Pokhara

People traveling to Nepal for the purpose of trekking usually end up either near Mt. Everest to the northeast of Kathmandu or west of Kathmandu in Pokhara in the Annapurna Mountains.  I chose the latter.   

At 7:00 a.m. on June 18th, I boarded a bus for Pokhara.  The 125 mile road takes about 7 hours to negotiate.  It took a full hour and a half to climb out of the valley, go over the ridge and drop to the river bed in the next valley.  I’ve been on some windy, switchbacky, up-and-downy roads in my life, but this was one of the worst.  Our bus was but one of the many buses , trucks and cars wending their way along the perilously steep-sided switchbacks. 

Following the river in the next valley was an improvement, but only partially.  Plastic “relief” bags were made available during the trip for the less iron-stomached on the bus .  Nepal is crazy land for mountains.  Having said this, the scenery was beautiful.  All of the mountains are covered with lush vegetation and the valleys are full of bright green rice fields.  Natural beauty notwithstanding, I was pretty certain I would be taking a plane back to Kathmandu to avoid another bus ride like this one. 

Pokhara is a sprawling town on the shore of the Phewa Lake.  During the dry winter months, the Annaupurna  Mountains and specifically, Machhapuchhare (or Fishtail) form the backdrop to this gorgeous setting.  I caught a few early morning glimpses of the mountains during my stay and they are spectacular. 

Most of the time, however, the high mountains were obscured by clouds, but even that resulted in some beautiful scenes.

I had two goals upon my arrival, first, to enlist a guide for my trek (I had already generally decided where I wanted to go) and second, to visit the local SOS Children’s Village (more on this later).  In Pokhara, travel and adventure companies line the streets and during the monsoon season, everyone is hustling for some work.   My hostel recommended a guide and, upon meeting him, he struck me as competent so I thought it was set.  Then, a funny thing happened while wandering around town, as I was signaling to a street vender who I had met the night before, a young man thought I was signaling to him so he crossed the street to talk with me.  I thought, “Oh no, what does this guy want and how am I going to get rid of him?” 

We started talking and he told me that he was a guide.  After a very short time, I realized (1) that he spoke far better English than the hostel-recommended guide and (2) he had a very engaging personality.  As I started to think about it, 11 days trekking with someone who neither spoke good English nor seemed very approachable seemed like it would make an already difficult hike, even more challenging.  On the other hand, hiring a guide off the street seemed a little risky.  In the end, I bet on the nice guy and ended up the winner.  I will write later about the entire trek.

SOS Children’s Villages are a charity I support whose mission is (among other things) to provide a family-type setting for orphaned children throughout the world.  They seem to do a great job from the information I receive in the U.S., but since there was an actual SOS Village in Pokhara, I thought I would stop in for an on-site visit.  The SOS Village in Pokhara serves a unique demographic, the children of Tibetan refugees.  The village and accompanying grade school were beautiful and, except for the fact that there wasn’t a child to be seen , it looked like an ideal setting.  I finally found an open gate and walked to the back of the complex where I met a young Tibetan couple, Tseten and Tsering.  Tsering looked startled as I walked toward her and she quickly called her husband Tseten who appeared at the door of their apartment.  Thus began an afternoon of entertainment and laughter with two of the nicest people I have ever met. 

I was invited in for traditional Tibetan butter tea (it shouldn’t be a surprise when I say that it tastes a lot like melted butter) and eventually a delicious lunch.  Tseten teaches art at the school and he explained that since it was Saturday (duh), the kids were on a field trip.  I would have to come back if I wanted to see them.

 Like most of the Tibetan refugees in Nepal, both Tsering and Tseten had stories about how they left China as children, Tsering to move to Kathmandu to live with an uncle and Tseten, to study in India.  The thought of a young seven-year old Tseten leaving his parents behind in Tibet to travel to a refugee camp/school in India armed only with the hope that his life would be better brought tears to my eyes.   He later explained that although he has since seen his parents on a few occasions, it was never for more than a few hours at the border crossing with China.  Sadly, because his parents only speak their local Tibetan dialect, one which Tseten forgot long ago, their few reunions are simply times for each to look at the other and cry.   For Tseten, Tsring and their peers their stories were not extraordinary, but to my ears they were heartbreaking.  Yet somehow those beginnings produced two souls who project kindness and joy in every action.  I had somehow again managed to stumble upon people whose friendship would be life-altering.  The words “I so lucky” ran through my mind once again. 

