Day 33

02/10/12

Today I was off to find Swayambhunath (or as it’s more commonly known, the Monkey Temple) across Kathmandu’s main river. I strode through the mayhem of the streets, as usual in this maze losing my way a bit. I came upon a high school (all schools have signs in English). Outside children were filling into buses, many sitting on the roofs. There was some kind of rivalry going on between two buses and they were shouting out good-naturedly to each other as they sped off. Some of them waved at me.

Back on the correct road, the buildings began to change in style, becoming more modern as I left the old town. I passed two cows on the road, which nonchalantly strolled along whilst cars and bikes swerved around them. Sometimes passers-by would touch a cow with their hand and do a holy sign against their own chest. Like India, cows are held sacred here so they can go where they want and pretty much do what they want. Someone recently told me the punishment for killing a cow is the same as for murdering a person! I noticed one had an ear tag so I guess they still have owners. I overtook the chilled out bovines and went by a little butchers’ – with a whole buffalo leg propped up against the wall. Don’t look, cows! Butchers here are basic, usually just a room filled with meat and a chopping board. I’ve never seen a cooling system or ice – the meat just lies out in the open often with flies crawling on it. It’s not just the expensive cuts either, I’ve seen jawbones, heads and feet on display.

I came to a primary school which was crammed into one of the tiny old buildings, I could see kids through the upper shutters. It looked dark inside. A beggar came up to me but I ignored him which is the best way to get rid of them. Kathmandu has its fair share of beggars, especially in the tourist areas and at temples. It’s the eternal moral dilemma of whether to help, and if you do, who to help. Who needs the money most? The guy with one leg? An old woman? A street kid? You can’t help everyone and you have no idea what the money’s going towards. Undoubtedly some of the able bodied make a good living from begging when perhaps they could be working. You just don’t know. I rarely give for these reasons, and of course my low budget. I would rather give to charities that help people on the street, or donate more concrete things than money, such as clothes or food so you know it’s going to be used for a worthwhile cause. In the case of street kids, the Lonely Planet advises not to give to them as it encourages more kids to turn to begging, and adults even send kids to bring in money for them. If you want to help it’s better to give to NGOs (non governmental organizations) who assist kids on the street, getting them an education and accommodation. I’ve even heard stories of street kids here who will accept packaged food, and then immediately go and sell it back to a shop, to get money to spend on drugs!

Anyway, you could discuss the moral minefield of beggars for hours. Back to my trip. I came to the road bridge over the Vishnumati river. Near to it I saw men stuffing pillows with down, a man sorting through a mountain of plastic rubbish and as I got closer to the river I could see, and smell, how polluted it was. The inlets and banks were covered in piles of rubbish. The water looked a nasty colour and was dotted with islands of rubbish. It all stank of sewage and rot. When you see the state of one of the major rivers in the city you can see why Nepal has serious water problems. You wouldn’t go anywhere near that river with a barge pole.

Fancy a drink?

On the bridge a boy was flying a small square plastic kite. It looked like it was made from food wrappers. Kites are popular with the kids in Nepal and you sometimes see them flying above the roofs, or caught on high cables. This guy was pretty good, saving it from certain death a number of times and swooping it back around, skyward again. Further up-river I could see cows on the banks, and kites (this time, I mean the birds of prey) soaring overhead. Over the bridge I turned down a side road to check out a small temple, which accompanied an array of shrines, most of the statues were worn away to almost nothing, but were still red with tikka dye and had remnants of offerings; rice and flowers stuck on them. For many people of Nepal making offerings at shrines is a part of daily life. Beyond the temple was a very smelly canal where hens roamed on the pathways. I went back to follow the winding main road uphill.

After five minutes I reached a break in the buildings and realized this hill had been a cunning decoy! In fact the real Monkey Temple hill was visible about a mile away in the distance! I could see the golden pyramid poking out through the forested hilltop. “A leisurely stroll” from Thamel, the book said. If that’s what you call a leisurely stroll you need help mate!

