India, Take One

It's not the poverty of so many people, living their lives on the side of the road. It's not the dirt, the misery, the noise, the human being lying in the middle of the sidewalk, competing with two dogs for some scrap food. What I don't get is the so called civilized Indian, a man or woman with nice clothes, taking her children to visit a historical site like Red Fort, then throwing the entrance ticket on the ground when she leaves. Not drop it by mistake, they rip it in 8 or 16 pieces and throw them all on the ground, in front of the symbol of their independence.

They would stop to grab some street food and throw the plate on the ground, under their feet. Not just the plate made of leaf, but the one-use metallic one. The lady in a new fancy little car, coming out of the fashion store, throwing the labels from her new clothes out of the window. Little things like this I cannot comprehend, how could I even attempt to understand the dirt of Delhi? So even if there's a sidewalk, I chose to walk closer to the road, away from the wall, the liquid marks are urine, but that's not the danger. The danger is to step in human excrements, or even worse step on some limb from what seems to be some human living on that side of the side walk. The road side is safer, even with rickshas, bicycles, tuktuks and cars coming from all directions.

I am really impressed by the quality of roads so far. I am impressed with the traffic, it seems much less congested than Nepal, at the right time of the day you can go long distance quite fast, even find a seat on the bus. We live next to the ring road, I don't know how old this is, but it seems like an amazing feat, it makes everything in and around Delhi attainable. I should have checked better the location of our apartment, it is advertised as five minutes by car from this and that, this means there is no immediate access to the Delhi Metro. This seems to be the really great thing that happened in Delhi this century and they will continue to develop and expand it. Once, we got out of the metro where they have a little museum and we could understand better what an amazing accomplishment this is. The unique thing about the Delhi Metro? The only one in the world that uses broad track and standard track in the same time! And how nicely they explained it, it was a political decision to use broad track, despite the fact that 90% of the world's city subways use standard. Then a few years later, other government, another political decision, the next sections of the track will be standard...

Otherwise, during the first days here, I had the impression that there has been no new construction in 50 years. Everything is crummy, dirty, run down, it seems to break apart if they sneeze too hard. Everything is covered by a thick layer of dust, everything everywhere. The commercial complex next to our apartment is alive but looks like a deserted scene from a science fiction movie, the ones where they show the cities some years after a nuclear blast. After a few days and tens of kilometers travelled by bus, I did see here and there some new constructions, nothing great but looking like a building. On the main street (what a dump!), we found a McDonalds. We were happy to have ice-cream and later returned for dinner. The first McDonalds we've seen without a toilet. Everybody knows, while in US these are the cheapest and dirtiest of the restaurants, in foreign countries they are luxury or mid level and you can always find a toilet. Not in Delhi. This one had a bucket by the front door for washing hands. But it had flat screen TVs (and it was fairly clean and with good food).

We found our apartment on Airbnb, a "luxury" one with 3 bedrooms. Besides the problem with the location, there was the ring road just in front and they were demolishing the building next door. People were working there round the clock, one night there was the back-hoe loading a long line of trucks with rubble. We had a lot of dust and a lot of noise. The owner of the apartment was very nice and helpful, a retired mathematician and a published poet. When the children first saw the apartment, their jaws dropped, they haven't seen anything so luxurious before. We weren't quite as excited, but we liked it.

The living room, view from the dining room...

The kitchen was old and we had problems with the appliances, the water was on every now and then, it was also cold at night. The internet worked sporadically, letting some of our electronics connect randomly. Having internet was essential - to get on Google Maps and find our public transportation options around the city. Another listed quality of our apartment? Next to the chain store, Big Apple. This is a store smaller than the living room in this apartment, is the worst general store I've ever seen, but after walking all the area for hours, I know: it's the only store. There are hundreds and hundreds of little stores on the streets surrounding us, but none of them is better, none of them has any edible food, sorry. I guess I could have them sacrifice one live chicken, but looking at the hygiene in the store, I gave up. Hoping that I would eventually forget what I saw, I will skip the details of how the meat or food is kept and handled around here. I do remember courses from medical school, we even had one called "the hygiene of alimentation", so I probably know too much. I also read recently a very good book "How to shit around the world", despite the title, it is a book about hygiene and how to stay healthy while traveling. So I do know a bit too much.

