After nearly three weeks of walking we're ready for a rest and some relaxation. Living up to our name we then spend the next fortnight virtually immobile. Someone we meet asks us if we don't get tired of travelling. It's a little hard to explain that travelling for us can sometimes mean going nowhere and doing little more than eating, reading and sitting in the sun. To be fair we haven't had much beach time in the past year. A typical day involves getting up at about 7 to buy milk off one of the vendors on the street corners and then returning to have our cereal in bed. A little bit of laundry and some reading in the morning sun on the roof terrace. John wanders off for a cup of real coffee in a little side-street cafe, Gayle peruses the choices in one of many bookshops. Occasionally we discuss the possibility of the chance of perhaps maybe considering the likelihood (or not) of us actually doing some sight-seeing, but then we have to break off for lunch before reaching a conclusion. Afternoons seem to fly by and before the electricity goes off we meet up with Jules for tea and get to Weizen's Bakery by 8 for their half-price sale (strudel being the main objective here). How on earth could anyone tire of this?
Okay, we do actually sort out our new Indian visa, which requires an early rise, some queuing and an awful lot of just hanging around talking to other travellers. The process itself is thankfully straightforward. In anticipation of a return to that crazy country and the inevitable dreadful bus journey to the border, we take it easy for a few more days before finally packing our rucksacks and saying our farewells to the dope peddlers, tiger-balm pushers and chess-set hawkers of Thamel.