Month: January 2018

 

“The divine in me bows to the divine in you” is the universal greeting in Nepal. Young and old, hands in prayer at the heart, nod to each other and to outsiders in a sign of recognition of oneness.

Nepal is a cultural mosaic of about 60 ethnic groups speaking over 120 languages. 

Rather than having assimilated each others customs, they have learned to coexist.

They are tolerant of each others religious beliefs, very hospitable and quick to smile.

Theirs is more the yoga of the spirit. The energy of the mountains creates a sense of grounding and peace with what is.  Hours of solitary walks up and down the paths bring into balance, body and mind.

Their view of the world is dominated by prayer and ritual  and the belief that the gods are not abstract but fully present in daily life influencing things in direct ways. Karma and caste combined with a disfunctional government create a sense of fatalism. Soon come…as we say in the islands…

In Kathmandu valley where the pace quickens, electronic devices and the conduct of daily business competing for tourist dollars create a different feeling. But in the countryside there is no need to hurry.

While days are spent building, tilling or herding, when the sun goes down, the music comes up. Whether on a phone satellite connection, or to the accompaniament of a madali, the Nepali drum and a four string instrument known as the tungna, singing and dancing enlivens the evenings.

Near the University campus young couples spill out of cafes laughing hand in hand just like in any  western country. But outside of the city these  intimate relationships can be very different. The majority of the people still live by traditional customs and principles and ones family and ethnic group is strictly honored.

Photo by Arazu

While in the Sherpa families gender equality is mostly a given, in most other societies, women only truly gain status when they bear their husband a son. In an interesting book on this subject “While the Gods were Sleeping”, American anthropologist Elizabeth Enslin recounts her life as the wife of a Brahmin.

Nepalis are kind and gentle people. From the Sherpas of the Khumbu region, to the Gurungs of Pokhara, the Tamangs of Langtang or the Newars of Patan you will be met with a smile and a twinkle of curiosity in the eye.

The people of the high Himalayas are mostly of Tibetan descent and are Buddhists.

Stupas and prayer flags adorn the mountainsides…

with the occasional Nyingma Buddhist shrine, the old school which incorporates local religious beliefs and shamanism.

The economic bedrocks here are yak herding and barley harvest.

 

Sherpas, the easteners of the Everest region, are probably the group best known in the West. They are associated with mountain climbing and are often guides or owners of travel agencies. Kaji Sherpa, my quietly protective guide in Langtang, on one of our teahouse stops shows me on his phone the documentary – “Sherpas- The True Heroes of Mt. Everest.”

The young are proud of their heritage but the smart phone connection that is surprisingly available in many areas, is slowly imbuing them with a new sense of freedom.

Sarki Sherpa, our trekking guide on Mardi Himal tells me with satisfaction of Pasang Lamu Sherpa who became the first Nepali woman to climb Mt. Everest. Sherpa names make no distinction in gender and women in the Sherpa culture often run the show.

To the north of Kathmandu, up to the border with Tibet are the Tamangs.

Here a strong Tibetan influence can be seen from their monasteries, the ghyangs…

….to the mani walls at the entrance to their villages.

Their villages are high on the mountainsides  and while their ancestors were horse traders today they mostly practice subsistence farming and herding.

….although many are carpet weavers or thangka (religious paintings) artists

Gurungs, of Tibeto-Burmese descent live mostly in the central midlands of the Annapurnas region. Ghundruk and Pokhara are their largest settlements.

The views from their villages are always spectacular.

In the Kathmandu valley live the Newars, excellent farmers and merchants, and gifted artists.

Their capital Patan, also known as Lalitpur the beautiful city, is full of wonderful examples of their architecture and craft. Every little street and courtyard is a work of art.

In the south, the Terai which borders India, live the Tharus.

Having originally settled in what is now the Chitwan National Park, they build their huts with wattle and daub walls and cover their roofs with elephant grass. Once a year they are allowed into the park for two weeks to harvest the grass.

Most of them work as wild life guides and rangers in the park. Chitwan covers 932sqkm and is a Unesco World Heritage site with 68 different species of mammals. Our highlight is the sighting of a rhino, now one of more than 630, points out our guide.

The hot sub tropical plains of the Terai are home for many different ethnic groups that have migrated here attracted by fertile soil and easy accessibility. Half of the population of Nepal lives in this narrow belt between the mountains and India.

