Round the World Journal
by Matt Donath
Sept 28-29. The Lakeside tourist strip of Pokhara is small enough for us to run into many of the people we met while trekking. They got a bit ahead of us and either missed the landslide or were able to detour around it before the army came in. We hear horror stories of panicked guides abandoning clients and strenuous climbs above the slide.
While waiting for a second breakfast at "Mike's By The Lake" I have a long chat with Mike and a man named Allen Lundberg who wants to open a Thai restaurant here. Mike is the same owner of the long-standing "Mike's Breakfast" in Katmandu. Both places have superb ambience and good food. Mike has been in Nepal since his Peace Corps days in 1962. By appearance alone he looks like he just walked off the plane from his native Minnesota - a real nice guy.
Strong recommendation for the Ganga Restaurant -- excellent food and they let you pick a movie to watch if you request it ahead of time.
Sept 30. We endure a scenic but interminable bus ride to Katmandu. The week-long Dashain or Durga Puja holiday is in full swing. On this most important of all Nepalese festivals, the primarily vegetarian Nepalese Hindus eat meat. Everywhere we see guys lopping off animal heads, pulling out entrails, and burning the hair off carcasses with blow torches. Every vehicle, from bicycles to airplanes, has its wheels smeared with sacrificial blood. On the less grisly side we see many pingas -- huge swings set up on bamboo poles. Enthusiastic crowds gather to watch young and old swinging.
Oct 1. Along the way to Swayambuhunath we notice kites dotting the skies. Cheers erupt whenever two kites do battle and one is vanquished.
After running a gauntlet of venders and beggars up to the top of a steep hill, we have an outstanding vantage point over much of the Katmandu Valley. Eagles swoop down to rest in a nearby tree. Green hills encircle the sprawling cities of Katmandu and Patan.
Pairs of mystical eyes, painted on an enormous white stupa, look down at us as we spin the surrounding prayer wheels. A wedding ceremony progresses in a rear temple. Monks chant prayers and throw holy water on the couple while friends and family record the event with snapshots and video. Although Swayambhunath is known as the "Monkey Temple" because of the many nasty little simians that scavenge around (today they are stealing red rice used for tika), far more dogs lie sleeping in any shady spot. A fly-covered dead puppy lays in the center of a courtyard but no one seems to notice it. The blood offerings on some statues attract many flies and fetid water lies in drainage pools that were once elegant but now in disrepair. An Italian tourist grabs a surprised monk by the head and gives him an enthusiastic kiss. A group of kids lay watching television in one shelter. A group of young men gather around a card game under another, smoking and gambling.
Chanting from within a side monastery draws us in. Young monks recite prayers, blow huge horns and chant melodically. Even the fans in here have prayers written on them! Sybil is enthralled with their musical prayers but the closeness of the crowded room drives me out after a bit.
Back down in the city, many shops are closed for the holiday, but the streets are full of activity! Several musical marching processions of cymbal, trumpet and drum players roam the streets. Some are raucous and drunken while others are stately and serious. One of the latter group causes a terrific traffic jam at a busy intersection as they calmly and meticulously create an offering of blood, meat, incense, liquor, rice, fruit and herbs on the ground. They do this in particular patterns at various spots in the intersection, ceremoniously blessing each offering with payers and music. They are oblivious to the chaos caused by their ritual, but seem annoyed by the incredibly rude German video professional who sticks his huge camera only inches from any action. They push it away but he returns like a persistent fly. Sybil tells me that all good video documentary guys must be obnoxiously relentless. I hope this isn't true.
Oct 2. Along a long, dusty, meandering walk to Patan we stop at a dilapidated temple courtyard near the river. A crazy, dirty western guy crawls into one of the monuments. He appears to live inside it. Nepalese squatters live here as well, mostly inside cardboard boxes.
Patan has many wonderful buildings and courtyards to explore. Its Durbar Square is at least as interesting as the one in Katmandu and a bit more accessible since the traffic is lighter. Drying entrails hang above the doorway of one of the ancient monuments. The surrounding streets hold fascinatingly carved buildings. I've read that the ancient cities of the Katmandu Valley were designed after mandalas. Easy to believe with all the maze-like streets leading to hidden courtyard temple squares.
We see several walls painted with an unusual pair: a skeleton with a large and sometimes dripping penis stands next to a demonic woman sticking out a large tongue. I'm guessing the woman is Kali but sometimes "she" has a penis as well. Many of the statues, especially animal depictions, display genitalia.
The Kvabahal or "Golden Temple" has resident rats and tortoises crawling about the elaborate shrines. The head priest of this monasterythe "Baphaca"--is a boy of less than twelve years.
We come back on an electric bemo! I hope these catch on as Katmandu has a major problem with air pollution.
Oct 3. Just rest on this rainy day. Sometimes we joke that we spend all of our non-site-seeing time trying to get clean.
Far too many people in Katmandu ask me if I want to buy hashish, opium, etc. This is partly due to the legacy of the hippie travelers to Katmandu. Its also an indication that my hair is getting long and Im not shaving enough.
Sybil asks the waiter at the New Orleans Cafi for some apple strudel. He takes the dessert out of a glass case, cuts a slice for her, and leaves the rest out on the counter where about fifty flies quickly settle on it. Sybil politely explains to the waiter that flies land on shit, which they eat, and then they regurgitate the contents of their insides onto whatever new food they land on. "Yes," says the waiter, he knows all this. He continues to leave the strudel out with the flies on it.
