Mystical Nepal - Nepal

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Mystical Nepal

Nepal

February 14, 2004

I arrived at LAX airport on Saturday morning for my long awaited trip to Nepal with my Dad. We had originally had this trip planned for 2002, but cancelled after the September 11, 2001 attacks. After several years, all the pieces fell into place for us and we were finally able to make it to Nepal. When we checked our luggage at the airport, we were told that Tom Cruise was filming a movie, just down the hall from where we were. We walked down the hall and we were right in the midst of a film shot, with Tom Cruise only a few feet away. He had his hair dyed gray for the movie and his camera crew surrounded us. We watched them film a scene where Tom Cruise and the other actor switched bags in the airport. After a few minutes of gawking, we headed to our gate for the long flight ahead. With good fortune, we had the exit row for the entire flight, allowing so much more legroom. It was 10 hours to Tokyo and another 6.5 to Bangkok. I watched the airplane map as we went over Alaska, the Bering Strait and the International Date Line. We arrived in Bangkok at midnight and were shuttled to the Asia Airport Hotel. Even at midnight, balmy Bangkok was bustling with activity. When we got to the hotel lobby, we looked in and saw a huge cloud of white in the air and when we asked, found out it was mosquito spray. We held our breath and made it through the lobby and were happy to finally rest.

February 16, 2004

Early Monday morning we headed for the last leg of our flight to Kathmandu, Nepal, a short 3.5 hours from Bangkok. Kathmandu was a city that seemed so foreign and exotic to me. It was a place I knew about from songs and travel stories, but I never thought I would actually see it with my own eyes. Nepalese teenagers stared at me in the airport and we tried to communicate, but it was futile because of the language barrier, so we just sat and smiled at each other. I was as exotic to them, as they were to me. On the flight, the anticipation was getting to me; I could not wait to finally arrive after so much planning. Right before reaching Kathmandu, we could see lovely Mount Everest from the right side of the plane. It was so beautiful as I looked out and saw this amazing, snow covered mountain range.

We arrived in Nepal at 12:45pm and went out to get a taxi. We were taken in by an English-speaking driver, who was sweet, but pushy and lured us into stopping off at his travel agency before dropping us off at our hotel. There was no getting around stopping at his office, although I was tired and excited about being in Nepal and not in the mood for a sales pitch so early on the trip. After listening to his spiel and buying a flight on Buddha Air with him, we were more than ready to get to our hotel. Driving through the crowded streets of Kathmandu we saw beautiful women wearing saris and stall upon stall selling vegetables, fruits and dead chickens. There were horns beeping and children running through the streets and cars going in all directions and some coming at us head on. The city was filled with crowds, filth, and dust. There were lovely Hindu and Buddhist shrines on the streets and people praying everywhere. It was shocking at first, as we took in all the sights and sounds of this fascinating city.

Kym and Rasta Sadhu

When we arrived at our hotel, The Hotel Vajra, we were surprised at first that it was right in the midst of this crowded chaos, but once inside the compound, we were taken in by the charm of the place. The staff was very friendly and showed us to our simple and comfortable room. There was a nice dining room with a wood fire burning. It felt warm outside and we were tired, but not nearly as tired as I thought I would be from all the travel. We heard that there was a big temple near our hotel, so we asked directions to the "Monkey Temple", formally known as Swayambhunath, an ancient, sacred Buddhist shrine. The temple was right up the road from us and it felt great to be walking after being trapped in an airplane for so long. The Nepalese people on the streets seemed shy, but friendly. If you smiled at a local Nepalese person, most would smile back at you and greet you with the lovely Nepalese greeting of "Namaste", as they would fold their hands in a prayer gesture. As we were walking, three Sadhus dipped their fingers in paint and placed a red dot on our forehead and placed marigolds in our hair. Sadhus are mystical vagabonds who belong to an old Hindu tradition in which they renounce their family and worldly lives and are followers of Shiva. There are a few different sects of Sadhus, but many grow long dreadlocks, smoke large quantities of marijuana, and practice self-denial. Some Sadhus cover their bodies with ashes from cremation fires. The Sadhus that carry paint buckets expect money in return, so we learned to avoid them whenever we saw them.

