Thursday, March 11, 2010
A trekking we will go!
We're packed up and ready to head out on our two-week trek to Mt. Everest base camp. I'm about to head to bed; wake up call is at 4:35am in order to catch our early-morning flight to Lukla. The plan is to walk from Lukla to Phakding or a bit farther tomorrow. We'll stay at an inn owned by one of Nima's many cousins. The following day we walk to Namche Bazar, the largest little town along the trail. I am lugging our laptop along and I will be blogging my way to base camp and back. I'll upload entries as often as I am able to depending on Internet access, electricity availablity, etc. Until then, namaste!
Nima's here!
Our good friend and soon-to-be trekking guide, Nima, has arrived safely to Kathmandu from Sonoma. His plane got in yesterday afternoon and we paid him a visit at his home soon thereafter. The poor guy had been traveling for nearly two days and was very tired, but he had much to do. He had brought with him four giant duffel bags full of packages for family and friends in Kathmandu from Nepali friends in Sonoma. He had to arrange pick-ups for all of the goodies. I told him it was a good thing that he had tasks to occupy him for the afternoon so he wouldn't fall asleep too early and exacerbate the jet lag.
It was quite surreal to see Nima, our Sonoma pal here in Kathmandu. I'm sure it was even stranger for him to see his American friends here. Between phone calls, we shared tea followed by noodle soup.
"Would you like some chili with your soup?" Nima asked.
"None for me, thanks," I said. I don't need to go rocking my gastrointestinal boat just before a two-week trek.
"Bring it on," Gideon said.
I was expecting Nima and Gideon to sprinkle a few dried chili flakes on their soup; so I was surprised when a plate of actual hot peppers were brought to the table. Gideon nibbled a bit off the end of one. "It's not hot at all. In fact, it's kind of sweet," he said. So I grabbed a pepper and took a bite. Oh. My. Goodness. Gideon was very much mistaken. Apparently, he did not get any of the seeds on his bite. I most certainly did. My eyes welled up with tears and my entire mouth and throat burned relentlessly for ten minutes.
"Dang! What were you talking about?" I asked Gideon. "That's wicked hot stuff!"
"Hmm, maybe mine was just mild," he surmised.
"Take another bite. With seeds this time," I ordered. He did. I watched as Gideon's eyes reddened and teared up, and his face blushed with heat. He tried to feign indifference to the heat until he could no longer contain himself and had to let out a yelp. We both begged for a drink and greedily gulped down glasses of Fanta to cool our tongues.
Meanwhile, Nima munched away on his pepper, squinting his eyes and shaking his head, but seemed to enjoy the painful experience.
After our meal, we headed up to the roof of Nima's house to take in the view. While we were hanging out, Nima's younger brother, whom he had not seen in over ten years, arrived to greet him. As is customary in Nepal, Nima was draped with a colorful scarf, as were we, his guests. It was such a welcoming gesture; perhaps I'll take that custom home with me and warmly welcome my visitors with a scarf.
Today I met up with Nima again, leaving Gideon at home to work on a patent project. Nima and I had a good time wandering the busy streets of Thamel, the touristy business district that once, and still does to some extent, attract all sorts of Western hippies. Nima bought Gideon and me some mittens for the trek, as well as Nepali tea at a friend's restaurant, and lunch at yet another restaurant. I had to let him pay for everything because I left all my money zipped in the pockets of the pants I'd worn yesterday. I guess I've always been a bit irresponsible about money... Thanks Nima--I'll pay you back!
One of the highlights of my afternoon with Nima was seeing how many friends he ran into as we wandered about. He was like the popular prodigal son. I had to laugh when he waved at an old friend zooming down the narrow street on his motorcycle. "How on earth did you recognize him?" I asked Nima. You could barely see an inch of the man's face; he wore a helmet, sunglasses and a facemask. Nima somehow spotted him and the two of them had a few moments to catch up.
At one point Nima explained to me that Nepalis could tell that he was a Nepali visiting from America. "How can they tell?" I asked.
"Oh, probably by the way I speak," Nima explained. This flummoxed me. Nima is Nepali and he speaks Nepalese. It became clear to me what he meant while he conversed over lunch with Chindi, Nima's brother-in-law, and a good friend of Nima's family, a doctor, who's name I have forgotten at the moment. I noticed that Nima's Nepalese is sprinkled with random English words. He sounds a bit like this: Blah blah blah summertime blah blah blah blah my restaurant blah blah Rosemary blah blah blah sister blah blah. I pointed out this observation to Nima and he laughingly agreed.
