Seven Days in Nepal

“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.” 
― Joan Didion

Speechless is the only way to describe how I felt walking into Nepal.  I was lucky enough to be close to a land border between India and Nepal that allows land crossings for foreigners with the appropriate Indian visa, which I was also lucky enough to hold.  To visit Nepal has been a dream for as long as I have been old enough to travel.  So, it really was quite a moment.  Having checked out of India, on one side of the bridge, I crossed, what I guess for me was, no-man’s land, to apply for, and receive, my Nepali visa.  It was thrilling, exciting, emotional and so many other feelings all at the same time.  Pride was there, anticipation, wonder…quite the mixture!  The one selfie I took (I wasn’t entirely sure I should be taking pictures) will forever remind me of the many smiles, greetings of “Namaste”, stares and bicycle bell ringing of that crossing.  I guess they don’t see many white faces walking across that bridge.  It was just ... magical.

                                               

(From India to Nepal, the bridge in the distance)

(A moment to relish - although I am not sure my face quite reflects the true feelings)

(No-man's land)

(It's quite a long bridge)

The photo also had my red badge (pinned to my rucksack) on full view.  The red badge is very special to me.  At my last school in the UK (St John’s) red badges were given in celebration assembly, on a Thursday morning, to children who had contributed something extra to their work, achievements or something personal.  Red badges are a big deal.  I was given my red badge at my leaving assembly in July 2015.  It has travelled with me through Mongolia and no fewer than 11 other countries since.  It has quite a story to tell.  Although, I didn’t realise it at the time, seeing the badge in the photo seemed to make the journey even more memorable.  It was as if it was photobombing the photo to remind me to reflect on the incredible journey I have been making for the past few years – both professionally and personally.  That little red badge was like my reminder.  A reminder of the advice I used to give every bride and groom just before their wedding – “Just take a breath every so often and drink in everything around you.  The day will pass so quickly, blink and you’ll miss it.”  In my hotel room later that evening, as I looked at the photograph, that was my promise to myself while here in Nepal.  To breathe, to reflect, to remember.  Not to get caught up in feeling I had to achieve everything, see everything, be everything.  Together, that little red badge and I share quite a story!

As I reached the end of the bridge, the border guard pointed me in the right direction and off I went to immigration.  I huge, empty room, with a single guy staffing the small desk.  He had to be the friendliest border guard I ever met.  Perhaps he was just pleased there was someone there.  A painless process, a ridiculously simple form and a few dollars later, I was the proud owner of a 90 days visa.  I walked into Kakarbhitta and found a hotel.  Didn’t need much, just one night.  On reflection, I might have been able to make the journey to Kathmandu overnight that night – I had certainly arrived much earlier than anticipated – but, actually it was a sleepy little place, with colourful markets and friendly people and I enjoyed my afternoon there.  I conversed with a few people – using my five stock phrases of Nepali – which seemed to be the highlight of most people’s day.  Oh, and it turns out, the PM of Nepal had stayed at the same hotel as me not long before.  A good choice it seems.

(Enter Nepal at Kakarbhitta - pronounced ka-ka-ra-vee-tta)

(the town)

(Poster of the Nepali Prime Minister at hotel)

I organised a bus for the following morning.  I chose a minivan, simply because it would be more environmentally friendly and perhaps not quite so chaotic.  I also wanted to experience some of Nepal too.  At approximately £11 it was also much cheaper than flying – a domestic airport is 25 mins away by cab and then Kathmandu is only a short flight (45mins?) from there.  I think the cost of a flight was about £90.  So, my budget transportation was booked, and I had saved a few quid.  An early dinner and bed (I needed to be up at 05.30 for the van) was the order of the day. 

