Stupa-fied in Bodhnath

Greetings all from this ever-so blissful Tibetan Buddhist monastery complex of Bodhnath on the outskirts of Kathmandhu. Bodhnath is home to one of the sub-continent's largest stupas - the huge vanilla ice cream cone-topped Buddhist shrine adorned with multi-coloured skirting, prayer flags and capped by cartoon-like eyes gazing out at the masses. With throngs of very laid back maroon and saffron robed Tibetan monks (a large proportion of which seem to be on cellphones at any given time); incense wafting everywhere, butter candles flaring - a very magical atmosphere. In the evening, the locals swirl around the stupa (five minutes per circle) spinning prayer wheels and chanting mantras. It is quite a divine feeling to be swept up in this centrifugal force of faith.

Yesterday, we visited the Kapan monastery about an hour hike outside of Bodhnath. Amidst the very peaceful gardens with its spectacularly vibrant stupa, we could have easily stayed all afternoon. However, my contemplative tour ended suddenly when I was attacked by a piece of loose grill work bordering the stupa. Thereafter followed by my first and hopefully last encounter with the Nepali medical system. (My mother should stop reading this at this point!). The attacking stupa fence had left me with a good three inch gash in my right leg and a commendable flow of the red stuff suggested a visit to the doctor was in order. After a taxi back to town, we were directed to a doctor's office above a pharmacy just outside of the compound. The surroundings were spartan - not to mention anti sceptically suspect. The walls were free of any of those comforting adornments one takes for granted in medical offices these days - such as any evidence of framed medical degrees etc. By the time the doctor arrived, 6 patients and consorts where in the office. The doctor attended to them all in open conference with ample opportunity for all to hear about the various pains and ails of each other no matter how personal. When it came my turn, the doctor surveyed the gash and pronounced that stitches were in order. As he prepared his weaponry in a hopefully sterile kidney shaped tin, I braced myself for the suturing in full view of the other patients - lending a new definition to the term "operating theatre". My leg was ceremoniously hoisted on top of a fragment of garbage bag and the proceedings commenced. The administration of the local anaesthetic caused so much grimacing from one observer that I was tempted to suggest that the doctor give her a dose as well to relieve her pain. The stitching thread itself reminded me of old fishing wire - apparently dissoluble sutures are still to make their appearance in 21st century Nepal. At one point, the doctor's assistant (who also doubled as the pharmacist downstairs) disappeared and one of the awaiting patients had to be pressed into action to unroll some cotton gauze for the doctor. Fortunately, there were so many colourful distractions outside the bedside window on to the dusty roads of Bodhnath that I was able to escape pain - goats tethered to the tops of taxi cabs, members of the twenty-something Euro-hippy tribe riding atop rackety old local buses lurching down the pothole filled streets. When all was done, the good doctor wrapped up his materials with a discourse on his 30 years experience - perhaps he detected some doubt in his credentials in my grimacing. After thanking the other participants and bidding farewell to the audience, I limped off back into the dusty streets. For the record: waiting time = 20 minutes; Cost = Doctors fee - $8.00; Operating material and post-op pharmaceutical supplies - $12.00; the experience -priceless!

After this traumatic experience, an early cocktail hour was determined to be in immediate order. Patty and I spied a sign outside the Cafe du Temple advertising "Movie Night". We went in and inquired what movies were up for viewing and were shown several less-than-inspired Hollywood action flick DVDs. Having been among the few people on the planet who have not yet seen "Slumdog Millionaire", I asked the proprietor if this film might be available for viewing. In most Western countries, this question would pose an insurmountable challenge as Slumdog's DVD release date is likely months away. However, in Intellectual-property challenged Nepal, such problems are mere trifles. In twenty minutes, mid-way through our first frosty Everest Lager, we were advised that the film had been sourced, loaded in the screening room and ready for viewing . Eating dinner on the leather couches of the screening room with a fine flat screen TV and surround-sound theatre system, we watched the film. For this effort, film, dinner, drinks and (this time) well-deserved "service charge" , we forked over a princely $17.00 - which I observed was less than the price of two theatre tickets in Victoria.

