Tuesday, April 27, 2010
It sucks.
Just having a rough day, thinking about all the little boys near my hotel in Thamel who stumble around looking glassy-eyed, hair matted with dirt, feet barefoot and caked with dirt, with their bag of glue fumes pressed up against their faces. During the daytime they all sleep on top of one another in little piles on the sidewalk, sometimes hard to believe they're all alive just laying there like that. At night they're begging for food and water in between huffs. How is that acceptable by any society's standards? I'm not saying the Nepali society necessarily accepts it, but it's so in-your-face and utterly depressing, and there are police on the same block ignoring them just the same. What am I supposed to think and feel when I see them? How can I just walk by? I want to scoop then all up and take them with me. It sucks.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Mountains!!!!! part uno (Nayapul to Ulleri, 5hrs)
I decided to fly to Pokhara and do the Nayapul-Poon Hill-Gorepani-Gandruk-Landruk-Phedi circuit since my time was limited. The view from the rusty twin engine plane was so incredible and really got me geared up for the unknown.
I expected to have a few days of serious alone time and contemplate the meaning of life while I tried not to get lost in the mountains, but it didn't quite end up that way. After our plane landed in Pokhara, I asked 2 "American-looking" guys if they wanted to share a cab to the bus station so I could get my bus to Nayapul. When we walked out to start the notorious bargaining, my stereotyping was shattered (and I felt bad for even having stereotyped, sorry guys) one of them began to speak Nepali to the cab driver! Turns out Ryan (his friend is Max) lived in Chitwan for 2 years doing the Peace Corps and was back to visit friends and do a trek with Max.
This (overly) ambitious duo was hoping to do the Annapurna Sanctuary trek in 5 days (it normally takes 7-10), so after they were laughed at by several travel agents, they decided to do the same trek as me since it could be done in the time they had allotted. We all piled in to one of the miniature suzukis and braved the hour long ride to Nayapul where the trek starts out. I say braved because it's a mix of paved and unpaved roads, all with potholes of varying depths, cluttered with buses, vans, trucks carrying coca cola bottles, and women hauling baskets of wood or other things they'd gathered that day - who felt compelled to walk in the middle of the road.
Max hired the most awesome porter ever since he packed more for one week than I did for 4 months, so Milo was our 4th compadre. Milo is 55 years old, but smoked us all on the trek. One of my favorite things along the trek was all the suspension bridges we got to cross. If you didn't time your steps right with the other people on the bridge, it would start to feel like when you're jumping on a trampoline with other people and not synchronized with the other people's jumps. Which, for me, is kind of fun, but for some may induce motion sickness or an intense fear of heights.
I knew I would get along great with these guys when they told me that in addition to all the pristine nature photos, there would have to be some mandatory silly photos that involved superman poses and jumping...these are my kind of people. When we told Milo, he was also on board with silly pictures...we were the perfect team.
Our first day we decided to walk all the way to Ulleri, and get the infamous "Ulleri Steps" out of the way. These steps reminded me of the treacherous steps up to the Tiger Cave Temple in Krabi, but there were about 10 times more steps, the sun was HOT, it was late in the day, and I had a backpack on that felt like I had added lead weights to it by the end. I'm not sure why, but at one point Ryan said that this would be the hardest day and it would feel great to get it over with, which was motivating and all, but it certainly didn't turn out to be the hardest! It was so beautiful to pass throught all the little micro environments, starting out in the river basin that was so dried up that Milo took us on a short cut that would normally be filled with river water. I don't have many pictures of the steps because we were so exhausted, that the thought of expending energy to stop, get my camera out, have others stop and turn around and pretend to look happy, was too much.