I visited Tseten and Tsring after my trek.  This time I managed to show up during an all school assembly celebrating the birth of the Dalai Lama.  What a show!  Not only were the traditional Tibetan and Nepali dances creative and fun, but the costumes were better than any school program I’ve seen … beautiful silk, bells, silver, fur, necklaces, tassels and more than a few fake moustaches. 

This was not the crepe paper school assembly of my childhood, this was really nice.  Tseten’s class did an especially good job.

That evening I was treated to a quick cooking lesson from Tsering on how to make MoMo, a Tibetan style dumpling.  As was to be expected, my dumplings were misshapen and slightly unappealing, nothing like the consistently flawless ones that Tsering and even Tseten were churning out like machines. 

Ever patient, Tsering continued to work with me until we reached the last dumpling.  The meal was one of the most delicious I’ve had.  My lips burned with the spices (and I think she made it mild for me) but I HAD to keep eating.  Whether they intended this or not, Brad and Angelina (as I call them affectionately), are going to be lifelong friends. 

And I can’t wait to SKYPE with them when I get back to Houston so they can see the Tibetan prayer flags that are going up in our backyard.   

Nepal-Kathmandu (mid June)

Prior to the beginning of my trip, Nepal held my highest expectations.   Something about the country that is home to eight of the world’s 20 highest mountains (scores of which are twice as high as the Tetons) awoke my imagination. 

Annapurna Mountains viewed from Pokhara

I imagined streams pouring from snow covered mountains, lush vegetation in the valleys and friendly people.  I can happily report that Nepal exceeded my expectations, so much so that I have seriously considered skipping the end of my trip to return; not because it lived up to my idealized views, but because my actual experience was far more rich, varied, rugged and yet tender than I could have possibly envisioned. 

Nepal is a small country situated between India in the south and Tibet to the north.  Its geography consists of three distinct regions, the high Himalayas to the north, a central hilly region where the majority of the population lives (which includes the Kathmandu valley), and the flat fertile south (the Terai).  Describing the central area as hilly is absurd as it is mountainous like few other places on earth.  It is only because the hills are situated beneath the Himalayas, that they are even called hills.  As the author of my  guide book stated “[d]ramatic, extreme, verging on the outrageous, mountains shape Nepal’s reality, molding its culture, history, economy, and politics.  For 80 percent of the country, vertical is the main orientation, and up-and-down is the determining fact of life.“

Unfortunately for Nepal , the challenge of its topography has meant that it is one of the least developed countries in the world.  That became apparent upon my arrival in Kathmandu.  Roads are full of potholes, pollution clogs the rivers, streets and air of the valley and roads are narrow and congested.  Notwithstanding these conditions, the city pulled me in.  And Nepalis? ...they were, almost without exception, warm, interested, funny and endearing, simply the best people I have met in my travels.  Surprising to me, many also spoke some English.   In fact, more people spoke English in Nepal than in any other (non-English speaking) country that I have visited. 

One of my first stops in the valley was Boudhanath, home to one of Nepal’s most important Buddhist sites.  

The giant Stupa , with a diameter exceeding 100 meters is one of the largest in the world.  It is believed to have been built in the 5^th century.   This site is a focal point of the local Tibetan community.  To walk the site is to witness Tibetan Buddhism at its fullest, with prayer beads, prayer flags, mantra, prayer wheels (many of them enormous), prostrations and the perpetual  train of people walking (always clockwise) around the Stupa in ritual circumambulation, all on display.   

The base, dome, square harmika, spire and pinnacle represent the five elements of earth, water, air, fire, and ether and the 13 tiers stand for the stages to enlightenment.  Unique to Nepali stupas are the striking bow-shaped eyes which are painted onto the square sides (more visible in a later photo).  The eye symbols are found on everything from purses to posters.

Friendly kids who found someone to goof off with.  Note the prayer wheel behind us
spinning off the mantra "Om Mani Padme Hum" to the heavens.

Although many people associate Buddhism with Nepal, Hinduism is the predominant religion and it permeates all aspects of life in the city.  Small temples are found everywhere and the bell ringing at each begins early in the morning as Nepalis perform their morning observances.  One of the most important Hindu temples in Kathmandu is Pashupatinath. 

This Hindu shrine is supremely holy because of the sacred linga (a phallic symbol associated with Shiva (the transformer/destroyer), one of Hindu’s three primary gods; the other two are Brahma, the creator and Vishnu, the preserver) enshrined in its temple and because of its location on the banks of the sacred Bagmati River.  