(Dawn)

(Plains)

(Colourful trucks)

(Lunch)

(Beginning to climb the mountains - roads becoming rougher)

In a nutshell, my journey across eastern Nepal took 14 hours.  It started at 6.00 when the van picked me up.  It continued through some large towns close to Kakarbhitta as we picked up people who had also pre-booked tickets.  I still had not seen a non-Indian tourist for the entirety of my trip.  It drew me out everywhere I went. That eastern part of Nepal and western part of West Bengal is plains land.  It is flat, low and hot.  It was certainly much warmer than the mountains I had come from (and would eventually end up).  We travelled for miles along a fairly good black topped road.  We stopped a couple of times.  Colourful trucks and buses and crazy moped and motorcycle riders wove in and out, no one ever really keeping to their side of the road.  I was so used to the death-defying drops and millimetres of space between the tyre edge and a 150 metre drop in Kashyem, but they were roads I knew.  These were, on occasion, a little nerve wracking.  But, for the main part it was all good and, between glimpses of picturesque views and dusty little towns, I snoozed.  By about 2.00pm we began to climb.  The mountains had come into view a little earlier and we climbed very quickly.  It must have been to about 2,000metres.  After a little while on the ridge we dropped down a little and followed a high valley, the floor of which was covered in a patchwork of, what looked like, rice fields.  Banana trees hung everywhere and many of the houses were made of thatch – bamboo I presume.  As the afternoon turned to dusk, lights began to appear.  I saw a large town off to the right and soon after we began to enter the outskirts of Kathmandu.  I was incredibly surprised.  Having had no time (and mainly no internet) I had done little research for my trip.  I just assumed Kathmandu was a little like Darjeeling – perched on a ridgetop.  Oh, how wrong I was.  Kathmandu, situated at 1400m above sea level, is in a long wide valley which spreads out in between the mountains.  The following afternoon I would be reminded of Ulaanbaatar as I looked out over the valley and saw Kathmandu’s towering mountains in the distance (Kathmandu Valley is 19.6 square miles in area and has a population of 1.5 million in the city and over 3 million across the valley, which includes 5 other towns).  I digress...back to my arrival - Is it completely naïve that I was spellbound by the lights, the familiar names, the activity, the hustle and bustle?  I had, I suppose, totally ignored the fact that I was entering a capital city.  Brand name signs that I saw meant I could have been in Beijing, Seoul or even London.  The absence of natural light meant that, if I looked past the people, the vehicles and the infrastructure, I could have been almost anywhere.  Being transported from the sleepy village of Kashyem was like being plunged into ice cold water.  As I got out of the mini-van, the smells, the noise…everything hit me like a wave.  I was hooked. 

My hotel was in Thamel, the main tourist district of Kathmandu, and where many ‘must see’ destinations are close to.  It was quiet when I arrived – a Friday night, and for that I was glad.  I slept well.  Up early, I left the hotel to explore.  Well, I had breakfast first, at which a crow stole my omelette, much to the delight and hilarity of one or two staff and guests (myself included), and then I set off.  Armed with a good old-fashioned tourist map, I found myself at the north most edge of Thamel and spent a wonderful hour mooching the streets, making my way slowly in the direction of the Garden of Dreams.  The streets are filled with little stores selling all sorts of things: clothes, art, souvenirs.  The staff were not overly pushy, and I spent time introducing myself in my pigeon Nepali and getting a pretty good response – despite the slight dialect differences.  Travelling solo, with just my rucksack, meant that buying anything was pretty unlikely, but as I would need to pass through Kathmandu on my way back to India, I did decide on one or two things I’d invest in later in the month.

One was a painting of a Mandala.  

(Mandala)

A Mandala is "a support for the meditating person", something to be repeatedly contemplated to the point of saturation, such that the image of the mandala becomes fully internalised in even the minutest detail and can then be summoned and contemplated at will as a clear and vivid visualized image. With every mandala comes what Tucci (Mandala author) calls "its associated liturgy ... contained in texts known as tantras ", instructing practitioners on how the mandala should be drawn, built and visualised, and indicating the mantras to be recited during its ritual use.  