I expected to have a few days of serious alone time and contemplate the meaning of life while I tried not to get lost in the mountains, but it didn't quite end up that way. After our plane landed in Pokhara, I asked 2 "American-looking" guys if they wanted to share a cab to the bus station so I could get my bus to Nayapul. When we walked out to start the notorious bargaining, my stereotyping was shattered (and I felt bad for even having stereotyped, sorry guys) one of them began to speak Nepali to the cab driver! Turns out Ryan (his friend is Max) lived in Chitwan for 2 years doing the Peace Corps and was back to visit friends and do a trek with Max.
This (overly) ambitious duo was hoping to do the Annapurna Sanctuary trek in 5 days (it normally takes 7-10), so after they were laughed at by several travel agents, they decided to do the same trek as me since it could be done in the time they had allotted. We all piled in to one of the miniature suzukis and braved the hour long ride to Nayapul where the trek starts out. I say braved because it's a mix of paved and unpaved roads, all with potholes of varying depths, cluttered with buses, vans, trucks carrying coca cola bottles, and women hauling baskets of wood or other things they'd gathered that day - who felt compelled to walk in the middle of the road.
Max hired the most awesome porter ever since he packed more for one week than I did for 4 months, so Milo was our 4th compadre. Milo is 55 years old, but smoked us all on the trek. One of my favorite things along the trek was all the suspension bridges we got to cross. If you didn't time your steps right with the other people on the bridge, it would start to feel like when you're jumping on a trampoline with other people and not synchronized with the other people's jumps. Which, for me, is kind of fun, but for some may induce motion sickness or an intense fear of heights.
I knew I would get along great with these guys when they told me that in addition to all the pristine nature photos, there would have to be some mandatory silly photos that involved superman poses and jumping...these are my kind of people. When we told Milo, he was also on board with silly pictures...we were the perfect team.
Our first day we decided to walk all the way to Ulleri, and get the infamous "Ulleri Steps" out of the way. These steps reminded me of the treacherous steps up to the Tiger Cave Temple in Krabi, but there were about 10 times more steps, the sun was HOT, it was late in the day, and I had a backpack on that felt like I had added lead weights to it by the end. I'm not sure why, but at one point Ryan said that this would be the hardest day and it would feel great to get it over with, which was motivating and all, but it certainly didn't turn out to be the hardest! It was so beautiful to pass throught all the little micro environments, starting out in the river basin that was so dried up that Milo took us on a short cut that would normally be filled with river water. I don't have many pictures of the steps because we were so exhausted, that the thought of expending energy to stop, get my camera out, have others stop and turn around and pretend to look happy, was too much.
Country livin... outside Bhaktapur
The friends that we visited in Bhaktapur, Jim and Oma, took us to their country house for a day. Aside from all 3 of us being plagued with "stomach problems" - we're mature doctors but we'll stick with vague terms here - we got to tour Oma's garden-in-progress, and eat a fresh meal with salad straight from the ground.
After lunch and a several hour nap in the shade on the deck, Marika discovered a mulberry tree. I had never had mulberries before, but they taste like a sweet smaller version of the blackberry, and the tree was overflowing with ripe berries that would fall into your hand with the lightest touch. Oma suggested putting a tarp down and shaking the tree, so within seconds we had that done and Josh was already up in the tree waiting for the green light.
The berries have a pretty potent color...
This bus drove by while we were waiting for our ride back to town. It's a pretty typical local bus, and they do dive over the edge and crash from time to time, with all those people crammed on top.
This little old lady walked by us, again while we were waiting for our ride home, so Oma talked to her a bit. She was on her way home from filling up her water jug.
After lunch and a several hour nap in the shade on the deck, Marika discovered a mulberry tree. I had never had mulberries before, but they taste like a sweet smaller version of the blackberry, and the tree was overflowing with ripe berries that would fall into your hand with the lightest touch. Oma suggested putting a tarp down and shaking the tree, so within seconds we had that done and Josh was already up in the tree waiting for the green light.
The berries have a pretty potent color...
This bus drove by while we were waiting for our ride back to town. It's a pretty typical local bus, and they do dive over the edge and crash from time to time, with all those people crammed on top.
streets of Kathmandu
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Bhaktapur
We planned to only spend a day or two in Bhaktapur, but before we knew it 4 nights and 5 days had passed.