They charge foreigners 250 rupees at a monument, it's about $5. Not too much, but consider this: it is 25 times what an Indian pays. In Nepal, the price for foreigners was 4-5 times more ($2.5 compared to 50 cents). Here it is 25 times. Some might make the argument that obviously foreigners can afford that, and the Indians deserve to see and value the treasures of their country. This raises two interesting aspects. First the government of India sends the concerted message: "foreigners have money, let's rip them off" and all over, from a banana to a bus ticket, to taxi or clothes in the bazaar, the price is inflated at least 3-4 times. The Indians feel they are right to do this, the government says so. The foreigner doesn't believe anybody or anything, they shouldn't, and at least in my case, takes all the joy or interest from an interaction with any local. The second aspect is that probably the Indians don't really appreciate the value of what they have and what they see. When they pay 10 rupees ($0.2) to visit the Red Fort, this is how much they value it, and they will throw their tickets and their dirt on the ground.
How can we develop the skills of interacting with Indians? We should not trust anybody or anything that anybody says. They stop you on the street, "Hello sir, where are you from?" and we are supposed to ignore them completely and just move on. People come in your face, want to sell you something, cab drivers want to take you somewhere, store owners want you to "just look at my work, no need to buy anything", beggars want just 10 rupees or some food, and on and on and on. We both feel uncomfortable with ignoring people, looking through them like they wouldn't exist, teaching our kids to do just that. We are pretty good at it, but we really don't like it.

Back to the government. We are now visiting the biggest democracy in the world. Or so it's called. It is a dynasty, one party ruling all, a mind blowing bureaucracy, an antiquated society, a corrupt government. They can afford to have a nuclear bomb and spend $10 billions for fighter jets, but cannot afford to clean the streets and put their people in some decent ghettoes. The anti corruption campaigns and well publicized fasts of a crusader, Anna Hazare (a frail old man) seem to raise awareness and maybe start to change something. The government is making a commission to address corruption but the parliament is still fighting over the casts quota in the commission and what domains would be shielded from investigations.

Security detail

"Civilized" urinal

They do keep track of their cultural places and what we've seen so far has been very beautiful. Some of these monuments could take just a little cleaning or maintenance, but we've seen some work of restoration and there is some clear effort. We spent one week in Delhi and we had a busy schedule. Check it out!

Write Your World (amino): Dec 13, 2011: Our 15 Minutes of Fame in India

Write Your World (amino): Dec 13, 2011: Our 15 Minutes of Fame in India: Yesterday at Qutub Minar— a 73m tower made of red and buff-colored sandstone. Building on it started in 1199 AD. Naturally, there are...

Write Your World (amino): Dec 12, 2011: Nepali Religion

Write Your World (amino): Dec 12, 2011: Nepali Religion: Nepal practices both Buddhism and Hinduism. Added to the enormous amounts of Hindu gods and goddesses are the Buddhas. It's hard to u...

On Writing Challenges

As I've mentioned many times by now, I am participating writing 1.2 million words in 2012. Many members of my writing group are attempting to write 1 million words. Because 1 million words is roughly equivalent to 11-17 novels (60 to 90,000 words each), we all need some mini-challenges to keep us going.

There are some official ones, like Script Frenzy— write 100 pages of script in April, or FAWM— write 14 songs in February.

But others are self-imposed— finish editing NaNo'09's novel, or rewrite NaNo'10's. 

Still others are not writing challenges— we're including reading challenges in 2012's resolutions (ranging from 30 to 150 books), as well as other life goals. (One person is walking 1000 purposeful miles and starting up her business again.)

I've undertaken… 28 challenges for 2012 and am contemplating two more. You can see them all here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1f6mW7zi4PXzMbncHDRgwh40LDpKsgWGYKUkhy_iOL1g/edit?hl=en_US

The list isn't completed yet— I'm thinking of adding in a couple more things as I find them… and I'm already planning on refining my French (so I can actually speak it without starting to talk in Spanish).

It will be very exciting to see how many of these challenges I can actually complete. I'm estimating that the short story writing alone will be 366,000 to 1 million words, depending on short story length. 