The specific Mandala I wanted was designed by the current 14^th Dalai Lama and it is an intricate, hand painted representation of the journey to enlightenment.  My first morning became a fascinating one as I learned as much as I could of how a Mandala is painted and what it all means.  So, how did I end up at the School of Art talking about Mandala painting?  Well, therein lies a bit of a story.  I had almost reached the Garden of Dreams, when a guy stopped me, introducing himself and asking where I was from.  Always trying to improve my Nepali he laughed, and we got chatting.  He told me he was a student of Mandala art.  Ten minutes of polite introduction and he ended up walking to the Garden of Dreams with me – he had never been – and we continued talking.  Bablu is 25, he is from Rajistan in India and has been in Kathmandu studying the painting of Mandala for 3 years.   We passed a couple of shops selling them. I had seen them before, and they can be incredibly intricate and stunning.  Ultimately, it became apparent that there was going to be a hard sell at some point, but it was nice to have company and be chatting about something so very interesting on my first day around the city.  Sure enough, after the gardens, Bablu took me to his school.  Here, the manager of the school, took out several different paintings (including Bablu’s work) and began to explain the meanings behind them.  I was utterly fascinated.  The explanation of the Mandala brought together so many aspects from my prior Buddhism learning in Kashyem, the Institute of Tibetology in Gangtok and from my limited understanding of the prayer flags and the prayers (you may remember all these from previous blogs) I learned on the Sandakphu trek.  The amount of information was almost too much, but it was addictive.  Even after telling the man I had no intention of buying anything that day, he continued to enlighten me as to the intricacies of the paintings.  Apparently, even for the knowledgeable, the learning about a Mandala never stops.  To be fair, he was actually very polite, and I left the tiny school without heckling or abuse.  The artists that paint the Mandalas are ‘categorised’ into: master, medium and beginner.  The price difference is quite hefty, but for Bablu’s medium work, £70 did not seem such a high price to pay - not that I bought it (then at least).

The Royal Palace was next on my list of what I wanted to visit.  Simply going from my tourist map, with very little real information about what each destination would bring, was pretty successful.  Never expecting much I seemed to be overwhelmed by all that I visited.  The Royal Palace is now a museum dedicated to the lives of the Nepali Royal Family.  Recently, the King of Nepal renounced (or was deposed, depending on who is talking) his title as King and Nepal is now governed by a President and Prime Minister.  There are, of course, people who want the King back, but for now the Royal Family live as regular Nepali people.  The last King was the brother of, reputedly, the most popular King, who was assassinated with his whole family during a party in the palace grounds.  In 2001, King Birenda Bir Bikram Shah, his wife, daughter and two sons were hosting a party, which turned into a bloodbath, with all but the Crown Prince being killed instantly.  The Crown Prince, critically injured, was strictly speaking, King for the short remainder of his life as he died in hospital from his wounds on 4^th June 2001.  His Uncle then ascended the throne in 2001 and served as the King until 2008.  

The Palace has a very 50/60’s feel to it.  The exterior of the building (all except the ornate, very Nepali feeling entrance) has a tall structure, dead centre, with bells at the top, which almost looks like a crematorium chimney.  Inside the fixtures, furnishings and furniture are all very 50/60’s.  Some of the artefacts date back a long time and it was very interesting to see the King’s library and office, complete with the books he read.  As one exits the building, a glass case houses the spectacular crown of the Kings of Nepal.  It has a cloth base cap, with pearls, diamonds, and precious stones as decoration.  Long, white bird of paradise feathers spill out of the top and down the back of the wearer.  The crown now remains on show to the public in a bullet proof glass case.  According to the Department of Archaeology in Nepal, the royal crown is studded with 723 diamonds, 2,372 pearls, 47 emeralds and 16 rubies.

Perhaps, sadly, the most resonating part of the visit is the garden in which the assassinations took place.  The final part of the walk, the area has been kept just as it was.  The garden is now untidy, dusty and unkempt.  Parts of the buildings have been dismantled and the billiard room in which the King died, is left with table and triangle as they were.  A sign sombrely stands on each of the spots on which a royal perished and the wall shows the unmistakable marks left by the bullets.   I had understood from a couple of people that no-one knew who had committed the crime and therefore no-one was ever found guilty of the crime.  According to Wikipedia however, it was the Crown Prince who shot his family before turning the gun on himself.  I found out later that it was possibly because the Crown Prince wanted to marry someone different to the woman that had been arranged by the King and Queen.  But nothing has ever been confirmed.