 It is within walking distance of Boudhanath so off I went. 

On the way I ran into this Indian holy man (they seem a lot like hobos to me) who sat with me while I had a Coke.  Note my nifty Nepali cap which got a lot of smiles from people on the street.


Although the temple is open only to Hindus, the real spectacle takes place on the banks of the Bagmati River below the temple.  It is there where devout Hindus of all castes bring the bodies of their loved ones to be cremated on wooden piers,  the remains of which are then swept into the black, muddy river. 

This river joins the Ganges in India and it is believed that to be cremated in this manner, a person is assured release from the Hindu cycle of rebirth.  Only male relatives (and hundreds of tourists) are present for the cremations.  I watched  intently  as one fire was started, always at the mouth of the deceased (the gauze covered bodies are smeared in a type of butter which acts as a fuel) and afterwards watched the later part of a cremation which involved a temple worker making certain that body parts did not inadvertently fall out of the pyre prior to their immolation. 

The grisly sight was made more so by the heavy smoke from the fires which permeates the air and fills the nose and lungs with an unfamiliar scent, not repulsive, but not pleasant.  My knees eventually got weak and I had to move on.

In addition to the primary temple and cremation platforms, the site is also home to other minor temples, the most notable of which was the pagoda-roofed Parvati temple which contains vivid Kama-Sutra carvings.  I soon learned that detailed carvings of this nature are common and quite mundane (at least to everyone except foreigners).  The best explanation that I received for the detailed carvings was that because sex is good and pleasing to the gods, they wanted to leave directions (with a lot of variety) for the people.  The actual text of the Kama-Sutra is more accurately a guide to family, relationships and life.  A separate slide show of some of the carvings may be forthcoming for any interested persons (excluding all nieces and nephews, regardless of age and maturity level). 

With both male and female symbolism, this and similar lingas are used for ritual offerings
 (including milk), by women seeking the birth of a healthy child.

My experience in Pashupatinath was only marred by the sleazy guide (the bad dye job on his hair should have warned me, that and the fact that he was a member of the highest caste, the members of which seem to be prone to general jerkiness) who attached himself to me as I entered the site and then required a really steep “donation” after the tour.  This pattern was to repeat itself frequently in and around Kathmandu where “helpful” individuals later can’t be shaken by sticks or stones (only dollars seem to relax their hold).

Not my tour guide, but one of the many cute monkeys on the site.

The next day brought me to Patan and its royal square.  My Patan guide was an interesting man, specifically because of his open religious observances.  Each temple we passed necessitated a brief prayer to whatever deity was at home.  In Nepal, Hinduism and Buddhism live side-by-side and the gods and customs of each are frequently intermingled.  If I'm not mistaken, Buddha is regarded by Hindus as one of the reincarnations of Vishnu.  Tika, a powder which leaves a bright colored mark on the forehead, was also frequently applied during our tour, thus one of the signs (in addition to bells) of a Hindu temple is the mirrors used for adjusting the tika.  I joined in on a few of the observances and ended the day with an abundance of luck and a mark on my own forehead. 

Patan was home to one of the former valley kingdoms and, despite its proximity to Kathmandu, remains peaceful.   The Durbar Square (or royal palace) is different than what one might expect from a royal complex in the West.  Here, the square is covered with an irregular mix of residences, fountain, temples, shrines and courtyards.  While there is tremendous symmetry in the buildings themselves, there is almost no symmetry (that I could recognize) in the actual layout.  

After Patan, my guide convinced me to ride on the back of his motorcycle for a trip to Swayambhunath (or the Monkey temple as the tongue twisted tourists prefer).  This temple sits on a hill in the valley and is visible throughout the city.   This site is the valley’s most sacred Buddhist shrine (similar to Pashuputinah for Hindus).  We swerved in and out of the rush hour Kathmandu traffic, then drove the alleys and side streets until we made it to the summit. 

Here the eyes of the stupa are clearly visible.

I love prayer flags, with each breeze also sending the mantra "Om Mani Padme Hum" endlessly into the air.

The motorcycle ride saved me from walking the 365 steps to the top that most visitors take.  The temple and the views were impressive.    Legend states that the Stupa is built atop a magical light which radiated from a lotus that blossomed from a lake that once covered the valley.

