We arrived in Pokhara during a thunderstorm, were dropped on a tarmac-covered bus station and ushered into one of the waiting taxis, through the urban sprawl and onto the lake front of Pokhara proper. We put our faith in the Lonely Planet and headed for their pick of the guesthouses: Peace Eye.It became a magical place for us, a home away from home for wanderers, a refuge for nomads and the travelling Diaspora. The rooms were cute, the location was fine, but it was made exceptional by the hospitality. We spent our days sitting in Peace Eye eating plates of home-cooked potato and cheese flat bread, steamed dumplings in soy bean soup and mugs of creamy hot chocolate that never seemed to make it onto our room bill.
Peace Eye was our rose-tinted bubble in the rains. I felt like the Lady of Shallot, observing the passing world beyond the wooden-framed windows.
I can’t promise that if you ever find yourself in down town Pokhara on a rainy morning that you’ll have the reception we did, but I emphatically urge everyone to visit, just for a day, to sit on the low-slung cushioned chairs by the brick kiln fire and try some freshly baked walnut bread and masala chai.
Image: Peace Eye