Lords Of The Dancefloor. Day 26

The equation for a horrible morning:
Under fed + not enough sleep

Not to write about how terrible a place is, but never, ever stay at the Mountain View in Ghandruk. Last night's dinner was awkward, coupled by the dinner after party that continued well into the night. Usually I wouldn't complain and would be partying too, but after a day like we had we wanted quiet. It never happened. Our room, being nearest the bathroom had people strolling by all night to use the sink. I don't know why, but hocking louggies is part of the toothbrushing routine here. The dozens of people who stood outside our far less than sound proofed windows hocked and hacked repeatedly. Were we at a spitting contest? I noted the hours of louggie free slumber to be something shy of five. Half of what my body was telling me it needed. It all added up to low enough blood sugar and little enough sleep to get all Jersey on someone...trust me, and it isn't pretty when that happens. Somehow, I stayed composed instead. I'm sure the point of my ranting would be lost in translation anyhow.

We hastily ate breakfast, packed, paid and made a break for he trail out of town. Down, down, down the stone stairway we went. A few hours of this led us to the valley floor where the trail flattened and followed the Modi Khola. We had a dog friend at our side, he became "Seabuck," short for seabuckthorn juice, and Kevin wondered what it would take to be able to bring him back to the States. He was our guard dog and kept the village children clear from our path, which also hindered their begging for chocolates. Our pack size increased at one point to having three dogs. Other tourists even began to look at us with worried expressions as we approached. Sadly, Seabuck ditched us for other trekkers as we neared Naya Pul. Our pack, down to just two, boarded the chicken bus back to Pokhara.

Now, I am a social person by nature, but I will admit I mostly pretended to sleep on the bus to avoid conversation. The woman next to me didn't speak English. I was delighted and originally thought I was in the clear. I could hear Kevin answering an array of questions a local man was asking him. Lucky me, I thought, eyes closed with the breeze in my face. Was so delighted I didn't even mind my bus buddy taking up half my seat with her bananas (that apparently needed seat space of their own). Then she poked me from a real slumber.
"Hmph, huh?" was my initial response.

She pointed at me, my little bag on my lap, then her mouth in an eating motion. "Candybar," she said.

"Candybar?" I repeated. Pointed to myself and my bag. What the hell? Seriously? Brow furrowed I responded, "no. I don't have a candybar."

"No?" she was still hopeful and smiled while repeating her previous hand gestures.

"No," I said definitively. How could this be possible? Where was Seabuck when I needed him? Everyone here seems to think that Westerners parade around with heaps of candy. Not for ourselves even, we cart them around for others. Somehow, it's thought to be acceptable to wake a sleeping person and request that they give you candy. Coming from a country where, "don't take candy from strangers," is ingrained at birth, this concept is totally foreign to me.

The rest of the ride went by quickly. We were dropped off in downtown Lakeside, which contrary to it's name is not in fact lakeside at all. We aimed in the general direction of Phewa Tal and about 30 minutes later started seeing familiar buildings. We strolled down the main drag and into the Holy Lodge. Shanti warmly welcomed us back and asked how our travels had gone. We were given a room and our items we left in her care.

Kevin and I each showered, put on fresh clothing and went out to dinner. Happiness is: bags unpacked, fresh shower and clothing, happy hour, tandoori chicken, people watching, snooker, happy hour again, live music and finally Nepali dance clubbing.

At first no one was dancing so Kevin and I got out on the dance floor and took full advantage of all the space. It was comical. Tables full of locals watched us in amusement. Neon lights flashed to the beat of what was probably the America's Top 20 list. At one point Kevin said something along the lines of, "let's show them how it's done." That was all I needed to hear. Seconds later I was on the floor doing the worm. Kevin followed that up with getting on the floor himself and spinning around on his back. The locals, now either inspired or hoping to make us stop acting crazy, joined us. The dance party was on! Only one brief power outage interrupted the evening but people danced on anyway. We danced until the wee hour of 11 PM. Yeah, 11 PM... There is a government curfew that puts a cap on evening fun at 11.

We were ushered out the back entrance into an eerie ghost town. All of Pokhara was locked up for the night. Cars were parked. The streets were empty. We had never seen town like this and it was odd. The younger generation and musicians are against the curfew, and rightfully so. From what I've read, those ignoring curfew get into trouble. Shut down your establishments or the officials will shut it down for you. This goes for every town country wide. Bands have served jail time for refusing to stop playing music. We kept quiet and proceeded back to Holy Lodge. No need for trouble tonight.