Skies, Clouds

After the hail storm; Dalhousie


From TIPA in McLeodganj;
the night of the Tibetan benefit concert



the sun illuminates; norbulingka

Triund

We hiked up to Triund from Mcleodganj. A somewhat steep climb for about 4 hours brings one to a beautiful grassy pass with views of nearby peaks. It's a lovely way to get away and it's not a tough walk.

Dalhousie

We took the bus up to Dalhousie from Dharamshala (7am, 120Rps., 5 hrs.). It's a beautiful town, quiet and peaceful, high among the hilly approach to the Indian Himalaya. The ride up was spectacular and at times harrowing as the road ran to the edge of vertical drops hundreds of meters high. Dalhousie is a great alternative to Bhagsu and Dharamkot for quiet and isolation. Though if you're looking for traveling community, judging by the souvenirs, Dalhousie is an Indian tourist location, and you won't find too many shops catering to westerners. This was refreshing and added to the place in a way that allowed one to disappear a little in to the quiet. Though only disappear a little; there's a lot of staring and attention to be had. From monkeys too, of which there are hordes of Macaques. I accidentally made eye contact with a big one as I was coming up some stairs and it rushed me. I ducked at the last moment and it bounded off my back and up into a tree. From there it perched and made very menacing faces at me until I threatened it with a stone and the toothy beast hid behind a branch, peeking out, hissing. So be careful of the monkeys, but for real peace and quiet (especially in the off season now), Dalhousie is it. It's not as convenient as McLeodganj, so bring whatever you need and chill out for a while.


a gigantic Hanuman near Kajjiar, 22km from Dalhousie

A Big One...

Be careful where you step wandering around Dharamshala. These monsters are oozing about all over the place, often stupidly on stairs. Imagine waking up with one of these gliding across your face on a trail of mucus.

Harrowing Journeys

Last week we watched a film called "Blood in the Snow". It consisted of interviews relating to a video shot by climbers in the Himalaya that shows Chinese Border Guards gunning down fleeing Tibetan refugees as they cross a pass toward Nepal. Yesterday we joined a volunteer conversation group with local students, mostly Tibetan refugees. Three out of the four people in my group had taken the same journey across the Himalaya as depicted in the film. One of the young men even had his group scattered by approaching Chinese Police and was left alone with his cousin to make the journey. They walked for 29 days, suffered frostbite, and were so uncertain of reaching Nepal that they thought they might die. But they did make it to Nepal, and then to Dharamsala, where they will study language and live with their own community. When they arrived they were granted, as all new arrivals are, an audience with His Holiness, the Dalai Lama. They cried and he told them that there was no need, they were free.

Yoga in Rishikesh

Problems with Ass Piss

Again, I was stricken with diarrhea, and by the looks of it (and smells), it was bacterial. The time before, I took Cipro, which was awful. So, this time I took a course of Ayurvedic herbs that I received from a local Doctor here in Rishikesh.

To take three times a day for five days, an anti-bacterial pill was given. It contained these herbs, I was told.
Chirayata: for bowel regulation
Kutaj: for gastric disorders
Bael: anti-diarrheal
Isabgol: bowel regulation

A second pill was given, to eat after breakfast and dinner, which was for liver and kidney health. I don't know what was in that, but it was herbal as well.

Also, I had picked up Diarex, an Ayurvedic herbal medicine by the Himalaya Herbal Company. The Doctor told me that I could take that as well, and there would be no complications with these medicines. I took two in the morning, and two in the evening.

Throughout the course, for a week, I ate mostly Kicheri, a slow boiled rice and lentil dish, and veg soup and toast. I avoided dairy and oily foods, basically anything else. For a while I was getting better, and saw good results in the bowl, but traveling makes it hard to maintain a controlled diet, and somedays the soup was oily, or the daal heavily spiced. So my bowel function fluctuated, and after eating some curd seemed to return to a runny state again, strangely. So, I took another week of pills, adding to the concoction, Bael, from the Himalaya Herbal Company. Unfortunately, again my bowel health flucuated and one day I decided to eat pizza, after two weeks of soup. Of course, this sent my guts into a kind of intestinal madness just as I expected; clearly I was not close to eating "regular" foods yet after two weeks.