Marika's friends, Oma and Jim, from the U.S. have lived in Nepal on and off for the last 30+ years and have most recently settled in Bhaktapur, so we went to visit them. Bhaktapur is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and you immediately realize why upon entering the city gates. It's an ancient Newar town (Newar is one of the ethnic groups in Nepal), the 3rd largest city in the country, and one of the previous capitals. They are famous for their wood carvings and royal yogurt, and have an unbelievable New Years festival which we walked right in to! The festival is a 10-day affair, and we were there for the last half of it. A recommendation if anyone happens to ever stay here, is Unique Guest House, right in the center of Dattatraya Square.
--------------------------------
From a Nepali blog about the festival: "The festivities start off with a friendly tug-of-war between the residents of the lower and upper halves of the town of Bhaktapur, during which each group tries to pull an ancient chariot containing an image of Shiva Bhairab to their side of the town. The festival includes parades, a candlelight procession and the display of temple deities throughout the city. On the fourth day of the festival, and the last day of the “old year”, the men of the city work together to raise a 25 meter high ceremonial pole into place. The pole has a crossbeam with two strips of cloth hanging from it as a representation of two slain snakes. This ceremonial pole stays up until the following day when residents of the lower and upper halves of the city once more engage in a tug of war, but this time to pull the pole down to their respective sides. Once the pole crashes to the ground, sometimes resulting in casualties, it is seen as the official beginning of the New Year and the festivities continue for three more days.
The Bisket Festival of Nepal is based on the story of a Bhaktapur King’s quest to find a husband for his daughter. Each time he made a suitable match, the groom would be found dead in the marital bed the following morning. Eventually eligible bachelors became a scarce commodity and the people prayed earnestly for deliverance from this mysterious curse. One day the father of the next prospective groom, on learning of the curse, offered to take his son’s place in the marital bed. Forcing himself to stay awake and alert following the consummation of the marriage, the substitute groom saw two deadly serpents slithering out of the princesses’ nostrils. The hero quickly killed the snakes and broke the spell, thereby earning the undying gratitude of the people and resulting in the celebration of the Bisket Festival."
------------------------------
The festival culminates in the oversized chariot being at the center of a city-wide tug-of-war, so the chariot could theoretically end up in one of several parts of town. We made our way toward the chariot on the last night and noticed clusters of Nepali Police in full riot gear surveying the crowds, and we asked ourselves what we were walking in to. We found a good spot where we perched above the street and crowds and waited for the tug-of-war to begin. A local guy standing next to us told us that in years past, young testosterone filled men start a brick-throwing fight, but that he thought this year was going to be different. RIGHHHHHHHHT. As the chariot swayed back and forth, each side had their own chants that accompanied their collective tugs. You could feel the energy of the crowd building, fueled by endless imbibing of local rice beer. Suddenly we saw some rocks flying overhead and the sea of people began to flow in our direction, a woman clutching her baby was starting to cry, and the local guy grabbed us and told us to get inside the hotel we were in front of. The hotel had (properly) anticipated the chaos and had barred their doors shut from the inside, so we were all pounding on the door for a couple minutes before they opened up and we could run inside.
We sprinted up to the roof top terrace where there were lots of other tourists watching the scene unfold. It felt like the news reports you see with Palestinian youths, faces covered in bandanas, throwing rocks and bricks at an the other side, but in this case the other side also had bricks and rocks that they launched right back. Meanwhile the backdrop of the city was also transformed by the stunning lightning and thunder storm (minus the rain) that began, as if on cue. We were about 6 stories up, on the highest rooftop in the city (which we became concerned about at one point when we realized we were standing against metal railings, in a puddle of water, in a lightning storm), when a rock hit the wall near us... Needless to say everyone crammed inside at that point, and the hotel manager told us that last year a tourist had been hit in the head by a rock on that same roof. Thanks man.