After a delicious lunch, Shree picked me up and took me home to pack up for the trek. We leave at 5:30 tomorrow morning and I’m ready!
It was quite surreal to see Nima, our Sonoma pal here in Kathmandu. I'm sure it was even stranger for him to see his American friends here. Between phone calls, we shared tea followed by noodle soup.
"Would you like some chili with your soup?" Nima asked.
"None for me, thanks," I said. I don't need to go rocking my gastrointestinal boat just before a two-week trek.
"Bring it on," Gideon said.
I was expecting Nima and Gideon to sprinkle a few dried chili flakes on their soup; so I was surprised when a plate of actual hot peppers were brought to the table. Gideon nibbled a bit off the end of one. "It's not hot at all. In fact, it's kind of sweet," he said. So I grabbed a pepper and took a bite. Oh. My. Goodness. Gideon was very much mistaken. Apparently, he did not get any of the seeds on his bite. I most certainly did. My eyes welled up with tears and my entire mouth and throat burned relentlessly for ten minutes.
"Dang! What were you talking about?" I asked Gideon. "That's wicked hot stuff!"
"Hmm, maybe mine was just mild," he surmised.
"Take another bite. With seeds this time," I ordered. He did. I watched as Gideon's eyes reddened and teared up, and his face blushed with heat. He tried to feign indifference to the heat until he could no longer contain himself and had to let out a yelp. We both begged for a drink and greedily gulped down glasses of Fanta to cool our tongues.
Meanwhile, Nima munched away on his pepper, squinting his eyes and shaking his head, but seemed to enjoy the painful experience.
After our meal, we headed up to the roof of Nima's house to take in the view. While we were hanging out, Nima's younger brother, whom he had not seen in over ten years, arrived to greet him. As is customary in Nepal, Nima was draped with a colorful scarf, as were we, his guests. It was such a welcoming gesture; perhaps I'll take that custom home with me and warmly welcome my visitors with a scarf.
Today I met up with Nima again, leaving Gideon at home to work on a patent project. Nima and I had a good time wandering the busy streets of Thamel, the touristy business district that once, and still does to some extent, attract all sorts of Western hippies. Nima bought Gideon and me some mittens for the trek, as well as Nepali tea at a friend's restaurant, and lunch at yet another restaurant. I had to let him pay for everything because I left all my money zipped in the pockets of the pants I'd worn yesterday. I guess I've always been a bit irresponsible about money... Thanks Nima--I'll pay you back!
One of the highlights of my afternoon with Nima was seeing how many friends he ran into as we wandered about. He was like the popular prodigal son. I had to laugh when he waved at an old friend zooming down the narrow street on his motorcycle. "How on earth did you recognize him?" I asked Nima. You could barely see an inch of the man's face; he wore a helmet, sunglasses and a facemask. Nima somehow spotted him and the two of them had a few moments to catch up.
At one point Nima explained to me that Nepalis could tell that he was a Nepali visiting from America. "How can they tell?" I asked.
"Oh, probably by the way I speak," Nima explained. This flummoxed me. Nima is Nepali and he speaks Nepalese. It became clear to me what he meant while he conversed over lunch with Chindi, Nima's brother-in-law, and a good friend of Nima's family, a doctor, who's name I have forgotten at the moment. I noticed that Nima's Nepalese is sprinkled with random English words. He sounds a bit like this: Blah blah blah summertime blah blah blah blah my restaurant blah blah Rosemary blah blah blah sister blah blah. I pointed out this observation to Nima and he laughingly agreed.
After a delicious lunch, Shree picked me up and took me home to pack up for the trek. We leave at 5:30 tomorrow morning and I’m ready!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
A soundscape of Dhumbhari Chowk—Our neighborhood
Gideon and I are taking it easy today. No major excursions, beside a short walk through the neighborhood. As I sit in the family room with the doors open to the outside, preparing to catch up on the blog, it strikes me how raucous this little corner of Kathmandu really is.
Here’s what is ringing in my ears at this moment.
· A crow hanging out in a tree in the yard, cawing like there’s no tomorrow, as well as countless other birds chirping in the background
· Car horns and motorcycle horns beeping just to let everyone know, “I’m coming around the corner, down the street, past your house, to my gate. Open up!”
