Pheri Bhetaulwa

About four months ago, we were leaving. Anxious, excited, naive, unclear
and a bit worried about what would happen, we boarded our first plane. It was about two months ago that we returned to Vancouver, BC and our trip ended. Surreal isn’t even close to a legitimate description for how our trip felt. To me, it almost felt like time had stood still. Like it was all just a dream. Like I had taken a nap in the Vancouver airport, had the wildest vivid dreams of meeting people/crawling over passes/pit toilet puking/etc, and then woke up and should be boarding my flight soon…but it was over.

Officially, we went to Nepal to do some hiking and climbing. It started as a shocking experience as we quickly realized that we were far removed from any thing familiar. On top of that, financially we couldn’t afford to climb anything that was on our list of possible peaks. It sounds crazy to anyone from the USA because here we can climb peak after peak without having to shell out too much money. Maybe a park entry fee or parking pass for a trailhead, but this was different. Permits in Nepal can range from $700 USD to $12,000 per peak. Not only that, but you need an arsenal of people to cart around your food and high altitude equipment. Two solo climbers would have a hell of a time carting all that around on their own. The smallest climbing party we heard of was seven- two climbers, and five sherpa/porters to cart gear, set up camp, and break down camp. We acquiesced to the Nepalese rules and regulations and decided to stick with hiking.

Most people come to Kathmandu and hate it. I had read about Kathmandu, and most authors had suggested quickly escaping city limits. The possibilities of food borne illness, crime, respiratory illness, and/or accidental death seemed far too likely. I’ll admit that we hated it at first. Dodging cars in traffic, ignoring beggars, and trying to find some sort of oasis in a city that is reminiscent of minimally controlled chaos was tricky enough. It was exhausting, actually. We prepared accordingly for our second visit to the city. The shit show of Kathmandu started seeming more and more normal. At least we could get food for cheap, a sweet room, and a hot water shower without too much haggling or hassle. Good cafes were chosen as break spots during the long days of errands or city excursions. By our third visit, I started to like it and was excited to return. I got the honking horns, rickshaw drivers, bartering shop owners, even the humor.

It might seem odd, but I’ve been feeling something similar to homesickness when I think of Nepal and Kathmandu. I don’t know why, but there is something going on there that I absolutely love…even in that god-awful city. I can not wait for the day I stand at Thamel Chowk, an intersection of cars, bikes, people, cows and cultures, and feel at ease again. Watching new tourists walk around slack jawed and confused, while I think, “newbies,” and go about my day like I belong there. Taking fate into my own hands as I jump into traffic, eat street food or ride the local bus. Hell, I will probably even rent a dirtbike. I also can’t wait to see the handful of people I met along the way that are absolutely amazing. Those people include Bom and Shanti, the three Prems, Vijay, Rom, Laxmi, Sundicha and her family, and many others.

Recently, I’ve been in Idaho focusing on work and playing outside. Overall, I’ve adjusted to home life just fine. No major personality changes or epiphanies. Had anxiety for a little while but that is gone. Also was incredibly impatient with people, but that has gone back to normal as well. Aside from lingering intestinal issues and a funky skin fungus (both have been resolved), I returned unscathed and unchanged…and life is back to normal, until my next adventure.

Mero naam Krissy ho. Malaaee khusee laagyo. (my name is Krissy, and I am –still- happy)

Pheri Bhetaulwa Nepal. I hope we meet again soon.

1 1/2 days, 2 people, 3 planes, 4 countries + a car ride to USA = 33 travel hours

We arrived at the airport extra early. Kevin's itinerary was the original one and it said our flight was an hour earlier than it really was. This wasn't a big deal. Turned out the riot and protestor filled streets were causing traffic problems. Othertourists had to detour this way and that through Kathmandu to avoid the masses.

We were given the usual run around(why am I not surprised?), as no one could tell us which ticket counter we should check into, or when it would be open for checking in. Finally we had an answer. At 1:00 PM we'd get our tickets and be able to go to our gate. To get to our gate, we underwent four rounds of screening, patdowns, and/or bag searches. Boarding for our flight was never called out, and so wehappened to find our way there at the right time by chance. Flying in Nepal is unlike flying anywhere else. There is no gate assignment displayed anywhere. Sometimes the flight numbers aren't the same. You watch others, and if you see rapid movement approximately when you should be boarding, you join that crowd. It works, but not for the unobservant traveler.

Our flight went smoothly. Next was our 10 hour Delhi, India layover. Somehow, when you are between sleeping and consciousness, time can travel very quickly. We were kept in an International Traveler holding area. It was a little like day care for adults. A few recliners, but mostly normal seating, and a Indian food cart. Weary travelers moved from chair to floor, trying to sleep or remain relatively comfortable. This killed us because we knew that not far away, just up the escalator in our view, was a sea of magenta couches that made up the most perfect sleep spot. Instead of sleeping we talked with others. It was nice to hear what people were up to and get suggestions for future trips.

