Dodgy lodging. Butwal, Nepal

I’ve stayed in some pretty dodgy accommodation but this establishment is a new low. It’s already dark when I arrive and the lobby is lit by a single energy saving 12-watt light bulb. Which doesn’t light anymore than its own surroundings. At first glance there’s no one there but after a while my eyes get used to the low light and I start to distinguish a number of people in the immediate vicinity of the entrance. There’s a dude fast asleep, spread out on a sofa. Two guys sitting at a table staring into the distance and a third one is leaning against the doorpost of an entrance to a lightless place. First impressions are that of the opium den out of the Deer hunter, which makes me Christopher Walken. Which seems fair in this setup.

A more determined scan of the room reveals a reception desk with someone behind it. I assume that’s the receptionist but when I address her, she takes off like I just asked her to make herself available for a sacrificial ceremony. “Hello? Anybody here? I need a room!” I shout a couple of times, waking up the dude on the couch and clearly annoying the pair of geezers sitting at the table.

After a while a new guy turns up and takes up a position of control and authority behind the reception desk. He looks up to me like I’m demanding his first-born and growls “One room, 5,000 Rupees”. That’s 50 EUR, which seems rather steep in a country where the average room rate is around 5 EUR. I can’t bothered to even begin to negotiate based on this outrageous opening bid and walk out of the hotel. The receptionist clearly didn’t see this coming and comes after me, while shouting “3,000 Rupees, yes?” “2,000 Rupees? Yes?” The closer he gets, the lower the price gets. I’m already back on the bike when his final offer drops to 500 Rupees. I can’t say I’m impressed with the hotel but the alternatives don’t look any better and at least I can park my bike in a lockable courtyard.

I pay the 500 Rupees and fill in the hotel registration card. This is always a farce as most hotel staff can’t read or can’t be bothered to check what is filled in. Lately, I’m Lindsey Lohan from Never Never Land and my passport number is 3234.65788.EZ86755.45.889064445.WC3467.XXX095, none of which seems to faze anyone around here. I started doing this in Pakistan after the 5^th checkpoint in 2 hours and the only response I got from the soldiers while filling in my 50 digit passport number was “Oh, that is very long number”…

I get my room key and the receptionist waves his hand in the direction of the stairs. “It’s there”, he says, and that ends our transaction. My room door locks with a pad lock and a sliding bold as found on garden sheds. This means that I can’t lock the door from the inside and more disturbingly, someone can lock me in from the outside. Isn’t this how “Hostel” starts?

The room itself is a joke. It’s filled with random furniture including a dining table with six chairs. There’re metal bars at the window and the lighting consists of six (6!) fluorescent tubes. As dark as the lobby was, this room is lit like an operating theatre. Makes me wonder why. The whole set up looks like its made for organ theft… There’s a bed but no bed linen. That’s fine, I’m used to sleeping in my sleeping bag since I crossed into Pakistan but this time will also keep all my clothes on as well. There’s actually no need to take off any clothing as the bathroom looks like something out of “Saw” and therefore showers will not be taken. There’s mud (blood?) on the walls and dark pools of water (more blood?) on the floor. It’s all very nice…

I drop my bag and go downstairs to find something to eat. I’m not expecting much, which is a good thing as there’s no food in the hotel. The dining room clearly hasn’t been in service for the last 20 years or so and I don’t dare to have a peek in the kitchen. When I walk outside the receptionist warns me that it’s not safe. “Terrorists”, he says but I reckon I’ll be all right being twice the size of the average Nepali.

I find a chicken restaurant with live chickens hanging from the windowsill. That’s always a good sign; at least you know the food is fresh. I order chicken and rice, which is answered with ‘No chicken”. I point at the chicken hanging in the window but the answer is again “No chicken”… I randomly point at pictures on the menu and after a couple of tries, get a “yes” answer. Not sure where I was pointing when the girl said yes but after a while she comes back with a plate of rice with something that looks surprisingly like chicken… It also tastes like chicken and the whole plate costs about 50 euro cent so I’m not complaining.

After dinner I take a little stroll but most of Butwal is shrouded in darkness so after buying a bottle of water (water? No water. What is that? Bottle of water. OK, one of those, please…) I return to the hotel. Where I find the front door closed and no one answering my knocks of the door. I walk around the back of the hotel but even the door to the courtyard is locked. There’s a garbage container next to the wall so I climb on that and scale the wall. The kitchen door in the courtyard is open and so I get access to the hotel. It’s pitch black inside as not a single light is on due a power cut. The receptionist doesn’t bad an eyelid when I walk into the lobby through the kitchen door but does wish me a well meant “Good night Mister!” when I walk up the stairs to my room.

I’m woken up by gunfire twice through the night (terrorists?) and by a drunk guy walking into my room. I boot him out and push the dining table against the door but are awoken by another drunk not much later demanding access in a very vocal way. After telling him to sod off, I put in my earplugs and sleep like a baby the rest of the night.

I’m up at six and decide to ride early as no breakfast will be served anyways. When I leave the room I have step over a man sleeping in the hallway. He actually looks more comfortable on that floor than I was in the dirty hotel room.