There were bats in the trees in the garden – huge bats, all wrapped up in their leathery wings, the bright sunlight banished from their daytime sleep.

Following the Royal Palace, I walked down to Durbar Square.  There are three Durbar Squares in Kathmandu.  Durbar Square literally translates to Royal Square and is used to describe the plazas opposite the old royal palaces of Nepal.  I was visiting the popular and touristy Kathmandu Durbar Square.  The others are Patan and Bhaktapur.  The three squares consist of temples, idols, open courts and fountains.  The Durbar squares are the most prominent remnants of the old kingdoms that used to govern Nepal.  The square contained the first really obvious damage to buildings, that still exists from the earthquake, that I saw.  The very old nature of the buildings meant that they took the brunt of the earthquake and cracked and became unsafe very quickly.  It is a miracle they are still standing.  Many of the buildings are still held up with wooden beams and scaffolding and look incredibly fragile.  Now, at that point in my solo walking tour of Kathmandu, I realised that my ill preparation was a slight cause for frustration as there really was very little in terms of written information about the site.  No less impressive, or busy for it, I resigned myself to the fact that I could find out information later.  Many of the temples or shrines were similar in style to those I have talked about or will go on to talk about.

(Statue of the popular King of Nepal)

(Temples, colour and electricity!)

(Durbar Square - apparently as famous for it's pigeons as Trafalgar Square)

Very close to the Square is the house (Kumari Ghar) where Kumari Devi lives.  The living Goddess (Kumari Devi) is a child of about 8 years old whose house is also partly held up with wooden beams.  For time immemorial it has been the practice of both Buddhism and Hinduism to worship a living Goddess.  The ritual for choosing the living Goddess is intense.  The initial part is passing the 32 attributes of perfection – hair, shape of teeth and sound of the voice for example.  Even after this, the girls who are nominated will have to confront a Goddess in a darkened room.  The room is littered with buffalo heads and demon-like dancers, the sight of which terrify some.  The girl who remains calm and unafraid is the type of person who could be the Goddess.  It is said that she is unable to be hurt and has no marks of any wounds or injuries that a child of that age might have.  It’s quite something and her house is an intricate web of carved wood and pretty patterned bricks.  It looks like something that might fall down any moment.  On occasions the child will look out on to the crowd.  Photographs of her are forbidden.  On this occasion she did not appear.

(Kumari Devi)

After a delicious (if slightly spicy) lunch of Thangpa – noodle soup – I ventured out on to the bus.  Now, I have always believed in ‘signs’.  I believe that Bablu was a sign because, without a doubt, the Mandala was something I needed to buy, but without the ‘hard sell’ tactic and his discreet persistence, which I could/should have ignored, I never would have been so interested.  My next sign came as I was trying to catch a taxi.  I wasn’t having much luck.  I am awful at bartering, but my sense of pride refused to allow me to pay the initial price they asked for.  Taxi drivers all wear a yellow vest, so they are clearly identifiable.  But they also group together and so trying to bargain can be a bit tricky.  A medical dentistry student (I would find out later), stopped me and asked if I needed help.  I explained where I was attempting to go (Swayambhu Temple – known as Monkey Temple) and that I wasn’t having much luck.  He offered to show me the temple.  More than that, instead of wasting money on a taxi, we’d take the bus!  A thirty-minute journey, the trip cost 20 rupees for me and 10 rupees for Krishna (the dentistry student) - the cost a fraction of the 600 rupees for a taxi.  I was also beginning to find that things were more expensive for the tourist.  The Royal Palace price list showed that a tourist pays 1,000 rupees and a Nepali resident pays 100 rupees.  At the time I was in Nepal, 1,000 Nepali rupees was about £7.00.  I needed to be careful.  Having lived in Kashyem for so long, spending so little (less than £7 a WEEK - sometimes as little as £2), I had arrived in a capital city, where I was responsible for all my food and travel costs.  It proved to be quite challenging.  Taking the bus with Krishna saved me the best part of £8, which I would have had to spend on taxis there and back.  Again, I was very wary of the stories I had heard about people who offer tour guiding and then extort money.  I got lucky because, actually, Krishna really just wanted to improve (I should say 'practise' but 'improve' was his word) his English.  He was practically fluent, but as with many people here (and in India) had lots of questions about grammar or when to use words such as would/could/should.  Really, there have been times during the last four months where I really have to think, and even check, before I answer the questions about my own language.