So, not wanting to spend my whole time in India eating soup, I took a kind of anti-biotics that I picked up earlier in Kathmandu called Tinidazole. I took 2 grams a day, in the morning and evening, for 2 and a half days. I kept a light diet of tibetan soups and breads, and followed the course with Bifilac pro-biotics to replenish intestinal flora.

This course worked fine, and I experienced no side-effects as I had with Cipro. Unfortunately, I couldn't keep up with the herbs, but I did experience their real efficacy, however, the patience and controlled diet required were difficult to maintain. If I was at home, cooking for myself, I think I could be healed over a period of two to three weeks, but on the road, that's a long time, and the anti-biotics did the trick in a day or so. But a herbal cure can work; I experienced it working, but it takes time. That time is likely worth it for the gentleness of the cure.

Agra, Taj Mahal

Decided against a "tour" package to visit the Taj Mahal, and instead acquired train to and from the city, in the morning and early evening. The train was the Taj Express (~180INR round trip), leaving from Nizamuddin station, a 30 minute rickshaw ride from Paharganj (80INR morning, 120 evening), and arriving at Agra Cantt.
The Taj Mahal costs a whopping 750INR to enter and the ticket appears to provide access to 4 other sites around the city. This is not the case; the "ticket" just gives a small discount, so you can visit Agra fort for 250 rather than 300. We had also paid a rickshaw driver 300rupees to take us around the city all day to visit these sites, and avoid the hassles of haggling every time we wanted to move. So, being on a budget for long and wide travels, this was a costly day, even having skipped most of the places. However, we came to see the Taj Mahal and see it we did, and it was magnificent, even as we tire of "sightseeing".
Its translucent marble (shine a light close in the dark of the interior), and intricately carved panels and details were lovely, though it was simply the imposing brilliance of the whole scene, dazzling white, that left a strong impression.

To Delhi International Airport from Paharganj

Hard to find information about this relatively easy trip, so here is how I went round-trip to pick up S and bring her into the Delhi madness.

Taxis will "quote" you prices between 200-600rupees one way, which is ridiculous. Rickshaw's as well will likely demand far more money than the trip is worth, and good luck getting those "shameless fellows" to use the meter (quote thanks to local stranger who helped us out).

Take the bus, and avoid all the haggling hassles.
Walk down to the East end of the Paharganj Bazaar and cross the street into New Delhi train station. Take the footbridge over the rails and exit the Ajmeri Gate. Walk through the parking area to the main road where buses are parked, near the New Delhi station metro entrance. I'm not sure of the times, but about once an hour, a big green ISBT bus will roll up, marked on an LED screen that it is an airport bus. Ask and make sure that it goes to the Indira Ghandi International Airport (or the Domestic Terminal if that's what you need). The fare is only 50 rupees, and barring traffic... only takes about 45 minutes. You can also catch the bus somewhere in Connaught place, but I don't know where exactly.

Going into the city from the airport, go straight through the doors in the arrivals lounge and hop on the same big green bus and ask for Connaught, or New Delhi station.
Or take a pre-parid taxi, but the bus is easy, clean and convenient. No need for hassles--Delhi will provide enough of those...

Luck and Unluck: A Backpacks' Tale

I decided to leave Tansen, the little town in the hills that I had come to love. But my time was short, and the distance long. So onward to Delhi I thought I would go, with a stop off in Lumbini for the night. I packed my things, checked out of the Siddharta hotel, and walked down the hill, stopping for one last Roti and potato curry breakfast on the way.

I quickly found a bus heading out of the valley to Butwal, and got on. It was crowded inside, so much so that I was jammed in facing backward on a hump seat at the front. I tucked my pack close to my legs and huddled in as people continued to push into the bus until there was no where to move. The bus caller asked if he could put my bag on the roof, and I hesitatingly accepted.

The bus pulled away, and I asked quickly if I could crawl up on the roof to sit instead, but I was told no, and generally that is the case within city limits in Nepal. About 45 minutes down the valley, a woman to my left started vomiting, really filling up a plastic bag with yellowish barf. She was sweating and looked extremely road sick. Perhaps I looked uncomfortable as at this moment the bus caller invited me to climb out and on the roof. I readily accepted and hauled myself up to the top, joining a couple other guys up there.