As we were walking, we came across a Nepalese wedding marching through the road. There were drums playing and trumpets ringing out through the streets and several cars adorned with flowers as the wedding procession passed us. We stood on the side of the road and smiled as we watched them go by. We reached the Monkey Temple and saw rows and rows of stairs up to the top. It felt good, but very tiring as we took the steep stairway to the top. We climbed up hundreds of steps, as women tried to sell me jewelry and a few poor and destitute begged for alms. Tired and out of breath, we reached the top of the temple and had a complete view of the hazy city below. There were many Buddhist monks in their red robes milling around the temple and many candles were lit as the air of spirituality was felt all around this place. We walked inside a room of the temple and saw a small hunched over man lighting hundreds of candles. Every few minutes, there was a large bong of a bell ringing out...maybe a reminder to be in the present moment. Monkeys and dogs roamed through the temple and we were one of only a few tourists that had made it up to the top. After enjoying our time at the temple, we descended down the stairs, a bit achy and stiff. The sights and sounds of Kathmandu were overwhelming. In the evening on our first night, we relaxed by the fire at Hotel Vajra and chatted with the other hotel guests from around the world.

February 17, 2004 - Strike (Bandh day)

Up at dawn, I crept up to the rooftop to get a morning view of the city below. I felt so alive as I sat there taking in all the sights and sounds. The sounds of monks chanting echoed through the air in a beautiful spiraling of tablas and voices. It was a surreal experience and a memory I will always treasure. The city was beginning to stir about and birds were flying and chirping all around me. I closed my eyes to meditate and felt calm in this other worldly world. It was the day of a strike in Nepal, when all transportation is shut down, shops close and children don't go to school. These strikes happen because of the Maoist group that is putting pressure on the people and government of Nepal and wreaking havoc in this country. We would have to do everything on foot, so we walked to Durbar Square, with ancient temples that date back to the 12^th century. It was so awe-inspiring to walk around the square. It felt like we stepped back in time. There were children playing in the streets and old men playing games on the dirty sidewalk. Many people gathered to worship deities of Shiva and Buddha. Incense filled the air. After Durbar square, we walked into the main shopping and tourist area of Thamel. No cars were on the road and most shops were closed, because of the strike, but it still felt like a bustling city, full of people and rickshaw bicycles going all over the place. We met a former patient of my Dad's, who is teaching at a Jesuit school in Nepal for lunch at North City Café. After lunch, my Dad had told her we would walk her back to the Jesuit school, an idea I was not too excited about because it was an hour walk back and we would have to find our way through the crowded, confusing streets during a strike. We walked with her for a little while, through busy areas, the only white people in sight, as I kept getting a vibe that we needed to turn around because of the strike; so we grabbed the closest rickshaw and he peddled us back to the main center of town. On our walk back to the Hotel Vajra we saw a group of children in a circle and when we looked in, there was a snake charmer dressed in orange, surrounded by snakes. We spent the evening dining and sitting by the fire of the Hotel Vajra figuring out our plan for the next day.

February 18, 2004

We woke up early and our plan was to go to the Shiva Ratri festival in Pashupatinath. Shiva Ratri is the festival of Shiva's Night, a Sadhu and Hindu festival of the outlandish and divine. We took a taxi to the festival and the sights and sounds were mind blowing. Sadhus, saints and mystics filled the grounds. It was like being transported to another mystical world. I had never seen anything even close to the visions I was seeing. There were groups of long bearded, dreadlocked Sadhus huddled in mass, smoking chalices of pot with eyes glazed over and a mysterious look about them. They say that thousands of pilgrims come to the sacred festival, like a Hindu version of Mecca. As we walked the steps, these mystical men would just look at us with half open eyes, not really in the world. We later found out that Sadhus and infants are the only Hindus that don't get cremated, they get buried, because they have already left this world.