It was one of the craziest things i've ever seen, people with total disregard for the potential injury they were causing by throwing big bricks in to a group of other people, and having such disregard for their own safety by getting right up to the "front-line" in a show of machismo. BUT... the next day they're all back to being friends, it's just their annual release before they "go back to planting rice" as Oma put it.
--------------
On a lighter note... in the early morning when we went to go watch the pole being brought down, there were 3 little girls sitting around me, all under 12 years old, who spoke English well enough for us to get to know each other. They invited me back to their house for tea and a pastry, and they didn't bat an eye when I asked them if Marika and Josh could also come, one of them grabbed Marika's hand and led the way. Their house was typical Newar style, a steep narrow staircase leading to a small room on each floor. After they made us tea, they put on a Newari movie (not even just a Nepali movie - a Newari movie!) and taught us some Newari dance moves! They also took us to see some sights around Bhaktapur that we hadn't seen yet. Basically they were the best little tour guides you could imagine, something you'd NEVER experience in a western country!
Marika's friends, Oma and Jim, from the U.S. have lived in Nepal on and off for the last 30+ years and have most recently settled in Bhaktapur, so we went to visit them. Bhaktapur is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and you immediately realize why upon entering the city gates. It's an ancient Newar town (Newar is one of the ethnic groups in Nepal), the 3rd largest city in the country, and one of the previous capitals. They are famous for their wood carvings and royal yogurt, and have an unbelievable New Years festival which we walked right in to! The festival is a 10-day affair, and we were there for the last half of it. A recommendation if anyone happens to ever stay here, is Unique Guest House, right in the center of Dattatraya Square.
--------------------------------
From a Nepali blog about the festival: "The festivities start off with a friendly tug-of-war between the residents of the lower and upper halves of the town of Bhaktapur, during which each group tries to pull an ancient chariot containing an image of Shiva Bhairab to their side of the town. The festival includes parades, a candlelight procession and the display of temple deities throughout the city. On the fourth day of the festival, and the last day of the “old year”, the men of the city work together to raise a 25 meter high ceremonial pole into place. The pole has a crossbeam with two strips of cloth hanging from it as a representation of two slain snakes. This ceremonial pole stays up until the following day when residents of the lower and upper halves of the city once more engage in a tug of war, but this time to pull the pole down to their respective sides. Once the pole crashes to the ground, sometimes resulting in casualties, it is seen as the official beginning of the New Year and the festivities continue for three more days.
The Bisket Festival of Nepal is based on the story of a Bhaktapur King’s quest to find a husband for his daughter. Each time he made a suitable match, the groom would be found dead in the marital bed the following morning. Eventually eligible bachelors became a scarce commodity and the people prayed earnestly for deliverance from this mysterious curse. One day the father of the next prospective groom, on learning of the curse, offered to take his son’s place in the marital bed. Forcing himself to stay awake and alert following the consummation of the marriage, the substitute groom saw two deadly serpents slithering out of the princesses’ nostrils. The hero quickly killed the snakes and broke the spell, thereby earning the undying gratitude of the people and resulting in the celebration of the Bisket Festival."
------------------------------
The festival culminates in the oversized chariot being at the center of a city-wide tug-of-war, so the chariot could theoretically end up in one of several parts of town. We made our way toward the chariot on the last night and noticed clusters of Nepali Police in full riot gear surveying the crowds, and we asked ourselves what we were walking in to. We found a good spot where we perched above the street and crowds and waited for the tug-of-war to begin. A local guy standing next to us told us that in years past, young testosterone filled men start a brick-throwing fight, but that he thought this year was going to be different. RIGHHHHHHHHT. As the chariot swayed back and forth, each side had their own chants that accompanied their collective tugs. You could feel the energy of the crowd building, fueled by endless imbibing of local rice beer. Suddenly we saw some rocks flying overhead and the sea of people began to flow in our direction, a woman clutching her baby was starting to cry, and the local guy grabbed us and told us to get inside the hotel we were in front of. The hotel had (properly) anticipated the chaos and had barred their doors shut from the inside, so we were all pounding on the door for a couple minutes before they opened up and we could run inside.
