Chitwan memories

Heath has written beautifully and succinctly about Chitwan, but I have a few memories I'd like to share. Prior to our 'jungle safari walk' in the Sal forest, the safety directions given were about our line up. For safety reasons we were instructed to walk with the guide at the beginning of our line, and the assistant guide at the rear. It was like a being in a tiger tourist sandwich!

We observed an incredible amount of birds in our 6 hour walk. Our young guide, Nabin, was particularly interested in the avian species, bringing along a superior pair of binoculars and the Chitwan bird book to share. On the river there were hoards (flocks?) of large beige 'love ducks' migrating from Siberia. It was said that they mate for life, and if one of the pair dies, the other will soon follow suit. There were black cormorants similar to ours, as well as egrets, black ibis, sandpipers and pond herons, which are short chubby brown birds. We spotted two kinds of kingfishers; the pied kingfishers are black and white while the smaller iridescent blue ones with shiny red on their breasts are more common.

In the trees of the sal forest we spotted jungle fowl (our joke was calling them chickens of the jungle or feral hens), peacocks, eagles,crows and black headed yellow orioles. There were some smaller songbirds called shrikes and red vented bulbuls. We spotted both the pied hornbill and the great hornbill. Chitwan park is home to beautiful black birds called drongos. We spotted many common long tailed drongos and Nabin was especially ecstatic to see the racket tailed drongos.

At the tower that we spent the fitful night on the porch at, we saw many of these birds, as well as small bats swooping in for the tiny mosquitoes at dusk. The porch had a spiral staircase reaching the ground, where the bathroom was. The guides scared us by telling stories of sloth bears climbing up, and tigers prowling below. There were no inner stairs, so we were advised before retiring to waken a guide if we wanted to visit the toilet in the night. Of course Raven and I needed to use it before dawn, and while the probability of a tiger pouncing on us was probably pretty slim, we were too scared to take the chance! I felt slightly bad waking the guide up, especially since they had a later night than us while drinking raksi in their lower room!

I visited the museum next to the government elephant place. I wasn't sure what to expect. The room was full of local animals in various sized containers of formaldehyde, from crocodiles to hippo fetuses to small rodents. Their was also an impressive array of animal 'members'. Why these were kept in separate containers, with the rest of the body beats me!

Look at the size of the rhino poop!

Lumbini was also a nice place to bird watch. They have a heron sanctuary in the area. One day at about 4pm as I was walking back to the monastery after sightseeing, I had spotted kites (like falcons) above a field, then noticed a large black bird being chased through a treed area by black crows. As it flew away I wondered what kind of bird could have bat like wings. When I told Heath about it- he said it must have been a fruit bat. Too cool.

Now that's what I'm talkin about!

  Chitwan, the land of rhinos and crocodiles, now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! Our bus ride from Kathmandu was short and sweet compared to our last trip, the jeep ride from Salleri. The only part I was dreading was our arrival at the Sauraha bus park, where I knew we’d be swarmed by the dreaded hotel touts. It was bad the last time I was here, and I expected the worst. These guys are too much! They swarm you as soon as you step off the bus, all competing for your attention and rupees. They know that most people will book their excursions to the park at whichever hotel they end up staying at, so there is a lot of pressure to reel in the tourists and the income each one represents. They attempt to lure you into their jeeps with whatever they think you want, expert guides, riverfront viewing areas, or even just a hot shower. We jumped into a jeep that already had two girls going close to the place we wanted to go. We looked at the rooms at Hotel Butterfly, and they looked pretty decent for 300 rupees. Three beds, hot shower, 24 hour lights, and a flush toilet, what else can you want for $3.50? Raven wanted to stay at the place we’d read about in the guidebook, though, so we carried on to Chilax Guesthouse 100 meters down the dirt track. On our way, we saw the horse stable slash guesthouse we had been trying to keep a secret. It was expensive to stay at, but we had planned on bribing Raven with a ride on one of their thoroughbreds in exchange for a full day of walking in the park, looking for the rare one-horned rhinos and possibly even a tiger. Chilax was full, so the owner took us next door, to a place similar to the Butterfly, but twice the price. We went back, and it all worked out perfectly. The restaurant was good, if a little pricey, and their resident guide, Nabin, was just great. We had a late lunch, and then he invited us on an evening walk to the elephant stables and the river. The park rangers use the elephants to track rhino and tiger populations, search for poachers, and for the occasional rescue. The river is the park boundary, but the animals don’t care, so you have an excellent chance of spotting wildlife without paying the 1500 rupee daily entry fee. Sure enough, within hours of our arrival, we’d spotted our first rhino, then a marsh mugger crocodile. Nabin has amazing eyes for picking out deer and birds in the tall grass, and his excitement is contagious. It’s hard to be too excited about deer, after chasing them out of our garden, but there are five different types here, from the small barking deer to the huge sambar, almost moose sized deer. As it got dark, we headed back to the hotel, elated and very glad to be out of the city. Just after getting back, the sky lit up with two bursts of white light, and I heard a distant explosion, then the lights went out. There is a lot of electric fencing to keep the wandering wildlife away from the village, and a power surge had blown the transformer down the road! The hotel manager/owner pointed out the tree near the office that had been knocked down by a wild elephant two weeks ago, and advised us not to go out walking after dark, but in consolation, he also let us know that rhinos love to graze in the field next door.

  The next morning we walked the 3.5 kms to the elephant breeding center. This is where most of the animals used for tourist rides are raised and trained. The only known surviving twin elephants were born here, and are now five years old. Raven wanted to catch a pony cart back into town, but the only two carts were waiting for their passengers to return. We were going to have a snack at the overpriced food hut when a jeep driver offered us a ride, as he was returning to town with enough room for us to jump in. Very nice. We passed several elephants returning from dawn excursions, on their way to ‘bath time’. We had a tasty, cheap breakfast at a tiny café and watched more and more elephants lumbering down towards the river, before joining them for the spectacle. For 100 rupees, swim-suit clad tourists jump up on the back of one of the waiting giants, get sprayed repeatedly, and eventually dumped off into the river. It looked like a blast, and an inexpensive way to experience a close encounter with an elephant. The hour long safari rides are actually pretty uncomfortable. Pacaderms have a rolling, heaving gait, and with four people on a small platform, the novelty wears off quickly. We decided to join in after our full day walking safari in the park. After lunch we made our way to the horse stables for an afternoon rendezvous. Raven was excited, but a little worried about  trail riding, so we arranged for the owner\guide, a quirky French woman, to start with an easy walk around the guesthouse. All was well, so off they went to explore rural Nepal on horseback. My baby’s all grown up!