The views between the building gaps were impressive, the sprawl of Kathmandu rolled out into the distance and green hills lay beyond. Kites and crows whirled around above the rooftops. The city was much bigger than I’d thought and an array of coloured and irregular buildings fuzzed into the haze. The road wound its way up for another fifteen minutes as the sun blazed down.

I reached the base of the Monkey Temple’s hill, where taxis and beggars swarmed around the beginning of the large stone staircase disappearing into the trees where it got much steeper. The staircase was flanked by big statues, some golden. The staircase coursed around small shrines. Children, some as young as 3 or 4 years old, were sent by mothers sitting nearby to say “hello” or “please” and follow you with their hand outstretched. They were dirty and looked bedraggled, and didn’t give up easily. I felt angry at the mothers for making their kids do this from such a young age, but it probably works.

Along the wide staircase were many souvenir vendors, most selling nice metal embossed plaques with ornate patterns or messages. There were also old or injured beggars sat on the stairs. A lot of tourists were around, mostly oriental or South Asian. Pretty soon I saw the monkeys that give the place its name. They are called rhesus monkeys, grey-brown and big. There were loads of them; males, females and babies, lounging around on the stones beside the steps, running around in the bushes nearby, swinging from the branches of trees. Tourists flocked around them and some monkeys were taking food from them, whether offered or stolen I’m not sure!

Some of the monkeys scurried off you if you got close, others were totally un-phased. Babies clung to their mum’s backs or bellies, sometimes sprinting to grab on if their parent legged it. Groups of monkeys were grooming each other. Sometimes you’d see ones with a biscuit, a wrapper or a plastic bottle in their hand, with puzzled expressions, trying to figure out if there was food inside.

The last stretch of stairs were very steep and a little ticket office was right near the top. The trees cleared and the amazing views around the valley were revealed when you looked back. A few more steps and there stood the big white stupa dome, topped by a golden pyramid with curved Buddah eyes painted on each side. Colourful strings of prayer flags were strung from the top down to the corners. Around the stupa’s base were prayer wheels and round lamp holders. Smaller buildings, shrines stood in clusters, only meters apart. There were some food vendors and small souvenir shops in little old buildings around the small paved hilltop. On the edges were fenced viewing platforms where you could admire the panorama of Kathmandu stretching in every direction into the shimmering haze.

To the north close by was an adjacent, smaller, wooded hill covered in huge strings of prayer flags and more little statues. I descended some stairs to have a look. It was a really nice spot. Monkeys, dogs and pidgeons were everywhere, around a collection of small stupas and big groups of Indian tourists got off at the bus park nearby. A little monastery was up here, in bad shape, and a little temple with colourful prayer wheels. There was also a wooden structure in the temple where people had scrawled white graffiti all over the beams.

I walked back up to the main temple passing many beggars with crutches and a few robed monks with collection bowls. and made my way down the flight of steps to the entrance. On the way down I passed some western girls I’d spoken briefly to earlier and asked if they wanted to share a taxi back to Thamel, I couldn’t be bothered walking all that way in the afternoon heat. They agreed and we went back to Kathmandu. Turns out they’d only met each other an hour earlier at the temple and were both travelling solo. One girl, Anya, was Swiss and would shortly be teaching in a Nepali school for 5 months, the other was Dutch, Rose, and she was travelling around the country. We went for lunch in Thamel and swapped email addresses in the hopes of meeting up in a week or two in Pokhara, the hub town near the big mountains.

