Patan, Kathmandu, Nepal

I learn there are several Durbar Squares in Kathmandu. The one in Patan is more picturesque and less crowded than the one near Thamel.

A bright young boy tries to sell me a silk purse. I'm impressed by his English and ask how old he is. He says 'thirteen, maybe fifteen', although he looks much younger. I ask if he goes to school but he tells me he can't afford it and has to support his family who aren't able to work. He's incredibly sharp. It seems a shame for him to be denied an education. I know this is the same story for a million children around the world. He shows me around the square. I buy all his bags which comes to the huge sum of GBP 1.50 and say goodbye. Somehow I don't want to leave him here.

(Durbur Square in Patan)

Kathmandu Valley, Nepal

Kathmandu Valley, Nepal

Kathmandu Valley, Nepal

Kathmandu Valley, Nepal

Bungamati, Kathmandu Valley, Nepal

Bungamati, Kathmandu Valley, Nepal

Kathmandu Valley, Nepal

I'm looking forward to escaping the dust and noise of Kathmandu. The rain this morning has cooled the city down a little.

It's an hour's drive to the adjoining villages of Bungamati and Khokana in Kathmandu Valley. They're steeped in lush rice fields and flanked by high mountains. Walking down the muddy streets that look medieval, I feel transported back in time. The local Newar people are taking hand baths on the streets as there's no running water here. People, chickens, lambs, goats and dogs flood fill the streets and square creating a colourful spectacle.

Pashupatinath, Kathmandu, Nepal

Pashupatinath, Kathmandu, Nepal

Pashupatinath, Kathmandu, Nepal

Last night I was bitten again badly, this time on the eyelid which has become grotesquely swollen. Aside from being slightly repulsed at my appearance, the hotel staff insist on my changing rooms. I've noticing lingering stares in the lobby so I decide to wear my sunglasses even though it's overcast and raining. I feel like an idiot.

I take a taxi a few kilometres east of the city to Pashupatinath, the most sacred Hindu site in Kathmandu set along the steps of the Bagmati River. I've only taken a few steps when a would-be guide latches on to me and offers to show me around. By the river there are several stone plinths crowned with funeral pyres. The guide shows me some feet protruding from a smoking pile of wood. I hadn't noticed this and would have happily remained ignorant. He tells me on average 40-50 people (80% of the population is Hindu) are cremated a day. I look along the river and see several other burning pyres. There are also houses where the old and infirm, with no hope of a cure, are brought to die.

The guide takes me aside and asks me to give him his tip in private. He says that if other guides see me tipping him, they will demand a proportion of the money.

Swayambhunath, Kathmandu, Nepal

Swayambhunath, Kathmandu, Nepal

Kathmandu, Nepal

View from Swayanbhunath (Monkey Temple)

Swayambhunath, Kathmandu, Nepal

Swayambhunath, Kathmandu, Nepal

I can't even see the stupa (Buddhist temple) from the bottom of the 360-odd steps. Half way up I stop for a rest and take some photos of the monkeys sitting placidly watching the tourists. No need to explain why it's named the Monkey Temple. I put my water bottle down. One of the larger monkeys immediately jumps off the wall and comes towards me. The next bit happens in slow motion. He takes my water bottle, punctures a hole in it and holds it up in the air to drink. I can't quite believe it.

Swayambhunath sits on top of a forested hill overlooking the Kathmandu Valley. Although it's hazy and I can barely see the Himalayan backdrop, the view of the valley is impressive.

Swayambhunath, Kathmandu, Nepal

We decide to get out of touristy Thamel and take a bicycle rickshaw to Swayanbhunath or the Monkey Temple as it's better known. After crossing the bridge the driver looks like he doesn't want to cycle up the hill (nor would I) and that we need to walk five minutes around the corner. Several corners and twenty minutes later we arrive at the steps of the temple feeling slightly conned.

Durbur Square, Kathmandu, Nepal

Durbur Square, Kathmandu, Nepal

I was bitten to death by mosquitoes last night while sleeping even though I closed all the windows.

I walk through Thamel to Durbar Square, a crowded space decorated with old shabby but charming wooden temples. I'm immediately besieged by people who want to be my tour guide. I need to climb the steps of one of the temples for respite. As it's still the festival today the square is swarming with people. As I'm backing away from a menacing pineapple vendor I bump into someone from the airport visa queue. It's a relief to see a friendly face. We're thick as thieves for the rest of the day. Sticking together we both know reduces the amount you are hassled.

Kathmandu, Nepal

There's a festival this weekend so the streets are crowded so it takes us an hour to reach my hotel in Thamel. Actually I'm not sure if it's not like this every day. Having spent the last three months in civilized (not including the Outback) I've become unaccustomed to third-world poverty which shocks me all over again.

I envisaged Kathmandu as an Asian version of Cusco, a charming cobble-streeted town steeped in snow-capped mountains. I thought I'd need woolly hats and gloves although I'm not sure why I had this impression. Instead, it's a sprawling building site - hot, dusty with unpaved roads and dilapidated buildings. There are people everywhere and the noise of motorbikes and taxis negotiating the unsurfaced roads is deafening.

Although my hotel is in Thamel, a mecca for tourists filled with souvenir shops, it's an oasis of peace. I go for a walk after checking in but am not used to the heat and hassle so return after an hour.

(Photo - Durbur Square)

Arriving in Kathmandu, Nepal

The three-hour flight to Kathmandu passes nicely with a couple of Bloody Mary's. The airport is an untidy ramshackle place and the queues for visas on arrival are slow and shambolic.

When I see the baggage claim area I'm amazed if my backpack makes it through in one piece or at all. After everyone else seems to have picked theirs up and the carousel is only spewing mail sacks, I start to worry. Then I spot a group of bags in the corner of the room that someone has pulled off the belt. Luckily mine is there.

I exit the airport into a crowd of braying locals shoting 'taxi ma'am?'. I decide the only way to make it through is to find the nearest official taxi and ask him to take me to the hotel. Surprisingly in the multitudes I spot someone waving a piece of paper with my name on it. When I'd booked my hotel online they'd noted my arrival time and sent someone to pick me up. What a piece of luck.

To Bangkok

The receptionist tells me to take the free bus from the Holiday Inn to Kowloon Station and then the MTR to the airport. I wonder if anyone will recognise me at the Holiday Inn. I ask the porter there how much a room costs. He says about HKD 1200-1800 per night. That's at least five times what I've been paying.

A German guest kindly offers me a lift in his taxi to Kowloon airport, where I check my bags in directly to Bangkok. My bag seems to gave gained a kilo and now weighs a hefty 25 kgs. It has a permanent 'heavy' tag attached to it these days.

Two hours later I'm in Bangkok and waiting for my transfer to the hotel. After half an hour of no-show I complain to the hotel rep who apologises 15 times and promises to sort it out. It makes me feel bad for complaining. When I complained in Sydney, I was asked if I was American. After my budget stay in Hong Kong I've splashed out on a nice room and even treated myself to a Thai Massage.

The next day I see my hotel location for the first time as it was dark when I arrived. Although it's raining there are gleaming golden temples across the river. I'd forgotten how magical Thailand is. I must come back.

(Photo - Hong Kong)