I scanned the roof rack for my bag, thinking I would sit on it for comfort. "Hey, where's my backpack?" I shouted down into the bus. A head poked out and told me not to worry, it was in the back of the bus. I was relieved, and sat down, smiling. Wait, I thought. He put it up here. "Hang on, where's my backpack?" I called down again. Talk in Nepali. Glances at me. Pointing. Nervous looks.

I started getting worried; clearly something was wrong, and the reality sunk in that either my bag had been left, fallen off, or was stolen.

I climbed down, facing the bus caller, this time demanding an answer. Go with the bus to Butwal, I was told, and he will go back up and look for my bag. I told him to send the bus on. If my pack is missing, I'm going to find it, and if not, well, I didn't think that far ahead.

We caught another bus, and I spent an hour riding back up hill telling myself that it's just stuff and I shouldn't worry yet anyway because we didn't know what had happened. Before long, he looked at me and said we should get off and check at this road side restaurant. This worried me. Why here? Why not start at the bus park? What did he know?

We asked a lady there and she actually said that she thought a man had walked past down a trail with what could have been my pack. What to do? It's been two hours already.

A motorcycle pulled up, and luckily there was my friend Kiran, a local student I had hung out with and shot pool with the previous night. I explained what had happened and he promised me that we would find my bag. Down the road there was a group of college students and people hanging around, and we approached them. Kiran knew some of them so I explained again the situation and promised a 1000 rupee reward for my bag. Thus our posse was formed.

We were about 12 people and 4 motorbikes. We headed out on the trails, asking people as we went, driving through mud and around hills and rocks. But no one had any further information.

I was despondent, and beginning to give up hope. One of the students said, "never lose hope". But looking out over the valley, I thought that in two hours, someone could be anywhere in those hills. I offered money for gas, but no one took it, too disappointed to take any money. We drove back to the road side restaurant.

A van was there, the door just shutting. Something in my mind flashed and I hurried up the hill, unsure of what I had seen but certain of something. I threw open the door of the van, slamming it, and looked in. My backpack was there, on the floor of this van. I stared at the man. "Where did you get this? Why do you have my bag?" I demanded. By then, the posse had surrounded the van, questioning this man, and the driver.

They had found it up on a hill, they said, by some old house. But why were they here now, at this moment, and what were they planning to do? These questions remained unanswered, but the posse was convinced of their innocence. I was relieved, shocked and also confused, but so happy to have my bag. Trusting my gang, I offered the two men some cash which they accepted. I also, strangely, felt guilty, unsure of the meaning of these events, wondering why I deserved such fortune. Though I happily slung the pack over my shoulder, pleasantly feeling it's weight.

I opened the top and unzipped the compartments to verify my belongings. Everything was there save the nylon sac for my rain coat, strangely, and some of the ties had been knotted together. Basically, it was all there. I suggested, as had been mentioned earlier, reporting the event to the police, but was told they would likely do little if anything.

I handed the posse a 1000 rupee note, and we retired to the restaurant for tea and food. We discussed the events and came to have a good time together. I decided to postpone my trip by one day and stick around, as it was getting late. But at this, the posse didn't disband. We cruised the hills, happy and excited by the strangeness of the day and the new friendships it had arranged.

I had my bag, as if it had never been gone. And we had a story, some new pals, and the once in a lifetime experience of roaming the countryside on two-wheeled steeds as a band of men, a posse, with valiant intentions, and justice in our minds.

What is the meaning of this? Why did this happen? I don't know, but I'm glad that it did.

Travelers' English

I've noticed certain people with kind of obnoxious verbal habits when traveling. Here they are in a pretentious list:

1) Using the verb "do" when referring to places visited or having intent to visit.
Yeah, I did Bandipur, or I'm hoping to do Thailand and South East Asia next year.
This implies to me that places are activities, or duties, like "I did the laundry", or a checklist, rather than actual real places where people live. Also, sometimes a place is criticized due to some preceived lack.
I hated Gorakphur, there's nothing to do there.