It is often said that while you first come to Nepal for the mountains, you return for the people…

And so it is… When I think of our guides, the teahouse and shop owners along the way, the blind masseuse Laxmi of Seeing Hands and the children at the Shining Stars Home and the Sri Aurobindo orphanage, I know my heart will bring me back here one day to continue exploring and seeing more of the divinity of the beautiful Nepalis.

 

 

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My first glimpse of Macchapucchare confuses it with clouds. Takes a few seconds for it to register that what I am seeing is a huge snowy peak. This sacred mountain that has never been climbed is also known as Fishtail for its peculiar shape. Below it is a massive wall of granite.

Almost unreal in their sheer size and presence, the Himalayas are certainly the highlight of any trip to Nepal. Seen at dawn in the pink and golden light, they have a mystic quality to them and in the silvery glow of the evening, they invite one to dream.

On most days the evening and morning skies are crystal clear. It is only around 10 or 11 that the clouds begin to rise from the valleys enshrouding the mountains in mist.

It is no wonder that climbing expeditions have very specific windows of time in which to attempt their ascents.

In the folds of their valleys are little villages cut into the mountainsides where life unfolds at a slow pace.

On the terraced hills, small herds of yaks, cows, goats and sheep graze peacefully ringing their bells as they move from one field to the next.

Yellow blankets of mustard color the terraces with an occasional burst of pink from an ancient cherry tree.

Golden stalks of barley  sway in the breeze.

The steps that ascend the mountain are steep and made of a silvery stone that shines brightly in the sunlight. These are the roads used by the villagers to access their fields and other villages nearby and to carry their loads of provisions either in big baskets hung by a strap over their heads or on the backs of mule or oxen.

Here and there are patches of dense mossy forest, the magical kind from Lord of the Rings.

Little streams run through them nurturing the tall rhododendrums  that bloom brightly in spring.

Now they are dark and lush…

with a ground cover of tiny flowers, ferns and mosses.

This is the land of the langurs, the red pandas, Himalayan black bears and snow leopards. A girl in our trekking group spots a paw print of a leopard on one of the rest stops.

Our group consists of 11 adventurers of different ages and nationalities, three guides and a cook, and four porters. Guides in Nepal are mostly Sherpas, the mountain people. This is how they feed their families and often save money to later invest in a  business.

Sarki Sherpa, our guide in chief, is a good looking  32 year old who splits his time between trekking and volunteering at a school where he tries to bring awareness to such issues as trash, pollution and the importance of self sustenance. In between wide smiles he makes sure we drink enough water and are not feeling sick. He opens his daily briefings with – “Pee is clear?”

The Mardi Himal trek begins in the little village of Kande, one of the lucky ones to have  road access. The first part of the climb is brutal, the lungs aching for more oxygen and the muscles straining at each step. Switching into  yogic breath I am able to slowly expand the lungs, feed the muscles with oxygen and soon everything becomes more enjoyable. Every hour we take a break for a few minutes to drink water and soak in the scenery.

On the move I prefer to hang in the back with Saroj, away from the lively chatter of the crowd.

Saroj and his cousin Min are also kayaking and canyoning guides and often spend several months working in Japan as well as Nepal.

Here like Sarki they are hired by Himalayan Quests owned and operated by a family member. This small but well run company offers off the beaten track excursions and provides a comprehensive service  that leaves little to be desired.

Around midday we stop at a camp to have lunch. The camps usually consist of one or two guesthouses with double or quadruple rooms and are situated in spots where the views are stunning.

The menus which contain all possible combinations of eggs and potatoes and dahl bhat, also have such western dishes as pizza and pasta, Nepali style that is…Our guides make sure we have some fruit and plenty of tea with our meals.

The 2 or 3 hour long afternoon climbs take us past rows of colored prayer flags, buddhist stupas, and shrines that merge old religions with Hindu dieties.

And then another camp and much needed rest.

Here after an outdoor yoga practice, fully dressed in hats, gloves and down jackets, we sit down to a warm dinner huddling around the chimney stove.

The nights are bright with a full moon that slowly wanes. As it sets, the stars become almost reachable. Just before dawn they seem so big.

And then as the light creeps up on the horizon it reveals the endless valleys below tingeing them with orange, pink and purple tones. Breathtaking!

As we climb higher the golden tundra grasses cover most of the mountainside in between large boulders and an occasional clump of bushes.

Tiny Alpine like flowers are everywhere.