The problem is that in December I already have a big goal— finish 13 books and write 110,000 more words in December.  This might lead to burnout, which I'm dreading. I had it all through November. I'm not sure if I can do it— if anything, writing will be set aside. I can always keep going with words in January and February, but I can't finish those 13 books in 2012.

One of the challenges I've undertaken is the Write Your World challenge. While discussing the various challenges we were each undertaking, one of my friends in the writing group said, "Maria, I just invented the perfect challenge for you."

"What is it?" I asked, "The 'see how many challenges you can actually finish' challenge?"

"No," said ktbarrow, "the 'write 500 words a day about the world around you' challenge."

I stared at the screen, my heart sinking. "Damn." I said, "I have to take that. It's too awesome not to."

"Awesome." Said kt. I grinned.

I went to blogger, made a new blog called http://wywamino.blogspot.com, and started writing. 

The rules I've imposed on myself for the WYW challenge are:

1. Write 500 words a day.

2. Posts must be at least 490 words. They cannot be more than 510 words.

3. Planning for posts is acceptable. Taking notes is acceptable. Anything else isn't.

I'll be updating the WYW blog every day we have internet connection, and hopefully I'll be able to keep finding new things to post about! So far I have… too many ideas to count.

(This post is 496 words long)

Nepal

Namaste Nepal!

We’re driving on a zig-zag road with a slope at variable angles. We’re coming down from the rarefied atmosphere of the Tibetan plateau toward the place where clouds are born. The first wave of humidity spoils our lungs: how easy it is to breathe! From the valley white steam is rising and clings onto branches from the opposite mountain. There is so much green and we even see flowers. We’re close to the border. In the town, the houses are backed by the mountain, the road is so narrow, very little space for trucks. It’s a mix of people and clothes. We cross the border on the Friendship Bridge. It is a simple one that unites two different worlds. Best foot forward over the yellow line: “Welcome to Nepal” said a guy who noticed my gesture.

On the Nepali side the houses are in the process of being constructed and used in the same time. They are tall and narrow, with three floors. The business is always on the first floor: a tea house, a store or a travel agency.

We wait for the private car to take us to Kathmandu. I leave them at the immigration office and with Ioan I take a climbing road to take some pictures. We climb in search of a spot from where we could take a photo of the valley, but vegetation covers everything. Finally we arrive in a hamlet.....heeeey, I took a picture of this one from the Tibetan side. It looks idyllic, roofs made of straw, the creek beside the fence, red flowers, green terraces...

Water, there is an abundance of water, flowing freely between rocks, making waterfalls, it is captured in hoses and released in faucets covered with a rag, so it will not splash. Women sit and scrub the laundry with soap, and then with a brush and after that they rinse. Water is carried in buckets on a shoulder stick to the construction site, it is sprinkled on the floor before sweeping... what century are we in?

We meet with Anu, a cousin of the hotel owner from Kathmandu, and we climb into minivan. They drive on the right side. Immediately the driver starts honking, he drives on the wrong side of the road between trucks which transport goods to and from the border. At one point our driver is forced to wait and turn off the engine; in front of us is a line of trucks that are driving on the correct side of the road (the side without pot holes). In the curve made by the road in a streamlet is a woman crouching and scrubbing the lunch plates with dust to clean them. The last truck signals to us with the headlights that no one is coming after him and that we can continue on our way.

There are many signs that we are in another country. The road hugs the mountain, but whereas in Tibet it was asphalted and the pot hole areas were announced by large red rocks in the middle of the road, in Nepal it’s just pot holes. If you look up, you see the piles of sand and rocks which slipped down last monsoon season. Occasionally we drive on a brand new road, as Maria termed it, newly dug because the old one fell apart in the monsoon. Only now do we understand Tsewang’s and the driver’s eagerness to leave the valley quickly—if something happens to the road, there is no way to go anywhere for a few days.

The honks are different: short, hurried, repeated —tit-ti-ti-ti-TIIIIIIIT! I won’t even mention the ones with melodies. The driver accelerates for a few meters and then brakes so hard our noses hit the seats in front, just so he can pass over a hole. However hard he tries, he can’t surpass 40 km/h (25 mph).