The Bagmati River flowed with filth through the temple complex. We were witnesses to the mind-blowing experience of watching a cremation, as the body was wrapped in orange, carried to the side of the river, placed on a pile of wood and the flame was lit. Slowly, the body began to char as the smell of burning flesh filled the air. It was both revolting and spiritual to witness. The Hindu priest stirred the body with a stick as we watched. Family members began to throw the personal belongings of the deceased into the river, as we saw clothing and blankets get tossed over the side. Just a few feet away, women, children and sadhus wadded in the river and splashed the putrid water over themselves. In the distance, I could see some sadhus sitting in caves, like lions in their den. The smoke of burning bodies drifted through the complex as more bodies were placed on the wood and their ashes rose to other worlds. While I watched them stirring the body, like a camp bonfire, I watched as the head of one person fell off and burst into a flame. I was so overwhelmed with feelings. Monkeys and beggars wandered up stairs, as Hindus were chanting. There was a line of thousands of Hindus waiting for their chance to get inside the temple.

After a couple hours, we decided to leave and avoid the chaos and crowds that we heard would come later. We took a hectic taxi trip back through town, with crowds of buses, cars, motorcycles and horns, as we barely missed hitting vehicle after vehicle. But, we had so many incidents of good karma and flow on the trip so far. As my Dad stopped at a bank, a crowd of hundreds of Hindus were marching down the street, waving flags and singing, and at the front of the line were three beautiful women, adorned in red and jewels riding on top of an elephant. Stopping at a bank can lead to an amazing visual feast. In the hot afternoon, we went to the ancient town of Bhaktapur. Unfortunately, a "guide" there took us in, but it would have been much better to go on our own. He had a hidden agenda to get us to buy items from his friend. Although Bhaktapur was amazing and filled with ancient temples and beauty, I was feeling sleep deprived and dehydrated and started to get frustrated with our guide. I think I had reached sensory overload by this point. We headed back to our hotel for a rest and then went to Fire N' Ice for a relaxing dinner. At Fire N' Ice Italian restaurant, opera music blared throughout the open aired patio and there were people dining from all over the world.

February 19, 2004

I awoke early for one last time to hear the monks chanting on the hill, then it was time to catch a flight to Pokhara. Our flight was scheduled for 9:00 am, but two hours later we were still sitting in the smelly airport. Apparently the crown prince was at the airport, so that was what caused the delay. The flight on Buddha Air was easy and we arrived in the lovely lakeside village of Pokhara. We saw colorful boats sailing through the water, smiling villagers and there was an air of peace and relaxation, compared to the chaos of Kathmandu. When we arrived at our hotel, we had to take a pulley across to the beautiful, but expensive grounds of the Fishtail Lodge. We hired a taxi driver named Om for a day trip. He took us to Devi falls, a usually flowing waterfall, but dry in the winter and then we explored Gupteswhor Cave. After, we asked Om what else we could do in the area and he told us we could visit a Buddhist monastery. Our drive was lush and tropical as rain began to pour. When we got to the exquisite monastery, we were the only tourists as little Buddhist monks in red robes, ranging in age from about 7 to 15, laughed and smiled at us. They were so playful and enjoyed posing for my pictures. After 5 minutes, a drum echoed through the monastery as the little monks began to gather towards the temple. Om told us that they were about to have a ceremony and we could go in and watch. They kept smiling sweetly as we sat on a mat in the corner. We were witnesses to a once a year Tibetan New Year ceremony. There was a chorus of the little monks chanting, drums clashing and bells ringing. Tears were streaming down my eyes from the intense feeling of spirituality. The 40 or so young monks all sat in rows and the captivating music filled my ears. The boys included us into the ceremony and for some reason Coca-Cola was part of the ritual, as they poured a sip in each of our hands. After, Om told us it was really rare to see this event and we felt so honored to be a part of it. If our plane hadn't been delayed, we would have never seen it. As the rain continued, we headed back to our hotel and warmed up by the fire. We met a nice lady, Kiren from London who was traveling alone and she asked if she could join us on our trip to Sarangkot in the morning. I went to bed at 8:30, with my first good night of sleep.