2)Using words like "they" or "them" or "these people".
They don't seem to mind bumpy roads. These people always rip me off.
Obvious. Generalizations.

3) Using baby talk when talking to non-native speakers.
Where bus station? How far Ghorka is?
Dropping out articles, scrapping prepositions, not conjugating verbs, or just messing up the order of the sentence. Often speaking these bizarre phrases a little too loud, even when the listener is clearly well spoken. Once even, after baby talk was responded to with a clear and reasonable answer, I was turned to and quietly told, "that's the trouble, sometimes they just don't understand".

Ranighat; Tansen, Palpa

The walk to Ranighat is well worth it. It's long, but beautiful, and the path is more or less easy to traverse and follow. From the top of Tansen, near the Shreenagar hotel, you can begin your walk, or from the East side, if you prefer, a slightly longer route along the ridge of nearby hills is possible. I walked down and up the same way, not having enough time for the whole loop, but was still happily satisfied by the journey, though exhausted by the end.

The walk down is about 3 hours, and the walk up about the same, I found, though I took a wrong path, went left instead of right near the top of the hill and found myself in a town to the west rather than Tansen and had to walk around the hill. So the return took 4 hours. Take little paths that cut down the hills for short cuts; be careful, it's tough to sense direction in these winding trails, but ask people you meet and you'll find the quickest way. Oh, and don't give pens to the kids. Especially not when they accost you with: "give me pen!". How did this start?

I was on my own, and happy to be there in the daylight. Though even with the sun shining in, going up into the attic was spooky experience and you can attest to the creaks and thuds that this old buildings emits when you make the trip yourself. I would suggest to anyone, dare anyone(?), to spend the night in the old mansion. I hear it was built in memory of the Governor's late wife, the story goes...

Namo Buddha

click to enlarge

Kathmandu to Tansen

Kathmandu is noisy and hectic and the air is murky; if this becomes too much for you, as it was for me, head out to Tansen where the steep cobbled roads are a challenge for cars and motorbikes, and therefore there are few of them.
And why not take the long way out, via the Thribuvan Highway? Though, a comment about 'local transportation' rather than 'tourist buses': it's not cheaper to ride local, unless you really know where you're going and can bargain well to the proper price. But for adventure, it's the way to go.

Day one: Kathmandu to Daman.
Taxi to Gongu Bus terminal (15 min, 100npr). Wrong place.
City Bus to Kalanki Bus Chaos (15 min, 20nrp). No bus to Tansen until tomorrow.
Bus to Naubise (1.5hr, 50npr was asked for 100).
Long-haul truck to Daman (3hr, 100npr). Hitched a ride.

With waits in between took about 8 hours and 270npr.

Stayed at Sherpa Hotel in Daman, the spookiest place in the country. All alone in a big place up the road, just mice and spiders. And creaky floorboards.

A monastery near Daman.

Day two: Daman to Sauraha.
Bus to Hetauda (2.5hrs, 110npr). Crowded bus. Beautiful scenery.
Bus to Sauraha Chowk (1.5hrs, 70npr). Super hot in the Terai.
Car to Sauraha (15min, 100npr!). Super rip off. In a tourist place like Sauraha, if someone says, 'my friend will give you a ride', it doesn't mean free ride.

Around 6 hours and 280npr.

Stayed at Hermitage hotel by the river. Nice sunset view, but overpriced for what the room was (400npr). Decided to opt out of 'Safari Tours' as this whole town gave me a bad vibe--so serious, all business. Let the Rhinos have privacy.

Chitwan national park

Day three: Sauraha to Tansen.
Motorbike to Chitrasali (10min, free). Sometimes there are free rides. Young student saw my thumb and was happy to have company up the road.
Horse Buggy to Sauraha Chowk (15min, 50npr). Bumpy but fun ride.
Bus to Narayangarh (20min, 20npr). On the roof in the sun.
Bus to Butwol (3.5hrs, 80npr). Good deal, hot bus. So crowded.
Bus to Tansen (2hrs, 70npr). Got on the roof until a cop told me to get down. No roof travel in cities. But the bus was so super crowded I couldn't fit inside and everyone jammed into the doorway. Out of the city, the excess passengers covered the roof. Beautiful ride up the valley.

