Rock with a twist of the Nepalese accent. One of the upsides and my favorite thing about traveling is you never know who you are going to met along the way and eventually become a chapter in your journey. It was here where we meet two girls from Switzerland on exchange studying the Nepal Healthcare System and about to begin their residencies. They joined us for drinks and hookah and we shared similar experiences of visiting third world countries. We discussed what foods we missed most from our hometowns and the foods we had to quickly learn to not necessarily enjoy, but consume. Lilly and Lena told us the biggest thing they desired was cheese! I could agree with that, we don’t eat much cheese in India besides this stuff that looks and feels exactly like tofu, but is very tasteless cheese called paneer. I especially miss deli sandwiches, more specifically Wegman’s subs, pouring Redhot on everything I consume, and chewy hot bagels. Tommy misses 12 oz beers that will not give him wicked headaches in the morning. We finished our drinks and decided to all grab some dinner at KC’s Restaurant and Bambooze, known to have some famous food. If you know anything about me, or if you’re just getting to know me, anything advertised as “world famous” attracts me like a moth to headlights.

For the most part the restaurant was deserted, in fact we were unsure at first if they were still serving food, but a server escorted us to a balcony table overlooking the streets. When I opened the menu the very first thing that caught my eye was yak fondue. I pointed it out to Lilly and they insisted on trying it. When would they ever have a chance to enjoy yak fondue in Nepal with two Americans after just raving about Swiss cheeses, almost certainly never again. The girls also informed us that it is basically a sin to eat fondue in the summertime in Switzerland so this was really a once in a lifetime experience. We ordered the yak fondue, chicken satay, and buffalo momos, to share. First, our own personal propane tank was set between Tommy and Lena, then a single stove-top burner was set on-top of the table, and finally after much anticipation a clay-pot filled with bubbling hot yak cheese was placed atop the burner. Hesitant at first, Lena was the first to try it. She chewed, and nodded and chewed a bit more, her face did not express “delicious,” but it was not a look of complete disgust either. We all grabbed our own pieces of bread and dipped into the gurgling pot to have a try. It was…interesting. The taste was a bit bland, but salty, the texture similar to runny yogurt, but it was cheese! The enjoyable evening with new friends soon came to an end, the girls were traveling early the next day and we were exhausted from our rafting excursion. We didn’t part ways without exchanging contact information. They will be visiting Delhi in the next couple weeks so we offered to show them around our “hometown,” since we are now experts in Delhi tourism. We staggered our way through the dark streets of Thamel, once the shops close at night it is a ghost-town, and soon arrived at the gates of Mahudban Guesthouse. The guard saluted us at the gate, and almost immediately we were back on our stiff bed, lights out.