By the way, I thought the book "Q+A" on which Slumdog is based was better than the movie - but the movie holds up very well. And while I am on to matters literary, I have to tell you that I have just finished one of the best books I have ever read - Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children. It is the type of book that is a literary feast to be read/eaten slowly and savoured in pieces. It not only won the Booker prize in the year it was published, it won the "Best Booker of the Bookers" prize in a rating of the first 25 years of Booker winners. My only problem with the book was my copy of the book itself - a cleverly-photocopied knock-off so prevalent in Indian booksellers. In this case, some pages showed evidence of toner shortages and an unkeen eye at the photocopier left some of the margins wafting perilously close to the far extremes of the pages. A new hardcover will be in order on my return home.

The next chapter of the "If not now when?" tour of the world opens in Delhi on Monday when Patty and I will be happily re-united with our two children (yippee!!!) for a three week "Fam-holiday" through NE India. I expect a fair amount of this vacation will be dedicated to trying to find a good satellite TV feed to the Stanley Cup playoffs. (By the way, is it true that the Leafs and les Canadiens won exactly the same number of playoff matches this year?) For now, "Nameste" to all from marvellous Nepal.

Conquering the Teahouse Trek

Greetings all - I know you have been waiting with baited breath to see if we survived our 6 day journey on the "Teahouse Trek". I begin by making three observations:
1) The "Teahouse Trek" belies its genteel name and features many stretches of tough slogging - mostly in the upward direction. We climbed to 10,750 feet over the first two days and then spent most of the next four days dipping up and down a few thousand feet from this range in what I might characterize as a "What goes up must continue to go up " mode.
2) We had done absolutely nothing to prepare for this trek - a point that hit us in one of those "a-ha" moments about half way and one cramp through Day one (ouch!)
3) Unlike most of our companions on the trail, we're not 25 anymore (ouch!, ouch!).

However, every slog, ache, loss of breath, rain, hail and even snow was amply rewarded by the most magnificent vistas onto some of the world's highest mountains. I am used to seeing mountains in Canada like the Rockies whose peaks loom high on the horizon. The Annapurnas are giants that tower way up above you sometimes seeking camouflage in the high clouds.We enjoyed spectacular views of two the the world's top ten mountains: Dhaulagiri (No.5) at 26,800 feet and Annapurna I (No. 10) at 26,300. In addition to the other 3 Annapurna mountains, we had great views on Maccapuchere (a.k.a Fishtail Mountain) one of Nepal's holy mountains that dominates its valley much like the Matterhorn does in Zermatt (only 6,000 feet higher).

The trail, surprisingly, was mostly "paved" with slate stones and steep steps - some which have been there for hundreds of years since first laid as trading trails and pilgrimage routes to neighbouring Tibet. We must have climbed tens of thousands of steps over 6 days. The trek passed through dozens of hamlets pinned to the sides of the mountains - generally bright and cozy places with hundreds of prayer flags snapping in the wind and the occasional Buddhist shrine. There were, generally, 4-8 guesthouses to be found per hamlet. Rooms were basic (in some cases approaching basic) - a good enough bed to support you as you collapsed after 8 hours on the trail, a table, an electric light (fed an occasional electricity service which, in fact, was generally more dependable than Kathmandhu's!), shared bathrooms with the occasional hot shower if the gods were smiling on you. Double rooms cost between $4 and $8 per night. Each guesthouse had a restaurant often serving guests at one large table from a very Westernized menu of pastas, pizzas with fried rice and Nepalese set "dal bhats" (Lentils, veg and rice)thrown in to keep us honest. All guesthouses had a store stocked with those essentials which we cosseted and comforted Westerners cannot for a moment be without - potato chips, chocolate bars, cigarettes, pop, cold beer - all of which ported up the mountain not by donkeys but by human beasts of burden labouring under the most incredible weights. Not large in stature, we watched Nepalese men haul baskets full of goods and baggage on their backs - head down to the trail and weight braced by tump lines to the forehead. One porter carried 5 flats of pop - 24 cans to the flat - up a steep incline, a load I could not carry from my car to the front door. Trek porters hauled two "hockey" duffel bags strapped together with a backpack horizontal on top - easily 50kg of baggage some of which was likely quite useless in respect of the needs of the trek - moisturizers, laptops, extra books etc. With the understandable exception of the available cold beer, it was enough to make one feel very guilty about our material and consumptive ways. Beer prices increased about 20 rupees per 1,000 feet by my carefully documented observation. Even so, at its most expensive, a chilled 630ml bottle of Tuborg could be had for $4.50 - less than the bar price of a bottle half that size in Victoria. Yak cheese was also widely available.