· The back-up electrical generator buzzing away, providing electricity to the house while the load-shedding black out of the afternoon is in effect
· A plane overhead, nearing the airport
· A man wandering down the street yelling; it seems he is selling brooms and baskets loaded up on his bicycle
· Slippers tapping against the hardwood floor as Sunita and Bama, the new housekeeper, bustle around the house
· Barking, howling, growling, yipping dogs throughout the neighborhood
· A tractor of some sort rumbling down the street
· Feng Shui, one of the four family cats, purring contentedly on the couch next to me
· Quiet Nepali conversation between Sunita and Bama
· The clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen below... dinner is in the making
· A car engine revving… who knows why?
· Someone yelling from the construction site next door… it doesn’t sound good
· The sound of children—school’s out
· Hammering on a wall somewhere in the house
· The beep of the family car (I can recognize it now)… Ethan’s home from school! Everyone get ready!
· Gertie, the family dog, whining with excitement, being shooed out the door by Sunita
· Metal dragging and clanking somewhere nearby… what is that? Ah, that’s actually the old school push lawn mower busy in the yard below. It seems Ethan has taken over for Keshav (Kay-sab), the gardener. A fine after-school activity, if you ask me.
Here’s what is ringing in my ears at this moment.
· A crow hanging out in a tree in the yard, cawing like there’s no tomorrow, as well as countless other birds chirping in the background
· Car horns and motorcycle horns beeping just to let everyone know, “I’m coming around the corner, down the street, past your house, to my gate. Open up!”
· The back-up electrical generator buzzing away, providing electricity to the house while the load-shedding black out of the afternoon is in effect
· A plane overhead, nearing the airport
· A man wandering down the street yelling; it seems he is selling brooms and baskets loaded up on his bicycle
· Slippers tapping against the hardwood floor as Sunita and Bama, the new housekeeper, bustle around the house
· Barking, howling, growling, yipping dogs throughout the neighborhood
· A tractor of some sort rumbling down the street
· Feng Shui, one of the four family cats, purring contentedly on the couch next to me
· Quiet Nepali conversation between Sunita and Bama
· The clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen below... dinner is in the making
· A car engine revving… who knows why?
· Someone yelling from the construction site next door… it doesn’t sound good
· The sound of children—school’s out
· Hammering on a wall somewhere in the house
· The beep of the family car (I can recognize it now)… Ethan’s home from school! Everyone get ready!
· Gertie, the family dog, whining with excitement, being shooed out the door by Sunita
· Metal dragging and clanking somewhere nearby… what is that? Ah, that’s actually the old school push lawn mower busy in the yard below. It seems Ethan has taken over for Keshav (Kay-sab), the gardener. A fine after-school activity, if you ask me.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Beautiful Bodhnath
Ahh, Bodhnath. This Buddhist stupa is perhaps my new favorite spot in Kathmandu. I will remember this enormous circular plaza as a rainbow of radiant colors. When we arrived to Bodhnath on Sunday afternoon, the sky was a cloudless, crisp blue, enhancing the multicolored stupa even more. The bright white dome of the stupa was set like an overturned rice bowl in the center of the plaza. Above it, the thirteen golden layers of the stupa extended skyward. Rainbow colored prayer flags stretched out in all directions from the top of the golden spire, adding to the festive feel. All around the base, pilgrims circulated beneath the eyes of the Buddha, spinning the prayer wheels as they went along. All sorts of shops lined the circle, offering everything from postcards and souvenirs to butter lamps, ceremonial horns, and singing meditation bowls.
The village of Boudha is considered “Little Tibet” here in Kathmandu. The area is inhabited mainly by Tibetan refugees who fled their country in 1959, when the Chinese took over. The dress and look of the Tibetan people is unique, even to a Westerner.
While we were exploring the plaza, we witnessed some sort of Nepali newscast featuring what I can only assume were local beauty queens. I guess that sort of thing is universal—everyone loves a pretty face.
After circumnavigating the stupa, stopping to play with the pigeons and shop, we were able to climb up to the base of the whitewashed dome for a great view of the plaza below and the stupa above. There’s nothing quite like those big Buddha eyes watching you from all directions. This is a place I hope to visit again before it’s time to go.
Pashupatinath--A lesson in life and death
Our first stop on Sunday was the Hindu temple and grounds along the holy Bagmati River. Pashupatinath is where the dead are brought for cremation within 24 hours of death. Bodies are brought to the cremation ghats, stone platforms along the river, and are placed atop pylons of wood. After a ceremony with family members, the recently deceased are cremated right there along the riverbank. After cremation, the ashes are swept into the river below.
