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.
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