Well, Leigh and I finally got our Chinese visas for
Tibet.
Yay!
It is a bittersweet situation, however.
After 5 ½ months of waiting we finally know we are permitted to live in
Lhasa.
That’s the sweet part.
The bitter part is twofold – the visa apparently expires on the 30
th of July (a full 6 months before we need it to!) and we cannot enter Tibet until after
Losar, the Tibetan New Year (which was our preference).
So while we got what we wanted, we didn’t as well.
Sounds strange don’t it?
Well, from what others are telling me, I should get used to it, because that’s how it works where we’re going.
Honestly, we are both relieved beyond words to finally know something concrete.
We have dates and permission and the paperwork in on its way.
That is a major load off our minds.
It was beginning to look like we weren’t going to get in at all (at least I wasn’t because of my photo background).
Now we have to swallow the bitter disappointment of not being in
Lhasa for the extraordinary New Year’s celebrations and worry about how to extend our stay once we arrive.
For now, we take solace in knowing we are going, the New Year’s celebrations are pretty spectacular here in Kathmandu (did I mention Boudhanath, where we’re staying, is a Tibetan neighborhood?), and that eventually things will work out.
This slight misfortune has affected a very fortunate situation for Leigh and me, however. We had planned to drive overland with three other people, two of them Fulbright scholars from Harvard whom we have befriended here. With our inability to leave before March, they will go on without us (Yet another disappointment). However, since one couple lives here full-time, they have offered their house for the remainder of our stay! They will not return until after we leave and in fact we could cross paths again in Lhasa. So for the next month, we have a rent free, maid & cook included, apartment all to ourselves. We are so excited! Living in a guest house for the last 2 ½ weeks has gotten really old at this point. There is nowhere to work productively, the beds are less than comfortable, there is no private bathroom, and though I find the morning puja rituals romantic and exotic, to have them start every morning at 5 AM with drums banging and horns blaring is not what I consider conducive to good sleep. Couple that with the fact that Kathmandu has numberless dogs, both domesticated and homeless, and it seems they prefer to sleep during the day and talk to each other across the city barking all night long. There have been a couple nights when certain yippy son of bitches stake out our window in particular and howl and yap loudly. It is as annoying, aggravating and maddening as living next to a rooster. Oh, give me a sling shot and I’ll shut that dog up! And finally, living in a guest house for a long period of time gets expensive. Yes, we are only paying 440 rupees a night (about 6.50$), but it all adds up quickly. Granted, our living expenses are much less than they would be in the US or China, any money we can save can prolong our adventure another day.
I want to talk about the political situation here for a second. It is a fairly complicated mess but I’ll try to explain as I understand it. For some time, Nepal was a constitutional monarchy. There was a ruling King and his family, an appointed Prime Minister, a democratically elected Parliament, a Supreme Court, etc. For a time, things were going pretty well for this Himalayan Kingdom if you don’t mind rampant corruption and constant internal political bickering. But during the middle part of the 90’s, events began to take shape then that are now shaping the face of Nepal’s struggles today. The Maoists started in the rural western hills. Their rhetoric was trying to find the source of poor people’s suffering and trying to alleviate it. There is a certain Marxist mentality which theorizes the poor are exploited by those in power, be it the economic, political or caste system powers. And most of me has to agree with that theory. For several years, their enemy was so incomprehensibly abstract (American Imperialism, capitalism, etc) their movement was basically ignored by the capital valley and the administration. Around 1996 though, the King started a campaign of military and police suppression. This lead to violent retaliation by the Maoists and a gradual solidification of the current face of their enemy: the King, the army, the police, and the government of Nepal. Lately, there have been numerous skirmishes between governmental forces and the Maoists throughout western and southern Nepal, gradually creeping ever closer to the Kathmandu valley. Fatalities reached an all time high in 2005 with over 700 deaths in 5 months. Since the official beginning of the ‘conflict’, which ironically shares my birthday – February 13th, 1996, over 12,000 Nepalis (including police, military, civilians, and Maoists) have been killed. In the meantime, trouble grew for the royal family. In June 2001 tragedy struck that would shock the world: the royal family – the King, the Queen, and the crown Prince – was assassinated by the half mad nephew (he was the son of the current King which has flamed many conspiracy and coup theories). Soon, the King’s brother was installed as the new King and things degenerated even more. The Parliament was dissolved on the advice by the Prime Minister. Shortly thereafter, the new King sacked the Prime Minster! This left the King in almost total, authoritative control. (I’m sure ol’ George W. was watching from Crawford wondering how he could execute something similar). So now we have three main antagonists – the King (who controls the army and the police, so he’s got most of the guns), the seven party coalitions (which is the former members of the very corrupt Parliament and they want their jobs back, not altruistic democracy for the people), and the Maoists (who have a good number of rural people and guns on their side and want equal rights for the poor, in favor of something more radical than democracy though in their opinion anything would be better than the King). Within this context, any of these parties (except