On my last day in Kathmandu I took a field trip to Bhaktapur, which was once the capital of the entire Kathmandu valley and home to one of the three former kingdoms.  It is a beautiful, well-preserved, peaceful alternative to Kathmandu.  

It is only 14 kilometers from Kathmandu, but seems a world apart.  On the day I visited the national student party was protesting the (brief) imprisonment of their leader so our bus was stopped on the road and forced to return to Kathmandu.  I walked the last few kilometers by foot.  Fortunately, a student on the bus who wanted to practice his English essentially took me by the hand and walked me into town. 

The Durbar Square in Bhaktapur, in addition to containing the palace, is loaded with temples, statues and fountains.  Many of the buildings were damaged during a 1934 earthquake but have since (thanks to the Germans) been rebuilt and strengthened.   As in Patan and Kathmandu, the local Durbar Square was a jumble of redbrick, wooden windows, terra cotta roofs and striking pagodas. 

My guide for Bhaktapur (I did get better at negotiating prices) was a nice student who spoke great English. 

Following Bhaktapur, I climbed to a hill outside of town for a view of the Himalayas (as usual during my stay, the mountains were not to be seen).  I was, however, rewarded with smiles from the locals and great valley views. 

 The students were STILL protesting when I was ready to return so, after filling my body with liquid happiness in the form of a genuine Mountain Dew, I made my way back to Kathmandu by a slightly different route.

Elephants and Hill Tribes

[Sorry for the really long absence.  I've been in Nepal and internet connections are really slow.  An awesome 11 day trek to the Annapurna Himilayas also slowed me down.  I'll try to catch up from Turkey, where I arrived yesterday morning.]

After an amazing weekend, the new week began in a subdued mood.  Before I arrived in Chiang Mai, at the suggestion of several colleagues, I had intended to visit an elephant camp.  I booked an outing for Tuesday which left Monday as a recovery day.  Besides touring the old city on my bicycle, I also went for a ride up the Ping River on a rice boat.  

On the boat was a nice couple from the UK so we enjoyed the slow ride together discussing what I sadly always discuss with Brits, their accents and the Royal wedding.  At the far point of the ride we stopped at a local farm/restaurant for a snack.  We learned from our guide that a scene in Rambo IV was filmed at this location.  Sadly, now I feel compelled to see the show.  (Sorry Richard.)  I’m always surprised and pleased with how easy it is to form brief friendships with people when you are budget traveling.  

Everyone seems eager to interact with the people around them, regardless of their stage in life, background or homeland.  It makes for easy entertainment.

With some anticipation, Tuesday arrived along with my scheduled trip to the elephant camp.  We started with a tour of a butterfly/orchid farm.  After 30 minutes of wandering the site looking for the occasional butterfly, my enthusiasm began to suffer a little.

After the orchid farm, our group of one American, three French Canadians, and a French famıly visited one of the local "long-necked villages" where we saw the women who appear to extend their necks by wearing increasingly longer metal necklaces.  I understand the process in reality collapses the shoulders (which would seem obvıous after you feel how heavy the rings actually are.)  Because the setting is staged for visiters, it feels a little like you are visiting a human zoo.  On the other hand, the visits do provide some revenues for the villages so it's hard to know how to feel about them. 

Our group soon joined similar tour groups from around the city where we got to pet some elephants, get lifted up on their trunks, and watch them perform in a show which included a game of soccer.  Of everything I saw that day, watching an elephant paint a picture with its trunk with almost no assistance was the most impressive.

I couldn't draw something like this on a good day.

 However, besides this display of training and memory, the day felt like a touristy mess.   In addition to the above activities, our tour included an 30 minute elephant ride along an alternately paved and dirt road, a bumpy (and by bumpy, I mean knock-your-wig-off bumpy) oxcart ride back to the camp, a lunch served buffet style to the masses, and a (slow) ride down the river on a bamboo raft.  

Note the enthusiasm of the girls in front.

Unfortunately, by the end of the day I felt like I had spent a fair bit of money to be placed in the cramped seat of a day-long, small-town carnıval rıde called Wild Adventure Safari.  I was glad to get off.