In wider areas there is sometimes a village, with the houses built close together. Most of them are unfinished brick. The old ones are from adobe. All of them have corn ears hung up to dry on the roof’s rafters.  On the unfinished stories the rice sheaffs, the corn or other agricultural products are drying. In front of them some short, improvized shed shelters a bag with weeds from which some goats are eating. Rice is strewn over the road and we drive over them to thrash it. A bit further, it is winnowed with a huge plateau by a woman dressed in a saree.

We pass through the mountains, but the road is still hanging on the side of the hills. The valley offers us a privileged view of the opposing hills. The road is constantly on the crest. Here, also, is the greatest concentration of people and houses. The stairs start where it becomes steep, next to the terraces and water. I continuously look out the window and the landscape keeps its elements: road, houses with yellow, brown, green terraces, without pause. Like Peruvian roads they’re surrounded by rocks, but only set on top of each other, without any special care. 

As we get closer to Kathmandu, the road gets more crowded and passing is a bit more rare. There is almost continuous honking, like a sort of announcement—I’m approaching the curb, pay attention. The differences between the city and village are mainly the height of the buildings and the greater concentration of people, cars, and garbage. A woman rocked her baby at the second floor of a block that had no walls, despite the fact that the ground floor was finished and with windows. The street exists and is asphalted (and with holes, but smaller), but the sidewalk is nonexistent, the people walk through dust. On the side, the store-owners struggle with little broom to sweep the dust from the steps, but in a few minutes it’s back. The wares are dusted several times a day with hands, rags, brooms. The dust enters between your teeth and you begin to understand why they keep spitting. Where does all this dust come from? On a radius of 50 meters we have at least four construction sites and a demolition site.

We reach Thamel, Kathmandu’s touristic quarter. There are lots of shops full of souvenirs, clothes, and restaurants. On the four rows of narrow, outside-opening double-doors, the wares are hung. On the stairs sit baskets, and between them sits the owner and maybe a few friends with whom he speaks. In general they’re quiet, but it’s enough to catch your eye and they start to speak... in English! How easy it is to make yourself understood, to ask for an extra blanket because you’re cold, to ask for “not spicy” food. The majority of the people speak English, not just the ones in the tourist business. The slogan “Education is the national defense” makes sense.

We finish the day at the Italian restaurant Alchemy at the hotel’s ground floor, because we’re starving, tired and we don’t have any energy to search for some edible Nepali food.  During our stay in Kathmandu we will return again and again to eat here because the food is good and the staff is friendly.

One of the things we have to do in Nepal is to vaccinate ourselves against rabies, yellow fever and typhoid. In United States it would cost us $4000 for all five of us while here it’s only $650. We weighed the decision if we should get an anti-rabies vaccine or not and in the end it mattered that one lick on a little scratch and you have to have five injections instead of three, two in the first 24 hours. What if we are on some mountain top attacked by hungry monkeys? How do we know that if we get to the hospital they have what they need? The other two vaccines are necessary because we intend to get to Africa in endemic areas.

Teak door with Buddhist motifs.

It was a little hard to find the clinic, there are no clear addresses and even the neighbors cannot tell you clearly where it is. The first impression was of a country dispensary. They had an old consult table in the office, a metal screen with a curtain, a baby scale with sliding weights on the top of the cabinet, but they had new posters on the walls. The people were very nice and the nurse was very careful to show us the expiration date on the vaccines and to give us the shots.

We immediately took homeopathic remedies to prevent the pain and the toxicity (Vaccinotoxinum, Arnica C5, Horse serum C30, and because the next day we were tired and grumpy I added Drenor Hepatic and Solidago C7). For those interested we did not have pain with movement, just at touch, Ioan is the only one who had fever, three days after.

“We don’t have pictures from Nepal!” Mihai declared while trying to find some to put on the blog. I know, and we have many reasons for this. I read a book written in 1923, Percy Brown’s “Picturesque Nepal”, he described two types of architecture and their distribution in the country, depending on what areas were conquered and when. Now all the building are about the same: narrow, cramped, decayed or unplastered. Filth everywhere, garbage, bags of cement or rubble in the middle of the street. 