At last, we were turned free. Tickets in hand, we marched up the escalator towards the couches. Sadly, each was already inhabited so we both claimed a bench of our own and slept for a while.

In China, we found our way through the transfer station and a security screening. Unlike last time, this went flawlessly. No angry workers, no holding up the line to harass the foreigners. We got to our gate quickly and sat in recliners overlooking the runway. A few hours passed and we got in line to board our flight.

"This is not your flight," the airline worker told us. "Your flight is CA0991, this isn't that flight."

"Ok," I said and realized nothing matched up between the screen and my ticket aside from the destination: Vancouver. "You looked at the wrong gate," I said to Kevin with a joking tone. Can't place the blame cause I didn't double check. Two flights to Vancouver that were boarding at the same time? Inconceivable!

Some instruction passed between the girls in Chinese and we were told to get to gate E26. Realizing the boarding time was a half hour earlier, I asked Kevin if he was ready to run as I took off. No way in hell I was staying in China for he night, I was going home!

It was a full out race. The distance wasn't too far but we had to dodge people, carts, glitzy stores, and not fall off moving walkways. We briefly hopped into an airport car but the man pointed at a price per person*. "Um, no," I said. "I have no money! Let's go Kevin," I yelled while jumping from the moving vehicle. Kevin must have done the same cause he was right behind me. The driver of the cart was yelling something at us which I ignored. Despite all odds, we made it. We arrived after our plane should have been backing out, however lightning caused a fortunate delay. There we were, somehow still on track and about to board our final flight and the last official leg of our two month trip.

*the price he pointed to was 20 yen/person. Sounded like a lot to me so I jumped out. Turns out to be equivalent to about 25 cents. oops...

Swimming Laps of Luxury

We were quickly running out of things to do here in Kathmandu. We have seen multiple temples, stupas, ancient doorways/window carvings/even ancient glass. We have hung at every hip hang out, some even twice! There was only one option left:
Getting a day pass to a pool and doing the tourist thing.

The Hyatt offered a pool, gym, jacuzzi, steam room, sauna, lemony water...you get it. We flagged down a taxi outside of KGH's gates. "To the Hyatt!" Our driver nodded, gears grinding in a futile attempt to accelerate. He seemed unhappy. The Hyatt was a long ways off from Thamel (literally and figuratively) and we had bartered a lower price for the ride.

We paid and were shown the facilities. It was like any normal ritzy spa back home. It was perfect! We picked two lounge chairs pool side and proceeded to swim back and forth for over an hour. Days of strolling have us all hyped up to do anything tiring, and I hoped this would do the trick. We ordered lunch, soaked up the sun, and played chess. Must admit, the people watching was sub-par. People in Thamel act as if no one is watching. Here, people stared oddly at each other through reflective sunglasses lenses. Felt like a standoff. We swam again before calling it quits and heading into the spa.

After using all the options of the spa I saw a hairdryer. This sounds ludicrous but after being a cave woman for two months I was excited to have semi managed hair. The first one didn't work. Hmm.. I was approaching the second when a lady said, "they usually don't work. It is Nepal." I laughed. She and her friends are expats and have been here long enough to know what's up. The second one didn't work either, but they knew where a spare was hidden and voila! Third time is the charm!

These girls told me more about the strike. This is the third year that the Constitutional Assembly has failed to write up a constitution. Strikes were called off today but would continue tomorrow. They had been outlawed but it would be impossible to stop every single person in this large city from striking. Power in numbers and the police are greatly outnumbered here. Maybe in six months (extension time) the Maoists will have it figured out? Even the most optimistic would agree that it seems unlikely.

Strike One

We'd heard rumors of a strike yesterday but weren't sure what it would all entail. We had been assured there would be less traffic and that shops would be closed, so Krissy and I came up with the plan of walking the 4km to Patan. Normally this route would take us through some of the more traffic clogged areas of Kathmandu but with a strike engaged, who could predict what would happen?

Patan is an ancient city that was once separate from Kathmandu. Due to city sprawl the two are now connected and Patan is more of a neighborhood in Kathmandu. Though it remains fascinating with much of it's old architecture still in existence that results in a maze of streets, alleys and squares. The primary attraction is Durbar Square. Confusingly, it's different than the Durbar Square in Kathmandu which similarly houses impressive religious structures in one location.