February 20, 2004

Up at 5:00 am, we headed out for a sunrise hike. Kiren, my Dad and I drove with Om down the darkened road and arrived in a small village. Om went to find us a guide for the hike. We were surprised when he showed up with an 8-year-old boy wearing flip-flops named DeSanto. We asked Om if he was okay and Om assured us that he knew the way. DeSanto led us up and down flights of steps and along dirt paths for miles through small villages and teashops. There were oxen and children carrying sticks on their backs and women and children huddled in small shops as we passed. They were as curious about us as we were of them. The sweet villagers smiled and greeted us with "Namaste". The people throughout Nepal and at this village seemed so innocent and unaffected by western life. Our little guide took a liking to me and serenaded me with Nepalese songs as we walked. He kept calling me Didi, which means big sister. As he went along he also did Nepalese dances for me. When we reached Sarangkot two modern Nepalese teenagers asked if they could take a picture with me; I had become the curiosity! After our hike, we went into town and shopped. It was hippie paradise with funky Buddhist and Hindu shirts sold for about $3.00 each, oriental purses and CDs of monks chanting blaring through the streets. Two snake charmers with a ferret were sitting on the sidewalk and asked for money when I took their picture. We were pretty exhausted after all the activity and went back to the hotel to relax. We saw Kiren and I invited her to join us for dinner. We went to dinner at Monsoon's Rooftop Café that had a great view overlooking the lake. We enjoyed a bottle of wine and after dinner stumbled upon The Hungry Eye restaurant where there was a Nepalese dance being performed. Off to bed, but another rough night of sleep for me with the 12 hour time difference.

February 21, 2004

I woke up to the most spectacular view of snow covered mountains. I wasn't quite ready to leave the lakeside bliss but we planned to spend two days in Pokhara and days in Chitwan and then go back to Kathmandu because we heard there might be a 5-day strike on the 25^th. We packed up and headed to Chitwan. With the constant beeping of the horn we headed out through potholes, bumps, dust, noise and trashed roads for several hours. We followed along a river gorge with villagers milling around, some plowing rice in the fields with their oxen and others carrying sticks and jugs of water. There was dust everywhere and rickety old buses at every turn. We arrived at the Chitwan outskirts as several children crowded the car to get a view of the white tourists. One child wrote the word "pen" in dust on my window side and a small frenzy took place as my Dad searched his bag and was able to come up with a pen. We were covered in dust as we headed down a completely remote dirt road, past small communities of staring villagers. When we reached the bottom of the dirt road, we came to a river and that is where our car stopped, in a completely remote spot on a river.

We heard that the Island Jungle Resort was a nice place to stay, but we had not made advance reservations. So, we were shocked when our driver said he was dropping us off...and leaving us, in the middle of nowhere. He put our luggage on the banks of the river and drove away. A few minutes later an old canoe from the hotel came to greet us. We heard it was not a problem to book a place in Chitwan, but the hotel staff shook his head and asked, "Did your driver leave already?" When we said yes, he said he would see what he could do, because he had a group of 150 Nepalese people on vacation at his resort. We knew we had just lost all bargaining power; we were at their mercy. There was no other hotels even close so we crossed our fingers. The remoteness of the place was shocking to me at first. The hotel manager told us to have lunch and he would try to work out a room for us. Luckily there was a room left for us at the all-inclusive resort and he gave us a good deal on it, despite our being at his mercy. The rustic resort sat along a river and our room was past a row of jungle tents. There was no electricity, except in the dining room and bar until 9:00 pm and no hot water except for three hours. It was really "back to nature" and it took a bit of an adjustment. I've camped plenty of times, but never felt so remote in all my life.

In Chitwan, there are scheduled activities all day long. The manager told us there was room for us on the afternoon elephant ride. Riding an elephant is something that sounds more "glamorous" then it really is. With four of us in an elephant basket, my back was stretched in the most awkward position as I sat in one direction and faced the other, so that branches would not hit me. Our elephant tore down leaves and branches as we traveled off the beaten path in search of rhinos, tigers and bears. Animal life was not abundant, but we did get a few thrills when our rider got off the elephant to pee three times and left us sitting on top hoping nothing would spook the elephant, so he wouldn't go charging through the forest with no rider. We kept forging new trails as the elephant rider kept giving commands for the elephant to tear down whole trees. We saw some monkeys and a crocodile basking by the river and were thoroughly tired by the end of the ride. The sounds of peacocks echoed through the forest. Before we knew it, it was dark and with no electricity, we scrambled to get our things together. Luckily, I had brought a flashlight with me. We had heard about a slide show on the patio and when we arrived the group of 150 Nepalese people were already watching. When I went to find a seat, I almost stepped in a big pile of vomit, losing what little appetite I already had. I could barely keep my eyes open and took the darkened path to our room for my best night of sleep yet in the jungles of Chitwan.