The temples, so white and free in Brown’s pictures, are now hidden under dust or merchandise. We tried to take a walking trip to the Durbar Square (the Palace Square), reading along the way about the temples that we passed by. We gave up after 1,500 meters, flooded with too much information and by too many people. We should be open to the differences, as we try to learn more about this culture, but it is very hard to understand their religion, a mix of Hinduism and Buddhism. In Tibet, Tsewang did a very good job, I was able to learn the ABCs of Buddhism, I was able to recognize the statues. Here there are three gods, they reincarnate under different manifestations, plus their wives, their children, the demons, I don’t know where they come from... I can accept this, as well as the symbols of fertility, but I had enough with what is to me a lack of respect: they are on the ground, at dogs level, I could step on them by accident, some are so old they are underground, and the blessing red paste that they add every day gives them a dirty appearance.

On the second try we took a guide, as we stepped out of the cab. He asked us where are we from and he excitedly showed us Romanian money. Prakash (pronounced Prah-KAHS) walked us through the three squares, telling us about the new palace (looks like the Bank of England), the old palace, in dreadful shape, with cracks in the brick walls and bent teak windows (there were some wood scaffoldings in front of it, I presume they are going to renovate it), about the temples, which one’s who’s and how to recognize them from the animal that is in front of it (Maria described it here), the hippies who came and found a country without laws for what they wanted so they expressed themselves fully, about Kumari, the living goddess ( read here), about customs.

To the left a Hindu temple, to the right the Old Palace.

The courtyard of the living goddess' house,  Kumari.

Detail of the courtyard step.

Detail of a window, front of Kumari's house.

Kumari house. The golden thing on the roof is the representation of the way to Nirvana.

This is where one could find the constructions described by Brown, those reddish buildings, with decorative teak windows, that would allow the regal family to see outside, but not to be seen, delicate wood sculpture, simple interior courtyard. We climbed the steps of the Hari Krishna temple, just to have a view, but we saw the same dirt and disorder. I looked inside a Hindu temple and saw the women sitting on the floor in every direction. I was told that they were praying. In some other place it was a god with a face of a demon (painted in loud colors). Once a year beer pours out of his mouth and men fight each other to drink it.

Courtyard with temples, Buddhist and Hindu.

Two Buddhist temples and around them, the market.

Hindu Temple

Wherever you turn you find a Ganesh, a lingam or the feminine equivalent, a six point star, a Buddha. In the guide’s words, the Nepalese want that the first thing that they do to be religion related, then they will have a good day. So that’s why every courtyard has a small Hindu and Buddhist temple. If one wants to reach Nirvana one has to do good karma, good deeds. If one gives money, because he has them, it doesn’t count, but if the one who receives them is happy, then karma is good. If you give him money to go to school, and instead uses them for drugs, your karma is good, his is not. If you believe in Shiva, he will help you, if you don’t believe, then this is just a rock and you have no gain.

Swayambhunath temple or the monkeys' temple

Prayer at the Swayambhunath temple.

Swayambhunath Temple, the one that so many Tibetans dream to visit, is swarming with monkeys, dogs, hawks and vendors. The praying hall is small, and the monks, gathering for the evening prayers, gave me the impression that they were just doing their job. Nothing from the austere atmosphere and quiet resistance from Gyantse. But we had the Kathmandu valley at our feet.

Patan's Palace Square

Temple in the Durbar Square, Patan

An emperor had three sons and he divided his kingdom in three parts, so they would not quarrel. But after he died, they did fight each other. Patan is one of those kingdoms and it has a single square with temples, statues, water fountain and palace. It was clean and neat. We hired another guide who told us many things about the king and the royal family, the Nepalese garuda (the vehicle of transport of one of the gods, lion body with wings) has a human face, not a bird one, like the Indonesian one, and those two kiosks were actually two beds, on which people who visited the city for different reasons would sleep (the motel business wasn’t started yet). I don’t understand what was special about the golden temple, maybe just that the priests would heal the different ailments of people with vibrations of a bowl. We were taken for a demonstration and saw the droplets of water jumping from the outside toward inside because of vibration and I felt its concentration in my chest when he put it on my head (this gave me a headache, which it would have been cured if I had it in the beginning). We also visited the museum, started with Austrian help, with few objects and succinct explanations (though too many for our brain’s hard-drive, as Ioan says).