On the morning of the strike day, we found out right away that there weren't many shops open at all. It took a little bit of searching to find a place to eat breakfast. After our meal we hit the streets. There was a remarkable difference. The occasional taxi, tourist bus or motorcycle would barrel past us but other than that, pedestrians, rickshaws, bicyclists and brazen street dogs were free to roam where they pleased.

This made out journey to Patan much more pleasant than it would have otherwise been. Crossing the streets was safer and easier, there wasn't all the irritating honking and the air was breathable. It was a little unsettling to see the military armed with riot shields, batons and M-16's at every major intersection. As we approached the first group, a number of them were staring at us blankly as we approached. Krissy broke the tension by offering a namaste. They smiled and merrily greeted her too. Only in Nepal.

We passed through the city gates of Patan amidst a sea of school children dressed in identical uniforms. After paying our entrance fee we began to follow another Lonely Planet walking tour. Just like the Durbar Square day, we passed large and small shrines with varying degrees of age, decay, color and intricacy. The most memorable one was a brightly colored 25 foot statue of Buddha.

We reached Durbar Square and found it to be very similar to Kathmandu's Durbar Square, minus the relentless guides and hordes of tourists. I think the strike may have had something to do with this. Another point for the strike!

I certainly admire all that has gone into the creation and maintenance of these buildings and that these sites are some of the holiest of the holy for Buddhists and Hindus but they tend to start looking the same after a while. Visiting these places has been interesting and I'm glad I've been lucky enough to visit them. Yet I think I appreciated the walk more than the destination. After all, walking was what I came to this country to do.

Swayambunath

The day of the Monkey Temple had arrived! We were excited to see the temple grounds, the view from it's hilltop perch, and of course it's monkey inhabitants. We had heard that the monkeys artfully slide down the staircase handrails and have been known to rob guests of their food. Lonely Planet described these creatures as "thuggish hoodlums."

We walked from Thamel to the East entrance. From here, we would ascend the long, steep staircase. Sadly, the only beings cruising down the stairs were dirty little children asking for handouts. It seemed the monkeys were people watching as they sat on ledges above and to the side, eying us curiously. Even still, there were monkeys of every age!

At the top, people circled the stupa in he typical clockwise fashion. Right arm extended, they spun prayer wheels in stride pausing only to pray at the four golden shrines. The square was large and terraced. We looked in amazement at the sprawling city that constitutes Kathmandu. It is so large I took five photos to capture it all. We toured the uppermost site, observing as Buddists made offerings to Hanuman - the monkey God. I'm not a religious person but I understand that each person is passionate about something. I can understand and appreciate these people's devotion to what they believe and love. If it makes them happy and isn't hurting anyone, then why not? Believers lit candles, burnt things, and chanted prayers. It was beautiful.

We walked to a lower area. There was a monkey swimming pool complete with a ladder, but sadly no diving board. There was a larger pond with Hanuman statue and golden pot. People tried to lob rupee coins into the container. Kevin bounced his first attempt off the side but made his second shot. My aim and trajectory were all kinds of skewed and I sunk two deep into the green waters.

While on our way back up, we saw what those agile, excessively hairy thugs are capable. A group ahead of us had cotton candy. Three monkeys spotted and charged at them. One girl screamed and began waving her umbrella like she was part of a mighty duel. Another yelled and threw the fluorescent, sugary goodness into the air. The mugging was a success! Happily, the monkeys took large bites of cotton candy while leaning against a wall. The umbrella, inside out from vigorous shaking was still being swung about. The monkey bandits ignored this as it was obvious the girl was too scared to move any closer to the knee high hoodlums (yes I have video and will post it in a week for your viewing pleasure).

Back in Thamel, Kevin bought a chess set. These long afternoons require some entertainment and mental stimulation. The sales man told us he wouldn't be open the next day, so it was wise to buy it today. Closed? Really? We asked why. "The people are going on strike," he said, "all businesses closed tomorrow."
"The constitution didn't get written?" we asked.
"No. Very bad time for Nepal and the people. Good day for walking though cause there will be no traffic."
"Ah, good thing we have chess then."

The constitution assembly got a six month extension. Probably won't resolve anything in that time, and I'm glad I'll be long gone by then.

Putting Up A "Corn Defence" On Muscles Purple Shirt The Guide

With trekking finished and still almost a week left in Nepal, it's time for Krissy and I to see what Kathmandu has to offer. The only significant time we've spent in Kathmandu has been in the tourist catering area known as Thamel. Outside of this part of the city lies the real Kathmandu. Gompas and stupas can be found on almost every corner. Some are enormous and are covered in ornate carvings. Others are smaller and more modest but date back to almost 1500 years ago. A collection of some of the more magnificent religious architecture can be found in Durbar Square: our destination for the day.