Despite being Pringles-provisioned throughout, it is easy to slip off the grid on this trek and venture back a few centuries. We saw a fully operational stone grinding water mill and watched local women grinding wheat on large slate grinding stones. Millet harvested from terraced farms was thrashed with bamboo switches to separate the chaff and filtered through hand-woven straw sieve baskets. Along the route, we saw lots of pure grinding manual labour as well as hand crafting of baskets, mattresses and blankets that were destined not for the tourist trade but for everyday use. And along the trail we had to jostle our ways around donkey trains, cows, water buffaloes and the occasional yak in order to proceed along the way. We hiked through lush rhododendron forests and were treated to several dazzling waterfalls. Our disappointment at not seeing a Yeti was compensated by a wonderful array of raptors sailing the mountain thermals and huge Chinese windmill butterflies with arced tails dancing around alpine flowers.

Our trek began at the road head and Nayapul about 30 km west of Pokahara and took us through Gorephani, Poon Hill, Tadapani and Tolka. Our favourite day was Day 4 when we alighted upon the hamlet of Jinhudanda and got to end our day by soaking in glorious hot spring pools lying against a rushing alpine river under the towering gaze of Hiunchili and Macchapuchere. We exited in Phedi mid-day on Day 6 - weary but with a warm feeling of accomplishment.

We returned to Pokhara and set off immediately for a three day yoga retreat at the Sadhana Yoga centre, beautifully set in the hills overlooking the town and lovely Lake Fewa. Where the yoga sessions soothed many aches from the trek, they created many more - so we've descended back to Pokhara and booked ourselves in for some ayuervedic massages tomorrow. We will be rubbed up and down in a rather unique venture - the volunteer-driven Seeing Hands Massage Clinic where visually-impaired but tactile-sharp Nepalese are trained to become licensed massage therapists We're next heading to two towns near Kathmandu - Bhaktipur and Bodnath, the latter to visit the large Tibetan monastery. Then back to India towards the end of the month to meet our children for a much anticipated three week "fam-holiday" in Northern India.

I suspect that it will be hard to match trekking in the Annapurnas for a long time to come. I'll try to post some pictures in the near future.

Kathman-doodling

Stuart pronounces favourably on Everest Lager - far superior to India's vapid and fizzy Kingfisher

Patty consulting a newly "made-over" Stuart on our next steps

Day 5 and feeling definitely stuck in Kathmandu. We are awaiting our departure tomorrow a.m for a 7 day trek in the Ghorepani-Ghandrok area of the Annapurna Himalayas. This trek is sometimes called the "Teahouse Trek" - which, admittedly, doesn't have the spine-chilling ring of excitement as the "Everest Base Camp" climb - but, as noted earlier, I didn't bring the right boots for the Everest climb!. The weather is fantastic in the mountains at the moment and the hike promises many fine views as we hike through rhododendron-blooming forests and even take in a hot spring or two. Stay tuned to this page for further news.

Even though we were amply warned, Kathmandu is a surprisingly crowded (2.2 million population) and very polluted place. The toxic brew of too many motorcycles and the high altitude delivers a sting to the eyes and rasp in the throat that mimics an allergic reaction. Patty and I have borrowed a habit from the locals and have taken to wearing face masks around town to try to limit the effects. Notwithstanding the smog and noise, there is plenty to do and see here. We've spent a lot of time exploring Buddhist temple complexes in Kathmandu and surroundings - including nearby Pathan where we were treated to a rather gruesome temple sacrifice of three buffaloes. The Nepalese have adopted a clever but unwelcome fundraising ploy - tagging tourists for entry permits to old parts of the city and relieving you of $5.00 for the pleasure of walking around with un-paying locals and dodging cars, motorcycles and an army of street hawkers that ply the cobblestone roads throughout these ancient areas. I suppose this is all tolerable if the Nepalese do as they say and use these proceeds to maintain and preserve their UNESCO World heritage sites (a good first step here would be to ban vehicle through traffic in these sites, I suggest). In addition, there are often temple monkeys en site to keep you amused with out charge (beyond pitching the odd banana their way).

