It promises to be a nice fine day so having studied the local map we head off southwards past the temple to hopefully walk a circular route ending up in Bhaktapur.
The road goes down into a valley past rice paddies and through villages. The rice harvest is in full swing - people cutting, stooking, threshing and carrying all by hand. The villagers are all very friendly and the little kids like to practice their English on us. The rice stooks and the general atmosphere remind me of time spent on a farm with my aunt and uncle in Northern England as a child. The same sort of languid summer days and the women bringing lunch and tea out to the fields as we played while the men worked.
View north-east across rice fields near Bhaktapur
Rice stooks drying near Bhaktapur
Family cooperation in the rice harvest near BhaktapurAs we follow the road back down the valley we stop to look at some sort of citrus tree which has enormous fruit. A local girl around 16-17 years old stops to ask what we are looking at. She tells us the fruit is edible and much like an orange. We chat for a while as we walk down the road together and then we get to her turn off. Before leaving she asks us our names which we duly disclose, upon which, and with a sweeping gesture of her right hand, she informs us the "and I am Lolita". We are gobsmacked and have a good chuckle to ourselves as we carry on down the road. From the gesture, and the way she announced here name (possibly a name she has adopted) we are in little doubt that she has read Nabokov's book.
The day has warmed up quite a lot leaving us quite hot and sweaty. I have suffered from some dizziness and blurred vision and a mild angina attack.
After lunch back at the guest house we do some (very necessary) laundry and then I entertain the staff by playing a bit of blues 'harp' outside in the banda.
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