As the ground begins to show patches of snow, the mountains loom large, Mardi Himal just below Fishtail whose beauty makes us repeatedly pause to take its photo.

Our final ascent to the 4500m basecamp starts way before dawn, our headlamps shining brightly on the steep path.

Sunrise catches us just below the base camp marker and illuminates our smiles for the  photo op.

The broad mountain panorama also includes  the Annapurnas as well as Dhaulaghiri which at 8167m is one of the 14 eight-thousanders. A lone hang glider hovers in the foreground suspended in mid air.

As the mist rises, a cold wind starts to blow. Soon small pellets of hail begin to sting our eyes.

Time for a stop at a little tea shack to warm up and dry out.

In the late afternoon, the clouds part once again presenting us with an amazing sunset.

The mountain gods are smiling upon us.

 

 

 

Yoga when practiced with awareness is a life changing experience.

So is travel…

As I sit in a minibus at the Tribhuvan International Airport waiting for the other arrivals in our Bamboo group, I close my eyes and take in the din and pungent smells of this amazing little country.

Sandwiched between two giants both vying for its rich natural resources, Nepal appears as a fertile strip of land with a backdrop of granite and snow. In fact, the chain of mountains that separates it from China, occupies most of its territory and creates challenges on every level.

Mountainsides need to be terraced; stone steps must be cut in and then maintained to allow access to the remote villages; roads that are carefully supported by giant gabion baskets often slide down into the deep river gorges below creating transportation nightmares.

An 80 mile trip on a major highway takes on average 8 hours…

Unless you’re stuck for 14 in a never ending line of trucks on their way to India…

The 32+ millions of Nepalis are actually an amalgam of more than 60 ethnic groups each one with its own dialect and cultural norms.

As you travel from one area to another you see a noticeable difference in facial traits, dress and demeanor.

What seems to remain the same is a communal sense of belonging. Without community there’s no survival.

After a day of hard physical labor, you will see young and old gathering around a “chautari” to chat and reconnect in the shade of an old soul. 

Chautaris are like stone altars built for the sole purpose of planting one tree that will eventually provide shade and shelter for a family or a community. The trees are often hundreds of years old and are adorned with prayer threads at their base. It is here that villagers decide what to do about a rock or mud slide, how to mend a broken water connection, or who should be chosen to represent them in the upcoming elections.

The slow drive to the hotel reveals a busy, bustling city of colorful mostly 3 to 4 story buildings. 

 Moving through heavy traffic of overloaded tempos (local shuttle taxis), motorcycles and small dusty trucks,  we pass an intersection where a policeman atop a round pedestal is frantically waving his arms as he turns in all directions, a human version of the traffic light. 

Trash is everywhere. The streets are littered with plastic bottles, cans and candy wrappings. The garbage that used to disappear eaten by the animals, now is scattered all over the place.

At a road building site crews in yellow helmets employed by a Chinese company stick out like sore thumbs among the dozens of bare headed locals often in traditional garb who carry rocks with their own hands and in flip flops.

A large open field full of military equipment that housed a tent city erected after the earthquake takes me back to the ball field in Coral Bay and our own disaster woes. The driver explains this is a public space where people gather on Saturdays, the Nepali weekly holiday.

Signs with a crossed horn can be seen everywhere. The recently passed law that prohibits unnecessary beeping ensures a fairly bearable level of sound pollution in spite of the loud roar of two stroke engines and the occasional political speech or cry to rally over crackling loudspeakers.

A vendor at a colorful fruit stall stares intently at her phone.

In the background a golden monkey swings atop a giant Buddha.

A long and tall cream colored wall with a gate and a sign “Garden of Dreams” suddenly appears quite normal in this sensual cannonade. I glimpse the tops of tall trees surrounding a large neo classical structure that seems to be out of a scene in Paris.

But as we round the corner into Thamel, the narrow street tourist area of guest houses, hotels and shops, overhead rows of brightly colored prayer flags leave no doubt as to where we are.

 

Our Hotel Fuji like the others around it, has a roof top garden. My room is just above that, up an open air staircase.

On a roof top below me, an old woman lights a candle inside a translucent yellow shrine.

Stupas can be seen everywhere, an integral part of Nepali life.

 

Under the watchful eyes of the Buddha the bright city lights begin to dim, the little shops below close their doors, the quaint restaurant/cafes start to empty.

Sounds become further and further apart as Kathmandu falls into a peaceful slumber.

Standing tall over it in the background are the majestic Himalayas.