Most tourists take taxis but we were happy to walk. After the long bus ride and sleepy rest day it would be nice to stretch our legs and get some exercise. We followed a walking tour that was provided by our Lonely Planet guidebook. It was nice to see all the different points of interest but most of my attention was drawn to what was going on around me. It was like we had stepped into a whole new country other than Nepal. A chaos I was previously unaware of existed a short distance from my hotel. Motorcycles zoomed by on the impossibly narrow, ancient, brick paved streets. Four, five and even six streets would all meet up at a chowk (square) or tole (massive intersection) which were all clogged with pedestrians, rickshaws, mangy dogs, taxis, bicycles, Hindu cows and roadside vendors. These streets made Thamel look tame in comparison.

Unexpectedly we stumbled upon Durbar Square. A large, muscly man with a tight purple shirt, stylish jeans and oily, manicured hair helpfully pointed us to the ticket counter we had accidentally walked past. As we made our way over to it he started chatting us up. He asked the typical questions at first: Where are you from? How long have you been in Nepal? Is it your first time here? Then he started in with the compliments. "I love Americans! They are all very nice. I really like your beard." I started to raise my guard.

As it turned out he was a card-carrying guide and was looking to earn some rupees. Usually these people can be turned away with a simple "No thank you." If that doesn't work a firm no will send them on their way. This guy, however, was persistent. He kept jabbering on about how great it was to have a guide and when that didn't work he made up some sob story about his family that he needed to feed. Rarely do I get angry with these people but Muscles Purple Shirt the Guide was pushing my buttons.

I looked him straight in the eye and said "I don't need a guide and I don't want a guide. Go away!"

Scowling, he muttered something in Nepali and finally left us alone. All this and we had just arrived!

We began to wander around and look at all the buildings but we were continually distracted by all the "guides" that were peddling their services. Looking for an escape, I spotted a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the whole scene.

"Want to get a cup of coffee?" I asked Krissy while pointing at the restaurant.

"Sounds good to me," she said.

On the rooftop we were able to see the layout of Durbar Square with a lot more clarity. We enjoyed the view, sipped some decent coffee and chatted with a fellow American who had just arrived in Nepal a couple days ago. After draining our cups we were reluctant to leave. Nonetheless, we made a plan to check out Freak Street and then make our way back to the hotel.

On the way down we ran into an old friend. Muscles Purple Shirt the Guide was heading up past us on the stairs. He avoided eye contact. Krissy cheerfully said, "Namaste!" Still avoiding eye contact, he responded with a quiet, morose namaste of his own.

Freak Street was the old hippie hangout in the 70's where all the weirdos of the world would gather to soak up the good vibes in this spiritual hot spot. They were also drawn by the cheap lodging and even cheaper drugs. Sadly, it's nothing more than a name today. There isn't anything freakish about it anymore. Ironically, it was calmer than most of the streets I've walked down in Kathmandu.

Disappointed, we headed back to the hotel where we got cleaned up and then headed out to dinner at a recommended Chinese restaurant. It was an odd experience. Set in a hotel, it had all the sterile charm of a nursing home dining hall. The menu was poorly translated and featured dishes with silly names. The most notable was the "Corn Defense." The food wasn't bad, but we were definitely in a hurry to get out of there.

We decided to save some money before having a night out on the town by stopping at a little supermarket where we picked up some booze and mixers. We sat in the room, drank up, and by the time we had swallowed the last of the cheap liquor it was already after nine! Nepal shuts down at eleven!

In a hurry, we went to the bar across the street hoping to find a dance scene. The music was there but nobody was dancing. Would we have to start the party in Pokhara and Kathmandu?!

We must have stopped into a half dozen bars. Each one had a live band or some bumping dance music but nobody was motivated to dance. Our motivation waned too and we finally settled on a busy bar that had a band playing a fairly mellow set.

It turned out to be an enjoyable evening even if we didn't get to dance. We were treated to a show by a thin, grey haired man with glasses and a beard who was really digging the music. While biting his bottom lip, he grooved rather close to some ladies before scaring them off. Then he danced briefly with a guy who accidentally bumped into him. He shook his moneymaker with the nervous looking bassist who couldn't back up any further. Mostly, to the relief of everyone, he danced by himself. What a performer!

Down, but not out, in Kathmandu.

I will spare you from reading about mundane details as it was our first rest day in Kathmandu and we didn't do anything. Well we visited cafe after cafe, drinking as many fruity drinks as possible. This included:
Me- 4 cups of coffee, a mango lassi, papaya smoothie, an iced tea, one Nepal ice.
Kevin- 3 cups of coffee, mango lassi, papaya smoothie, a coke, one Kathmandu.

Alright, miscellaneous photo time:

ps - we risked life and limb to get those awesome mural shots. You're welcome...