The people with whom we had contact were very nice and obliging. “You just have to tell us and it will be done” it was their answer to anything. Dhanyabad, thank you.

The days spend in Chitwan were nice and relaxing. We slept at Sapana Lodge Village, a few villas, an office and a riverside restaurant. Started with Netherlands funds, the project invests part of the earnings in a local school. The first night we saw traditional Tharu dances: war dance, New Year dance, Thakara— for harvest, Thumara dower (?) — when someone dies, friends try to bring a smile to the relatives’ faces, boys dressing in girl’s clothes, the fire dance and Jilly, wedding dance. We were invited to participate in the last one.

Around us where blooming mustard fields, buffalos, goats, elephants and Tharu villages. Originally they are Hindus who used to live in the jungle, but since the park started they were forced to live outside of it and learn a new skill: agriculture. Their houses are from elephant’s grass, a kind of reed, that is coated with mud and dung. They rebuild them every year, leaving just a small part of uncoated reeds for a window. 

A mat hanged on a wood frame stops the mice and snakes. They embellish them with their right hand fingerprints in different colors (the left hand is considered unclean). The roof is from straw. Women who already have a tattoo cook on an open hearth and their chopping block is a two stone system.

Water comes from a well with a bucket or from a pump (we saw an elephant drinking from one, his trunk glued to it and the owner pumping; when the trunk was full, the owner would stop and the elephant would empty the trunk in his mouth). The weights are carried in a basket on their back supported by a  strap on their foreheads.

Even here are many construction sites because of the park that brings tourists. At the corner is a general store, and next to it is the butcher, today he has chicken, what part of it would you like? When we visited the village we were surrounded by children. Learning our children’s names they started repeating them, especially Ileana’s. They were having fun before evening’s chores.

In Kathmandu women wear saree or dhaka, a knee-length shirt with pants. Hair in a pony-tail or a low bun, bindi (over the “third eye”) and a red color in the middle of the hairline if they are married. Men wear western clothes. In front of our hotel there was a middle school where children dressed in uniforms were learning in classrooms without doors, windows without panes, repeating after their teacher or one of their classmates reading from a book, from 10 to 4 pm. They had a lunch break to go home and eat. In recess they would go in the courtyard and jump rope or play with a small ball. Saturday is free and they have two vacations of 10 days, plus many religious holidays spread around the year. Soldiers are present all over the place and they will check your papers, but is not the same feeling as in China. They are relaxed, they smile, they are just doing their job.

Farewell Nepal! Namaste!

