Nepal provided me with one of the most surreal experiences of my life; from the touchy landing on the pothole-ridden runway, to the ‘seductive’ dancing policeman in one of the local bars. Looking for an experience of a lifetime, I wasn’t disappointed.

After stepping out into the oppressive humidity, the first thing that struck me about the capital, Kathmandu, was the chaos that consumed everything; the traffic, the pedestrians, and even the electricity cabling. As a pedestrian, it would be quite possible to make a sport of traffic dodging. The only practical way of getting across a main road was to tuck in behind a local and hope that luck was with you. Once I had grasped the concept of crossing a road, Kathmandu, and particularly the small district of Themal, really opened up. It is littered with hundreds of shops and market stalls, all trying to sell the same things. I could easily have spent days meandering through the streets bartering for the best prices on jewellery, trinkets and clothing. The locals are delightful and always keen to chat, whether they’re telling you stories of their own lives or just quizzing you on England and the mystical nature that seems to surround it over there.

One of the friendliest Nepali locals, Suresh, organised a trip to the Chitwan, a national park that resides southwest of Kathmandu. Tourists endure six hours on a bus through the mountains to travel to Chitwan, where it’s possible to experience an elephant jungle safari. The option of washing the elephants was also on offer, as well as a ride in a canoe that skims the surface of the river by mere inches, beneath which crocodiles swim. Perhaps more exhilarating than this was the actual journey from Kathmandu to Chitwan. The road that took me there balanced precariously on the edge of the mountains that occupy Nepal. Motorists seem to have an unnatural desire to end their own lives and those of people around them by consistently attempting overtaking manoeuvres on blind corners whilst going uphill in a lorry. The only compensation for the sheer terror that was inflicted on me was the majesty of the surrounding scenery. The river that ran adjacent to the road carved a path through the mountains with ease, offering an insight into the power of nature. A veil of mist fell upon it in the early hours and appeared to shroud everything in mystery and serenity; a complete contrast to Kathmandu.

…twisting and turning as the world flies past…

Sanctuary from the fast pace of the capital could also be found towards the Tibetan border. Here, hidden in the mountains, a relaxing lodge can be found. It just so happens that the world’s second largest bungee jump is also there. Standing 165m high over raging torrents, I found myself being strapped to a piece of ‘string’ by complete strangers, approaching a platform and asking myself why I was about to throw myself off a bridge. Then I jumped and I realised why – an adrenaline rush that can’t be matched. You accelerate towards the ground, the air flying past you, the blood rushing to your head, caught in a daze of excitement and horror as you expect the worst. Then the bungee tightens and you’re sprung back towards the sky, twisting and turning as the world flies past, the sky indistinguishable from the mountains and the river. Before you know it, you’re being pulled from just above the river to the safety of land with some very high tech equipment – a piece of bamboo. After being unstrapped I laughed out loud, amazed that I was still alive.

It wasn’t the need to jump off a bridge that attracted me to Nepal. The main reason for my trip was to volunteer in a Buddhist monastery. Each weekday I would walk about forty minutes to the monastery on the outskirts of Kathmandu, where I would be greeted by a cup of Nepali tea and a ‘good morning sir’ from practically every monk that I taught. There were three classes of mixed ages ranging between three and sixteen. The monks were really quite cheeky and much preferred playing games over learning English and maths, so it is fair to say that they can confidently play Thumb Wars, Simon Says and Bingo. They were brilliant at being blunt, pointing out the fattest one of the group when asked what fat meant, or nicknaming one of the younger ones ‘monkey’ because he had ragged teeth and ate paper. Apart from the occasional Gameboy or knife that had to be confiscated, they were fantastically well behaved and I believe that they truly appreciated my time there as much as I did. It was on my last day at the monastery that the monks were treated to the use of a digital camera, and they absolutely loved it. They managed to take over 250 photos where they posed in unbelievably ‘G’ fashion, rounding off a brilliant experience for me.

Volunteering was without doubt the most rewarding thing that I have ever done and I would highly recommend it, especially in Nepal. The country is so different from England; it felt like such a breath of fresh air and gave me memories that I will never forget. I only hope that other people would be willing to immerse themselves into the chaotic country that sits on top of the world.