Delightful Cacophony! Kathmandu.

I’m at at roof top restaurant in Kathmandu Durbar Square

 after being shown around by Mr. D. 

This persuasive 25 year old guide found me buying a ticket, remorseful that I’d gotten there late at 4 PM, and  assured me that for $15 he could easily explain all I needed to know in one hour. Since I was exhausted from at least 4 hours of walking there, I took him up on it. Let’s stop wandering and get to those darn temples! 

I had initially wandered through the crowded, dusty and colorful streets of Thamel, 

the tourist section of Kathmadu. 

Somehow I’d managed to keep heading in the right direction, towards Durbar Square. Forget looking at the map! Absolutely irrelevant since there were no street signs. Or traffic lights, Or stop signs. Or toilet paper or soap … but there I digress into complaining. It was my first day in this lovely but developing country… Lots of things to buy cheap but fortunately I can’t buy anything with “too much luggage!” (Except experiences, I told Mr D.) Except… a compression sack, meant for sleeping bag but I use for packing clothes. $20 in states, $2.50 here. And an outlet adapter for Asia for $1. $1 for mixed fresh fruit juice.

The streets of Thamel were interesting, to say the least! Full of color and sound. 

Various bands with drums, trumpet and sax following the winding narrow streets, but when the sounds collided with another band—cacophony! Compressed humanity, motorcycles, dogs, dust, goods for sale… Jumble of power cables, offerings and gods...

Trying to get organized in the midst of chaos.

I even found the Nepalese Band ATM that the hotel clerk advised me to use. 

But yikes! I waited behind another couple while the security guard looked on and to our horror the machine sucked in the card and wouldn’t spit it back out! Nightmare! And being Sunday the bank was closed. The security guard couldn’t help at all and motioned for me to use another one in another building. No card eater there, just the standard card reader. Got my money but found that no machine will give more than $100 at one time. A bit cumbersome but at least I got my card back! One more thing to be on guard about.

I then found the entrance to Durbar Square and Mr. D. 

He remembered it all before the earthquake, murmuring “sad.” Here is a pic of before next to the after of just one temple. 

It must have all been beautiful. But in the midst of reconstruction there were still bricks and broken materials galore.

The most untouched was the Kumari Temple. 

I read about that interesting tradtion in the National Geographic! It all came back. They take a 3 year old girl and raise her in the temple, she shows her face daily to devotees, she is released back into “normal” life when she first bleeds. Did I get to see her? No. Because the Dasain festival is still going on so ordinary rules don’t apply. The Nepalese can line up to climb the stairs but not us foreigners. Why not? “Because you eat beef. A cow is a reincarnation of Goddess Laxmi. It would be bad for the Kumari to see you.” OK… 

I did just miss the blood and gore of Dasain festival. Two streets over scores of goats had there heads lopped off. Why then would they care so much if I eat beef? It is all so complicated. Such as why the Kumari girl came into being. Apparently the goddess Kumari came in human form to the King and they played dice together while she protected his kingdom.He made the very big mistake of lusting after her, after which she fled and bad things started happening to his kingdom He was deeply repentant and begged for her return. “No. But I will become myself into the body of a special girl. That way my protection can continue.” 

Interesting that this one building was not destroyed by the earthquake. She can’t let herself get hurt—no scratches or blood- so she is carried out on her infrequent sorries into town in a golden chariot. See it behind closed doors with a motorcycle ingloriously parked in front of it.

And how is this Kumari picked? She needs 32 aspects—perfect beauty including the right shade to her skin and fearlessness... Just how do they test the fearlessness of a 3 year old? Easy. Lock her up in the dark all night, surrounded with buffalo heads. (Not skulls, heads.) If she is a normal 3 year old, out of luck.) Above is the window she usually appears in and there I am, normal imperfect and appropriately fearful me.

And statue of the Garuda who is protecting Vishnu. 

And a fearsome statue with devotees.

And a fearsome mask that the Nepalese Airlines uses as a logo, behind iron bars, who works his magic once a year when holy beer is pumped out his mouth and the crowd lunges forward for a gulp, to be cleansed.

(I do apologize for the poor details, folks, but I couldn’t keep track and there were no signs. A visual cacophony.)

The royal palace had two distinct wings of two styles, and the Chinese and US government have each taken on a wing for reconstruction after the earthquake. Impressive was a guard—evidently there is a famous section of the Nepalese army, the Gurkhas, and I was impressive by my ignorance.

A great if overwhelming tour.

But finally I ended up above it all, at this roof-top restuarant, watching a sunset, 

kite floating above a pink cloud, vultures soaring. 

One hill has monkeys on it. It would be good to get that far away, maybe find some peace… I’m drinking mango milkshake because they don’t have yoghurt for mango lassi. And eating buffalo “mo mo” dumpling because they were out of vegetarian. But they have pleanty of cacophony – bands below with sounds colliding, a palanquin carring some representative of God.

https://youtu.be/bXpmrjyan18

After this rooftop peace, I had to get home somehow! 

“Easy,” said the waiter, “Head that way, go to the entrance of the Square and get a taxi.” But the view from the roof and from the front door were entirely different. It actually got terrifying! Darker and darker, crowds going both ways on the street, no street lights, motorcycles lunging out of the dark with headlights directly towards pedestrians and each other. Yikes! 