Nepal by day

"I don't understand all these people, from Germany, Thailand, Romania... From America, Japan, Romania, what do they find in Nepal? I don't understand why they come here!" said my taxi driver. We are returning from the Thai Embassy and I am probably the first Romanian that he took there. He pointed to me the new American Embassy, an absurdly huge and bunkered construction that could house half of Nepal, but it's actually designed to keep Nepal out. He also pointed to me a couple of other embassies and the palace of the former king's son. Theoretically, the king, now deposed, is living in a simple two bedroom apartment, but from different people I learned that he is a very rich businessman and they need his business in the country, that he has a summer and a winter residence, and, now the taxi driver shows me the son's residence guarded by the army and protected by huge walls. I never had a chance to explain to my driver why people come to Nepal, but I listened to him complaining about their politicians and I assured him, that they are just as bad all over the world, surely in Romania and America. Possibly, with only the five years of democracy their politicians might be better than ours, just beginners, players in the little leagues.
I would have explained to him that people come to Nepal because it has some of the most important historical relics in the world, the highest mountain range, some interesting cultures and a great tropical jungle. But he probably knows that.
As we left China, we crossed the Friendship Bridge. Ileana wanted to take a picture but we were still on the Chinese side and somebody stopped us. Two Chinese soldiers stood at the half point, no Nepalese soldiers countered them, an amoebaen crowd by foot on this small, sorry bridge. When I read about it, I imagined a fantastic construction, but it's nothing. We entered Nepal. I read Marie's account of her trip, and I did not want not to miss the immigration booth. It's there, down the road, after a few houses. We are clearly in a different country, the mix of people is a bit different, but mostly there is something in the air. It's freedom. It's the lack of a militaristic attitude, people smile differently, they wear their head on their shoulder differently.
We travelled for several hours on the worst road we've ever seen, they call it highway and it's a vital link for Nepal. Obviously not as important as their connections to India, but this is the only road to China. It gets washed out in some sections during the monsoon season, they redo it every year. At some point we saw our road and below and above the remnants of the roads from past years. The occasional potholes on the Chinese highway turned into occasional patches of asphalt. We were in a banged up van, Ioan was unhappy that the driver drove too fast. He mostly stopped, waiting for trucks to pass the opposite way, but sometimes he sped up to 30-40 km per hour, for 10-20 seconds at a time. We stopped at some point to see some bungy jumpers, and another time at some restaurant. The landscape was magnificent, the mountains, the river below, the vegetation. On the side of the highway, people and horrible constructions, maybe their houses. Slowly but surely, the road got better, the houses got bigger and nicer, we passed a couple of little towns, after a while we entered the Kathmandu Valley. We went through Bhaktapur, we would have to come to visit here, but later. There were several lines per sense, occasional police officers directing traffic. We got to our hotel after more than 5 hours for 111 km. There are so many images of this trip in my mind, but one will stay for some time. A beautiful young lady washing dishes in a puddle, on the side of the highway, 5-10 ton trucks passing by, her dishes took a bit of the space of the road, we stayed watching her for a few minutes because there wasn't room for two way traffic.
We had an interesting discussion with the children about the different worlds, Nepal being the first third world country and the difference with China, a second world country or with the first world Japan. Ioan reluctantly accepted that our beat up van was a luxurious mode of transportation.

Traveling through Nepal, a break on the side of the road.

Kathmandu has a special allure in the traveling community, apparently in the 60s it was a major destination for hippies, coming to a world where everything was permitted. Things changed significantly since then, but they have this touristic quarter, Thamel, with countless hotels and about 2500 stores! My guidebook mentions the risks and dangers of Kathmandu, and besides the serious warnings, they warn that one of the mistakes is to stay too much in Thamel and miss the real Kathmandu. Our hotel was a bit over our budget, but we had a "family room", actually three connected rooms with two bathrooms. We chose it because we were tired of having the children in a separate hotel room as we did for the past month in China. It was nice to be altogether for a change. The hotel was at the end of Thamel, a little quieter but still crazy. It had an Italian restaurant on the ground floor and we ate there repeatedly. We had nine nights, split four and five.
We had goals, getting vaccinations and the Thai visa, getting some rest and also some school done. The first day we got the bulk of our vaccines, we spent $475, but getting exactly the same injections, same preparations, same company, would have been $4000 in the USA. These are real prices for five people, not estimations! We checked it, we called, we know. We just walked in and we were done in 1 hour.
Next day, following the Lonely Planet guide, I tried to take my family to the most important place, the Durbar Square. We couldn't make it. Maria didn't want to go, it took a bit of energy to pull her against her will, but mostly, it was the street of Kathmandu that killed us. We had to walk 1.5 km, normally a 15 minute fast pace walk, but after two hours we were only halfway. We decided to return home, we already saw countless temples and shrines, windows and balconies, doors and plazas.

First attempt at Kathmandu

A temple. Just a temple. People selling stuff on its stairs.

It seems that almost every house had something historic, a little Ganesh, a little other statue, reading about it, looking at it, trying not to be run over while doing this and then just advancing in the crazy crowd. We couldn't make it. The next day we didn't move (I went to the Thai Embassy by myself) and then we went to Chitwan National Park.
This former royal hunting ground is another World Heritage Site, famous for the rhinos and the tigers, as well as many other mammals, snakes and countless species of birds. It is a tropical jungle at the base of the Himalayas and it's also known for the elephant rides in the jungle.
We took our time there and we enjoyed it. Ileana wrote about the first day, I wrote a bit about the second day. Overall, it was a good experience, despite the two days spent on the bus. It was good to be out of the city for a change.

