On the Road Again, In Nepal

After a long hiatus from traveling, six months, it’s good to be on the road again. My travels were limited this year by knee surgery last December. I’m no longer all me. I have another person’s ligament in my body acting as my ACL. So far, my knee is much stronger, and allowed me to teach sailing on a big boat less than three months after surgery when I taught a class in the British Virgin Islands, and then up on Lake Superior this summer. As summer waned, and a partially empty fall loomed, I knew my wanderlust would kick in so in between class time in August I worked my magic. I’d already decided on a land trip to Egypt for the Winter Solstice, and wanted to realize my dreams of diving in the Red Sea. And then there was that prospect of leading volunteer teams to far off destinations. . . .

I’m momentarily in India--maybe I should say, after a fifteen hour plane ride over Europe. I have now spent what seems like an eternity in the Delhi airport. On this 15-hour layover I am sequestered by the airlines in the barren space with bathrooms, a drinking fountain (dare I drink the water?) and only cashing consuming pop machines for facilities. I am awaiting American Airlines’ release of my checked bag to Jet Airways before being able to move to an area with amenities. Twelve hours later, when the morning staff arrives, I am able to have breakfast. Upon takeoff, my view from the window persuades me I do want to return. The intriguing sight is like no other—masses of what I presume are deceptively clean looking light grey multi-story concrete buildings as far as the eye can see.

From Delhi, it’s just a short 1.5 hour flight to Kathmandu. This is my second visit to Nepal, the first being in 2003, which had me trekking to the 18,200’ high base camp of Mount Everest in the Himalayas in the eastern half of the country. Having read The Snow Leopard by Peter Mathiessen, I’ve been drawn to see the hilly Annapurna mountain region in the western half of the country, these hills rising up to a mere 16,000 to 17,000 feet.

Nepal came about in a roundabout way. I endeavored upon a Leadership Training retreat through a non-profit organization called Global Citizens Network (GCN) with the idea that I may want to be a trip leader for the organization. Leading a tour would allow me to take advantage of my travel experience and share this passion with others. I could now do so more affordably, knowing that some of my costs would be covered since I’d actually be “working”. Yes, I know those of you working in your full-time careers may be snickering, but this allows me to do more of what I love doing. The leadership training focused on the organization’s purpose of providing “individuals the opportunity to interact locally and internationally with people of diverse cultures who share common global values, in order to develop creative and effective solutions to global problems.” The projects bring people together, the emphasis is on the cultural immersion between the locals and the visiting participants. This means I can relax about the work to be done, and enjoy the cultural exchange. Being the task-oriented person I am, this is a welcome change for me. I would have known this had I taken the prerequisite trip before attending the leadership training program, but I was allowed to attend by signing up for a trip to Nepal starting two weeks after the retreat.

Meanwhile, I am attending a weeklong “Language and Culture” program coordinated through another organization, Global Crossroad. Global Crossroad arranged for me to write a marketing plan for a non-profit on Argentina. Since I felt they had some more unique opportunities for Argentina, I thought that might yield something again, and it did. I’m spending two weeks with a photojournalist after my GCN experience, and to help my understanding of the language for this work, Global Crossroad recommended the Language and Culture program. Hmmm. Now time was becoming an issue—how could I spend as much time with the photojournalist, and still get in a Red Sea dive trip in Egypt (and Sudan) before the chill of mid-winter set in? Ohh, and you thought the life a traveler was so simple. I was glad for having already nixed the fleeting idea of including India on this trip. That would be too many cultures in one trip.

The dilemmas of a traveler are numerous. Where to go. What to do. Where and how to find opportunities and then coordinate all the activities. How to schedule the air transportation as economically as possible. And still enjoy the administrative tasks of doing it. Well, I cause myself chaos when I find too many interesting opportunities, but once I agonize over all the options, things do fall in place. In this case, it happened when I made the decision to separate the trips. Believe it or not, it was more expensive to combine the trips. As it stands, I have 48 hours at home to change out my bags—exchange the sleeping bag, mat and hiking shoes for scuba gear—before getting back on a plane for an umpteen hour trip over Europe again to Egypt.

Arriving in Kathmandu, even having been here previously, is still a culture shock. The dark, red brick airport in which you wait in line to pay for a visa before being released into the chaos is familiar,. I have a 30-day visa for my 33-day stay. That cost $40. I could have spent $100 for a ninety day visa, but I’ll either get an extension for 15 days for $15, or hope that there will only be a minor penalty of $15 for my three day illegal status. We’ll see. Maybe I’ll find out the hard way it is worth the hassle to extend it.