A shopkeeper told me to turn around, go to the temple (Right! Which one?) and find a taxi. I talked him down from $4 to $3 because Mr. D said that was a fair rate and he looked at the address on the card and off we went. Down a bigger street arriving at a square I had never seen in the middle of Thamel. He actually expected me to get out! Nope! He obviously didn’t know how to get there! So he asked a shop owner and looked at my map and off we went again, down narrower lanes, him asking me the way. I did recongnize the final turn and voila! No tip buddy.

So now I’ve tried to decompress from overwhelming sights, sounds and dust. 

Tomorrow a driver for $40 will take me for a full day to places I couldn’t walk to.

As long as there’s a seat-belt, I’m game! One day in Thamel is enough for me!

Arriving in Nepal.

“Why, oh why, did I choose Nepal?” I was asking myself when stranded in the airport.

I can’t trek — or as I say to those who ask if I’m doing the Anna Purna Circuit— “My trekking days are over.” Makes me sound a little less feeble with these gimpy knees that actually have trekked for 40 years.

Well, my good friend Elwood in Florida had stated he was going to Nepal, sharing part of his time there with a friend, but that he’d enjoy having me along. Since he and I are both independent, I doubted if we’d spend the whole month doing the same things, but he made it a possibility in my mind. Initially Kathmandu sounded too foreign and a little scary. But knowing he’d be in the same country allayed my fears. Plus, every Nepali I’d met in the States was just so nice! Sort of like my reason for going to Portugal. Full of nice people.

Then when he had to cancel because of some minor surgery, it was already a done deal. Plus I had an air ticket, a hotel in Kathmandu and a promise from Govinda Sharma at Hasera Farm that I could volunteer there. It was a beginning.

But first to get there. 

When people complain about long flights I just glibly reply, “Well, it’s easier than a stage coach.” This one promised to be an ordeal — three airplanes— but if you want to go to Kathmandu you just suck it up and go. 

But where exactly were we exchanging planes? Yes, I got the Lisbon to Madrid connection. But the next leg said DOHA. I assumed that was an abbreviation for an airport but which city, which country? I really didn’t care when I booked it as long as I got to Nepal. So, as intelligently as I could, I asked the gentleman next to me — Where are we going? To Doha. OK, and what is Doha? It is the capital of Qatar. And what is Qatar? A country. At this point I had no shame in my ignorance…

I read the Qatar flight magazine and was looking forward to meeting a Sheik. Or seeing desert or the beach.  We couldn’t see much in the dark and no sheiks! But I did meet Nepali’s working in the airport. And yes they were nice. 

The big tip-off that I wasn’t in Europe anymore were these lines from the Koran scrolling behind security. 

Then the flight to Nepal was made absolutely wonderful by my companion Sanjeev Pandey, a Nepali who had spent a lot of time in the US and patiently answered my questions about their culture, religion etc… even inviting me to call to if there were problems. 

And here are the impressive Himalayas!

Then the loud speaker asked if there was a Dr. in the house. There was, me, but 16 years out of practice! The first class patient was sweating profusely and having seizures with her eyes open. A little atypical. No medical ID. The medical resident who also showed up opened the carry-on luggage and found insulin. Hypoglycemic seizures! And fortunately a vial of glucagon for bringing the sugar back to normal. I injected it and the lady recovered, embarrassed, promising to wear her ID  and not fall asleep and miss breakfast again.

Evidently Qatar Airlines wanted to show their appreciation (a ticket would have been nice) so my companion asked for some fresh fruit from first class. Upon landing he did look out for me through customs but left when I said the hotel would have a driver out front for me.

Here is Nepal welcoming us!

Well, Nepal is not Portugal. And Portugal is not Norway. 

I was working my way down the reliability qualities of countries. All nice but Nepal is not always reliable. Was there a driver waiting for me, my name on a placard. Nope. After awhile the line of drivers started feeling sorry for me as I wandered back and forth muttering, “Nobody wants me,” and advised me to call the hotel. My fancy Google Project Fi phone didn’t work in Nepal. First time in five months. Then I was advised by these sincere men to pay for a taxi myself. I didn’t have money! And the ATM didn’t work!!! I was close to tears at this point. I’d just saved a woman’s life and the hotel couldn’t honor their email? Someone called the hotel for me, speaking to the hotel driver, who was away at his village for festival and said he’d call the hotel. But the line of drivers just shook their heads, knowing Nepal better than I did, invited a taxi friend to drive me, and told me to tell the hotel to just pay up.

They did. And when I gave the hotel just a little bit of heck they gave me the best room and treated me with profound respect the three times I stayed there. You can’t count on anything during festival!

First meal in Nepal at Hotel Encounter Nepal.

An inauspicious beginning? Nope just Nepal — exotic, different, and yes, kind.

I took my companion up on his offer. They invited me to dinner at their lovely apartment with his extended family.  Introduced me to yak cheese.

And here is their nine year old, Samvavi Pandey, proudly attending a Catholic school, reading Maya Angelou and learning English. She had been disturbed by reports of female infanticide in India and wrote this as a response, spoken from the fears of a little girl fetus. Quoting the attributes of the female Hindu goddesses. She says it is anonymous, but I think she means the child is anonymous.  She wrote it! 

Yes, this child will go far— the new Nepal. (This video deserves to go viral, don’t you think.)

https://youtu.be/WFvavOdus7U

I had arrived! And I was ready to explore, even if I couldn’t understand this amazing country of Nepal. Thank you Elwood!

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