(MMmmmmm - Thangpa - sp?)

(Entrance to Durbar Square area - from inside)

    

The bus journey went without hitch, although to look at most of the buses, that could be deemed surprising. 

The Swayambhu Temple is built up on the hills just as you leave Kathmandu.  The view across the Kathmandu valley really adds some perspective as to how Kathmandu sits and the enormity of it, along with its five closest towns.  It is a great view.

(Kathmandu Valley as seen from the temple)

The Temple is known as the ‘Monkey Temple’ simply because of the monkeys.  There are quite a few!  On leaving the bus, Krishna and I walked through a small park with three large Buddha at the entrance.  Being a Saturday, the roads had been quiet, but the park was really very busy.  The Nepali working week is 6 days long and includes a Sunday.  Saturday is the only day off.  

Up quite a few steps (reminding me of the walk to school back in Kashyem) and we reached Swayambhu Temple.  Swayambhu is an ancient religious architecture.  The Tibetan name for the site means ‘sublime trees’ for the many varieties of trees found on the hill.  The complex houses a large golden stupa, with Buddha’s eye painted on them – looking out in four directions.  The dome at the base of a stupa represents the entire world.  When a person awakes from the bonds of the world the person reaches the state of enlightenment.  The thirteen pinnacles on the top symbolise the thirteen stages of spiritual realisation that a sentient being has to go through to reach enlightenment or Buddhahood.  The Mandala referred to earlier in this blog is something that can be used to help a Buddhist meditate and focus on the different stages to help reach Buddhahood.   The eyes on the stupa represent wisdom and compassion.  Above each set of eyes there is a third eye which is said to emit cosmic rays when Buddha preaches so that heavenly bodies can come to Earth to listen to the teaching if they wish.  A curly symbol between each pair of eyes (looking a little like a nose) is the Nepali sign for the number one.  The sign represents the unity of all things existing in the world as well as the only path to enlightenment being through the teachings of Buddha.  

(We all get thirsty now and then!)

The temple is quite stunning, especially when the sunlight glistens off the golden parts of the stupa.  Surrounding the stupa are a variety of shrines and temples, some dating back to the Licchavi period (450-750 AD).  The learning available in this part of the world is vast.  I could not keep up with all the information and elements of my first day.  It was reassuring to know that even local people find it impossible to keep up with the variety of shrines, celebrations, festivals, Gods/Goddesses etc celebrated across this locality.

Kathmandu’s Thamel district is made for tourists.  The small, narrow streets festooned with shops selling gifts and clothes, are easy to access and pretty reasonable.  There are bars and restaurants serving many different foods from around the world as well as small local restaurants – which are much cheaper.  Hotels are hidden behind tiny alley entrances and tiny bars sit two or three storeys up.  The electricity cables hanging precariously reminded me a lot of Japan, although in Kathmandu, there was the added fun of watching monkeys use them as bridges across very busy roads.

The following day I went to Pashupatinath Temple.  This historic temple is one of the most sacred Hindu temples in Nepal.  It is situated on both banks of the Bagmati River.  The temple is dedicated to the God, Shiva.  Hindus from all over Nepal and some from India too come to Pashupatinath to die.  Elderly Hindus spend their last remaining days at the temple, so they can be cremated and their ashes travel a final journey down the sacred river Bagmati, which joins the great River Ganges.  Hindus believe that those who die at Pashupatinath will be reborn as a human regardless of any misconduct.  The literature on Pashupatinath says “it is a temple with a special atmosphere of death; death is present in almost every ritual and every corner of the temple.”  I can say, without a doubt, that is exactly how it feels.  From my understanding, it seems that Pashupatinath is as important to Hindus in Nepal as Varanasi is in India, albeit for different reasons.  Varanasi, you may remember, is visited so that Hindus can break the cycle of reincarnation.