On Wednesday, I hadn’t yet decided whether I would go south to the beaches of Thailand, west to the hilly region around Pai or northeast into Laos.  That evening as I sat in a restaurant having delicious pad thai for the second time that day, I decided to ask two guys at the table next to mine what they thought about my options.  Frequently, backpackers are either going to or coming from some place you might be considering.  As it turned out Gavin (from New Zealand) and Manuel (from Spain) were happy to share their thoughts and after a few hours of discussion and laughter, we decided to sign up for a three day, two night trek in the mountains. Later that evening, we convinced a fun and very cool couple from Quebec, Emma and Cedrik, to join us for the hike.  What started as a question to some chaps in a restaurant soon turned into a super adventure with our excellent crew. 

Wednesday afternoon, I signed up for a Muey Thai (boxing) class.  It was really tough and I felt like a klutz but it was a great workout with a very patient teacher whose nick-name is Ping.   After the work out I got to hang around while about 12 guys from the gym did some serious mixed martial arts training in anticipation of a competition they would be attending in Bangkok later this month.  This was way better than paying to watch a stadium match.   

We couldn’t book the trek until Friday so that left Thursday for me again to wander around the city.

Friday arrived and on day one of our trek we met up with another small group (three British guys, two French girls and a couple from South Korea).  

As we approached the very same butterfly/orchid farm, I tried not to spoil the surprise about what was coming for everyone.  After our mandatory 30 minutes, the only thing we all concluded was that this farm must belong to a relative of the guy who runs all of the Chiang Mai tours, so for better or worse, all of the tourists get funneled though the "farm" and accompanying gift shop.  No worries.  Our stop was brief and we were soon on our way.     


We arrived at our drop off point in the early afternoon and hiked about four hours to our evening camp.  The hike took us over hills, past small villages and through fields.  

The landscape was beautiful and our guide, Abba, made it interesting.  If only all guides could be as enthusiastic as he was.  Scanning constantly in every direction as he quickly marched ahead he made hats out of leaves, pointed out spiders and other insects and made us try edible fruits and leaves (a lot of leaves) along the way, many of which could both be eaten for food and used as a cure for most maladies, but especially for diarrhea which according to Abba can always be cured in only 20 minutes with one of these treatments.  And how can you not love a guide who has a pet squirrel (named Noi) on a little leash who rides on his shoulder except when he's scuttling in and out of his shirt.  

We continued to learn tidbits about Abba on our trip, including that he had been a sniper earlier in his life.  He was also a guide while Mel Gibson was in Thailand filming Air America.  (Anyone up for two dodgy movies?) 


The hill tribes we visited are Burmese refugees who were allowed by Thailand to settle under special arrangements in certain areas of the country.  The families seem to be okay with the supplemental income that trekkers provide and the trekkers are happy for the chance to step outside of their comfort zone.  

That night we slept in a bamboo hut on grass mats.  A big thanks to the pharmaceutical industry for a relatively tolerable night.


Day two had less hiking and .... elephant bathing!  I will confess since we were actually in the river with the elephants, it was a lot of fun, especially messing with the baby elephant.  Next was an elephant ride, this time in the jungle, which also seemed like a big step up from my first experience.  That afternoon we walked to another small village where we were met with several villagers, including a very friendly little boy and his sister.  

He was excited about shooting us with his homemade bamboo gun and she was anxious to apply and promptly wash off any lotion that happened to be lying around.  The boy knew a few English words to which we added "awesome", along with the thumbs up signal.  He quickly improved on our word by adding "monkeys" at the end of it, thus "awesome" was always "awesome! monkeys".  It probably seemed like a reasonable improvement given his dealings with western tourists.   


The evening was spent talking as a group and being entertained by an elderly man playing a nifty homemade bamboo instrument and two younger guys who played (quite well) their homemade guitar. 

 I've decide that I need to learn to play one or two guitar songs just for these occasions.  (Put me on your calendar Scott.)  Things got a little crazy that night, but as they say in these parts, "What happens in Burmese refugee villages in Thailand, stays in Burmese refugee villages in Thailand".  After another night in a bamboo hut, we were on our way out.


Day three brought a nice hike over the hills along with more interesting commentary from our guide (including how to extract water from certin vines as Gavin demonstrates) ...

and a float trıp down the river on bamboo rafts.  Maybe it was simply the fact that I liked our company, but I enjoyed it a lot more this time.  We then made our way to a gorgeous waterfall where we soaked and had lunch.  

We finished the day with a some white water rafting before driving back to Chiang Mai.  That evening our group spent the evening together, saying our formal goodbyes.  Thank you Gavin, Manuel, Emma and Cedrik for an unforgettable three days.  You're awesome! monkeys.