The morning was cloaked in a thick fog which, though beautiful, was by no means silent. As we sat waiting for breakfast, group after group of tourists came down to the beach to board one of the fleet of wooden canoes docked there. By the time the fog cleared, most of the tourists had cleared out as well.

We went with our guide, Ousa, and 2 other Americans, Steve and Ann, who we met yesterday going to the Elephant Breeding Center. We boarded a couple canoes fastened together. There was one poleman in the back. He turned the boats and we drifted down the river. The sun burned away the fog revealing lots of birds: Ruddy shell ducks-- migrating birds from Russia and Tibet waded close to the shore or flew across the river in pairs; egrets stood with necks shot forward looking for fish; kingfishers flew by or perched in trees. A big stork stood on the shore and many other birds flew by.

The mountains disappeared in the distance and we were in a tropical flatland, reminiscent of the Amazon. We passed villages and large fields of yellow mustard flowers where women in maroon, red, and purple saris walked like a scene from a Bollywood film.

Every year for just 3 days villagers are allowed into Chitwan National Park to harvest reeds. We had arrived during that time so the park was very busy. At first I was annoyed since it meant there would be lots of people. But as we stood on the shore watching the action, I thought we were lucky to be seeing this cultural activity. The hotel is located on the river and the main beach was the scene of lots of activity. Men stood at the ends of long wooden canoes ferrying people across the river, looking a bit like Venetian gondoliers with their long wooden poles.

I should mention that last week there was a terrorist attack in Mumbai. For us, the freaky thing was that if we hadn't been unable to get an Indian visa in Iran, we most likely would have been in Mumbai. Since Mumbai was closer to the South than New Delhi and the airfare was the same, I had suggested flying there. We'd like to thank the Indian consulate in Tehran for changed our plans for us.

Rowshan got his shoes repaired and understands how I felt when I got mine repaired in Osh. We couldn't find a shoe repair guy in Thamel (duh!) so we walked South past Durbar Square. Rowshan asked a woman selling shoes if she knew where to repair shoes. She pointed ˝ block down the street. There we found a man sitting crosslegged in a small shop stitching a pair of sports shoes. The shop was about 8ft by 4ft with the front made of wooden doors opening onto the street. In one corner was a sewing machine. He sat with his tools all within easy reach. Rowshan showed him his shoes which were torn between the sole and upper. The cobbler said for 100rs (about $1.50) he would patch them and it would take about 10 minutes. Rowshan stood outside the shop, since there wasn't room inside for customers. I went for a walk and when I came back, the man had one of Rowshan's shoes supported on his upturned bare foot while he worked a needle through the tough edge of the sole and the the leather patch. The shoes were soon patched up. I had found a sambosa, pakora and fried curried potato puff maker so we had a delightful lunch of greasy but tasty Indian street food.