(Entrance to main temple)

The main temple of Pashupatinath is considered a masterpiece of Hindu architecture.  As a non-Hindu, I could only admire the temple from outside – although photos are not allowed inside either.  It is made from copper and is covered with gold.  The richly decorated temple with wooden sculptures is believed to make wishes come true.  All over the complex (on both sides of the river) are many small, single storey constructions made from stone.  They are sacrificial buildings created for holding the symbols of the deity Shiva and for offerings.

My lack of research led to the realisation of the Temple’s website when it says “the majority of religious rituals (cremations) are mind-blowing for Westerners…”  Sitting on the east side of the river, watching the west side, the very obvious shape of a corpse, lying bound in white cloth, could be seen on the riverside.  Shortly after, a second body, wrapped in gold was placed near to the first.  Two platforms along the river had freshly built wood fires ready for lighting.  It was a surprising thing to realise that the highly spiced aroma in the air was, in fact, the aroma of burning bodies a little down the river.  The smell is not how one might imagine it to be.  One of the funeral pyres was almost at an end – a pile of ash smoking away.  One of the relatives of the deceased (dressed in white as you may remember is the case from the funeral in Kashyem), began brushing all the ash into the river.  Interestingly down stream from the temple children are playing in the river and women are washing the family clothes.  The waters of the Bagmati obviously contain animal fat, due to the burning of Shiva followers.  The fats easily wash the dirt from the clothes of local people and it is believed that this realisation is how soap was invented.

(the river is really quite underwhelming during the winter, but is much fuller during the monsoon) 

Whilst all of this was going on, the two bodies left on the side, were moved down to the waters edge.  The two families began surrounding the bodies and the immediate family began revealing the head and feet of the dead.  The head and feet were washed with water from the river by several family members, who then also washed their own hands, face and sometimes feet.  Bearing witness to this I felt a mixture of admiration and intrusion.  Clearly, the intensity of the occasion, the importance of the site and the grief being felt, render the gawping crowd invisible to the mourners, but still, it became very clear what the website meant about how mind-blowing the experience can be for Westerners.  It was a very sombre time I spent at the temple.  The ornate shrines and beautiful carvings of deities could only take away part of the heavy feeling.  But, then again, the spirituality and calm feeling that seemed to purvey the whole site were slightly surreal too.  Especially as it is quite a busy part of town.  I am not really sure how three hours passed, but they did.  Having decided not to watch the cremation, I left the complex, found and cab and made my way back to Thamel.  I had intended to go to Boudda Stupa that same day, but I was out of energy.

Kathmandu is not expensive as such, but I guess, having been out of circulation for a while, I did find somethings pretty costly.  Not if I compared them to London, of course, but certainly if I compared them to India.  It became very apparent that my small travelling budget for the main 7-month duration of my volunteering would be spent in Kathmandu.  I am glad I hadn’t decided to visit anywhere else or I would have had to disappoint myself. 

On the Monday during my stay in Kathmandu I had arranged to visit the offices of Child Rescue Nepal (CRN).  The charity is one I know as the parent of an ex-pupil (one I taught 8 years ago) is now the CEO of the charity in London.  Jo Bega (CEO), is mother to Izzy, who I last saw in July 2018 when I accompanied the most recent Year 6 class of my old school on their week away.  Having stayed in touch with the school, it was Jo that suggested Mondo Foundation as a possibility when I talked about volunteer work.  It was great to be able to visit the offices and the whole team gave such a fantastic welcome.  CRN's main role is to work to rescue children who are being used for labour rather than being at school.  The charity rescues children from situations and then aims to re-home them with families, some of whom gave their children to work so they could provide an income.  In the interim between rescue and re-homing, two care homes run by the charity provide shelter, food and care for the children having been rescued.  For some, the care home may become a permanent place of residence as there are those children for whom parents and/or paperwork can not be located.  Or the situation at home is too precarious for the child/ren to return.  After talking with the team at CRN we visited the boys care home.  Twenty-one children lived there when I visited.  Two of them are girls – the charity does not split up siblings so in the case of sibling girls there is a second storey to the building where sisters can live.  House parents care for the children 24/7.  We sat chatting with the young people, introducing ourselves (me in terrible Nepali) and generally asking questions.  Then the singing started (by the boys) and finally the dancing.  I was asked for a skill and thought I would introduce them to my Nepali dancing.  I am told it went down well – I just heard a lot of laughing.  But, eventually some of the others joined in and it was a lot of fun.  Some of the youngsters spoke very good English and their interest in different things was obvious.  It was an honour to go and visit.  Jamuna, the Country Manager and her team, are fantastic and the children (who all go to local schools) were very well cared for.  Please take a moment to visit the CRN website.  It is not just the children who they rescue that the charity helps, they also provide logistical and building support to schools, school meals and long-term visitation and support to children in remote villages for whom re-homing was possible.  It was a day very well spent and I only regretted not being able to return on this trip.

