Pokhara folks wake up extraordinarily late, compared to KTM. If you’re an early riser, this will give you a pleasant respite from the touts.

The lake is dark silver, flat and glossy, and a boat ride costs just 150 rupees, or 200 with the boatman. I don’t have an hour to spare, though, so I sit by the lake for a few minutes, watch some boys in white practicing a martial art, and then go to find breakfast.

Pokhara airport. Worth getting there a few minutes before check-in gates open, to get in line. Whole process moves pretty quickly. You check in, pay an “airport tax,” then stand in another line for passenger security check-in. Separate curtained rooms for ladies and gents, which looks promising: you're hoping for a full-cavity, but no such luck. A cursory glance through carry-on bag. No pat-down.

They don’t find the forbidden item I'm carrying on my person.

A short flight.

Jomsom:

No touts or piles of trash here. Paved wide street with more ponies than motorcycles, white stone buildings, clean air. Hotel strip right next to the airport.

Once you walk up and down the one main street ten times, it’s deathly dull. Paid far too much for an unpleasantly invasive massage, and changed money—a terrible mistake: crippling exchange rate and a 200 rupee fee.

Going mad for something to read. Read the Rough Guide cover to cover sixty four times.

Evening:

The lady-in-charge at Tillicho Hotel has the most irritating voice. The walls don’t go up to the ceiling so you can hear every single thing—the television blaring, tourists barking at each other, the phone ringing every four minutes. I'm never staying here again—I hate Jomsom.