November 18, 2011
My mountain luck continues to be atrocious. Maybe growing up in Colorado I somehow used it all up. I’ve been in Nepal eleven weeks as of yesterday, and I can count the number of days I have seen the Himalayas on one hand. The unexpected benefit of this is that I have grown an immense love of the hill regions of Nepal, because without the mountains looming above, the rolling hills are gorgeous. Green and tiered and the kind of pastoral I thought only happened in paintings. I keep thinking it’s a shame they get passed over for the 8,000 meter peaks above them…
But then I see the 8,000 meter peaks and I understand. The mountains here don’t look real. During the day, the blues on the peaks and the blues in the sky match so perfectly that it looks like a photoshoot background. And at sunset, the yellows, pinks and oranges reflected on the snow are so intense that it looks fake. I’ve gotten in the habit of watching the sunset every night in Kathmandu (the only plus about pollution is the fabulous sunset colors) and my two days in Bandipur set the bar for beautiful sunsets in my life.
My dad and I stopped by Bandipur on the way to Pokhara about a week ago. The town itself is tiny and I’m kind of Newari villaged out (temple, brick roads, wood carved windows, I get it), but the hills were fun to hike around in and we had two days of amazing mountain views from our hotel room, so I will let the best thing about Bandipur speak for itself:
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