The girls each had appointments in the afternoon and we parted ways. I went to see the recommended Garden of Dreams five minutes walk away. It’s an old walled, colonial-looking garden, quite small but very nice, with lawns, fountains and white pavilions. It’s a place to go and relax, unfortunately the car horns still pervade, but other than that it’s very calming, and was full of couples and tourists taking a break from the madness of the city. I explored the garden and indluged in an ice cream. There’s even foam mats and rolls to use so you can lie on the grass in comfort, so I grabbed a few and chilled out, catching up on my diary. I had paid for the wi-fi here too but the connection kept dropping. Kathmandu is cursed with the most unreliable wi-fi ever. I stayed a few hours until dusk, when every bird in Kathmandu descended into the garden’s trees making a massive racket. The mossies started to appear too (though compared to Thailand they are scarce here), and I made a move.

I grabbed dinner at a Tibetan restaurant in Thamel and chose a thick soup served with dense coiled sour bread. It’s served with chilli and curry dips, so you put that onto the bread and then dunk it in the soup. Very filling! Soon after I got back to my hotel, Bhupen from Fantastic Nepal called and arranged to meet me at a restaurant nearby.

The restaurant, OR2K, had a cool vibe, with colourful painted walls and UV lighting, filled with a younger crowd and had low tables with cushion seating. Bhupen showed me a suggested itinery for the Annapurna base camp trek I was interested in doing, complete with photos. It looked nice. We chatted and I also got him to organize a guide for my trip tomorrow to Bhaktapur. I turned in early.

Day 32

01/10/12

A night disturbed by car horns, barking dogs and loud music. Thamel’s not the best choice for a good night’s sleep! After breakfast I went out in search of a SIM card for my new Nepalese phone. I followed my nose ending up on the outskirts of Thamel and more inside the heart of “real” Kathmandu. It was really hot and dusty out here and a stressful but interesting experience wandering the streets. Some of the buildings looked ancient and were falling apart. You can see into most of them through open shutters and doors. Garages, carpet shops, food shops, tailors, craft shops, you name it, crammed into these narrow blocks. Rickshaws, motorbikes, buses and minibuses crammed full of people stormed past. Fruit and veg sellers displayed their wares on the streets alongside old balance scales and weights. School kids in uniform wandered around in groups. Sometimes beggars were sitting on the pavement, often with missing limbs or crutches. Shopkeepers stood outside their shops or sat on their steps, as the shops are so small.

How old is this building? Who knows – but all of these relics are still lived in.

Some street decoration…

Wow! What an interesting vehicle! I’ve never seen one in Kathmandu – I’d better photograph it because I’ve never seen anything like it!
It’s what the Nepalese call a tractor and they haul heavy loads around. They’re very noisy. Despite my initial interest, a few days later, outside of Kathmandu I’d seen hundreds and I’d be sick of the sight of them!

Within an hour I’d found a phone shop, collected the bits and bobs I needed for registration and my new SIM would be active within the day. Sorted. I made my way south, getting a bit lost in the process and wandered around the old town, coming across a nice temple where school kids were playing tag. At the Durbar Square I bought my ticket (15 quid, a lot for Nepal!) and wandered around marveling at the ancient palaces and temples. The light was too bright for good photos unfortunately. I went into a big courtyard and witnessed some seriously risky work by painters who had a wobbly bamboo scaffold to climb up to the windowsills they were painting, watching them shuffle along the window ledge two stories up with no safety rope. Gurkha soldiers guarded some of the courtyard doorways but were happy to have their photos taken.

One of the palace courtyards in Durbar Square

There’s no ladder, they just climb up that scaffolding as it wobbles dangerously

Gurkha guard

Some of the interior courtyards in the Square had lots of religious stone carvings inlaid in the every wall, and in the middle of each courtyard were big steps below ground level – in the old days these would have been pools. You couldn’t take photos here and signs warned you were on CCTV, guards constantly watched you. Outside, holy men (babas) wandered around with colourful yellow or red robes, sporting big beards and painted faces. You have to tip them to get a photo, with the bad light I didn’t bother. I got my ticket upgraded to a multi-day pass at the site office, where there were also rows of souvenir vendors in the yard selling all manner of “antiques”(good luck finding something older than ten years!). The empty chariots from Indra Jatra yesterday stood in the road.