Around 8 hours and 220npr.

Tansen is a lovely town; I'm staying at the Gautama Siddharta Hotel, or something like that. It's reasonable. And quiet.

So, the trip took three days and many hours, and about 770npr, but it was good; though I would have liked more time to stop here and there. None of the legs were too long, so it was never really uncomfortable, and even if they say 'no bus' there's always someone who will give you a ride in Nepal, usually for a price, but it's rarely that high, and everyone is happy to have you along.


tansen


In the Shreenagar, the forest above the city, the crown of Tansen.



Shreenagar



a tansen temple

Thoughts on Vipassana Meditation (don't read if you're planning to do a course; better to see for yourself)

I finished the course this morning at around 7:30; by then we were speaking again, and had been allowed to speak since the previous afternoon which was a jolt to the mind and I felt clumsy, though most of the people seemed eager to chat. I felt like staying on my own. But my roommate, whom I hadn't even glanced at in 9 days was a friendly fellow who has done the course many times in his life so we had deep conversation and explored our experiences together. His was much like mine, even after all these years of meditation.


I meditated for 10 days straight, and spoke only a handful of words in that time. silent. in that time, as i made use of the teacher's, S. N. Goenka from Burma, advice, i explored deeper into my mind, and thoughts and ideals and ideas became experiential realities in the body. Very profound.

We stopped talking on the evening of day 0, and from then on, it was like we were in our own worlds, not even making eye contact or recognizing eachother in any way. This is not to say that there wasn't contact of a sort; like the typical clearing of throats and burping and farting that seemed almost constant at times. Behind me for five days a young guy sniffled until I thought I might turn around and strangle him, so instead I asked if I could change seats (we could speak briefly to the teachers if we needed), and I did. But then I realized that now in my new seat, my neighbour was fidgety and clearly not concentrating, tapping his finger and changing his position, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, and slowly it dawned on me that I can't change these things, but must change myself; and it was these realizations, as the meditation took us deeper and deeper that became more and more profound as I came to find that my mind lacks answers to life's deepest issues and that the only way to truly find freedom and peace and balance is to learn to listen to the deepest levels of the body, the sensations. Awareness and equanimity; these two words became my whole world. Be aware of the body, don't think, feel the changes come and fall away, feel the pains in my legs, agony at times, but don't react, just observe, be aware, feel the mosquito bite but don't react; for like every other event, every sensation, this too will pass. And be equanimous. Don't crave for pleasure, don't be averse to pain; know that these are and always will be, impermanent.


In this order the thinking mind offered alternatives to meditation, in order by day:

random chatter--usual meandering stream.
constant images--flashes of image of various kinds, fewer words.
specific chatter--no more images, or fewer, but more specific thought; doubt.
a single song--happened to be kickapoo, Tenacious D. Had to be. So annoying.
long dialogues--longer more focused trains of thought, doubt beginning to be handled.
another song--can't remember which, but all day going on.
traumatic experiences relived--childhood and adolescence; emotionally charged.
sex--images, difficult to 'just observe'.
thinking again--last day, tough to concentrate, but times of real focus as well.


These realizations came at time with great difficulty; the first time (the first of many times) we were asked to sit and not move an inch for a whole hour, I sat, sank into myself, felt the subtlety arise, the vibration that only a sharpened mind can sense, and began to scan the body as we were taught, each part, feel, move on, feel move on, be aware, don't desire the pleasant vibration, don't deny the unpleasant aches, the aches, the aches, oh what is this in my legs, this pain, what is this, oh MY LEGS! The ache felt infinite, like it would never end, and the hour was eternal, like I had been left with closed eyes in some hell of unending suffering; I cursed the course, I cursed Goenka, I was desperate, I sweat and trembled, but I kept my eyes closed; I didn't move. And suddenly... braaawng. The bell. I could move. And the pain was gone and I forgot it.


My mind tried many things to get my attention, though in that time, I didn't want to give it any, I was looking elsewhere than thought for answers.


