Nepal Trip: April 16, 2007 Email, Part II

Paul and I took another day trip to a place called Nagarkot, about an hour and a half from Kathmandu. It is known for its beautiful sunrises and sunsets and views of the Himalayas. Paul and I found an excited driver who took us there for 1000 rupees ($15) and offered to pick us up the next day for the same fare (probably what he makes in 3-4 days). We left the crowded and polluted capital and drove towards the mountains, which were dotted with quant brick houses and wheat fields. Driving up the mountains is a very frightening b/c it is a one lane road that is very windy and you have to watch out for TATA buses that come careening down the roads.

One thing Paul and I have observed is how fatalistic the Nepalis are. Death is approached very differently here than in the US and everything is left in the hands of fate and can’t be changed. So if you are in an accident and died because you weren’t wearing a seatbelt, but possibly could have survived if you wore one, that’s just the way the gods wanted it. There’s a lot you can do to avoid dying and one way is just to drive safely. Unheard of here.

Anyways, we arrived and settled in at the Club Himalaya Resort, a 5-star resort that cost $100 total for our stay, including all meals. The weather was cloudy but there was a chance of it clearing up. We decided to 90 minute massages, and instead of putting us in two separate rooms, they stuck us in the same one. I guess they figured we were a couple. Instead of concentrating on the massages and relaxing, Paul and I talked non-stop, which must have been sounded like an annoying, steady barrage of noise to the masseauses who spoke zero English. We swear were thinking, "Don't these people ever shut up?", though I'm sure they forgot all about the verbal tsunami as we gave them a tip for our incredible $20 massages. The two masseauses exchanged excited looks and tried to suppress smiles as Paul and I handed them each a $5 tip. I think we made their night.

After Paul and I ate dinner and chowed down on some of the best brownies of our lives, we went back to room and watched Scarface. Interestingly, it was subtitled in English. I guess foreigners have a tough time with Al Pacino’s authentic Cuban accent.

We had scheduled a 5 AM wakeup call to watch the sunset rise, but since it turned out to be a cloudy morning, the front desk just called to say there would be no spectacular sunrise, and Paul and I went back to sleep.

After waking up and eating breakfast, Paul and I went to pack up our things and check out before taking a walk outside. I was packing while Paul was checking out, when he suddenly came into the room looking rather out of breath.

"You'll never guess who's here!"

"Who?"

"Sir Edmund Hilary!"

"Who?"

"The first man to have climbed Mt. Everest!"

For those of you who don't know, Mr. Hilary enjoys a demi-godlike status in Nepal. He has donated large amounts of money for schools and clinics, and brought international prestige to Nepal after his historic climb. As Paul was checking out, the receptionist excitedly told him that Sir Hilary was right behind him sitting on a couch.

Paul and I rushed out of the room, and sure enough, there was the 80-something-year-old man, sitting on a couch in the lobby with a cold glass of Heinekin in front of him (it's about 9 AM, btw). Paul fumbled around for something proper to say and came up with something along the lines of, "Mr. Hilary, it's a huge honor to meet you." Hilary looked rather disoriented as Paul and I asked to take his picture, but he kindly obliged, which left us giddy with delight. We hovered around the lobby area until Mr. Hilary's room was ready and the staff helped him to his room. I found it ironic that a man who climbed to the highest summit on earth now needed assistance getting down four or five stairs. Sadly, this would be Mr. Hilary's last trip to Nepal because he died in January 2008. I'm glad that our visit to Nagarkot was not in vain.

The honorable Sir Edmund Hilary

After our celebrity encounter, Paul and I set out to explore the surrounding area. We decided to head for the summit of a tall mountain a few miles from the hotel, and along the way, we passed rice fields, roaming goats, roadside snack stands and Nepali army training camps, where soldiers were outfitted in their army fatigues and completing exercises. Literally, these soldiers were running past us carrying huge guns and doing drills. The walk took about an hour, and during this time, the weather was looking extremely forboding. Before reaching the mountain's summit, I stopped at a snack stand to buy a drink and ask for a plastic bag to protect my camera. When we reached the top, Paul and I took a couple of pictures before hightailing it out of there as the dark clouds rolled in.

Nagarkot before the clouds rolled in

Nagarkot's countryside

Cute little kids!

Paul at the summit of the hill

Halfway through our walk back to the hotel, we began hearing gunshots from the army training sessions, and they were getting closer and closer. Not wanting to get stuck in any crossfire, Paul and I REALLY hurried down the road, but pretty soon it started raining, then pouring, so our main concern became staying dry. Luckily, we found a taxi parked on the side of the road not long after the rain started, although the driver charged us an outrageous 400 ($3.50) rupees for the 5-minute ride to the hotel.