  On our second morning, we had an early breakfast before loading into a dugout canoe for a downstream paddle in the heavy fog. Visibility was limited, but we saw a few of the many species of birds; kingfishers, storks, cormorants, and Siberian ducks. After about an hour, we disembarked on the far bank, in the park for the first time. The shore was covered in animal tracks, and we went through the safety procedures for dealing with the different dangerous animals we were likely to encounter, ranging from climbing a tree, running zig zag, or just praying. Rhinos and wild elephants can run faster than humans, sloth bears can run and climb better than us; tigers are obviously the dominant predator. Su and Raven were getting wide-eyed and nervous looking at this point, and then we started off into the tall grass and dense forest. We happened to be a few weeks early for the best conditions, because the villagers burn off the 5-6 meter tall grass in late January, improving visibility immensely. It certainly increases the tension, a feeling of ‘hunting’, as we followed animal tracks and examined assorted the scat. There had been recent wild elephant and sloth bear sightings, and the near-sighted rhinos always pose a threat, so we tip-toed along, constantly scanning for animals, straining to hear movement in the brush. Nabin’s keen eyesight spotted deer and more birds as we made our way to a small tributary stream, where a ghardial crocodile was basking on the opposite bank. These reptiles grow to 5 meters, but their long, thin snouts are designed for catching fish, so aren’t particularly dangerous. Nabin left us to take pictures while he scouted the area, returning after a few minutes declaring in a hushed yet excited whisper “Rhino. Come.” We followed him to an open area with patches of elephant grass, and crept up very close to a grazing one-horned rhinoceros. Then grass was tall and dense where it hadn’t been trampled, so I hunched down and inched forward, popping up occasionally to snap photos. Every now and then it would stop chewing, lift its head and swivel its ears, scanning for intruders. Their poor eyesight is compensated for with a keen sense of smell and excellent hearing, and they will charge with little provocation. It seemed to be getting more agitated, eating less and listening more, so we moved away, back to the crocodile infested creek.

 Just downstream, we spotted our second marsh mugger croc, barely visible in the murky water. Shortly after, we heard a loud splash as a group of macaques leapt from high up in a tree, across the river, not quite making the far bank, and landed, one by one, in the shallow water. I took some video as 10-12 monkeys made the impressive leap.

  We returned to the main river as the day warmed up, spotting some baby crocs lounging in the sun, and more deer in the distance. It was lunch time before we knew it, so we found some shade and had a rest, enjoying fried rice and hard boiled eggs. The afternoon was much quieter, as most animals rest in the shade, waiting until sunset to drink, forage and hunt. Nabin spotted some impressive and rare Great Hornbills, so we followed them through the forest, eventually catching them sitting still for a photo op. As the adrenaline of the morning wore off, and the kms started to add up, we were dragging our feet more and more. Then the whining started…We stopped for another rest at a viewing platform, and watched the start of the burn off, flames dancing and crackling in the distance. After the grass is gone, exposing many ponds and watering holes, it’s possible to see 20-30 rhinos at a time from the platform. We still had a couple hours before sunset, but Raven continued with her whining and moaning, so we didn’t go to the lake Nabin was planning on showing us. Looping back to the main river near town, we spotted a large crocodile lying motionless with its jaws wide open, like it was hoping some prey might just wander in, then another rhino in the distance, across the river. We had been walking for at least six hours, probably 20 kms or so, and were all tired, cursing our inactive routine in Kathmandu. Raven headed straight back to the hotel with Nabin, while Su and I carried on with the assistant guide, hoping in vain for another close encounter with the rhino. It was nearly dark as we shuffled back to Hotel Butterfly for some tasty pizza and momos.

  We’d had such a good time, and spent less than we thought we might, so decided to splurge on a night in an observation tower inside the park, before catching a bus to Lumbini. You can use your entry permit from the day before, so it’s a good value if you leave in time for an evening walk. We had a lazy morning, before going out for breakfast and suiting up for bath time. Raven and I went first, while Su took pictures and video of us getting soaked with the firehouse of a trunk, and getting shaken off into the river. It’s a long way down from the back of an elephant, and after two rounds of dunking, Raven was done. Su didn’t want to go alone, so I went for a second round. The water was pretty warm, originating in the foothills, not freezing glacier melt. Su was quite surprised at how high we were, and was having doubts as soon as we mounted the beast. She was content with a single soaking, so we retreated to the hotel to take advantage of the nice hot showers, since the power was back on. A Canadian girl from Ontario and her Nepalese husband joined us for the night in the tower, and we left by jeep after charging up all our batteries for headlamps and cameras. We passed through a small village of mud huts, the traditional Tharu abode, protected by double rows of electric fencing, crossed the only bridge into the park, and drove through an elephant sized gate. As soon as we got to the tower, we spotted a rhino in a nice open area, about 150 meters from the tower. As we walked quietly along the path towards it, we could see another, much larger rhino just inside the tree line. They were fairly active, walking along in search of ‘rhino apple’ bushes and sweet grass. Because of the lack of tall grass, I got some great pictures and video of these rare creatures. Chitwan has 30% of the total global population, and even though poaching during the Maoist uprising a few years ago reduced their numbers, the population is once again on the rise.

Nabin tried to call to the rhinos, but instead of coming closer, they turned and disappeared into the trees. Sheepishly, he said “Hmmm. They must both be females. I was making a male rhino call!” Raven was still tired from the double whammy of horseback riding and our long walk, and she refused to walk any further. We set her up in the tower with some schoolwork, and went looking for more wildlife. Adrian and her husband are avid birdwatchers, so we spotted many more birds and three more types of deer, but I was still hoping to see a tiger. As the sun set, it was hard to make out anything, even with Nabin’s practiced eyes. We made our way back and pulled our beds out onto the balcony, eager to listen for approaching animals. An overly confident guide had been eaten right in front of the tower a couple of weeks ago, and two nights ago a tiger had dragged a man out of his hut, but he survived. Unfortunately, the night vision binoculars that the hotel had promised weren’t working, and the fog rolled in early, reducing visibility to next to zero. I would drift off to sleep, and then wake with a start as I heard movement below the tower, but couldn’t see a thing. At one point, I woke up and was sure there was an elephant or rhino right below, so I woke Su and Raven. Tired eyes started picking out phantom animals in the mist, none of which were actually there. It was a fun night regardless, and in the morning we drove away smiling as more deer bounded off the road in front of us and into the fog, ready for one last, tasty breakfast back at the hotel, before they drove us to the bus park. Sauraha had been a pleasant surprise. It wasn’t nearly as developed as I had expected it to have become. There are a few more hotels, guesthouses, and rooftop restaurants, but it is still a quiet little spot surrounded by a diverse and thriving ecosystem. Their livelihoods depend on the 1000 square km park, so conservation and protection are very much a priority, and it shows. I actually saw more wildlife this time than I had in 1997, and that is very encouraging. Off to Lumbini, for three nights in the Korean Monastery. At 300 rupees per night for a dorm room and three simple meals, you could live there for an entire year on less than $1500. Maybe one day…