February 22, 2004

At 5:45 am we received a wake up knock to begin the day. We fumbled in the dark to get our things together. All the Nepalese guests departed and we were left with two Japanese girls, a French couple and us. We took a 6:30 nature walk as our guide explained that if we came across a rhino we should hide behind a tree, if we came across a tiger we should stare at him in the eyes and that the sloth bear is the most aggressive and we should make noise, clap our hands and dance. No rhinos, tigers or bears were seen on our walk. After a breakfast it was time for another elephant ride. With only six of us, we were told we would go in two groups and for some reason, my Dad and I got split up as I departed with the Japanese girls and he with the French couple. I sat directly behind the elephant rider and waved goodbye to my Dad. Our elephant was rebellious and kept stretching down to eat leaves and tear up trees as the rider would try to re-establish control by hitting him over the head with a metal rod, making a large bong sound. We saw a small deer and some monkeys, but animal sightings were scarce. Sometimes our elephant would refuse to budge, until with a few more hits on the head, he would continue again. When we returned, my Dad's group was just getting back, his elephant was coming in on a slow trot and let out a large roar. I was about to snap their picture when my Dad warned, "Move out of the way." When he was safely off the elephant, he told me that they saw a rhino by the river and the elephant and rhino were aggressive with each other. The elephant was flapping his ears and running towards the rhino and they were locked in a gaze. Finally, the elephant stamped the ground and let out a loud trumpet sound and the rhino turned back across the river. He said his rider could not seem to gain control and he kept hitting the elephant over the head 50 or 60 times on the way back. The elephant tried to topple trees and once tossed a big log with his trunk. The elephant bellowed three times on their way into camp.

After this adventure, my Dad and I both limped back to our room and were ready to relax. While sitting on the deck, monkeys sat across the river and the sound of peacocks echoed through the jungle. Later they had elephant bathing, as the elephants emerged with riders bare back on top. My Dad was feeling adventurous, so he handed me his possessions and headed into the water with the elephants as others joined in. At 3:30 we were scheduled for the jungle triathlon-elephant ride for 1.5 hours, walk for 15 minutes and then a float down the river. My Dad was really uncomfortable as he straddled the front of the elephant and I was perched on the side. The elephant rider dug his toes into the ears of the elephant and hit him on the head every time the elephant tried to stray from the path. We did not see any animals, but were anxious to get off the elephant, the elephant kneeled to the ground and we climbed down the front. We walked along the river and then our rustic canoe was waiting for us. As we peacefully floated, the sun was just going down and the sky turned a beautiful orange. Once it was dark a big fire was lit and the guests gathered around. I asked one of the sweet guides to sing me some Nepalese songs. He went and got a small drum and with a lovely, shy start he began to sing as his friends joined in. A few guides even began dancing by the fire in a Nepalese style dance. There were now three Australian guests, three Nepalese guests, the two Japanese girls, a man from Argentina, a couple from Chicago, and the couple from France and us. After a few songs, one guide asked if anyone else wanted to sing. There was a lot of giggling, but no one willing. One of the Australians said, how about "House of the Rising Sun" and suddenly one of the Nepalese guests with a low drone voice began to sing it. Then the two Japanese girls sweetly sang a song in Japanese. At 9:30 we were ready to rest and we fumbled back to our room in the dark.