Flash your passport, Paul; these guys don't look too friendly

We enjoyed another $25 massage before our driver arrived, and we soon piled into the small taxi for the ride back to Kathmandu. As we were making our way down the mountain road, we came around one corner and came face-to-face with a Tata bus. Our driver slammed on the brakes and our little car slid a few feet along the wet, gravel road as it struggled to slow down. I automatically tensed and grabbed onto Paul. Thankfully, the Tata had less momentum and was able to stop suddenly. Our driver then found it prudent to adopt the "Nepali two-horn honk" system to alert oncoming traffic to our presence on blind corners. I've had more close encounters here than I would like to remember.

After our 90-minute drive to Kathmandu, we asked the driver to drop us off at Fire and Ice, where we indulged in some funghi pizza and an frothy, Irish beer.

I was slated to depart Wednesday, April 18. The last couple of days passed quickly. I visited the Tibetan monastery one last time and brought them four pizzas for lunch. I meant the pizza for the few monks who I had hung out with, but in their truly selfless ways, the pizza was distributed to every monk, young and old. I was invited to join them for lunch in the temple and even I received a small sliver of pizza. I also brought the monastery 2 CDs of pictures and a small monetary donation. I asked that half of it be put towards another picnic and the other half could be used for the monastery.

On my last night in Nepal, Paul and I decided to have dinner at Fire & Ice so I could enjoy one last funghi pizza. But before dinner, I set out to buy some pashminas to take back to my family. Paul and I had purchased a couple of pashminas in Pokhara, one being a gorgeous sky blue pashmina which I intended for Linda, Andrew's mom and another a rich maroon for my mom. I was set on finding more blue and maroon pashminas, so Paul and I hit up Thamel and scoured the stores along the main street looking for these two colors. After an hours long search, we found a large store that sold colors similar, but not exact, matches to the two pashminas. We bought about 15 pashminas and pitched the man a price. He came back with another, and after some more back and forth, we made our final bid. After a few tense moments, the man accepted our price (significantly below the first asking price) and it felt like we had hit the lottery. I never knew one could get a high off of haggling and Paul and I left the store with a bounce in our steps. We were starving and making our way to Fire & Ice, until I spotted a piece of sky blue fabric out of the corner of my eye. I stopped suddenly. Paul and I had finally found the elusive sky blue pashmina. I bought one (at the price the other store had offered to us!) and was thrilled to have made this discovery. Paul and I enjoyed our last meal and when we exited the restaurant, we were treated to a techno concert in the street that was filled with only men. There were green lights and lasers shooting everywhere and no one was dancing, everyone was just standing there watching the stage. It was an interesting end to an even more interesting trip.

The next morning, after packing up the last of my items, Paul came by to pick me up and take me to the airport. When we arrived at the airport, some guards at the entrance were only allowing ticketed passengers through, but Paul flashed his US Embassy pass and he was able to escort me to the ticket counter line. We said goodbye to one another and I was officially on three-leg journey home. When I reached the front of the line, the agent informed me that my luggage was overweight and that my carry-on was too big and would have to be checked. I had no money left and was instructed to go exchange $50 for Nepali rupees. After I did that, I got back in line and when I reached the ticket counter, I was told it was a mistake and I wouldn't be paying any additional fees. I figured I could exchange the money when I arrived in India, after a short flight to New Delhi, it was the first thing I tried to do. Unfortunately, Nepali currency is not the most stable currency in the world, so I was refused an exchange and was left with a considerable amount of useless money.

I had a 6-hour layover and I had one more thing to do before leaving India: return the borrowed money to Parvinder, the cheauffeur from the Meridian Hotel. After picking up my luggage, I got a taxi to the hotel. When I arrived, I went to the luggage room and asked the attendant if Parvinder was there. He called for him and asked what it is I needed. I told him I was here to return his money and he said, "Many people say they will return, but very few actually do." Parvinder entered the lobby area a few minutes later, looked at me a little confused and then recognition flashed in his eyes. "Nepal" he asked. I handed him the original $7 he lent me and about 500 Indian rupees as a gesture of thanks.

I enjoyed an Italian dinner at the hotel's restaurant, which was excellent until two Chinese men were seated next to me (in an empty restaurant) and proceeded to chain smoke. Around 7pm, I gathered my belongings and made my way to the taxi line. One was hailed for me and off I went to the airport. My driver decided to take a slight detour and stop the car on an empty, dark side street. He said something about a cousin, and we waited. I didn't know whether to stay calm or jump out of the car screaming (not like anyone would hear me), and after several minutes, another man showed up and took the driver's place and drove me straight to the airport.

On my way to Chicago, I was seated next to a very nice, Indian-Amercan Sikh, who I chatted with during most of the flight. It was an uncomfortable flight because the seats were so small, but we arrived in Chicago with no problems. I transferred to my next flight, which was the smoothest I've ever had, and before I knew it, I was back in my 240-square foot studio in Manhattan. A boring end to a not so boring trip. The end.