The Birthplace of Sakyamuni Buddha

Lumbini JAN 21

We chose to stay in the Korean Monastery for two reasons; One, it was cheap R300 ($3.50) per person per night which included 3 meals a day, and Two, it seemed like a pretty cool idea to stay in a monastery. The additional perk turned out to be 'location location location'. Because it was within the park, it was closer walking distance to the other monasteries as well as far away from the small businesses and residential areas (think no barking dogs!) of Lumbini town. The park is a World Heritage Site consisting of several international Buddhist monasteries surrounded by flat wetlands and fields. The centre of the site is landscaped with walkways, canals and the eternal flame. The entire site is about 4 km by 2.5 km, much of it under continual construction as donations trickle in. We fell into a relaxed routine for the 3 nights we spent here. Time in Chitwan was spent with full days of 'touristing', so we treated Lumbini as down time, especially needed as our next stop will be chaotic India. Raven wasn't interested in sightseeing within the park, but every morning we walked the twenty minutes into town after our 6am breakfast, devoured coffee and second breakfast with complementary wifi in a quiet and spacious hotel restaurant. The flat walk there and back barely fulfilled her P.E. requirements, but the rest of the day she could focus on school work, after having her fill of friend time via internet social media. Heath and I took turns hanging out with her while the other took in the sights of stupas, temples, international monasteries, gardens, ponds and walking areas.

 school work in the dorm room

Monastery life:

The single sex dorm rooms contained an entrance area for shoes and bags, a spacious sparse room with bamboo rods on the wall for the mosquito netting, thin mattresses and bedding for five. Raven used her pink net more decoration purposes, as there were only a few 'skeeters. The bathroom area was at the back of the room, consisting of a sink in one room and a toilet in the other. These rooms had counters, walls and floors of grey unpainted concrete. If you wanted a shower with hot water (and I use the term 'hot' loosely here), you could have your own concrete cubical with a hot and cold tap at knee level, fill your wash basin and sponge bath yourself in tepid water from 5pm-8pm.

Meals were announced by a ringing bell at 6am, 11:30 and 6pm. It was buffet style. You picked up your tin plate and one or two bowls and proceeded down the line choosing the inevitable white rice and about five choices of curried vegetables, and a pot of bland vegetable broth. The first night we were excited to eat a piece of salted nori. Raven and I haven't snacked on dried seaweed since Canada. Black tea was available inside the dining room, as well as a powdered bean and brown rice drink that you could eat sweetened or plain. I tried it, but it wasn't too my liking. When your meal was finished we lined up at the washing trough. There was a kneeling spot, and many cold water taps at knee level. Dish washing soap bars and scrubbies were provided so you could clean your own dishes, then stack them to dry in another area.

Worship followed dinner. The first night here I thought (o.k., assumed) it was meditation time, and unforgettably I squeaked into the candle lit temple at the last moment, leaving my shoes at the door. Quickly taking off my down vest I saw one occupied mat at the front behind two monks, and in my hurry I sat down on it cross legged. I saw others kneeling, but knew I couldn't sit like that for half an hour, so I shut my eyes, and tried to still my mind. Moments later I felt a gentle but persuasive hand push me up and off the mat, directing me to a smaller one to our left. It was the woman who had been closing the main doors who had put out for me. I realized at that moment that the mat I had chosen was the bottom of the triangle made by the two monks, and it was hers. I needn't of worried about my sitting still for half an hour, as we rose and bowed continuously while chanting. Being in the front row did not help my embarrassment, as I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. Another case where expectations get the worst of me!

The ceremony or worship was powerful, starting with one of the monks hitting a big cymbal which echoed throughout the spacious building. Throughout the chanting, a monk would hit a small percussion instrument, which would signal rising to stand, hands in prayer position in front of your chest, or kneeling and bowing forward, head to the floor or mat. At one point the signal was for everyone to turn to the left, then again, later, to the right, before finishing the worship front facing. At the end, one of the congregation put out the hundred or so candles burning along the side and front counters, and in their place pink lotus flower electric lamps were lit.

I participated in the ceremony each night we stayed. The second night I made no embarrassing blunders, but the third night I was again instructed to move, as I was in a center area that was supposed to be empty. “No sit center” someone informed me. Some of the people staying in the monastery chose to participate. Heath and I had a discussion about whether or not it was appropriate to attend a worship of a different faith. I may have been the only non-Buddhist, but there were a few other novices. One of the tour groups from Korea had young people attend, and while they may have 'known the moves', some of them didn't appear too respectful as they were chatting to each other throughout. In the end we decided that if one was respectful and open minded, it would be o.k. to attend.

Korean temple center left

Everyone was welcome to stay at the monastery. There appeared to be only a few monks, as well as other practitioners of Buddhism. There were backpackers like us, as well as tour busloads of Koreans that would stay for one night on their tour of Nepal. Most of the other monasteries were incredibly decorative with stunning paintings, gold Buddhas and ornate details surrounded by manicured gardens and ponds. The Koreans make a minimalist statement with their impressive unpainted grey temple. 

Change.

We had really settled into the comfort and routine of Pepsi Cola. Heath seemed fairly bored of it, ready to get back on the road, I was ready for change, but Raven struggled against the idea of it, especially since Karen had arrived back from trekking. We celebrated Karen's 'homecoming' with another s'mores event on the roof top patio. The two of them are such junk food junkies- they come back from the shops laden down with sugary treats such as choco-pies, (wagon-wheel style snacks) custard cakes (similar but with custard in the middle) and traditional snacks of sweetness. They bought a big 'chocolate cookie' that was perhaps baked with flour and molasses which was as hard as a brick. It was too hard to eat and tasted like molasses, so we threw it off the roof of the house, trying to get it to smash on neighbour's brick and concrete wall. In the last few days in Pepsi Cola Raven crammed in as much school work as she could, Heath and I visited Patan again, this time skipping the zoo, in favour of wandering around the centuries old buildings and temples. We stopped for lunch in Heath's favourite bakery, indulging our taste buds with pizza and bakery goods. We took home some slices of chocolate cake to share. Heath calls me the 'Plastic Bag Nazi', as I continually try not to accept the thin small plastic bags that all the shop keepers put your purchases into. In Canada we can recycle them, but here they end up in garbage fires. Remember the picture of the cow in a previous blog that was grazing in a field of refuse? I can't accept being part of that mess. There is a movement afoot to ban these bags in Kathmandu, which I think is a great step, but I have seen little 'action' to this ideal.

