Smorgasbord of little stories

So, sorry a bit of time since I've written---
to be honest, I've had a little traveler's blues, as I sit in dark or cold hotel rooms, cafes, with only cold water (so no shower again), wondering, why do people come here for vacation? On one hand, it's unpleasant to see myself acting like a spoiled westerner; when you walk past people missing their legs and trying to walk on their stumps through the muddy streets, just wanting to have a cold shower is petty.  On the other hand, it's part of the world I'm used to, and it would be one thing if I were an explorer or anthropologist; then you'd expect it. But as it is, I'm on my honeymoon and post-PhD vacation where I wanted to treat myself, so then I ask myself the question, why am I here?

While I've enjoyed many moments of the trip so far, I don't yet see why people are in love with Nepal or India. If you have to come here for a yoga training course or pilgrimage, I can understand. But just to hang out? It is also true that we haven't really been 'traveling' or 'vacationing' yet: just meditation retreat and dealing with logistics like hotels, buses, post offices, banks, and internet, so surely that changes things.

On the up side, we are starting to have more interactions, meetings with Nepalis: at the bus stand the other day, a young (gorgeous) Nepali who teaches English starts talking to us, trying to help us out. Today on the bus, another conversation with a nice middle aged man sprang up, after all the Nepalis offered me a seat. He works for a hydroelectric plant, and his hobby is playing the guitar, sacred Nepali music. He was on his way to a recording session! and was looking forward to an upcoming trip to Australia because he "wanted to see how we white people live in our own countries." He had noticed on a previous trip to Europe that "all the people work very hard" and he was puzzled that we never have time to just stop and talk to someone in the street. (He hasnt met my dad yet, however :) He also thought that the people seemed sad. But he was eager to exchange and converse with people to understand different cultures. He encouraged us to go see the Himalayas because they are so high, that when you are there you feel you are up in heaven with the gods.

Today's big adventure was the Kathmandu post office, to get a package sent from my mother for Christmas: if only I had a hidden camera! It's the kind of thing you can't possibly photograph without insulting the people, and yet, it's really worthy of photos. We were shuffled from one big old concrete bunker style room to another, fill out this form (in Nepali!), go to this table, then that one because, of course, everything is done by hand and there are endless 19th century style paper registers where all the details are written down. And, of course, 10 rupees to this person, 20 rupees to another, 172 rupees to the customs officer... I ha a strong feeling that these "fees" might never end up in the government's coffers, but what can you do? And Jean Yves assured me that there really is a team of people who go back through all the 27 papers and registers we filled out, to make sure everything happened as it should. Bureacracy is the same everywhere.

And as always, the Nepali are super-polite and kind: seeing us helpless foreigners the english-speaking-guy comes and leads us from room to room, desk to desk. Then, a woman arrived with tea in glasses for all the staff-- Tea Time!--at 12 noon. They were surprised and amazed that my mom would send me such a big package for Christmas. After they had opened the package to make sure we had not sent drugs, weapons, etc, we gave the lady helping us some mini-Snickers for her and her kids. Big smiles all around.

Then over to another building to mail something back home (our luggage is now too heavy). THIS was a real spectacle. Five different people we go to, one to weigh, one to calculate, one to fill out the customs form, another to tape the envelope... And the STAMPS! There is a man using an old wind up machine, where he turns dials to get the right amount, adds red ink, folds a piece of paper, and then manually turns a crank: voila! human postage machine. There we also had the joy to meet a young man with his father, sending off college applications to the USA! He set his sights high: MIT was his first choice, but also Harvard, Duke, we couldn't see all the others. He wants to study artificial intelligence and computers, but is worried there won't be any financial aid for foreigners. Until this moment, I had no idea, really, the hurdles faced by international kids who come to our universities. At 50 dollars per application-- this is like the family income for months for a Nepali! He has to take the TOEFL, write an essay in excellent English, understand the different culture and processes, and then just moving to the US, figuring out how to get around, get a car, open a bank account... amazing. I'm crossing my fingers for him.

Day after tomorrow, we are off to Pokhara, Nepal: find that on your map! The plan is to see the mountains up close, rural villages, then once in Pokhara get a massage and see some friends. Then off by bus again to Lumbini (even harder to find on a map!) where the Buddha was born: it's on our route to India, so why not. Once in India, we take a train to Varanasi, the ancient city where people bathe in the Ganges. We're excited to get moving again, and to finally feel like we're on holiday!

Tonight seems to be New Year's Eve, but I'm not sure what we'll do if anything. Perhaps treat ourselves to lemon cheesecake. (I'm having a GREAT time eating here, sorry Jean-Michel, yes it's la bouffe encore) but after being in France for 8 years, it's wonderful to find banana bread, black forest cake, brownies, all anglo-style desserts! And things are 90 percent vegetarian here, with one section of the menu labeled simply " Non-Veg."  I havent yet solved the question of why it is possible to find bagels and cream cheese in Nepal but not France, I'm just making the most of it while I can.

Happy New Year and lots of love,
cyn and Jy

Comments

[gallagher]

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