February 23, 2004

We had a wake up knock at 5:45 am in the dark again, as I took a kerosene lantern to try and put my contacts in. There was fog enveloping the river. We took a nature walk and then were scheduled for a visit to a Tharu Village with the Chicago couple. We walked along until the view of the village was within sight. There were rice paddies and people dressed in beautiful bright colors working the land. We were greeted by a beautiful young girl who helped our guide figure out the best way for us to navigate the rice paddies; if you made a wrong move you may end up in a sludge of muddy water. The villagers stared at us, while the children became excited and began to chatter between themselves at the sight of the foreign visitors. My dad brought several small toys that he passed out to the excited children. David from Chicago had a digital camera and showed the kids their image and laughs broke out when they saw themselves in the camera. We went inside one place that reminded me of a Native American dwelling. People were harvesting rice, sitting on their porches, couples were riding together on bikes, with the women adorned in their beautiful red saris and pashminas. There was a shyness to the people and some seemed slightly bothered by our presence, but most were friendly. The trip to the village took about four hours. We were hot and tired when we arrived back at the resort. On our way back, we saw a crocodile on the shoreline. The resort manager told us that there was a domestic airline strike so we would not be able to fly back on Yeti Airways for our return to Kathmandu scheduled for the next day. He said we would need to hire a taxi or take a bus to take us the six or so bumpy, dusty hours back and return our tickets for a refund at Hotel Vajra.

At 3:45 it was back on top of an elephant; feet straddled around a pole, but more room since they let my Dad and I go alone on this ride. We saw two wild boars scurrying past and a small deer, but for two more hours, we saw nothing. But, right towards the end of the trip, we heard the roar of an elephant and branches snapping and all of a sudden our elephant rider pushed his feet hard into the elephants ears and he began to trot quickly through the forest as branches were whipping past my legs and one snapped me in the face. There were branches snapping and elephants roaring as we came upon a sloth bear foraging for food in a hole a few feet away from us. Upon our return, all the guests were excited about this discovery. We went back to the room for a rest.

I noticed that I was becoming thin on the trip, as I didn't have much appetite for the food, but I was feeling good. There was something about being in Nepal that made me feel radiant and alive, despite having hair that was a tangled mess and the thick layers of dust on my skin. In the evening after hearing more Nepalese music by the fire, one guide offered to take just my Dad and I for a special walk at night through the jungle. I sensed a twinge of fear, but decided to seize the opportunity and go for it. So, at 9:00 pm in complete darkness, my Dad and I and two guides with sticks in their hands trudged through the forest with two small flashlights. With the small beam of light we walked a path in the jungle filled with rhinos, sloth bears, wild boars and tigers. We listened for breaking branches, the stars filled the night sky and there was a crescent moon that was just lovely. My adrenaline was pumping as I looked around with my limited vision. After about 15 minutes of searching, we arrived back to the resort. Unfortunately for us, while we were gone, two rhinos were within view of the resort deck that we missed out on seeing. These rhinos had also come along the same path that we were on just minutes before. It was not my luck to see a rhino, but I was happy I did not come face to face with one in the dark.

February 24, 2004

We had planned to sleep in and forget about any tours, but I heard the neighbor's knock at 5:45 am and since I was awake, decided to get up. One more morning of fumbling in the dark. I turned on the sink and there was no running water either. We joined in on a bird watching walk in the morning. On our way back, the hotel manager told us that the five day strike that we were concerned about was on and that we should head back to Kathmandu as early as possible. So, besides a domestic airline strike, we were also in store for a nationwide strike on our last days in the country. Still, I felt lucky to have done as much as we had on the trip up until this point. At 8:30 we were whisked away on a canoe across to a waiting taxi for our long drive back to Kathmandu. One our way, we passed through another Tharu village as people were milling around and staring at us as we passed. We also passed three military trucks filled with soldiers carrying automatic rifles, maybe preparing for the strike. It felt a little scary to be around so many young men yielding guns.

We spent several hours driving along the side of a cliff, bumping through potholes, with dust, washed out roads, buses and horns as we followed a big flowing river down below. About five hours later we arrived in extremely crowded Kathmandu, where there was a huge traffic jam. We breathed in the smog and went back into culture shock after being with no electricity and peace and quiet for three days. We headed back to the Hotel Vajra and saw all the familiar faces of the friendly staff and the beautiful cleaning lady with the shy smile. It felt so refreshing to take a shower and our old room 306 was still waiting for us. We sat on the rooftop to unwind as the wind blew through the air. We met friends for dinner at Fire N' Ice and then shopped the crowded streets of Thamel with beeping horns and rickshaws on every corner. Several times, I just barely escaped being run down by a car or motorcycle. The trip was feeling like it was coming to an end.