                                             A sign in the school

I also took another walk to Boudhnath area in search of a geocache that was created by students of a nearby school, the Mahan Siddhartha High School. The principal invited me in for tea and a chat, as the students were on Winter Break. I think he was trolling for donations, but his school seemed quite excellent and worthy of international support. (Google it online- or look at the photo closer- it is on the name sign) When I left the school I wanted to go back a new way, but had no map on me, so I used the Bagmati River and the airport as landmarks. I came to an intersection with an old bridge over the river, a forested area and monkeys. There was an entrance to a small temple situated on a hill. I went through the gates and up, hoping for a better view as to where I needed to go. From the top of the hill I saw the smoke and temple tops of Pashupati (the cremation area we had visited months ago). I would have to walk through a forested area to get there. Being alone and female, I was concerned about my safety in the forest. Luckily I met some tourists who had just come from the site. They said the path was large and took only a few minutes, so I quickly walked through and arrived at the backside of the temples. A few cremations were taking place as I walked through. Bodies are wrapped tightly in sheets before they are incinerated. It is such an impressive and public event. Mostly men take part in this part of the funeral process. I am not sure where the women are. At home grieving perhaps. Last time we were here I noted that the hospice was located steps from the river. Morbidly convenient.

I was excited to be riding a fancy tourist bus to Chitwan. We purchased tickets last week, bartering to get a good price. We were assured that the bus left at 6:30 from Kantipath, (a busy road during the day, and the busy Tourist Bus stop in the early morning hours) so we had to arrive by 6am. That meant a 5am wake up and a 5:30 taxi. Kumari kindly brought us milk tea at 5am. They gave us a lovely Buddhist farewell, placing ivory coloured ceremonial scarves around our necks to bless our travels. We exchanged huge hugs and I had tears welling in my eyes when Kumari told Raven “I love you”.

The taxi extorted a hefty fee from us, complaining that he had to get up early and then drive back to Pepsi Cola with out a fare. Mahesh had arranged the driver the night before, so I was a little peeved that he hadn't negotiated a price over the phone for us before the guy showed up and had our bags strapped to his roof rack. Oh well, what can you do? It was much nicer and a little cheaper than spending the night in Thamel. We ate our last dhal baat dinner with the family and Karen, then went to bed early, ensuring that our final pack up in the morning consisted only of toothbrushes and Pjs.

As things turn out, we were one half hour ahead of schedule. The bus was to leave at 7am. We got on the big roomy bus and settled in, snuggled up with our blankets against the chilly morning air. Ten minutes later, we were told to get off the bus, as it sounded like it wasn't going to be full, so the bus line was to bring a smaller bus. Now we waited on the sidewalk, hawkers passing by with baked goodies, packaged convenience food, juice and bottled water. We purchased more sweet milk tea to drink. It is sold in these impossibly thin tiny plastic cups. I have no idea how the plastic doesn't melt through, as chia is always served boiling hot. 

                                                                                                assume the long bus ride position

                                                                                                               

Our bus got downsized, and Heath's knees now pressed against the seat in front of him. As we drove off, I saw the other bus was still travelling towards Chitwan and it didn't appear full. I wonder if we were chosen to be downsized because of my bartering? I seem to remember the travel agent saying something like “You're making me trouble” when I refused to pay more than R500 per seat...

Smaller and less comfortable, we pulled out into the convoy of Tourist Buses heading Southeast out of Kathmandu. Because of the wait for the 

 bus switch, we were now travelling at the end of the line of buses. Once we left the city and started driving the windy and hilly highway, we got stuck in traffic as a convoy of trucks were heading in the opposite direction and sometimes only one vehicle could pass at a time. Regardless, we made it in fairly good time to our destination. Our first pee stop was classic- a side of the road black tarp communal toilet. When I entered the door (black tarp flap) I was met by a  sloping concrete slab with a gutter in it. About 4 or 5 women could use it at the same time, and it thankfully wasn't used for solid matter,        as      there was no running water in this location. You   can guess the smell wasn't very nice. Another pee stop was the side of the highway- everyone running in to their little patch of forest to do their business. Raven came back from that one with countless burrs attached to her pants.

Our lunch stop was nicer, a tourist food stop- you could select a plate of fresh, pre-cooked veggie fried rice, chow mien, or pakoras for the 25 minute stop. Running water, privacy and sinks           pee stop

with soap in the toilet area! Every place the bus
stops enroute, hawkers try to sell fruit, water, chips or candy outside the windows. Some have no qualms coming aboard to do the same. Sometimes beggars also try to board the buses, but the bus jockey usually ushers them off in a hurry. When we arrived in Chitwan probably 15 jeep drivers from local hotels wanting our business surrounded us, clamoring for us to take their jeep. It was insane. We put our backpacks on and huddled in a little circle, These men were yelling so loud that Heath and I couldn't even hear ourselves talk, to make a plan. Raven was amazing. She just stood there, not looking at them, not anxious or agitated, blocking their requests out. 

Stay Tuned for Incredible Jungle Adventure in our next blog!

On the Road Again. I just can't wait to get back on the road again.

  2013. It sounds strange, a present that seems to exist in the future. I was sick on New Year’s Eve,  eventually sleeping  16 hours before getting up in time to see the clock strike twelve, then sleeping some more. There seemed to be quite a few people celebrating around Pepsi Cola. I guess the Nepalese enjoy a good excuse to party!  We’re getting ready to leave Kathmandu early on the 16^th. Su started packing three days ago, not wanting to leave it to the last minute…We have our Indian visas, bus tickets to Chitwan, and an account with the India Rail online booking website. This really has been a home away from home. Our host family has been so gracious, helpful and friendly, and the house itself is warm and spacious. It would be nice to have a more reliable hot shower, but otherwise, I have absolutely no complaints. Pepsi Cola is a beautiful, quiet suburb, full of the contrasts that new development brings. Huge four and five story houses mixed in with little shacks and small fields of assorted produce. When we first got here, the rice crop was just being harvested, then there was cabbage and cauliflower, assorted greens, and now carrots are the main crop. Even though it is frosty every night, there are still tomatoes growing, and people are starting to plant new crops all the time. There are also many colorful flowers continuing to bloom, the dazzling red poinsettia trees are huge, and there are big green papayas on the trees. It seems to be badminton season, too. The main soccer field is still busy most of the time, but badminton nets have been set up in the other fields. People have always played in the streets, without nets, just rallying back and forth, casually dodging the cows, dogs, pedestrians and traffic. All the kids from the school know us well now, and greet us whenever they see us, calling out from across vacant lots, from rooftop balconies, or just running up for a handshake. The only thing I’m not going to miss is the barking dogs! The round of puppies born while we’ve been here are still young, but the females have gone into heat again. There are roaming bitches pursued by packs of competing males, fighting and yelping all night long.

  There is something immensely satisfying about learning to navigate through the chaos of Kathmandu, either walking or using public transit. Like the city itself, the transit system is old and battered, crowded and dirty, but somehow it manages to work. We’ve made many trips around town lately, getting and extending visas, sending a box of singing bowls and souvenirs home, and finally picking up our mail. We’ve even walked around the airport to Boudnath, about five kms each way. It’s so much fun to walk through neighbourhoods that would rarely, if ever, see tourists.

