MADE IN NIRVANA
The princess of the stream
Finally the day came to go to Pokhara. Franca's feet were almost healed, but the diarrhoea was still a problem. She had taken opium to stop it, which had worked for a couple of days, but now it was back. She took another lump of opium for the trip, which would last from morning to evening. She knew it wasn't wise to take it day after day, that's how people became addicted, but she would use it only while she had diarrhoea as it acted as a medicine, then she would stop. They left Kathmandu by bus and travelled along the main road, flanking the hilly countryside dotted with rice paddies of a dazzling pea green, bright and clean. The landscape was lush, rich greens of every shade and hue, green with yellow, green with grey, green and blue. Along the way the rare villages were sparsely populated. They arrived in Pokhara shortly after five o'clock in the afternoon.
The boats were waiting and they didn't even have to haggle over the price; it was written on a piece of cardboard. Incredible! They pushed their boat into the shallow water of the shore and, one by one, climbed aboard awkwardly. Raffa took two oars and began to row. Maria took the other two and began to practice a little as she was a bit of a novice when it came to rowing. The sun was still climbing and pleasantly warmed the clear air. She looked around: the lake was very large, almost round, surrounded by dense lush vegetation and white beaches. The rays of the sun reached the shores, one at a time and, like a paintbrush loaded with light, transformed the colours of the trees from dark grey to a heart warming bright green.
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