www.childrescuenepal.org

The same day as my visit to CRN was, of course, New Year’s Eve.  I had no idea how to celebrate, but a stage had been built in one street and, having returned from the charity care home in the late afternoon, the whole of Thamel had become much busier.  I mooched the streets, sat in bars, chatted to restaurant staff and snacked here and there.  I popped to the street party for a while and then enjoyed midnight in a bar I had found a couple of days earlier.  With live music and a light crowd, midnight was a quiet celebration.  With such an undertaking, that spans across 2018 and 2019, it was a very special time for reflection and, despite earlier reservations, I was actually quite happy with the decision to spend NYE as a solo tourist.

(using your mobile whilst getting a lift!)

On New Year’s Day, I had to get to the Great Boudda Stupa.  What with the emotional visit to the temple on the Sunday and the charity visit on Monday, it was still on my list to do.  Bablu had kept in touch over the few days and he offered to take me over to the Stupa.  His house was nearby, and he wanted to introduce his wife and two children to me - I have talked about this visit in a separate blog – An Honourable Man. 

The Great Boudda Stupa really is very impressive.  Strangely enough though, despite its size it is actually quite hard to spot on the approach.  Narrow, dusty, busy streets and old, tall buildings ensure that you arrive at the small, ornate gate, before you are even aware you are there.  The gate itself could be easily missed as it sits in amongst the buildings.

The dome of the stupa is 100ft in diameter and 141.16 ft high.  Buddhist people believe that the relics of Kashyapa Buddha (the third Buddha of Bhadrakalpa) were enshrined in this stupa.  It is one of the largest and most significant Buddhist monuments in the world and was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1979.  The area around the stupa is a thriving community of monasteries, craft shops and business.  The stupa is also a centre for Buddhist studies and worship in the Kathmandu valley.  Outside the immediate area of the stupa is the Historical Pond and Peace Park, which is hidden away and is definitely worth looking for.  It has a good explanation of how different stupas are built and what different parts of the stupa represent, some of which I explained a little earlier in this blog.  The connections keep being made as I learned that the Mandala painting can also be viewed as almost a 'floor plan' of a stupa.  When created in 3D, a Mandala painting also creates a monastery.  Its quite difficult to imagine, but when viewed and talked through it all becomes a little more clear.

I spent the best part of the second day of 2019, preparing for my trip to Bhotang the following day and walking around my favourite parts of the tourist district.  I also returned to Bablu’s house, which again, is part of the blog An Honourable Man.

Without a doubt Kathmandu captured me and my heart.  Was it because I was back in a city after months of such basic living?  Was it because I met some really good people?  Was it the atmosphere and friendly nature of the people?  I don’t know.  I can’t put my finger on it and I am not sure it is any one thing at all.  Whatever the reason, my stay prompted me to make a three-night booking for my return to Kathmandu after volunteering in Bhotang (at $25 a night I couldn’t not stay a little longer than planned).  It all fitted in very nicely and I would still make it back in time for the Headteacher meeting in Kalimpong on Saturday 2^nd February.  There was a thought of making a short trip to Pokhara, but after a lot of thought, Pokhara and Lambini would have to be the basis for a return to Nepal one day.  Neither are to be rushed.