February 25, 2004

I woke up early to watch the sun come up on the roof of Hotel Vajra. I was awaiting the sound of monks chanting. I sat there alone on the roof as birds were chirping and roosters were crowing. I heard cars beginning to stir in the streets, which meant that maybe there was no strike after all. If the strike was off, we would be able to go ahead with our plan to visit the mountain town of Dhulikhel that was supposed to have nice hiking and great mountain views. After a few minutes, I heard a quiet start to the monks chanting and the tabla drums were beginning to echo through the city. After breakfast we asked the hotel if they thought it would be okay to head to Dhulikhel or not. Everyone seemed unsure of whether the strike was on or not. The hotel manager told us he thought it was just a school strike so they arranged a taxi to take us to Dhulikhel. I felt slightly hesitant about embarking on the trip during our last days and not wanting to get stranded somewhere. But, since the hotel thought it was okay, we decided to go for it. We spent a few more hours of shopping in Thamel and I bought some colorful Shiva and Ganesha shirts and some patchwork pants. Our taxi met us at 1:00 for our drive to Dhulikhel. The roads were pretty empty on the short 19-mile drive from Kathmandu. The only vehicles on the road were cars and buses that said "Tourist Vehicle Only", which made me feel like it might not be the best idea to be out during this strike.

We arrived safely at the impeccably maintained Dhulikhel Mountain Resort. It was pretty much deserted as six staff members came to greet us. There were only four other guests staying at the large hotel, a German couple and a couple from India. It's sad the way the Maoist situation is affecting tourism so much with beautiful hotels sitting empty. Being one of a few guests, we received top treatment as a white tablecloth was laid out for two diet cokes on the patio. We were then guided on a short village walk. The people in this village seemed more reserved and suspicious. The mountains that Dhulikhel is famous for were completely covered in clouds. Later, we sat with the other guests on the patio and had interesting conversations centered around philosophy. Since we were the only guests, all of us met for dinner. The staff was extremely attentive and at the end of the meal one of the waiters said to me, "Goodnight, dream in color." After dinner, my Dad started getting chills and began to feel sick. We were both given a warm water bottle to sleep with as I snuggled up in bed, beginning to worry about my Dad.

February 26, 2004

I awoke at 6:30, while my Dad slept. I sat outside on the chilly morning as a thick haze filled the air. There were no mountains in view. The strike weighed in the back of my mind, hoping we would not encounter any difficulties returning to Kathmandu for our flight home on the 28th. The staff in Dhulikhel seemed much more concerned with the strike then the people in Kathmandu. I asked if we could go hike to a temple that I had heard about in the area, but they told me it was not possible because they couldn't drive anywhere and it would not be safe. We were told that we should only take a walk close by the hotel. We and the other guests discussed the strike situation and we were all concerned. So, we placed a call to Hotel Vajra and asked if they could send a driver a day early to pick us up. We were told they could not pick us up and they were not sure if they could even send someone the next day because of the strike situation. So, it became a rush to figure out how to get back and since the mountains were obscured, the hiking was limited and my Dad was sick, I was ready to go. After about an hour of phone calls and haggling, we found a local taxi driver that was willing to take us back to Kathmandu. The streets were almost empty of cars, shops were closed and people were walking everywhere. The closer we got to Kathmandu; we saw more cars and taxis, which was relieving. These strikes give you this uncomfortable feeling like you might get stranded somewhere.

My Dad was feeling sick and weak. Since we had a free room at the Hyatt for the last night, we decided to go a day early. Arriving at the Hyatt was another culture shock, as we entered a five star hotel with all the modern luxuries. The contrast to the poverty of Kathmandu was shocking. My Dad rested in the room as I sat on the patio overlooking the Boudhanath stupa (among the most important Buddhist worship sites in Nepal). When my Dad awoke, he began a course of Cipro to fight off whatever sickness he had acquired on the trip. We walked to the Boudhanath stupa and on our way, we ran into the Australians that stayed with us in Chitwan. The stupa was visually interesting with prayer flags and bright colors and small shops encircling the area. Buddhist monks and tourists and children surrounded the place. I felt mixed emotions as the trip was coming to an end. I felt sadness that I may never return to this fascinating country and curiosity about what the political future holds for the enchanting people of Nepal. In the evening, my Dad turned on the TV and I realized what a huge waste of time TV is and I hoped that when I returned that this would not be a habit I returned to so regularly. Before bed, I sat on the Hyatt patio reflecting on the trip and preparing for my last day in the country.