Oct 5. After getting lost a few times, we hike over to Pashupatinath Temple. This lies on the holy river of Bagmati and is an auspicious site for cremation ceremonies. A handful of insensitive tourists perch like vultures on the opposite bank from the cremation ghats filming video and snapping photos. Would they do that at a funeral in their home countries?
We see some erotic sculptures on one temple. Someone has "highlighted" the naughty scenes by painting them over in silver. Sybil finds humor in one sculpture showing a woman calmly washing her hair while a man enters her from behind.
I watch a monkey nonchalantly pass by a woman and then quickly sneak up behind her to snatch her bag. Quite a professional thief! Sybil tries to help the woman retrieve it but the monkey is playing for keeps.
Oct 6. Arriving at Bhaktapur we learn that this town actually charges foreigners a relatively high fee to enter their city! Sybil furiously refuses to comply. I'm ready to give in and pay after I see that they seemingly have checkpoints everywhere, but Sybil wants to stand on principal and return to Katmandu. I persuade her to stroll about the outskirts of the town and eventually we manage to weasel our way into the city from the opposite side from Katmandu.
Bhaktapur has many interestingly carved buildings. However they don't seem to be any better maintained than those in Patan or Katmandu. So where does most of the money from the "tourist tax" go? We learn that the fee for foreigners has recently been increased six-fold. The shopkeepers we chatted with agreed that the increase was outrageous and that the bulk of the money probably went into the pockets of local politicians.
They temples here contain many erotic sculptures. I know they are erotic because Sybil explains them to me. (Sometimes she sees eroticism where no one else can.) One temple even has elephants and other animals engaged in sexual intercourse. "The elephants are the only ones in Nepal who use missionary position," notes Sybil.
Oct 7. We take a flight to Biratnagar in eastern Nepal. We don't know anything about eastern Nepal. We don't have a guidebook. We don't have a map. We don't even know the names of the cities.
When I find myself in situations like this I usually just take the first bus out of town until I find a nice place. So, we're at the bus terminal and a bus is ready to pull out for a place called Dharan. Sybil tries to ask people if this town is "pretty" but no one understands her. "We haven't really been traveling up until now," says Sybil. "Now we can't speak to anyone in English."
One long, crowded and incredibly bumpy bus ride later: Dharan. Well, I don't think anyone would call this place "pretty". Dharan is bigger than expected and not too interesting. It's better than Biratnagar though as it's not quite as horrifically hot.
We can't find a place to stay here. We ask at the police station and they give us directions to the Hotel Panas (not rec). Sybil dickers a deal with one of the employees for a room. We're just about to take a shower when another guy bangs on the door and says we have to move. "These rooms are reserved," he says. He wants to move us to a room of lesser quality. We tell him we've already made a deal with his associate. He claims to be the owner and insists we either move or pay an additional 100 rupees. Aha! If the rooms are reserved, how can we have them if we pay more? Besides, he seems too young and too obnoxious to be the owner. We shut the door on him.
He gets some revenge that night by encouraging his drunken rock band buddies to be as loud as possible. They practice and play (hard to tell the difference) throughout the night in the rooms above and below us.
Much worse are the bedbugs that chew up my back to the extent that they've created a mosaic design there. Strangely, the bugs don't attack Sybil.
Oct 8. (Next morning we meet the real owner. He apologizes for his employee's rude behavior.)
We want to go to Illam, which we've heard is "pretty," but I'm not up to the squashed and jolting 12 hour bus ride it will take to get us there. Out on the streets of Dharam, a crazy guy threatens me with a razor and I'm even less enthusiastic about eastern Nepal.
Actually, the eastern Nepal I see from these interminable bus rides is quite attractive: wetland fields reminiscent of Thailand; and rolling forests; broad, flat river basins leading north into verdant hills and eventually up into the towering mountain range that includes Everest.
The problem is that the towns in between these vast areas are not very fun and the roads between them are terrible. If we had a tent and better transportation, I think we would like it here.
Ironically, I'm reading Twains Innocents Abroad to Sybil, describing his long trip through Europe and the Middle East. We're just at the point where Twain, after ebulliently praising Milan when he first enters Italy, starts to become both weary and annoyed with the country and its inhabitants (especially the barbers) by Florence. I know from experience that right now I'm a bit too tired, ill, banged-up, poisoned, annoyed, and itchy (!) to face the prerequisite marathon bus rides of this region.
More accurately, I think I could face them if we didn't have loads of unpleasant bus rides ahead of us in India. I don't want to enter India without any travel momentum!
So, we take another, even longer, bone-jarring, knee-crushing (Nepalese femur bones must be about half the length of mine) bus ride to Kakarvitta on the eastern border, with the intention of crossing over to India the next day. After a great deal of comparison shopping, Sybil settles us in at the Hotel Rajat (recommended: +977 237-0033). The helpful owner (Rajesh Shrestha) gives us some information about trekking in the area. I'm very much interested in returning here with some more equipment and additional time on our visas.
Rajesh also tells us about Tony Wheeler (the Lonely Planet head, although Rajesh doesn't know this) during his last visit here. "He's very fat now and drinks too much alcohol," says Rajesh. "So that's what too much traveling does to you!" exclaims Sybil!