the King’s) can call for general strikes or bandhs, where those who support that party will not drive, close shops, etc, which is construed as a show of support. But unfortunately the bandhs are used as terror tactics as well and many people who don’t support the party will close their shop or not drive so they won’t get beat up or vandalized by the calling party. So in essence, when a general strike is called (and these could be anything from one day to one week), all the shops are closed, all the taxis and buses stop running. Yet in true Nepali fashion, most observe in half-hearted ways. For example, they will close their garage door style shop front, but only 75% of the way down. Or a restaurant will close the door…mostly. With a quiet knock or pushing it open and walking in, you will see tables full of people eating and talking but warily watching the door. But then there are the demonstrations and these are really the most disturbing of all outward signs of political instability. There is a rally almost everyday somewhere in Nepal, usually several that coincide in the major cities and towns. These are people gathered to protest their government’s inability to listen to their needs or abuse of power or any other number of things a democratic populace has the freedom of speech to say, right? Except Nepal isn’t technically a democracy right now, it is just a King. The balance of power between the elected Parliament and the religiously appointed Royal Family’s King doesn’t exist right now. And so there is heavy handed, violent, aggressive suppression of these rallies by the military and police. Citizens are arrested and beaten. It is very dramatic and all seemingly useless. Yet if not for the activism by the Maoists and the coalition, many believe the King, who many believe to be less than mentally stable or in touch with reality (can we say George?), take over total control and that would be disastrous as well. Confused yet? So are most Nepalis, international journalists and probably those vying for power as well. This is the mess that Leigh and I land right in the middle of! It is a complicated mess and the ones suffering the most, feeling the full brunt of this political firestorm, is the average Nepali citizen.
Now for those parents out there reading this, there is little to fear regarding our safety. Like I have said, we are staying in Boudha, which is a very quiet, safe, and non-politicized area with lots of smiley, happy people holding hands, singing songs and watching rainbows fill the sky. We have our choice of numerous tasty restaurants. We can buy groceries and bootleg DVD’s (the latest and greatest – Memoirs of a Geisha, King Kong, Narnia and the like….all for less than 2$ a movie!). So, to allay fears that might have arisen during this last paragraph, Leigh and I are not in any danger and you should not worry about us being here. The world of tourists is not anywhere near the same as the world of Nepalis, though they do have to intersect from time to time. And that is true no matter what country you find yourself in.
I will say life here is raw. It is in your face, in your nostrils, you taste it in your mouth. Shit and piss in the streets. Life is bitter, sweet, sour, foul, beautiful, sad, ugly, amusing, hectic, painful, joyful, depressing, encouraging, nasty, gross, simple, small and grand. Take for instance the beggars. You think Atlanta or New York has beggars? For many here it is a way of life they have known since they were children. On a daily basis, I pass mothers of no more than 14 or 15, using their newborns and small infants as begging bait. You can see them coming. They spot you, you spot them and the game is on. She approaches and looks pitiful (even if she was laughing and cutting up with her other begging mother friends just a moment before she spotted you) and in this whining, defeated, sad voice asks in broken English, “Milk, Baba. Milk for my baby. So hungry. So hungry. Please sir, milk. Milk for my baby”. There seem to be two possibilities and both are really, really distressing. One, she really is that poor and can’t feed her baby. Probably not the case though. This means that she is probably using the infant as a begging tool to tug on your pity strings and make you feel guilty. Then there are the street kids. The professionals I call them. They are so dirty, so pitiful, so disheveled that sometimes you catch your breath when you see them in such a state. I, however, see yet another ploy by mothers and fathers to gain some extra income from the guilt and pity afforded these kids. Too many times have I seen them working in conjunction with adults, like pimps and hookers, except the hookers are the kids. I know it sounds cold, but when you see enough of them and talk to enough people, you begin to see patterns and plots and it disgusts me to no end to see the children brought up in such squalor and mischief. Now before you go thinking that I’m just totally cold and unfeeling (which of course you know is not true), I do give without hesitation to one group – the deformed and the elderly. Most of the deformities come from either polio or leprosy here. When there is no other possible way, either because of physical deformity or cultural ostracizing, for this individual to earn a daily wage, then I am happy to contribute to their needs with a few rupees here and there. I feel that if you want to donate for street kids, or homeless etc, there are too many good organizations (wherever you are – even here in Nepal) that deal specifically with this social problem. When you give street kids money then you only encourages that child to continue this behavior pattern, which in essence damages any chance or any motivation to seek a different reality. Maybe it sounds cold or uncompassionate and maybe I’m not describing what I feel to be true in clear words for you to understand, but everyone has their own way, and in general I just don’t agree with giving money to street kids or working age, relatively healthy men & women. Being here and becoming familiar with so many of them, my opinions have really solidified on this issue.