As an update on the differences between Nepal and India posted earlier this week, I am pleased to report that Nepalese beer is far superior to India's ubiquitous Kingfisher. Everest Lager is my thirst quencher of choice at the moment. I should also note that one can readily acquire passable French Pinot Noir in the stores here - good wine being as scarce as an honest price from a street hawker in India. With our trek now delayed a day by roadblock protests by yet another Maoist splinter group (not to be confused with the original Maoist splinter group that now forms the government and from which this splinter group splintered from), another bottle of Pinot Noir may be in order for cocktail hour. This would constitute the only "red" I would choose to support today.

Day One Dispatch - Nepal

Greetings one and all from Kathmandu, Nepal. With little effort and even less preparation, the "If not now, when?" tour de monde has decamped the hot and dusty plains of Rajasthan for the capital city of this exotic mountain kingdom. The only effort involved for us was wrenching ourselves out of our week-long stay in the enchanting lakeside city of Udaipur with its wedding cake white floating hotel and immensely colourful and cacophonous Mewar festival. Even Nicole Kidman was there for a film shoot while we were present - really, how much better does it get than that, pray tell.

Several blogistas have professed a curiosity as to the differences we are finding, if any, between Nepal and India. From the deep perspective of one day on the ground here, we have already composed a rather substantive list - highlighted by the following.

Nepal has/is ...

1. Fewer cows roaming around fertilizing the streets and head-butting tourists (as happened to Patty in Udaipur last week).
2. A more cosmopolitan selection of available cuisine - including steaks (may be buffalo though may also relate to point 1 above), and, reputedly, sushi (to be investigated in the next few days).
3. A better selection of beer - the sampling of which lurks near the summit of my "To-do" list for Nepal .
4. More Orient-oriented - with strong Tibetan and Chinese influences in the architecture of both people and buildings.
5. Hawkers and "touts" who actually seem to understand the phrase "No, we're not interested in [fill in the blank]". Such etiquette is sadly lacking throughout most of India.
6. More pleasant, laid-back locals, always smiling and greeting you with a happy "Namaste" with much less staring and gawking. I'm not ruling out that many/most of them may in fact be stoned - but they are much more pleasant.
7. Less electricity (it has only been on for half a day during Day One here)
8. At least 10 degrees cooler! - much welcomed change after 4 months in the 25-30 degree range.
9. Even more women travellers than in India. In our hotel, women travellers seem to outnumber men by a wide margin . Where are all the men travellers anyway?
10. More wood in temples and buildings. Evidently the proverbial "Great fire of 18xx/19xx" did not sweep through Kathmandu - at least as of yet.
11. Less infatuated with the success of Slumdog Millionaire - although knock-off DVDs of the same can be had for $5.00 in many Intellectual Property-challenged establishments in Thamel.
12. Less colourful dresses (admittedly, not much could rival the rainbow Saree parades we saw regularly in India); women seem to be less bound by social or cultural strictures regarding dress.
13. Cheaper (hard to believe but true) - including the all-important cost of having your photo taken with a sadhu ascetic in a temple.
14. More hippies - spread across a spectrum of age between 20 and 70
15. Yetis ! (or are they just hippies at the top-end of the spectrum)

Well, that's a starter - surely to be added to in the next three weeks that we plan to stay here. We plan to be in Kathmandu until Monday when we hope to depart for a week-long trek among what my dear friend Gwyn would call the "slight inclines" of the Annapurna Himalayas. I would consider a brisk ascent of Everest but, alas, I left my good hiking boots at home. Poor planning plagues the trip - again!

Namaste