Men please skip this section -
"What is tampon?" asks the hundredth lady at a supermarket checkout. Finally I have arrived at the largest supermarket in all of Pokhara - the equivalent of Debenhams and probably about as big as anything in Kathmandu. The last possible place that might have them. Thoughts of yack's wool and rags are beginning to fill my mind... time to become a true Nepalese lady?
"Tampax?" I ask hopefully.
"Tampax?" she repeats back, her face just as blank.
"Feminine hygiene?" I say. Her face clears. "Ah, yes! We have pads!" She exclaims proudly.
"Tampons are different", I try to explain. She looks puzzled. Apparently no one has been unsatisfied with the sophisticated pads she has on offer.
"TAMPON!" She calls to a group of female assistants who are gathered chatting at the next til. Heads start to turn from the long rows of aisles, stacked with everything imaginable apart from tampons.
The assistants look at each other in bemusement, apparently none of them have heard of them either.
"TAMPON!" The Chinese whisper gets called over to a large man, their chief, seated on a high chair at the end of the row of tils. He beckons me over.
"What do you want, lady?"
By now everyone must have heard. He certainly has but there is a glimmer of humour in his eyes and he wants to hear again.
"Can I talk to a woman?"
He sits fatly, waiting for the response.
"Do you have tampons?" I ask lamely.
He indicates for a lady at his side to go and show me. She proudly leads me to apparently the only supply in all of Nepal. All heads are turned in curiosity.
She whips out a tiny, dog-eared packet and pulls out a little cotton wad, barely enough to dry up a flea. She stands proudly displaying the thing for a while until she notices my jaw has dropped to the floor.
Time to stop the tampon hunt. Thankfully, at least, there are pads on offer.