Leigh and I went on a visit outside Kathmandu for the first time since arriving two weeks ago. We visited the ancient capital of Bhaktapur. I was itching to get out of the city and the valley and I think Leigh was too. It was time to see some country and something different than the Boudha stupa and surrounding neighborhoods. We awoke early one morning, before the sun had risen, and caught a taxi for the 30 minute drive through misty vegetable fields and sleepy rural towns. The road to Bhaktapur was very beautiful, very green and very quiet – something of a change from the scenery we’ve been accustomed to here in the smoggy, noisy, big city of Kathmandu. Within 10 minutes of leaving our hotel, we were in the country and surrounded by fields of vegetables – mostly cabbage, cauliflower, broccoli and potatoes – and the early morning fog that likes to hang out in low places in when in the mountains. Bhaktapur is about 15 km east from the outskirts of Kathmandu. Once the capital of the entire valley, it is now the most isolated and unchanged of the three former kingdoms (Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur). Stretched out on a ridge above the Hanumante River, the city grew from a collection of villages strung together along the old trade route to Tibet. Bhaktapur is almost 100% Newari and adamantly rural at heart. Women in red bordered, black saris raised in the back to revel the blue tattooed above their ankles. It began as a collection of farming villages as early as the 3rd century, when irrigation was first brought to the valley’s fields. In the 12th century, King Ananda Deva, ruler of a powerful mini-kingdom just outside the valley rim, shifted the capital to Bhaktapur and built a royal palace there. For 300 years, Bhaktapur ruled as the capital of the unified valley. It was a heavily fortified, walled city that finally fell to the invading Gorkhas in 1768. Over the next two centuries, its status diminished and progress passed it by. Earthquakes took a heavy toll as well. Over 70% of the city was destroyed in the earthquake of 1934 and the one in 1988 did a great deal of damage as well. As a result, few buildings over 170 years old remain intact. It remains, however, a perfect example of Newari architecture and town planning. Neighborhoods are organized by caste and centered around a main square, or Durbar Square, with a public water source, temples and the local Ganesh shrine. The tall brick houses are tightly packed together to preserve precious farmland but every few hundred meters the narrow alleys open to spacious squares. This is where Nepali life really takes place. Merchants selling vegetables and chilies, weavers spinning wool, women washing clothes or nursing babies and many sitting and chatting in the sun. We began our day of adventure with visiting the main square, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site (just like the Boudha Stupa that we have been walking around everyday). After paying a whopping 10$ US dollars to enter (because I couldn’t find my Nepali ID card – free admission for locals of course), we had the square almost to ourselves. Besides the occasional woman devotee visiting the many statues and mini-shrines located throughout the square, the early morning hour sat lightly and magically on our experience. With the sun rising and the mist still clinging to the ground, it was a very special, meditative, joyful, mystical experience walking through the old square. Many visitors have said that this Durbar Square (there is one in each old kingdom capital – Patan, Kathmandu and Bhaktapur), is the most entrancingly picturesque city scene in Nepal. And I would have to heartedly agree. Beautiful.
After a great view but less than filling breakfast atop the Golden Gate Guesthouse roof, we marched steadily past the dozen or so Japanese tourists that now explored the square, seeing life through the lenses of their cameras. What is it about Japanese traveling in dozens and with their ever present cameras? I should talk though, huh? Anyway, we headed down one of the various narrow alleys to Potter’s Square. A charming and bustling neighborhood of the potter’s caste, there are literally hundreds of vessels of all shapes and sizes set out to dry in the rising sun. A wonderfully dark gray, almost black, clay is used to create tiny oil lamps for puja, teacups and yogurt bowls, flowerpots, water jugs and money banks. The men are typically the ones spinning, while the women and younger folks help mix and moisten the raw clay extracted from the surrounding hillsides. Remember, the KTM valley was once an ancient lake so there must be meters upon meters of thick, rich clay! Unafraid to make new friends, I literally just walked into someone’s house following a woman delivering a new batch of black clay to her husband potter. Using an electric wheel (an upgrade from the traditional large wooden kick wheel or slightly more modern large truck tire fitted with crossbars), the man, about 40 or so, was cranking out incense bowls – probably about one every 3-4 minutes. Being an amateur potter myself, I was duly impressed. His son, a potter in training, could speak really good English and so we had a very educational conversation with him. Their family has been potters for as far back as his grandfather’s grandfather. And though he is lined up to be another one, this young man wants to introduce more technology and machinery into the process. With machines he reasons, they could produce even more products and more products mean more profits, right? Aaaahhhh, capitalism – selling out tradition for an extra buck all across the globe.