   Raven and I played some mini-golf in the Civil Center Mall while Su made her first trip to the post office. Highly recommended, if you happen to be in Kathmandu and feel the need to putt 18 holes. There is also a coffee shop that makes a delicious café latte. Mmmmm. Coffee.  As our time started growing short, we decided to explore a few more sights around the valley. Last weekend, despite my reservations, we went to the zoo. It costs five times as much to get in if you’re a foreigner, 1500 rupees for the three of us, which is nearly $20 US. It’s hard to argue, as it’s obvious that they need every penny they can get. We started looking at the collection of colorful and exotic birds before a wandering elephant caught our attention. The handler was presenting the old girl for people to ‘donate’ small bills in return for touching their forehead to the elephant’s trunk. This seems like a novel idea, but unless you’ve ever stood next to one of these creatures, you don’t know how immense they really are, and how cautious you instinctually become. An elephant can, and wild ones often do, crush a human with little effort, so rubbing your head on its’ trunk is much more intimidating than it sounds. Su got in line first, before Raven, buoyed by her mother’s successful return, also joined in. The relatively small elephant was scratching up against a tree, rubbing its’ tusks and ears on both sides of the tree before starting to ram it gently with its’ forehead. The entire tree shook, leaves falling all around, and then she started looking for fallen fruit, the vacuum cleaner nozzle/hand searching the ground with amazing dexterity, eventually grabbing some branches off the closest hedge.  Such powerful creatures, no wonder they have been domesticated and turned into heavy machinery.

 After touring the assortment of wild cats, large and small, including a gorgeous cheetah, and then the sloth bears (think small black bears), we came to the primate section. The langurs we’d seen while trekking to ABC were in a pitifully small cage, but the chimps, their more famous relatives, had a large enclosure filled with ropes and platforms to frolic on. Still, even knowing that they were born in captivity and had never experienced ‘freedom’,   it was pretty sad. ‘The Life of Pi’ provides a great perspective on the life of zoo animals, and I tried to keep that in mind as we made our way past the lone hippo, to the grand finale, the Royal Bengal Tiger enclosure. The biggest reason that I didn’t want to go to the zoo, was that I would much rather take my chances trying to see these amazing creatures in the wild on our upcoming trip to Chitwan Park, along with their endangered companions, the One-Horned Rhinoceros. There were two tigers in separate enclosures, neither of them putting on much of a show for the gathered crowds, the more ignorant of whom were shouting and whistling, trying to stir the tigers out of their afternoon slumber. Sigh. With that, we made a hasty departure to the bakery we’d passed on the walk from the bus park, where we indulged in some pizza and amazing chocolate cake, but the bad taste in my mouth lingered on.

On a lighter note, Su made me a fabulous  birthday dinner of fettuccini alfredo and buff sausages, washed down with two of the giant sized bottles of San Miguel beer, before breaking out the birthday cake she had brought home on her lap, while riding on the back of a scooter! School is out again, this time for winter break, but VSN had arranged a ’winter camp’, where I was finally scheduled to teach yoga classes. I was a little fuzzy after my birthday dinner, but excited to continue teaching three classes a day. The first group in the morning was always the grade six class, who are just great. Focused and attentive, they are a real joy to teach. The next group was the grade seven class, who are normally even better. The problem, I soon realized, was that Su was playing games in the field next to the school, and by the time I took over, even the older kids were totally jacked up on adrenaline and freedom from the discipline that they are so used to. The only place large enough for me to teach 30 kids is the courtyard behind the school, which is dusty, noisy, and currently under construction.

The boys and the girls automatically cluster together in separate groups, like oil and water, chatting and giggling. It took a great deal of patience and persistence to get them to be quiet and listen to their breath, before we even started moving mindfully through the sequence of postures I had planned out. Since we have no mats, and the courtyard is so dusty, the entire yoga class has to consist of standing poses, which makes it even more difficult to regain a semblance of calm after Su’s frolic-fest. Eventually, I broke the spell by asking them to close their eyes, breathe, and consider the following:  You have a house, but you are not your house. You have a school, but you are not your school. You have friends and family, but you are not your friends and family. You have clothes, but you are not your clothes. You have a body, but you are not your body. You have thoughts and emotions, but are not your thoughts and emotions. What are you? Ahhhh. Finally, silence.

   All too soon, it was on to the grades fives. These guys are a handful, and I was soon reminded how diverse a class of twelve year olds can be. Some were eager and disciplined, while others were completely uninterested and unresponsive. I had to give up any expectations I had, and remember what I put my teachers through at that age. I let the ones who obviously had no plans of participating go play and gossip, and focused on those who were still ‘present’.  After that first day, Su and I had a little talk, and she promised to bring it down a few notches at the end of her session, so I might have more of a chance to get the entire class to connect with their breath, at least for a few minutes. I kept the same sequence of poses, hoping they would be able to focus on the breath more and more as they became familiar and fluid. Most of the kids showed amazing improvement, while some just stopped showing up, just like any group, I suppose. I am incredibly thankful for the opportunity to share the gift of yoga with anyone interested, and for the opportunity to challenge myself as a teacher. Adults who have paid to attend yoga classes are much more focused and attentive, but patience and discipline are valuable tools for any teacher.

  All too quickly, our time in Kathmandu was coming to an end. On our last Saturday, Su and I went back to Patan, leaving Raven to enjoy her freedom and continue to focus on her schoolwork. I had hoped that she would be slightly ahead of schedule by the time we left Nepal, as it’s much harder to stay focused on a daily routine while travelling. The fact that she is able to complete grade 7 as we travel around the world, and not be overwhelmed by the contrasts, experiences and challenges we face along the way, leaves me even more amazed, inspired and proud. I am one lucky Daddy! Patan used to be one of three separate and competing kingdoms in the Kathmandu valley, but has been swallowed up by the sprawl to become a mere suburb. Never the less, it is home to some of the most impressive architecture in all of Nepal.

Between the 14^th and 17^th centuries, Patan produced intricate wooden temples that are unparalleled. We wandered circuitously around the ancient city, passed temple after temple, stupa after stupa,  some built of stone, others of wood, some showing Indian influence, others more Tibetan.  Many of the Hindu temples have erotic carvings (think Karma Sutra), while others depict battle and torture scenes, depending on the deity honored and the fancy of the king who commissioned the building. We ended up in magnificent Durbar Square, and immense collection of superb temples, pillars and palaces. Before long, a uniformed guard asked to see our tickets. Tickets? We’d come in through an obscure alleyway in the back corner, where there is no gate.  Tourism is the number one resource for Nepal, but the entry fees to the major sights are skyrocketing. Since we’d seen enough temples for one day, and have devoted considerable time and money to the country already, we just made our way back to the same bakery we’d eaten at after the zoo, salivating at the thought of more chocolate cake…

  Raven isn’t too happy that we have to leave Nepal, but I’m excited to get back on the road again. I do love Nepal, but it will be great to get out of the city, see some wildlife in the wild, enjoy warm sand between my toes, and be swept up in the magic and chaos of India.  Stay tuned, there are many more adventures in store in the coming months!

