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.
Showing posts with label Nepal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nepal. Show all posts
Friday, August 28, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
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...
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...
Friday, August 21, 2009
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
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.
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.
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.
Monday, August 17, 2009
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.
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 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.
Friday, July 31, 2009
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.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
[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.
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.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Bandipur
The little town of Bandipur is a string of jewels along a ridge between Pokhara and Kathmandu. Like a living museum it exhibits the attractive style of Newari architecture and is also a bustling town seemingly populated more by children than adults, as it is also home to the long-standing Notre-Dame school where kids flock to for their education. I stayed only a couple days, but wish I could have hung around longer, just sitting on the side of the slate-cobbled road sipping chai and watching the activity.
Made this drawing from the troof top of a derelict building at the end of the main street in Bandipur. The sun was setting and it was beautiful. The building is kind of an example of Newari architecture which seems to use slate tiles for the roof, rough brick and stone walls, dark doors and wooden frames often ornately carved, and especially the wooden struts under the eaves, though not featured here except as support under the balcony. Bandipur is a living museum of these buildings and I gathered it is trying to stay that way, though I wonder what will become of it as more tourists discover this little gem in the hills.
On the first night there, a festival was held with a clamour of drums and cymbals and a straw effigy was burned and thrown from a cliff. Apparently it's been going on for 500 years since a man, some progressive type, so described, was executed for his ideas, or it's Ghanta Karna the enemy of Vishnu, I don't know. People weren't that interested, it seemed. But it was a spectacle.
Nearby is Siddha cave, said to be the largest cave in Nepal. I went with Sebasitan a Finnish fellow I met, but we found our flashlights to be all but inadequate for the 35 meter caverns inside, and also just a little scared off by the bats flittering past our ears. So we didn't make it far. But later I came across a cave guide, and though I've come to really avoid "guides", the opportunity to explore the cave in it's totality was intriguing. So he took me deep into the cave where it was darker than night and cool and smelled of ancient guano and minerals, where without a torch it might be impossible to find an exit, and your voice comes back to you in echo rather than escape to the daylight.
Siddha Cave: 427M scrambling over rocks and through gorges into cavernous 30M ampitheaters, all under earth, creaking with bats and drip dripping drops through ancient cracks, eerie and infinitely remote, dark echoing, otherworldly underworld.
Made this drawing from the troof top of a derelict building at the end of the main street in Bandipur. The sun was setting and it was beautiful. The building is kind of an example of Newari architecture which seems to use slate tiles for the roof, rough brick and stone walls, dark doors and wooden frames often ornately carved, and especially the wooden struts under the eaves, though not featured here except as support under the balcony. Bandipur is a living museum of these buildings and I gathered it is trying to stay that way, though I wonder what will become of it as more tourists discover this little gem in the hills.
On the first night there, a festival was held with a clamour of drums and cymbals and a straw effigy was burned and thrown from a cliff. Apparently it's been going on for 500 years since a man, some progressive type, so described, was executed for his ideas, or it's Ghanta Karna the enemy of Vishnu, I don't know. People weren't that interested, it seemed. But it was a spectacle.
Nearby is Siddha cave, said to be the largest cave in Nepal. I went with Sebasitan a Finnish fellow I met, but we found our flashlights to be all but inadequate for the 35 meter caverns inside, and also just a little scared off by the bats flittering past our ears. So we didn't make it far. But later I came across a cave guide, and though I've come to really avoid "guides", the opportunity to explore the cave in it's totality was intriguing. So he took me deep into the cave where it was darker than night and cool and smelled of ancient guano and minerals, where without a torch it might be impossible to find an exit, and your voice comes back to you in echo rather than escape to the daylight.
Siddha Cave: 427M scrambling over rocks and through gorges into cavernous 30M ampitheaters, all under earth, creaking with bats and drip dripping drops through ancient cracks, eerie and infinitely remote, dark echoing, otherworldly underworld.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Biking around Phewa Tal, Pokhara
The views from the edge of the lake can be stunning, even in the monsoon when the clouds obscure the mountains.
Sexy Struts
Under the rooftop of the Jagannarayan temple in Durbar Square in Patan, you'll find these super sexy scenes played out in high relief on the wooden struts. Of course, being a puritanical North American, I couldn't help but photograph them all and mostly ignore everything else there. Except the bird-man, Vishnu's God-vehicle, Garuda. He was outstanding as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