It was during lunch when the world of Nepalis and the world of tourists became appallingly distinct. We were eating lunch at this place on the corner of a secondary square. Very nice view, less than prompt service and only mediocre food. Well, I ordered a small pot of milk tea, seeing on the menu that the price for a small pot was 3 times that of a cup. So one would figure that in a small pot there is at least 3 cups of tea, right? Totally wrong! When emptied the pot only filled 1 ½ cups! Not acceptable. So I ask the waiter, who was coming back from waiting on a Nepali couple behind us, to see the menu he had in his hand. Well, he froze like a deer in headlights and looked around confused. So I asked again and he reluctantly gave it to me. Well lo and behold…the prices on this menu were less than half the prices we saw on our menus! When confronted about this, his response was that what I was looking at was the Nepali menu, what we ordered from was the tourist menu. TWO MENUS!!! Though I shouldn’t have been that surprised, I was still insulted. Yes, yes, I know. Foreigners can afford more so why not charge them more? Nepalis can only afford so much so charge them that. Still…same food, same service, different prices. It’s the discrepancy of half a dollar or something, but like I was steaming to Leigh, it’s the principle. Bastards!
I wish to leave you with a poem –
Dust in the sunlight
Rising ever higher
On God’s own breath
I share the same path
Floating, calmly
Dancing in the light
Of Heaven on Earth
Within, without
Ever the same, always different
Does the dance exist
Without my witness?
Breathing in, I calm my body
Breathing out, I smile
Living in the present moment
I know this is a perfect moment.
Well, Leigh and I finally got our Chinese visas for 
I will say life here is raw. It is in your face, in your nostrils, you taste it in your mouth. Shit and piss in the streets. Life is bitter, sweet, sour, foul, beautiful, sad, ugly, amusing, hectic, painful, joyful, depressing, encouraging, nasty, gross, simple, small and grand. Take for instance the beggars. You think 
Leigh and I went on a visit outside 
After a great view but less than filling breakfast atop the Golden Gate Guesthouse roof, we marched steadily past the dozen or so Japanese tourists that now explored the square, seeing life through the lenses of their cameras. What is it about Japanese traveling in dozens and with their ever present cameras? I should talk though, huh? Anyway, we headed down one of the various narrow alleys to Potter’s Square. A charming and bustling neighborhood of the potter’s caste, there are literally hundreds of vessels of all shapes and sizes set out to dry in the rising sun. A wonderfully dark gray, almost black, clay is used to create tiny oil lamps for puja, teacups and yogurt bowls, flowerpots, water jugs and money banks. The men are typically the ones spinning, while the women and younger folks help mix and moisten the raw clay extracted from the surrounding hillsides. Remember, the KTM valley was once an ancient lake so there must be meters upon meters of thick, rich clay! Unafraid to make new friends, I literally just walked into someone’s house following a woman delivering a new batch of black clay to her husband potter. Using an electric wheel (an upgrade from the traditional large wooden kick wheel or slightly more modern large truck tire fitted with crossbars), the man, about 40 or so, was cranking out incense bowls – probably about one every 3-4 minutes. Being an amateur potter myself, I was duly impressed. His son, a potter in training, could speak really good English and so we had a very educational conversation with him. Their family has been potters for as far back as his grandfather’s grandfather. And though he is lined up to be another one, this young man wants to introduce more technology and machinery into the process. With machines he reasons, they could produce even more products and more products mean more profits, right? Aaaahhhh, capitalism – selling out tradition for an extra buck all across the globe. 
It was during lunch when the world of Nepalis and the world of tourists became appallingly distinct. We were eating lunch at this place on the corner of a secondary square. Very nice view, less than prompt service and only mediocre food. Well, I ordered a small pot of milk tea, seeing on the menu that the price for a small pot was 3 times that of a cup. So one would figure that in a small pot there is at least 3 cups of tea, right? Totally wrong! When emptied the pot only filled 1 ½ cups! Not acceptable. So I ask the waiter, who was coming back from waiting on a Nepali couple behind us, to see the menu he had in his hand. Well, he froze like a deer in headlights and looked around confused. So I asked again and he reluctantly gave it to me. Well lo and behold…the prices on this menu were less than half the prices we saw on our menus! When confronted about this, his response was that what I was looking at was the Nepali menu, what we ordered from was the tourist menu. TWO MENUS!!! Though I shouldn’t have been that surprised, I was still insulted. Yes, yes, I know. Foreigners can afford more so why not charge them more? Nepalis can only afford so much so charge them that. Still…same food, same service, different prices. It’s the discrepancy of half a dollar or something, but like I was steaming to Leigh, it’s the principle. Bastards!