First night in Chitwan. Sunset

Sapana Lodge, the bar.

Saying goodbye after the elephant ride

Taking of off the back of the rhino

Stuck in traffic on the way back to Kathmandu

Coming back to Kathmandu, we were determined, we had to make it to the Durbar Square. First we had the second shot of rabies, $175 (compared to $1500 in America). Next day we took a cab, 150 rupees, about two dollars and we were there in no time. Maria gave information about Kumari here. Ileana will also write about this here.
We learned a valuable lesson. As we both got tired reading in our book the description of all the temples, we followed their recommendation to pick a local guide. The guide was nice, showed us the pictures of his six year old son and of his wife, he had a good command of English and he seemed genuinely interested to make us understand the basics of their religions and traditions. We payed him more than what he initially requested, then we invited him to lunch to a restaurant that he or other Nepalese cannot afford. It was next to the former royal palace, on the terrace with a beautiful view. We wanted more inside information, specifics about their lives, politics and history. We learned that just a few years after the referendum that decided to replace the monarchy with a republic, now 65% of people want the "good" king back. Big surprise. Of course, they could have asked me, I would have told them that the republic is not a viable form of government. We talked a bit about the other things to see and we decided to go with him to the monkey temple. We got all in a tiny Maruti Suzuki, seven people in a car for four people. We payed him some extra, we thought we were very generous and he was unhappy, he wanted double. He got a little bit more than I wanted to give and the whole experience left a sour taste. We should have stopped after the first sight, we learned that it is important to know when to say enough.

But again, he did a good job of showing the Durbar Square, that is actually a three squares collection of palaces, all of them part of the World Heritage site and really good to see.

Entrance to the Kumari Temple, Kathmandu 

One the squares of Durbar Square, Kathmandu

Royal Palace, King's Observation Tower, Kathmandu

View of Kathmandu from the monkey temple

Swayambhunath, a temple, tourists, sellers and monkeys

They do have a funny side

The children liked the Swayambhunath (monkey temple) and being able to see it on the same day freed up the Friday for another embassy run and more school. Ioan got a haircut, the first in his life with a real professional barber and he was amazed and excited, he wanted to show everybody, he stopped the doormen at the hotel and told the waiter at the restaurant!
On our last day we made it to Patan Durbar Square. There were three rival kingdoms once, Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur, they all had their king and the royal palace and the royal plaza, in front of the palace (Durbar Square). The Patan king "was very very good", he would go up in the observation tower to watch over his people, and if he didn't see smoke coming of some house it meant they didn't have anything to cook for dinner. So he sent them food or brought them to the palace to share dinner! Several other temples, another guide, good experience and we liked it better than the Kathmandu one. The highlight was the Patan Museum, arranged with help from the Austrian government in a restored section of the old royal palace. Small, nice, quiet, with exquisite pieces of old Nepali art and very good English descriptions. A gem.

Patan Durbar Square

Patan Durbar Square

Trying to get the monkey's attention. It has special powers. Golden Temple

We had 13 days in Nepal. At some point we wanted to make it to Pokhara, but we decided to keep it simple and the schedule was more relaxed. We got enough of Nepal for now. We loved many things about it but we also got a little introduction to a crazy, chaotic, dirty and poor Asian metropolis. They have these amazing cultural values in a state of horrible misery, but apparently some things are better now than 30-40 years ago. Any country that would have such a 700 year old statue or temple by the side of the road, would do something to acknowledge and protect it, but in Nepal they have so many, they are probably getting tired of them. I know we did.

Because of water shortages this time of the year, Kathmandu had twice a day power outages, all the hotels, restaurants and most of the businesses had solar panels and alternative circuits. All the rooms had multiple switches and there would still be some light but no electricity. The garbage was another issue, apparently because of their religion people would not have trash cans in front of their house, but they would just dump it in the street and collection trucks would dump it in the river. Watching people drive in Nepal is an unique experience, but it's also a good example of our adaption and on how we are doing so far. You have to trust the driver and believe that all ends well. After a few hours in the car, two buses were coming toward us occupying the whole road and I had no reaction! No reaction!