Ethan taking it all in... a big task for a six year old
The Holy Sadhus
Tika powders used in Hindu blessings
I have never witnessed death in this way. To watch the cremation of bodies up and down the river, to breath in the thick smoke that hangs in the air, to watch the constant swirl of activity in this place was so unlike any funeral I’ve ever attended in America. At first I felt shocked, saddened, awkward, even sickened by the sights around me. It all seemed so matter-of-fact: a loved one dies; they are immediately brought to the river in the company of their family and cremated in front of everyone and anyone to see. The ashes are brushed into the river and everyone moves along. It didn’t seem right to me at first. Shouldn’t death be more tragic? The arrangements more planned out somehow? That’s not how it is here. I’ve slowly come to appreciate what I witnessed at Pashupatinath. Here in Nepal, and along the Bagmati River, death is a part of life. It is not a tragic, scary mystery, as it often seems to be in America. It is another step in the circle of life. In fact, I recognize this acceptance of death all around me in this city. Life is absolutely at risk just walking or driving around here, but people are out and about, living their life, and are not constantly worrying about the threat of death. In America, we have so many laws, rules, and regulations designed to keep us safe and to keep death as far away as possible. Here death is all around, and in my opinion, it seems everyone here knows it and lives alongside it without fear. It’s a relatively new idea for me, but I’m starting to see how refreshing it can be to set fear aside and just live the life I’m given.
The home for the elderly, situated right next to the Bagmati River and Pashupatinath.
Patiently awaiting death...
Patan Durbar Square
Saturday afternoon was spent exploring the Durbar Square of Patan with Mike, Amy and Ethan. Although it’s situated in the southern Kathmandu metropolitan area, Patan used to be its own fiercely independent city-state. The Durbar Square is a stunning collection of Newari temples and palaces built in the 14th through 18th centuries. Understandably, it is a protected UNESCO World Heritage site. Although most of the temples are Hindu in nature, Buddhist stupas abound, as is true with many sights in Nepal.
When Shree dropped us off at the Durbar Square, my jaw literally dropped. I was struck dumb by the sheer grandeur of the scene before me. Fortunately, no one was in a hurry and we spent the next few hours leisurely wandering through the square and on through the narrow streets and alleyways of the neighborhoods north of the square.
When Shree dropped us off at the Durbar Square, my jaw literally dropped. I was struck dumb by the sheer grandeur of the scene before me. Fortunately, no one was in a hurry and we spent the next few hours leisurely wandering through the square and on through the narrow streets and alleyways of the neighborhoods north of the square.
Playing slinky on the temple steps
An unusual site...an unsmiling Nepali
Fetching the water at the Durbar fountain
Lots going on in this family photo...
We also had some time to bargain for souvenirs. I had become quite skillful at bargaining while we were in China a few years back, so I was ready to try my hand at it again. I spotted a bright blue mask of Ganesha, the Hindu god of success resembling an elephant. There is no accounting for taste, and I was inexplicably drawn to it. A bargaining session ensued between the salesman and me. I was able to work the price down from 2500 rupees ($33) to 500 rupees ($7). It took time, as all serious bargaining does, and I was quite pleased with myself in the end. “You very clever,” the salesman told me. That’s right…
When I caught up with the group, I showed them my hard-earned prize. It was hailed with peals of laughter. Mike asked how much I paid for it and I told him 500 rupees.
“What? Five hundred rupees?!?!” he laughed in utter exasperation.
“Yes. How much would you have paid for it?” I asked, as my ego starting to deflate.
“No more than 100 rupees, if I ever wanted a tacky blue elephant head to add to my collection.”
Well, I did not let Mike’s teasing get me down; I liked my souvenir. But I did realize that I had been had. My bargaining skills need some serious brushing up, apparently. There will be time for that, no doubt.
When I caught up with the group, I showed them my hard-earned prize. It was hailed with peals of laughter. Mike asked how much I paid for it and I told him 500 rupees.
“What? Five hundred rupees?!?!” he laughed in utter exasperation.
“Yes. How much would you have paid for it?” I asked, as my ego starting to deflate.
“No more than 100 rupees, if I ever wanted a tacky blue elephant head to add to my collection.”
Well, I did not let Mike’s teasing get me down; I liked my souvenir. But I did realize that I had been had. My bargaining skills need some serious brushing up, apparently. There will be time for that, no doubt.
Ganesha covered with tika powder
"Peace! Now give us some rupees!"
Ethan making more doggy friends
Hindu shrines can be found in the strangest places
Patan Durbar Square parking lot
Now this is what is meant by a hole-in-the-wall restaurant
One skinny house
A meeting of the minds
Ethan and the lion, a powerful combination
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