I struggled with this idea for some time. Eventually, the pain will decrease and I will be able to sit and then what?For what was this? Am I to become a masochist? No, slowly I understood that this is a course. It is a contrived situation that assists you to realize certain truths; not seek them out, but become aware of how the body reacts, the conditioned and life-long created reactions that throw us into a disarray. Pain is in not just an ache in the leg; it is the struggle in a relationship, it is the sting of harshwords, and the more we recognize them and react to them, the more they dominate us. We are cut off in traffic and for an hour after we stew while the other driver goes on in oblivion; why take that unwanted gift of suffering, why react to that which will end up being a self inflicted wound. I am totally responsible for my happiness and as well my suffering. This is a difficult concept to learn. Like all concepts, it may settle in the mind easily, but does the body agree and comply? This is the main realization: I thought I knew so much. I did, and do "know" so much, but when have I *experienced my knowledge? When have I *experienced impermanence and equanimity and change and observed it at it's deepest level in my own being? Perhaps never really. I had a moment where I was struggling, but suddenly, I did nothing, I just eased into awareness of my body as my body and felt, like a camera coming into focus, like light coming into the eyes, the reality of that which is. Just for a moment; and then for two days, I *Craved that experience again, and of course it never came because I searched and a sharp mind doesn't search, it waits and it watches the reality as the reality is; it can't create it.

The mind is a thing that I control, but at the same time, it is it's own entity, strangely. The body too; both can be observed as they function on and on.

Again, all of this is words, and the whole course was so subtle and indeed minor that I feel my life will mostly be the same, but deep down I have knowledge of a technique, a process that can help me. That I can lose too, so I will try my best to keep up the practice, such a simple practice: close my eyes and watch what happens, don't react. But it is a looong process, but a worthwhile process. Though indeed, I am the same, but with a new awareness. I'm back in Kathmandu and the noise and the honking and the stink still irritates the hell out of me, but now there is something else, and tiny ability to look at the sensation, not just the source.

10 days in meditation (vipassana) + 10 days in the mountains (annapurna)

One trip in the mind, the other so much in the world; both though, were about the body.

In the mountains, the endlessness of the climbs, or the endurance test of the rain and the stomach turning leeches, were unavoidable. Once a few days out, there are few choices, none involving sitting down. Either turn back and try to walk out, but that would be silly, or look up to the peaks and walk up, slowly, step by step. Essentially there was no choice, the only direction up, or down and then up again.

In Vipassana, the endlessness of the posture and the rambling mind, the silence and the doubt, were unavoidable, though there was a choice. And this made Vipassana the challenge that it was. It was never a question of whether I could stay and complete the course, it was whether I could do it well, and benefit from it. Here there is the choice to simply sit; but to work, that took much more effort, much more attention, ardent focus. I could spend an hour, an hour after hour, in day dreams, or in anxiety, but from that I would learn little, or I could muster my energy and observe the body, see its changes, and learn from them.

Both require great effort at times, and both resulted in learning, one through the struggling, slogging push of the active body step after step, the other through the quiet simplicity and silent awareness of the still body. Though they were similar, Vipassana through the effort, provides insight into all actions in life, and can assist each of those steps through the mountains; though it's of great enlightenment as well to walk into the Annapurna Base Camp Sanctuary and realize that you've done it--every step became the entire walk, and here you are.

In Ghorka with Krishna and Family

Pashupatinath, Kathmandu

The pyre was already laid and a man was busy soaking bundles of straw in the Bagmati River--the wet straw will help contain the fire and heat the pyre. I noticed a group of people walking down the stairs to the left, among them, supported by the sons, was the father, shrowded in orange robes, his face showing placcidly from beneath. They ascend the small platform and circle the pyre thrice--on the final round, the widow sobbing for for one last touch, supports her husband's feet clumsily, sweetly. Finally, the deceased is gently rested on the pyre. Many eyes are wiped. The sons strip to bare chests and wash briefly in the river, purifying themselves, and surround their father. The eldest has the fire, and leaning down together he lights the flame in his father's mouth. They stand a moment and begin carefully laying damp straw over the still body from head to the feet until he is fully covered, and just a thin whisp of ochre smoke rose from the head. The pyre is then set from beneath and slowly is enveloped in thick pungent smoke. It burns for some hours until nothing is left but ash, which is swept into the Bagmati unceremoniously and the platform is washed with river water for the next use.