We sprinted up to the roof top terrace where there were lots of other tourists watching the scene unfold. It felt like the news reports you see with Palestinian youths, faces covered in bandanas, throwing rocks and bricks at an the other side, but in this case the other side also had bricks and rocks that they launched right back. Meanwhile the backdrop of the city was also transformed by the stunning lightning and thunder storm (minus the rain) that began, as if on cue. We were about 6 stories up, on the highest rooftop in the city (which we became concerned about at one point when we realized we were standing against metal railings, in a puddle of water, in a lightning storm), when a rock hit the wall near us... Needless to say everyone crammed inside at that point, and the hotel manager told us that last year a tourist had been hit in the head by a rock on that same roof. Thanks man.
It was one of the craziest things i've ever seen, people with total disregard for the potential injury they were causing by throwing big bricks in to a group of other people, and having such disregard for their own safety by getting right up to the "front-line" in a show of machismo. BUT... the next day they're all back to being friends, it's just their annual release before they "go back to planting rice" as Oma put it.
--------------
On a lighter note... in the early morning when we went to go watch the pole being brought down, there were 3 little girls sitting around me, all under 12 years old, who spoke English well enough for us to get to know each other. They invited me back to their house for tea and a pastry, and they didn't bat an eye when I asked them if Marika and Josh could also come, one of them grabbed Marika's hand and led the way. Their house was typical Newar style, a steep narrow staircase leading to a small room on each floor. After they made us tea, they put on a Newari movie (not even just a Nepali movie - a Newari movie!) and taught us some Newari dance moves! They also took us to see some sights around Bhaktapur that we hadn't seen yet. Basically they were the best little tour guides you could imagine, something you'd NEVER experience in a western country!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Namaste!
I'm in a place I've dreamed of visiting as long as I can remember.
It started out with a surge of adrenaline as our plane took a nose dive in to the thick brown Kathmandu air, and Josh said he was sure that the plane was going to flip over and burst in to flames as we fish tailed down the runway. We had a ride waiting for us, the brother of the Couchsurfing family we were planning on staying with (check out couchsurfing.com by the way), and we managed to cram ourselves in to the teeny tiny Suzuki taxis that are omnipresent here.
Traffic in Kathmandu is one of those things you hear about but you don't believe until you see it. There seem to be almost no rules of the road, you're competing for space with taxis, private cars, motorbikes, rickshaws, bicycles, animals, old women selling vegetables, men offering hashish, kids high on glue they've huffed, and brave pedestrians on foot. The honking is comparable to Beirut, but the horns here seem to be much louder. Somehow people manage to avoid crashing, although we hear it's common.
It's fascinating to see the mixture of Buddhist and Hindu influence in both the architecture and dress of the people. There are little passageways that lead to beautiful open sunny courtyards on every street, it's just a matter of getting lost and poking your head in to these little oases!
It started out with a surge of adrenaline as our plane took a nose dive in to the thick brown Kathmandu air, and Josh said he was sure that the plane was going to flip over and burst in to flames as we fish tailed down the runway. We had a ride waiting for us, the brother of the Couchsurfing family we were planning on staying with (check out couchsurfing.com by the way), and we managed to cram ourselves in to the teeny tiny Suzuki taxis that are omnipresent here.
Traffic in Kathmandu is one of those things you hear about but you don't believe until you see it. There seem to be almost no rules of the road, you're competing for space with taxis, private cars, motorbikes, rickshaws, bicycles, animals, old women selling vegetables, men offering hashish, kids high on glue they've huffed, and brave pedestrians on foot. The honking is comparable to Beirut, but the horns here seem to be much louder. Somehow people manage to avoid crashing, although we hear it's common.
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