The Shoe Man

The mountain tops looked so beautiful and magnificent from above the hazy sunshine and scattered clouds. I leaned against the window, with the autobiography of Barack Obama resting on my lap. Indian Airlines had proved to be a comfortable and pleasant vehicle to get to Katmandu from London. Air hostesses dressed in saris walked up and down the aisle offering drinks and spicy curries for passengers to eat.

The man sitting next to me tried to peak out of the window. 

‘Are you going to Kathmandu on holiday?’, he asked, appearing to be a little nervous. I turned to look at him and he gave me the biggest smile I have ever seen in my life. I smiled back. 

‘Yes. I am going to be holidaying a little, but I will also do some volunteering and consultancy work for some charities in and around Kathmandu.’  

‘Oh that is great’, he beamed.’ I know many westerners who have been doing good work in Nepal. Nepal is a beautiful country! You will love the nature and the people. Everyone is very welcoming and friendly.’ A dreamy look was starting take over his eyes. ‘Such a beautiful country... but the government doesn’t care. They do nothing. No one knows what they do. But people are free. They are free to do what they want. Much safer now than before when we had the Maoists.’ He nodded eagerly.

‘What do you do in Nepal?, I asked him.

‘I own 25 shoe shops’, he replied proudly.’ This is why I was in India just now. We have a shop there. I am hoping to open something in the Middle East and in Europe as well. Nepali leather is amazing. People love wearing shoes made of it.’ He looked at me, up and down, as if trying to see how I reacted to this piece of information. ‘When you are in Kathmandu, you can go to my shop. It is on one of the busy streets of the city centre.’

‘Sounds great’, I said. ‘And do you live in Kathmandu?’

He shook his head. ‘No. As most Nepali people, we live n small villages. We only come to Kathmandu for business. It is a place for studying, learning, doing business... No one wants to live there forever. Everyone goes back to their villages whenever they can.’ 

‘I see.’

The man looked at the book lying on my lap. ‘Obama... what does he say?’

I laughed a little. ‘Talk about politics and ideasl.’

The man looked annoyed. ‘Yes, it’s all talk... these politicians. In the end of the day, everyone is left to their own vices.’ 

The plane started to descend into Kathmandu international airport. I could see roof tops, temple bells and dozens of people walking the street of Kathmandu; all getting bigger and more visible by the minute. The plan took a sharp turn and hit the ground. Here I was - in Kathmandu.

Useful links for anyone going to Kahmandu:

http://www.friendshipnepal.com/sightseeing_places/shopping_kathmandu.php

http://www.explorehimalaya.com/clothing_in_nepal.php