 

Volunteering at VSN

One of the community services that VSN runs is a women's center. It is housed in a second floor room and large balcony of the family sized (six children) orphanage, Bright Futures. For no charge, a small group of women come together for a few hours every weekday morning to gain sewing and English language skills. A Nepalese woman is hired to instruct the sewing lessons while they rely on volunteers to teach English.

There is a sign in the VSN office showing two young blond women wearing traditional dress, called a kurtha. The women at the centre will make these to size for a very reasonable R500 (6$). Raven and I searched for fabric in Salleri, and eventually we both found some appealing and affordable cotton-poly blend. The Kurta fabric comes in pre-cut coordinated colours, with embroidery at the ankle, neck and bottom of the tunic, as well as a matching scarf or veil. I was hunting for red, as that denotes married status, but the red top fabric was always matched with green bottoms, and I did not want to look like Christmas! I settled for a bright fuchsia and blue set, while Raven chose a more pastel tone purple and green. When we returned to Pepsi Cola, the women of the centre took our measurements and our preferences (longer short sleeves with slimmer pants). They had these sewn to perfection in a week. Ever resourceful, the seamstresses use newspaper for the pattern material. The scissors they use are like your (great?) grandmother's- huge iron behemoths and the sewing machines work without electricity because they are the ancient black trundle kind that can be operated either with the foot pedal or the side hand wheel. We got to try them- it took me a few attempts before I was able to make a straight seam in scrap fabric.

I volunteered a few days with these grateful women, teaching them English when the other volunteers had not yet returned from their Christmas and New Years holidays in Pokhara. It was a lovely experience, as these women are supportive of each other and eager to learn. In retrospect, I wish I could have spent more time with them, as I don't feel I've had the most meaningful experience at the school in Pepsi Cola. During our time here the students have been either on holidays, in exams, or the teachers have been doing review with them. I was hoping to have my own class like in Salleri, but in CBIA (Career Building International Academy) there are enough staff, so I was a teacher's 'shadow' for review days, then I helped invigilate exams. Luckily the mural painting brought some creativity to the days.

Change is happening within the infrastructure of VSN. Tej (Director) has hired a capable staff member to better facilitate the volunteers' experiences, so he can focus on the growth of his organization. One of Tej's strong points is adapting to change at an organizational level. I don't think I was the first volunteer to tell him that volunteers come here (with our western mindset) to be useful, helpful and productive, which can be challenging because we aren't told in advance when the holidays are, or we float around CBIA following teachers. Because CBIA is his 'baby', he has responded to the volunteers' plea by changing the school day slightly. After winter break there will be a block in each class' day that is scheduled PE/Art/Library. There will a paid teacher's assistant supervising in the case of no volunteers, and now the volunteers can have their own block in the day to teach or facilitate any appropriate activity. I think this is a great plan, because the principal doesn't have to use his time to coordinate the volunteers any more, and the teachers don't have to put up with 'shadows' that may make them feel like they are being criticized.

Jan 11.

This week has been a super fun one for me. Exams are over and school is out for winter break, but the teachers are present and classes still show up in their uniforms to practice extra-curricular dance and singing in preparation for parents night. It is also Winter Camp for the grade 5-7's. These classes rotate through 45 minute activity blocks daily for the week. Heath is facilitating yoga, two Chinese volunteers are teaching Chinese music and language, while I am running Adventure Based Learning activities and games. Raven joins me for the grade 7 group, then returns home to do school work until we join her for lunch.

The ABL experience with Nepalese kids has been interesting. The most open spot that I could find to play games in was a dusty vacant field across from the main entrance. There is rusty bared wire along one side, the playing surface is uneven with random rocks and bricks and is littered with plastic garbage. There is the remains of a burn pile by the road. At the start I did a walk through to pick up broken glass and ankle turners. The kids must only know the sight of plastic garbage everywhere, because a few questioned me when they saw me picking up the broken balloon bits after our balloon activity. “Is Canada a clean country?” I replied that we make garbage too, but we leave it all in one huge place. Our lifestyles are so different. Sharing the field daily was a small group of men beating cotton, then quilting it into fabric creating heavy blankets for sale. Sorry about the dust we raised while cavorting about!

The games that were strictly 'FUNN' went really well, but the ABL initiatives were more challenging for these kids, as they have been instructed to remember only what they need by rote, to earn the highest placement in their classes and exams. This way of learning doesn't bode well for activities that promote thinking 'outside the box', teamwork and 'everyone wins'. Another issue that made it challenging for the students were boy-girl collaboration. By this age they are instructed not to be physically close to someone of the opposite sex, and some of the activities involved being in close proximity- in this case the boys simply would not work with the girls. (And vice versa) It worked better for them when I split the group by gender, the girls excelled at working cooperatively (a characteristic similar to western girls of this age) and without the girls, the boys deemed it a competition and could also work well together. Some of the games aren't as fun with lower numbers, but as a facilitator, you learn to roll with whatever the group presents and make the best of it.

Most of the activities went really well- the kids had a great time, and most of them received the teamwork message I was sending out. In our rotation, Heath had the group after their games session. He wasn't super impressed to challenge them to do deep breathing and yoga after they had been chasing each other around the field. Sorry Heath!

The last day I attempted a game that involved a tarp and a toy. The kids were to hold on to the edge of the tarp and working together roll the toy from one corner to the other without touching it with their hands, or dropping it. The only toy I could find at the last minute was a baby doll from the patio of VSN that was unfortunately missing a hand. The kids mastered the activity incredibly quickly, then the game took on a life of it's own- it became Bounce the Baby as the kids threw it up and down like on a trampoline or parachute. Invariable one or two of the smaller kids would jump on the tarp to get tossed around as well!

Patiently Perplexed at the Post Office

Oh where is our parcel? When we left Canada we thought we had all of Raven's schoolwork with us. As it turned out, we were missing 4 sections of math as well as a chemistry section. Cathy and Dave live the closest to SIDES (South Island Distance Education), so we asked them to pick it up and send it to us. (SIDES doesn’t mail outside of Canada, much like Canadian Tire MasterCard, but that is another story). Cathy and Dave mailed the parcel in early November, and it left Canada November 8^th. It never arrived at it's destination. By late December I was getting really worried that it was lost, strayed or stolen somewhere in the third world. We had received only one small package to the VSN office, so I knew the mail system worked, but I didn’t trust how well, as there was another small package mailed from Canada at the same time, and we never received it.

By early January I decided to go in person to the main post office in Sundara, downtown Kathmandu. I was sure that the package had arrived, but was sitting in limbo, on a shelf, waiting patiently for me to claim it after paying an exorbitant amount of ransom, baksheesh or customs cash.