February 27, 2004

I awoke and opened the curtains of my elegant room and saw prayer flags from my window. The large stupa was within view. I was still concerned about my Dad's health, but he seemed to be feeling better. The end of a trip is always hard, as you lose some of your sense of adventure. However, the trip had so many amazing moments to treasure. The highlights of the trip were the Buddhist monastery on Tibetan New Year, lovely Pokhara, my little Pokhara guide singing me Nepalese songs on the trail, Shiva Ratri festival, the Island Jungle Resort staff singing by the fire and although uncomfortable, how could I ever forget riding on top of an elephant in the forest and coming upon a sloth bear. Most of all, it is the lovely, gentle Nepalese people that I will always remember.

We made our plan for the last day and decided to go to Pashupatinath again since my Dad was feeling sick and it was close by. When we arrived there, we witnessed the end of a cremation. The three sons of the deceased, with shaven heads took the burning logs of wood and tossed them into the dirty, blackened water of the Bagmati River. I heard the sound of sizzling logs hitting the water and the smell of burning ashes filled the air. The scent of this place began to make my Dad feel dizzy and he sat for a rest. At the end of the cremation, the sons took a small white bag, which contained the top of the skull, and they walked into the water and buried the skull under a rock in the river. Then, buckets of water were filled as the cremation platform was cleaned, bucket by bucket until nothing was left. We meandered through the grounds of the temple and were the only tourists to come upon a large group of Sadhus who posed for my photo, but of course requested a donation for the privilege. As we walked along the river we saw two monkeys mating on a cremation platform. My Dad was feeling weak, so we headed back to the Hyatt as full security surrounded the hotel. It looked like some important diplomat was staying at the hotel.

On my last day, as I sat at the five star hotel overlooking the city, I began feeling more detached, like an observer rather than participant. My focus was returning back to my life in Austin. I was happy that my Dad was starting to feel better. He was even able to eat some bread and soda at the hotel. We walked through the crowded, dirty streets filled with street vendors, buses and cars and visited the ethereal stupa for one last time. The stupa was bustling with activity. At an Internet station outside of the stupa, I sent an e-mail to my family. There were monks in red robes sending e-mail right next to me. At the stupa there were teenage girls adorned in beautiful, colorful garments with flags in their hands. We found out they were part of a Nepalese movie being shot. What a perfect ending, we started out with a Tom Cruise movie in LA and ended the trip with a Nepalese movie in Kathmandu. We watched the movie being shot and just like in LA, we were skirted back away from the set. That afternoon we were told that the 5-day strike was cancelled, after only two days, the city was again alive and thriving. I spent my last evening in Nepal sitting on the outside deck of the Hyatt as I took in the last sights and sounds of the extremely fascinating country. In the snap of a finger, I was whisked away on an airplane and looking back now, it seems like a distant memory, but one that I will cherish forever.

If you go:

Thai Airways offers daily flights from several US locations; contact Thai Airways, call 1-800 426-5204

Hotels:

Hotel Vajra in Kathmandu: contact by E-mail at vajra@mos.com.np or by calling 977-1-4271545. Room rates vary from $14.00 for a room with a sink to $90.00 for a double suite.

Island Jungle Resort in Chitwan: contact by E-mail at info@islandjungleresort.com. Room rates vary, contact the hotel for more information.

Fishtail Lodge in Pokhara: contact Tel: 00977-61-520071/520984/522428 Fax: 977-61-520072, E-mail: info@fishtail-lodge.com.np. Room rates vary but start at $95.00 with a 25% discount for on-line booking.

Dhulikhel Mountain Resort in Dhulikhel: contact Phone: 977-1-420774, 420776 Fax: 977-1-420778 Email: dmrktm@wlink.com.np. Room rates start at $76.00 with a 10% discount for on-line booking.

If the room rates above are higher than your budget, there is no need to worry because there are plenty of low cost hotels throughout Nepal.

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