Rows of “antiques” sellers outside the square

Indra Jatra chariot

I wandered back towards Thamel, tired, thirsty and mentally exhausted from the stressful streets. Again I got a bit lost. The area is full of narrow, unsigned roads which bend or become dead ends – there’s no logical layout. There aren’t even proper addresses for places in Nepal, they just have the name of the building followed by the area name. I had a late lunch and did some blog updates. I moved up to the restaurant’s roof garden in the evening as I continued to work. Roof terraces are a common and attractive feature in Nepal, looking out over the rooftops to the hills beyond with birds of prey circling the skies. They’re much quieter than street level. The full moon beamed down casting a silver light over Kathmandu. It’s a relaxing place to unwind. Late evening I returned to my hotel intending to sleep, but got carried away writing my diary and because of this combined with the heat and noise, I ended up going to bed about 4am! So much for adjusting to Nepali time!

In the old town

Day 31

30/09/12

With my breakfast I tried Masala tea, a Nepal staple. The leaves are infused with sugar and cinnamon giving it a very sweet, almost sickly taste.  I set out exploring Thamel, the tourist area, looking for cheaper accommodation. The streets were manic. It’s really stressful walking around the narrow streets as you need to be on constant alert for the vehicles trying to run you over, horns are beeping right next to you, people are plying you for business and you’re squeezing lots of other people trying to get along the same as you. There’s so much for the eyes and ears to take in, it’s a sensory overload.

Thamel. Usually it’s a lot busier on the streets than this!

Most of the recommended budget places were fully booked, but I found Hotel Potala had space, it’s smack bang in the middle of the party area. It was on the second floor, below it was a shop and a bar. This is typical of Thamel’s buildings, multiple businesses crammed into each one. It was cheap and basic, but had everything I needed.I ate at the hotel’s restaurant which looked out over the street. There was no respite from the noise though. I ordered chicken Momos, which are Tibetan steamed (or fried) parcel dumplings – much Chinese dim sum or Japanese Gyoza. They had a spicy dipping sauce and were pretty tasty.

Momos, a wheel of tastiness!

Next order of the day was to find some bootlaces, mine were wrecked. Thamel is rammed with trekking gear shops as everyone coming trekking arrives here first. Most of the laces were weak and poor quality, I eventually got lucky in a shop that sold the exact same boots as mine and bought the very same laces! Score!

After chilling at a wi-fi café I met Bikrant, the marketing guy from Fantastic Nepal. As a gift from the company Bhupen, his boss, was sending Bikrant to me to show me the Indra Jatra festival that afternoon, which I’d wanted to see. Indra Jatra is a big festival running over a number of days, commemorating a local legend, celebrating the upcoming harvests and remembering the deceased. In the legend villagers capture the god of rain, Indra, who is up to mischief – on his release his mother promises to give the crops dew, and take the year’s dead to heaven.

One of the Gurkha shops in Thamel. If you’re a fan of big knives. this is the place for you!

Bikrant was younger than I’d expected, only a year or two out of uni. He seemed a friendly, stylish chap and had brought a friend along, Logan. I hopped onto the back of his rumbling Lee Enfield motorbike and Logan followed. Now we were part of the honking traffic, weaving in and out of tiny spaces and dodging people and vehicles by inches. As the airport in Kathmandu says, Nepali people express themselves creatively with use of their horns! Good fun though! We drove south a few kilometers along the narrow streets, heading for the Durbar Square – an ancient collection of palace buildings and temples where the festivities were starting. As we drove past looking for parking, the old buildings looked awesome and already there were loads of people standing on the high temple steps ready for Indra Jatra to begin.

