I realised I was burnt-out while sitting in the magnificent temple dotted Durbar square of Kathmandu. I was there minding my own business, reading the sales-brochure that came with my new and very shiny brushed-metal Sigg water bottle when a young man sat next to me and offered to tell me everything and anything I wanted to know about his lovely country. He had a nice smile, he seemed a lot shyer than hustlers i’ve met but I told him that no, I didnt need any help and that actually I wasnt interested. He persisted and after my third attempt at telling him to go away, I got up and left.
It was only later when I realised that that was the truth. I am not interested. Really, truly not interested in getting to know more about this very beautiful country or its nice friendly people or its minority of scam artists. Compared to the huge amount of interest I’ve maintained in India for the period I was there, my level of interest in Nepal which actually feels much nicer and more interesting, is zilch.
Actually, I’m not entirely sure what I am interested in at the moment besides watching movies on cable tv and gorging myself on the very good japanese cafes here in town. There are moments when the old excitement comes back like today when I was caught in a traffic jam that consisted exclusively of cars, rickshaws, bicycles and humans (some carrying loads more suitable for oxen). Only in Kathmandu can its inhabitants expect to push modern traffic through an unplanned medieval city.
But those moments are rare and getting rarer.