The van carrying me to my hostel is tiny, and I’m appreciating that as the traffic is as congested as Beijing. There are no stripes on the roads, they twist and turn, are of uneven width, there are no visible cross walks so people are everywhere, motorcycles and bikes cut in from every angle and horns are blasting every second. Everything stirs up dust making face masks are a necessity. Such is life in Kathmandu.

Jiyan, my driver, looking studious and conservative in stylish glasses and neatly pressed white collared shirt and kacky pants, is friendly, yet to talk with him while driving I feel is dangerous, so I stare out the window wondering how people can live like this. The dirt and poverty I see remind me so much of Cambodia, and this is even before I walk through the market to see the deformed beggars trying to make their way in this world by begging insistently on the filthy streets. Jemal steers precisely in his little van to within inches of other vehicles, and somehow avoids the myriad motorcycles and bikes, some with up to three people. The law limits two people per bike, but I must assume that doesn’t count children as I’ve seen many young ones sitting in front of the driver or mother. When Jiyan turns in front of a temple, I think I’m being let off there, but no, we head down a steep grade of a narrow alleyway, make a sharp turn into a narrower alley and once he opens the metal gate, parks the van beside a four story stucco house. This is “home” for four days, before I move to a hotel in Thamel, the tourist section of Kathmandu, where I’ll meet up with my GCN group.

A tiled porch leads to the main part of the house, which is adorned with marble floors, a solid dark wood banister, and solid dark wood doors throughout. Numerous windows provide much light and a nice breeze. The thick walls are of plaster. A schoolroom, two bedrooms, bathroom and large kitchen are on the first floor. The second floor has four bedrooms with balconies, and two bathrooms for volunteers. The two rooms on the third floor seem to be for local workers. The fourth floor is actually the roof, and provides an outside area used by children, and up a spiral staircase to a small platform, there’s an area to hang laundry with a water tank off to the side. A second water tank sits atop another landing up final short flight of steps. Other roofs support solar panels to heat the water. Ours does not. Another house displays a Hindu plaque and what one might mistake as a swastika, but it’s the symbol of Krishna.

Inside, the rugs are without padding. Rooms that have linoleum show cement. The walls are brown with dirt. Wires protrude through the walls and ceiling. Naked light bulbs hang from the ceiling. Sliding bolts are used to lock the doors. The mismatched window coverings droop. The mattresses are sleeping pads thinner than those porters carried for us on our way to the Everest Base Camp, and are dressed in a single sheet with pillows as hard as rocks. I learn the locals don’t even have the bed pads. They sleep in the classroom, on top of the desk or on the floor.

Stench lets you know you’re near a bathroom. A sink, toilet, shower head and faucet for a non-existent tub are unadorned. A shower curtain is non-existent as there is no place to hang it. Because of an eternal water shortage, flushing the toilet is kept to a minimum. It is black from long term use and lack of cleaning. Toilet paper is the responsibility of the user and is to be deposited in the trash can that never seems to be emptied. I wonder when it was last cleaned. Electric surges are frequent, and it is shut off each evening for two hours. That’s when the house takes on a pleasant aura because we can’t see the filth.

My plan includes three meals a day. Two of them are daal bhaat, lentil soup and rice with vegetables. It’s seasoned well so I enjoy it, for now. Breakfast varies--wheat porridge, corn flakes with warm milk, crepes, all with bananas, and black or milk tea. Nepalese don’t eat breakfast. They’ll have a piece of toast around 7 am, daal bhaat at 9 am, work from 10 to 4 (Sunday through Thursday, from 10 am to 1 pm on Saturday), and have daal bhaat again at 7pm. The goat I hear nearby is to be picnic food for the workers, not for the volunteers.

My Sunday afternoon arrival finds me massively jet-lagged. While I normally try to stay awake to speed past this, I can’t—30 hours without sleep is too much. I meet the other volunteers, but don’t remember their names. I have a short briefing for my Language and Culture program, walk up the steep hill to the main road to check out my surroundings, get cash at the ATM and buy toilet paper. The internet cafes are closing down due to lack of electricity, so I return to the hostel for a nap before daal bhaat, and go to bed early, only to awaken at 2 am local time, 3:15 pm Minnesota time.