One of the many temples at Durbar Square

We parked in a dodgy looking little courtyard with menacing dogs, Bikrant assured me was safe to leave the bikes there – in fact, one of the houses was a restaurant, though you’d never know from its appearance. In Durbar Square we found a place in the crowd and met another of Bikrant’s friends. The police were making preparations, dressed in their standard blue camo, holding big wooden sticks and some had riot gear. A drumming band was playing nearby. In the ancient buildings families peered from the ornate wooden windows, and each big step of the tiered temples were full of locals and clumps of tourists. A sea of SLR cameras could be seen held above the crowds whenever anything of interest occurred.

The first event was the appearance of the white “elephant”, represented by a painted tent with people underneath it running at full pelt. A group with crashing cymbals and drums followed it around with a guy holding a flaming torch. The elephant was running around randomly, it’s really funny because the guys underneath can’t see – they just charge in any direction and hope their minders aren’t guiding them into a wall!

Next a running demon surged through the crowd; a person with a red mask and a big red mane.  People jeered and shouted at it. Another group of drummers and cymbal crashers followed. Meanwhile on the far side of the square there was a large, brightly painted golden chariot which people were climbing onto. A young girl in decorative, glimmering dress and a white-painted face was placed on the chariot’s high throne, with men clustered around her. This is the Kumari – a living goddess who lives in a palace in the square. There were cries of wonder and happiness from many of the women when they caught sight of her. After a load of jostling in the crowd below, the tall chariot lurched forward at some speed, carrying at least ten people perched around the throne and on the lower segments. People pushed and shoved to clear a path for it. I’d assumed a car or something was pulling it and then to my amazement saw a big team of men hauling with all their might on about 6 ropes to power the chariot. They were yelling and chanting.

The first chariot

The chariot rumbled into the middle of the square, sometimes stopping for a minute or two to deal with whatever obstruction or issue was in the way. Then two more big chariots came into the square holding boys dressed like the Kumari. They represent gods from the legend. Ten minutes later the chariots had started to leave, now they’d follow a route around the narrow streets of the old town. We walked north passing more amazingly old buildings and all manner of little shrines and statues.We reached a big colourful statue of a face where two women were planting tikkas on peoples foreheads. These are the red dots on the forehead signifying a blessing and represent the mystical Third Eye. The tikka paste was made from rice and red dye. Some people gave money as an offering to them. We went up to receive ours. My massive hair made it a bit difficult for the poor woman!

Bikrant and the women giving out tikkas

We continued north coming to a busy square filled with little temples and shrines where a band was playing. It was very busy. People were lighting little oil lamps and placing them by the statues. The guys led me to a little temple through a doorway with a sign saying “This temple welcomes all religions” said the sign outside. Some temples in Nepal only allow Hindus inside. This temple was really old and surrounded by little stupas. Small prayer wheels surrounded its base. The golden exterior was fenced and padlocked off as it was evening. Bikrant’s friend told me that in the old days there was no fence and the paneling would have been real gold, not just painted. No-one back then would dream of stealing from a temple. Sadly in more recent centuries people aren’t so trustworthy and a lot of temples and shrines go under lock and key at night to protect their valuables. At the courtyard entrance was a room filled with women singing hymns from books, whilst an old man tapped out a rhythm on his drum. Bikrant’s friend explained that most temples are the responsibility of a single family who live next to it and maintain it, and some of these people singing would be from that family. My sign language request for a photo of the singers was denied by the old man – here they sometimes don’t like you taking pictures of prayers and worship.

The guys led me to a street stall selling Lassi, a traditional Nepalese drink. It’s a bit like a milkshake but more yoghurty. It was ladled from a big metal bowl into glasses for us. Lassis come in a variety of flavours, this one had sultanas and nuts in. It was very curdy but surprisingly tasty and refreshing.