Friday was my first visit to the large central post office. It consists of two large airy cement buildings, one each for outgoing and incoming correspondence. I was sent from building to building, then room to room after my enquiries as to where I should commence my search. Once I entered the correct building, I was directed to one table in an open hallway where I searched for my name in a pile of papers housed in the folder for unclaimed parcels. While I was searching, a frustrated European woman stood next to me and was asked for R10 by the man behind the table. She had a bit of a temper tantrum, venting about the amount of time she had been at the post office, how much money she had had to pay to receive her package at customs and why should she pay more money? Whenever I come across someone raging, I ensure to calm my mind and place a smile on my face to increase my own patience. My name wasn’t in the book so I was sent to a room with both incoming and outgoing parcels behind a long counter. I was ensured that my package could not possibly be in that section, as only outgoing parcels to Canada were held there, never incoming. Back to the first table I returned, where I was then ushered through the hallway into a vast room, room 29. Room 29 seems a bit of a misnomer, as it is also the hallway table in front of room 29. I enquired of one man behind a desk about my situation. There were many boxes stacked haphazardly behind him. He asked me for the tracking number, which I didn’t have on me. I asked him if I could look myself (the incoming boxes were right there....) “It’s not possible.” “Are you sure?” I asked, “The boxes are right there.” “It's not possible. We need the tracking number.” I thanked him and asked for his name and phone number before I left.

The next working day, Sunday, I left the package details with Mahesh, our house father, and he kindly called the post office officer on our behalf while we were visiting the zoo. When we arrived home he excitedly told us the package had just arrived. (Sure it did...) What great news! I jumped up and down, hugged him and gratefully thanked him for his trouble. He is so caring that he offered to come downtown to assist us in picking it up. That would have too much. We were planning on going to town to pick up our Indian Visas on Monday afternoon, so the timing was perfect. My only worry was that I knew I needed to show my passport for ID to claim my parcel, but as the Indian Embassy had ours until 5pm, I planned to take along a photocopy and hope that would be sufficient.

Monday morning I volunteered at the women's centre until noon, then our family lunched together. We weren’t sure if we all needed to be present to pick up our passports and visas, so we decided it would be a more efficient use of Raven's time if she stayed at home and completed schoolwork while we went. Luckily the bus dropped us off in front of the post office. (Sometimes it takes us a little further down the road). We went directly to the officer I had previously spoken to in room 29. He was in his office and remembered me. I think he must have been a manager, as he had his own office. He ushered us to sit down. I gave him my tracking number and he looked it up on his computer. Gotta say, the fact that the post office had a computer system completely floored me. He stated again the that the parcel had “just arrived”. I almost believed him. He found my number, wrote down another number, told Heath to stay in his office, and walked me over to the pile of boxes I had seen the other day. It took a few minutes and the help of a fellow worker to locate the medium sized brown paper covered box with my name on it. It was so close but I had to follow due process. I was given a slip of paper or form with the parcel's information on it and told to take it to the desk in front of this warehouse room. The man at that desk looked at my form, asked me for a copy of my passport (phew!), stapled it to the form then directed me to room 30. In room 30 I handed in my form and was asked to fill out a pink sheet of paper (old school carbon copy in triplicate). The pink form was all in Nepali script, so the woman directed me where to write my name, country, local address and phone number. She also asked for R35 before sending me to room 31. In room 31 I found a man in a suit behind a desk. He was the customs officer and I showed him my pink form and he signed it, then sent me back to room 30. Room 30 sent me to room 29. I gave the pink form to room 29 (which is actually the hallway in front of room 29) guy, who motioned me to “basnus” (sit). I sat, and a different woman from room 30 came out, sat next to me and indicated that getting my parcel would take half an hour. That perplexed me a little, as I could have jumped up, walked through the door and grabbed it in under a minute. At this point I remembered the frustrated woman from before, so I chose to laugh at the situation instead. I wondered what kind of a conversation Heath was having with the post office manager.

Luckily I only waited a few minutes before the box appeared. I identified it as mine, and the name on the parcel was verified with the name on my sheet in front of buddy from room (hallway) 29. With a big box cutter he opened the parcel and looked inside. Content that the box contained nothing hazardous, he dropped it on the floor behind the counter, signed the pink sheet and motioned me back with it to the customs officer. The customs officer signed it again, then sent me back to room 30. In room 30 I was motioned to a different desk, that had a small sign “cash counter”. Oh no- here it comes I thought. This is where I get soaked of some serious cash...

Happily, this was not the case. This worker signed the sheet then sent me back to room (hallway) 29. Room 29 asked for R10 before handing over my parcel. Now to collect Heath and continue on with our day! The whole zany process took about half an hour. Lets hope the rest of the day goes as smoothly I remember thinking. Heath was sitting in the office where I left him, and the manager had just ordered tea. They had been chatting about America, as he is in the process of obtaining his green card. Apparently he teaches as well, and has been working at the post office for 30 years. He sounded pretty pessimistic of the Nepali postal system! Tea arrived through the window! We stayed as long as politeness dictated, then as we were leaving he asked for our Pepsi Cola phone number because he may be coming this way tomorrow. Sounded a little strange, but we gave him Tej's and told him we'd be at the school facilitating winter camp..

The rest of the afternoon was incredibly productive. We withdrew money from the bank machine, drank tasty cafe o laits, purchased bus tickets to Chitwan, bought bakery snacks for Raven and received our Indian Visas (waiting only half an hour longer than we thought we would!) Back home again on a rush hour-standing room only-bum touch-neck tilt bus just in time for some tasty dhal baat. 

 There are not many horse riding traffic officers, but here is one!

 Raven and Heath walking along a quiet moment in Kathmandu

Busy Bus Butt Touch

We've ridden the bus numerous times to central Kathmandu and back, as well as once to Paten. It can be a 'standing room only' affair, and this morning's bus ride was exactly like that, a very busy, crammed ride. All of the local buses are privately owned, so there is no uniformity among them. There are about three sizes of buses painted different colours, and there may or may not be a small sign in Nepali script (that we can't read) on the front window, stating the destination. There are no route numbers because there is no municipal system. To catch a bus, one has to stand at the side of the road, in what looks like a random spot, because there are no bus stop signs anywhere in this country, and the bus stop is either anywhere, or by local knowledge. It depends where you are. Leaving Pepsi Cola we walk out to the main road and wait on the corner. Leaving downtown area we catch our bus at another corner, that itself is around the corner from a main bus area called Ratna Park.

To discover where the bus is going you have to ask the bus jockey if his bus is going to your destination. The bus jockey works in conjunction with the driver. The jockey is typically a younger man in flip flops who hangs out the side door of the bus yelling destinations, whistling, hitting the side of the bus and and taking fares. On a crowded bus the driver wouldn't be able to see his jockey, so they rely on a system of bangs. Buses drive on the inside 'lane' of traffic, while the jockey yells out the destination. It took a while for us to understand these calls, as the jockey will quickly string multiple sub- destinations before calling the end of the line one. He will bang on the outside of the bus when he wants the driver to stop to let a passenger on. He'll also bang to tell him to go on, and I have no idea how the driver tells the difference. The jockey is perched in the stairwell and will jump off frequently- walking beside the bus for a few metres while calling to the crowds to attract customers. The bus will start to pull away, and the jockey (in flip flops) will run beside before swinging himself up and neatly jumping back on board.