More Health Problems! (Ciprofloxacin)

So, staying in Ghorka, I not only drank some bad water ("Is this water boiled," I asked. "No. It's purified. No problem!" I was told.), but also chipped a tooth on a bone shard in a momo full of secret buffalo meat. Surprise!

For the tooth, I went back to the DentInn, in Kathmandu (http://www.dent-inn.com/). They recommended removing an old filling and re-filling the whole thing for overall strength of the tooth. I thought this sounded reasonable, but was quite a procedure: anaesthetic injection, drilling, and filling. My mouth was full of tools for what I thought would be a simple solution, and the dental assistant was rather absent minded, looking away from time to time, allowing the vacuum suction to slip around my mouth and throat. It seems to have been a well done procedure, though the overall professionalism and careful practice was slightly lacking.

Then I went to a doctor (www.ciwec-clinic.com -- near the English and Indian Embassies) to deal with a diarrhea problem--turned out to be bacteria not cholera or dysentery, thank goodness. Though if I thought the poo problem was bad, the cure was much worse. I was offered Ciprofloxacin, an anti-biotic, to take twice daily for three days. At first, it was not bad, but by the third day I was experiencing a gamut of side-effects:
I've had a rash over large parts of my body, dizziness, *severe headache, sleeplessness, frequent urination, dehydration, muscle aches all over, some stomach ache, eye pain, confusion, fever and lethargy.
Last night all of these ganged up on me and I had a really long night, and many of these effects are persisting into the day, though I have finished the meds this morning. I hope to be well again tomorrow...
If you plan to take this medication, think carefully and make sure you have somewhere comfortable where you can rest, because if my experience is an indication, you will become very uncomfortable.
Here are some websites to read:
http://www.askapatient.com/viewrating.asp?drug=19537&name=CIPRO&page=1
http://www.westonaprice.org/healthissues/cipro.html

Kathmandu is such an innapropriate place to recover from illness. Car horns, touts, pollution, a garbage crisis in the streets, dogs, noise, heat... Maybe sometime I'll come here feeling really well and have a great time. Though I was in Bhodnath yesterday; that seems like a place to stay for a few days. Pictures soon.

[update] Heavenly Path; Lovism

Anyone know the meaning of these? I can guess, but who makes them? This circular symbol, and 'lovism' and the 'heavenly path', all appear everywhere around Nepal.


Last night, in Dhulikhel at the Nawaranga Guest house, Purna explained that Heavenly Path is kind of a sect of Buddhism called "Monokranti", led by Swami Picasa Anunda; he says they have some extreme purification acts, lke long-term fasting and isolation and hot-coal walking.

Here's a website that might shed some insight, though I can't navigate past the home page.
http://www.heavenlypath.info/

Solar Eclipse: July 22, 2009

The Solar Eclipse of July 22, 2009 5:45-7:46AM as seen from Tainimai, Bandipur.
































Standing on the hill in the pale dawn, we were diappointed by clouds. But in the distance, far to the North East the peak of Dhaulagiri shone clearly; the sun was rising. The rays extended skyward as gaps in the cloud cover, opened by nearby mountains, allowed a shimmering glimpse and shortly the landscape was visible. But the light was soft and indistinct, the light of an overcast day. By 5:30 the sun was up and the rays beamed earthward through the golden disc was reduced to a misty glow. In a short fifteen minutes the land began to dim; the moon had begun to block the sun. In 45 minutes it was again almost dark and at 6:42AM the sun was nearly gone, and through the now thinning cloud cover I could make out a sliver of sun, round and glowing, two unattached points straining to complete the ring from behind the dark moon. Within minutes the light once again emerged, slowly a large arc, then a half, then the full circle and daylight appeared again and with it blue skies. The eclipsed sun re-emerged. No cataclysm that I was witness to, just an extraordinary cosmic display.