Sadly this kind of lassi is very poor at rescuing children stuck down wells

We arrived at another intersection full of people waiting for the chariots to arrive. It was too dark for photos now. There were families up on the roofs in the square and peering down from the windows. We heard the white elephant coming before we saw it, shouts and bangs echoing down a narrow street towards us. The police moved us aside. The “elephant” charged down into the intersection surrounded by shouting youths. Next the red “demon” rushed in, and further up the street you could see the first chariot, which barely fitted in the narrow road. The police made a more concerted effort to clear a path and soon the men pulling the chariot surged into view yelling, the chariot rolling behind them and a big press of people following it. The square was filled with shouting, chants and the crashing of cymbals and drums. People barged past left and right. It was madness but awesome.

The chariot stopped here and after a while the next one came trundling along. The elephant continued to cause mayhem randomly running into groups of people. Red Cross men with big flags walked around looking for the inevitable injuries that would be caused by this chaotic festival. The second chariot was preceded by three red “demons” who danced around energetically. One had a sword. People came forward to give them offerings of food and drink, presumably some kind of appeasement.

We walked up the narrow street which the final chariot was creaking along. As it approached a wall of police led the way, pushing people to the side. We had to stand on a shop step and loads of people crammed onto it in a great hurry to avoid being crushed. The throng of chariot haulers tore past, yanking hard on the ropes and the chariot came lumbering past inches away from us. It had a wooden stopping mechanism at the front which was lifted and dropped repeatedly to stop it running out of control. Behind the chariot a loop of policemen marched, arms locked to prevent anyone coming too close, and after them was a crowd people, drummers and a Gurkha band playing flutes. It turned out we’d stopped at a mobile phone shop and I wanted a Nepali phone, so Bikrant talked to the shop owner and found me a second hand Nokia for about 6 quid!

We walked back towards Durbar square where another crowd had congregated, this time there were two dancers in masks and costume playing out a battle. One had a bow and arrow. The chariots were heading this way and the press of people was so close that even with a grip on each other we still couldn’t stay together. Big groups of youths yelling manically came charging through and the white elephant appeared again, people running to get out its way. Drummers and cymbals bashed as we were jostled around madly, pretty crazy!

The chariot rolls on past as the leading guy screams to the pullers!

We into the modern shopping district and through narrow back alleys back to the motorbikes. Bikrant said the alleys here were filled with restaurants. No foreigner would ever know about these, they just look like houses. As you walk past tiny doors you could glimpse a kitchen or sometimes someone eating. At the bikes we went into the house/restaurant there and went upstairs. Seating was traditional Nepali, with tables a foot off the ground and us sitting on the floor. The light was very dim. A few other people sat inside and I passed a guy playing on a PSP. The games console seemed at odds with the ancient looking surroundings!

The four of us chatted about life in Nepal and differences in our cultures. I learned about the castes in Nepal culture and their religious differences. Like in the UK, the past two generations has seen a change in the mentality regarding religion and class. Inter-caste relationships are frowned on (Nepal’s caste system is very strict and has been around for centuries),  but the younger generation are starting to ignore these social boundaries. All three guys had been to, or were at university and spoke good English, but they’d all remained in their own county to do good there which was commendable. Bikrant told me more and more Nepalese are getting uni education abroad but many don’t return, giving their home country no benefit.

Our snacks arrived. One was buffalo tongue, another buffalo brains and the last buffalo mince and egg pancakes. I haven’t tried brains before. It was fried up in pieces in a sauce. The texture was soft but not squishy and it was ok. The tongue in pieces had sauce and a tasty chilli dip. After dinner we said our goodbyes and Bikrant whizzed me back to Thamel on the bike. It had been a crazy but great experience and it was good to meet Nepalese people and experience their culture with them.

Braaaaaaaains

Back at the hotel there was a power cut. This happens a few times a day in Kathmandu. Due to Nepal’s limited electricity, there is a power sharing scheme in place, which basically means that for hours at a time there will be no power. Most places have a generator but this only powers a dim light in your room. Usually the wi-fi routers die in a power cut too. It’s pretty frustrating, and the poor residents of Nepal have to put up with it every day. When you need to send an urgent email or go to the toilet, having no power can be really annoying!