In peak hours, when is it standing room only, double the number of passengers as there are seats can be riding. The last bus we were on had seats for 24 passengers and another 24 (or more) were standing up. When it is that busy my bus joke is to ask Heath and Raven how many butts they are touching. The more butts we are touching (with our butts), the busier the bus! Hand rails have been welded to the ceiling and top of the inside walls for holding on, as the bus can lurch and stop without warning. Near the stairwell is typically an open space for standing room only, and most buses have seating up at the front next to the driver, who may be driving either a left or right hand drive. Heath is too tall for most of the buses, so if he doesn't get a seat, he has to stand with his head tilted to the side for whole the half an hour ride. 

 Heath's standing bus ride head tilt

 Raven crammed on the side of the seat, attempting to play on her Ipod..

There is usually music playing, varied from rocking Nepalese- Western fusion ,traditional Nepalese, Western or the radio. The dashboard typically hosts a mini altar- either a statue of a god, a rotating prayer wheel, dried marigold chains or pictures with various tikkas applied to or around them to ensure a safe journey.

The roadways in Nepal appear to have little order. When a small gap opens up then that is space enough for passing, and drivers, especially the motorcyclists will take the opportunity. It is not unusual for vehicles to be so close to the bus that if you wanted to reach your hand out the window and touch the riders, you could. I think the bicyclists are the boldest of the all. They ride at almost the same speed as the rest of the traffic, and think nothing of passing a larger vehicle, including a bus at very close range. Many of the bicyclists and cyclists are laden down with an assortment of bulky items. We have seen whole families on motorbikes; parents with small children perched on the front or in between the adults, as well bikes laden down with things like panes of glass, large boxes, or fresh vegetables hanging in plastic bags from the crash bars. Any thing you could imagine can be transported creatively this way.

None of this roadway chaos happens at great speed. Jay-walking is the norm in Kathmandu. There are so many bicycles, pedestrians, mopeds, small CC motorcycles, cars, trucks and buses on the road that the only way to cross a roadway is to wait for a small gap, then start boldly walking across, in front of oncoming traffic, which will honk to let you know that they see you. My strategy is to wait for a local to initiate the crossing, then make sure that I am beside and slightly behind them. If a vehicle is to slam into us, hopefully it would not hit me first.

The Swayambhunath Incident

Christmas crept up on us this year. There are no decorations, trees, or rain to make it feel wintery at all. It’s frosty almost every night now, but apart from the smog, the skies are clear most of the time, and it still gets up around 18-20 degrees. The time is flying by as we enjoy the comforts of Kathmandu. We had some new housemates when we got back from Salleri, and Raven especially enjoyed the company of some girls closer to her age than to ours. The daily morning yoga class was such a treat, but everyone has left for either home, warmer climates, or to Pokhara for the New Year’s Eve Festival. We aren’t very tempted by a 6-8 hour bus ride each way, just to go party. It’s pretty quiet around Pepsi Cola, but we splurged on some Christmas morning treats that we could consume instead of carry, and decided to go exploring. Vincent and I had gone to Swayambhunath, the Monkey Temple, before he left for India, but Su and Raven wanted to see it, and I certainly didn’t mind going back. It’s a beautiful place with sweeping views of Kathmandu, incredible, ancient temples, and loads of monkeys running and climbing everywhere! Afterwards, we would have a fancy Christmas brunch somewhere in Thamel, the tourist district, before heading home for Christmas dhal bhaat.

  We brought a few stale peanuts to coax the monkeys in for some photo opportunities, as I had seen many people do on my first visit. The rhesus macaques thrive in the treed hillsides surrounding the giant, golden spired stupa, with pilgrims constantly leaving offerings for the many Buddhist and Hindu deities providing a steady food source. There are some security guards patrolling with bamboo canes, keeping marauding hoards of monkeys in check. They can be very aggressive, and will bite and scratch readily, competing violently for food. We found some younger, independent and gentle examples to feed our peanuts to. The older ones are grabby, but weren’t too aggressive, allowing the babies to pick their own peanuts from our outstretched hands. Everything was peachy, and after running out of snacks, we parted ways. Su had a geocache to hunt down, so we descended towards the forest behind the main complex. There is a wishing well along the way, crowded with people tossing in coins, soliciting favors from the goddess in the center of the pool. We separated, so Su could wander and Raven and I could find some more cute monkeys to feed. We bought some slices of coconut from one of the many vendors, and went looking for a quiet spot to sit. On the path down to where we could see some benches, an older hungry looking monkey started eying and grabbing for the coconut treats in Raven’s hand.  She charged forward, stomping, hoping to scare off the rude little monkey. Instead of running off, it attacked Raven, leaping up and bouncing off of her chest. Wow, those things move fast! It might have been trying to bite her face, because she had a small red mark rear her lip that went away after a few minutes. I had to get between them because it was still shrieking and baring its teeth.  It stalked us until we could blend into the crowd up near the pond. I don’t think monkeys are going to be on the list of Raven’s favorite animals. She was pretty shaken up, but there was no broken skin, so no need for the nasty round of rabies shots.

  We decided to hide out on one of the ‘roof top’ restaurants at Swayambhunath, and have lunch overlooking Kathmandu. There is no central ‘downtown core’ that you might expect, even from humble Nepal, just a sprawl of buildings and isolated agriculture that disappears into the smog. Su had a decent veggie burger(sorry no buns, just bread), Raven had a cheese burger that seemed to just be a patty of melted yak cheese. I was sensible, and stuck with the chicken fried rice. It’s pretty hard to screw up fried rice. Su and I split a Christmas beer and worked at cheering Raven up. We ended up just heading back home on the bus, to feast on our Christmas goodies:  Red wine, Pringles, Toblerone, and rice and lentil soup. We all went to bed a little deflated, I think. Our first Christmas in a very strange land, far, far from home just wasn’t the same. We were missing our friends and family, and felt a long way away, even though Skype sure makes the world much smaller! With most of the other volunteers away, Raven has been keeping busy with school work, I have been teaching yoga at the school, and Su is, as usual, omnipresent.  We have a few things to do during our last few weeks in Nepal. We still need to get our Indian visas, but at least after three tries, the first step is complete. We need to extend our Nepal visas, so we have time to look for tigers and rhinoceros on the way to Buddha’s birthplace in Lumbini. Also, we still need to get over to Patan, one of the jewels of Kathmandu, home to some of the finest temples in all of Nepal. Our time here has gone by so quickly, it’s hard to believe that we’ve already been gone a third of our time away. There are many adventures to come in the months ahead, and I’m sure we’ll look back on our time here as a chaotic introduction to the developing world. The Nepalese are friendly, humble, and resourceful, and will always remind me of the community and spiritual values that have somehow slipped away from our culture.