Actually, an old rickety ladies bike would have been enough for me to do the planned tour through the city, but of course the rental companies prefer the much more expensive mountain bikes.
So I finally start riding for 500 Rupies, a bright green, rather new looking bike under my ass, with estimated 100 gears and a carbon hardened frame (that's what the lady assured me at the rental, but my faith in her assurances is limited).
Carbon and a hundred gears
Of course, completely useless for my purposes, but what the hell. However, my bike seems to make an impression, because as soon as I hesitantly set off - how do you gear down this damned thing? - I am already stopped.
An Italian, as it turns out, desperately wants to know where I rented my bike because his is absolute junk. A professional like me, of course, likes to give information, even about gears and carbon and the like, although I have no clue. In any case, the young man is very impressed and makes his way as soon as possible to my renting shop.
How do you gear down?
Proud and uplifted, I pull away, feel a bit like Eddy Merckx or Ferdy National (which has probably more to do with my age), but still in too high a gear.
Only after a while - it is quite exhausting and my complexion is likely to approach a deep red - I notice that under my right hand there is a hidden switch and indeed - it can be used to gear down. So there is a switch to gear up and one to gear down. Interesting.
In search of the mountain museum
With the feeling that I am completely in control of the matter now, I am on my way to the Mountain Museum, somewhere to the west near the airfield. For once I am grateful to the offline map of Google Maps, because without them I would have lost my way in the tangle of countless streets and alleys.
Nevertheless, I have to stop every few hundred meters to take a look at the map. There is one or the other tricky situation to overcome, especially when crossing a street or when driving around a roundabout on the left side. I'm grateful to the trucks and buses, which are used to all sorts of idiots on the road, that they do not drive me over or push me into the bushes.
The Mountain Museum
Through the entrance gate, almost as guarded as the Versailles Castle, I am led into an extensive complex full of greenery and meadows and bushes and trees. Of course, the bicycle has to be left behind, but a guy assues me to keep an especially watchful eye on it.
The large building in the middle of the park makes an impression from afar. I climb a few steps to the entrance and I'm directed through a security gate whose purpose is unclear to me. A terrorist attack is unlikely, and whether the theft of ancient mountaineering equipment would be worthwhile, is questionable.
Admiration and head-shaking
There's a lot to see. Beside numerous wonderful pictures of all summits of the Himalayas, the costumes of the respective mountain tribes, the pictures of all first ascents and expeditions, above all the equipment of that time finds my interest.
The comparison with today's utensils with those used at that time, from the warmed shoes to the UV-radiation blocking glasses, the ice picks and all the other things, is as astonishing as shocking.
Because they are there
How the hell did the men survive the icy cold in their leather shoes? In the stuffed, but still suboptimal gloves? In the underwear that was anything but thermo?
You can't even imagine all this today. The picture of Louis Lachenals frozen hands, besides Maurice Herzog one of the two climbers of the Annapurna expedition 1950, confirms the question marks.
Once again it becomes clear what achievements man is capable of when he has put something into his head. The answer to the question why one wants to climb the mountains, no matter how dangerous they are, says a lot.
"Because they are there."
Climate change
The big problem of our time, the climate change, also represents a central issue here. In the meantime, we are used to the bad news regarding the glacier retreat and only shrug our shoulders.
However, anyone who visits the Morteratsch Glacier in Switzerland and reads the first plate, knows how dramatic the development is. The plate indicates the front end of the glacier at that time. It was the beginning of the last century. Now you can see today's end of the glacier far back in the valley, kilometres away,
Here in the Himalayas the glaciers are the source of some of the world's largest rivers, Brahmaputra, Huang He, Jangstekiang, Indus, Ganges ... And the mountain people of Nepal or Ladakh depend on water. It has already dried up and forces entire villages to move.
But who knows, maybe it's not too late (as a sign against climate change the clock on the famous Fraumünster Church in Zurich showed for a few days 5 before 12). Thanks to Greta!
Hot and wet
While the museum fills up with crowds of visitors (all of whom have surely arrived motorized), I leave ice axes and Louis Lachenal and disappearing glaciers and step out into the whirring heat of the morning.
It seems to me that it has become noticeably hotter in the last few days. And now every evening there is a heavy blast from heaven. The thunderstorms are sometimes really violent, so that the tourist crowd at Durbar Marg quickly disappears into the restaurants.
And another unfortunate development: the humidity in the air causes the mountains to cover themselves day in, day out with an impenetrable veil of clouds. Machapuchare, Annapurna and all the others make themselves scarce again.
Downtown
Continuing to use the services of Google Maps, I drive in the direction of the city center, initially on one of the most frequented roads and once again enjoying a full load of exhaust fumes and dust. As alternative routes the narrow streets and lanes can be used, where life takes place on the street and noise and dirty air have mostly disappeared (at least that's how I imagine it).
Only now I realize how big the city has become. Even after two more hours I only seem to have travelled a part of it. It's not easy to recognize differences between the various districts. Everywhere the same streets, the same shops, handicraft businesses, restaurants, residential buildings or what the inhabitants imagine by it.
But sometimes, quite unexpectedly, a surprise. A wedding celebration, loud and cheerful and rather amusing.
Paragliding landing zone
The way back to the lake gives me the idea to drive down the road to the end at the paragliding landing place. Not really a good idea. At the beginning the traffic is dense and dangerous like everywhere else, until the road becomes a creek bed, and even a professional mountain biker like me has to be careful not to cause an accident.
Sweating and panting and cursing, I finally reach my destination to find out that today's landings are over and that it would be better to try the next day. The friendly crumpled old lady at the tiny restaurant persuades me to drink a Fanta, and tells me about her life, from which I don't understand a word …
Evening with a million other tourists
The main street, whose main purpose is the distribution of all sorts of unnecessary souvenirs (whose attraction I cannot escape either), is mainly populated by tourists in the evenings. You stroll up and down, rummage in the countless shops for Singing Bowls, knives, sportswear and other bits and pieces.
I estimate that ninety percent of the goods on offer are fake or industrially produced in the cheapest way possible. Of course the quality is lousy, but that doesn't seem to stop anyone from buying a North Face jacket for 10 Dollars, knowing that it costs ten times as much at home.
This tailor works on a sewing machine that was used in our country until the 60s. But then they were thrown away. A good deal for my father who collected scrap iron and metals. I myself have smashed hundreds of these machines with great joy. Kinda makes me sad to see this man. Something is wrong with our world.
P.S. Matching Song: Mozes and the Firstborn - All Will Fall to Waste
And here the journey continues ...
