We left Brighton (ok, Hove actually) for Nepal on a warm and sunny day in December - but we were not to be fooled; we knew that arctic winds, snow, blizzards and freezing temperatures were just around the corner. Weren't they? Oh you poor chilly little souls, how we feel for you....

First though we had to endure the vagaries of a flight transfer in Delhi. How simple it would be to switch seamlessly from one plane to another clutching a pre-printed boarding card issued in the warm and cosy environs of Heathrow's terminal 4 you might think? But of course that would be way too simples.

At what was about 5 a.m for us poor jet lagged, exhausted and disorientated travellers, we had to queue at the 'check in' desk so that someone in a uniform, whilst still chatting to the person next to them, could scrawl their initials onto our boarding pass, without seeming to have even glanced at the piece of paper that was proffered. Then it was onto another queue where the boarding pass was closely inspected for initials by a man with shiny buttons and a hat with a badge. What little jubilation we experienced at this stage was short lived. In front of us stretched another lengthy queue, this one doubling back on itself several times before reaching its nadir - an ancient x-ray machine into which, after several months of shuffling along we had to plunge our cabin luggage, coats, hats and other seemingly unnecessay items of clothing. Then it was on to the hand held metal detector with a side order of gentle patting and rubbing to ensure we genuinely hadn't managed to acquire sufficient raw materials to construct some form of illegal device in the fractions of a second between leaving our flight and joining the first of the many queues.

Thanks to this rigorous checking what would have been a 2 hour wait at Delhi airport terminated in a quick sprint to the departure gate, where we squeezed into our tiny tiny seats only to then endure a two hour delay on the tarmac. Luckily we were feeling so sleepy by this time it was quite handy to be able to use our knees as pillows.

And so we arrived in Kathmandu - a little weary it's true, but excited to be back in Asia. Just the drive from the airport is enough to give us a feel for the excitement to come. From the window of our taxi we watched women haggling for bananas from a fruit laden bicycle at the side of the road, whole families astride a motorbike, small children shooing chickens out of their house and white gloved policemen directing traffic from the middle of the road. Then we step outside and are assaulted by the pungent smells - primarily of incense mixed with spices, with a side order of soap dodging. We have to quickly step aside in order not to be knocked over by a passing car of course but that's the most arresting thing about Kathmandu - the traffic is abysmal. We have not had this much fun crossing the road since Saigon. It really is a case of gliding across hoping that everything currently heading towards you at 60mph, seemingly hellbent on getting to their destination before every other vehicle on the road, will actually swerve around you at the last moment. We tend to find a crossing local and stick firmly to their (in)side, in the hope that the impact will be lessened if the vehicle hits something else soft first.

But once I have weaned Brian away from his innate distrust of taxi drivers, using the weak excuse that we might be safer in the car than out, we discover that taking a taxi has its in built fun factor that includes hurtling along at speed whilst undertaking, driving into the middle of the road and beeping the horn at oncoming cars and, most frequently, attempting to get so close to the car at front or at the side that we could, if necessary, switch from one to the other if the windows were open. It's a toss up as to whether it feels safer to drive around with your eyes closed or not. I would like to think that our occasional exclamations of advanced road safety tips to our taxi driver will prove useful in the future though.

So what did we do in Kathmandu when we weren't saving ourselves from road traffic fatalities? Well we spent a couple of days tracking down and obtaining visas for our upcoming trip to Burma. As you may know, visas, or the lack thereof, has been an unfortunate yet consistent theme of two of our most recent trips. This time. No. You will have to look elsewhere for your turned away at the border thrills, we shall be providing excitement of a far more sedate nature.

We also spent a lot of time wandering the streets, enchanted by the sights, sounds and smells of this lovely country. Apart from the usual hassle from insistent street sellers wanting us to buy tiger balm, miniature chess sets and super skunk, Nepal is an easy and delightful country in which to roam.

We normally wandered every day into Thamel, nominally a ten minute walk - but of course we had to allow twenty minutes for dodging stray dogs and death by crossing the roads en route. On our first night in Kathmandu, at the entrance to our hotel, we were accosted by ye ancient cycle rickshaw driver, exhorting us to avail ourselves of his magnificent services for just three dollars, ok make it two, oh alright one. We made our excuses and left, but not without having agreed to at least consider the possibility of future business next time we were passing. As one must. Subsequent excursions from the hotel were met with an increasing pressure to aid his imminent pension fund and so, finally, on the third day we reluctantly capitulated.

Squeezing ourselves into his rickety contraption he launched himself into the saddle and began to pedal furiously up the gentle incline. Sadly it defeated him within seconds and he had to dismount and, rather embarassingly, push us, and the rickshaw, up the hill. The speed bump at the top nearly finished us all off, but hey presto, we were out on the open road, cars hurtling towards us and swerving at the last minute, motorbikes pulling up alongside us; the drivers openly amazed that we were actually moving. As were we! However, not only could the old codger hold his own in the Kathmandu equivalent of Hyde Park Corner, he even had enough surplus energy to badger us for more money by constantly pointing out how tiring the work was and how much effort we were getting for our rupees. So of course we did end up paying over the odds but we were just grateful to be in one piece!

We were also thankful and fortunate enough to be able to see the lunar eclipse last Saturday, as the sky overhead was clear and cloudless. It was an amazing sight; the moon almost totally disappeared behind, well, whatever was passing in front of it in order to cause the eclipse of course.... I don't have time to instruct you in basic astronomy you know.

We took a mountain flight in a tiny little plane to get up close to Everest and, apart from having to sit in the airport for 3 1/2 hours waiting for the fog to lift, it was another awe-inspiring experience. Wow. Those Himalayas sure are big. The trip was only slightly marred by an over exuberant chap sitting in front of us who seemed to think that the view out of our window was superior to the view from his so kept leaning over us and sticking his camera right in front of our noses. I'm sure most of our photos will have a little bit of his lens or the back of his brylcreemed head in them.

On our return to Kathmandu we each received a certificate signed by the captain. Anyone would think we had climbed the mountain itself, rather than zoomed past it in luxuriously padded seats; where the only danger was a sharp elbow from our exuberant neighbour or choking on the complimentary mints.

We have been eating lots of Nepali curries interspersed with the odd pizza or plate of chips, and drinking gallons of banana lassi - a yogurt milkshake drink, that is worth the trip to Asia alone. Brian managed to knock over his banana lassi the other day in his haste to dive into the remains of my uneaten curry, and then cracked some feeble joke about not having had a lassie on his lap for quite a while. Now you know what I have to put up with. He was quite miffed later on when I reported his 'joke' on Facebook, so I'm letting him report all his own material from now on. Don't say you weren't warned.....