YOGA IN NEPAL – First Impressions

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.