Escape From Kathmandu

Power Places Part Three

Bhaktapur, Changu, and Kathmandu, Nepal

The morning after the insane tug-of-civil war that is Bisket Jatra in Bhaktapur (half the town goes to war with the other half the town trying to pull the chariot apart, or so it would seem), I met a couple of Americans who also wanted to go up to the hillside temple of Changu Narayan (one of the "Power Places of the Kathmandu Valley"). It is believed to be the very oldest temple in the valley, and also has the oldest inscription yet located here - from the 3rd century AD, in Licchavi script. (The Licchavis were one of the Indian Hindu dynasties who came up from Magadha way, I think.)

Lynette, Dave and I decided to do the ultra budget thing and catch the local bus up to Changu, rather than pay the inflated taxi prices (300NRs or five dollars! please, it costs 600 to go all the way back to Kathmandu. Changu is only 15 minutes away by car).

There are about five different bus stops (or 'bus stands' as they are called here - "tourist bus park," "Mini bus park" etc) in Bhaktapur, so to determine the right one, we had to wander through the hand-hewn brick and wood labyrinthes of Bhaktapur asking directions, which is part of the fun. "Changu bus stand?" is the best way to phrase the question. When we just said "Changu?" people pointed in the direction of Changu itself, which doesn't necessarily help you get the bus.

The road to Changu from Bhaktapur (the back road, not the driveable highway) would be a very nice walk - taking about 2 hours - if we had started early enough in the morning. As it was after 11am, it was already boiling hot. Don't be fooled by the clothing you see on the local people - they have the maddening ability to wear long sleeves, synthetic fibres, and even several layers, in the pre-monsoon swelter and barely break a sweat.

When we finally located the place everyone insisted was the "Changu bus stand," a taxi driver pulled up and did his very best to persuade us that in fact, there was NO bus to Changu. "No Changu bus. No bus. No bus today. Taxi, 300 Rs only." (By the way, the bus is 10NRs.) Instantly the shop owners, whose shop we were standing in front of, tried to get in on the act. They too insisted there was "no bus."

I had gotten the driver down to 200NRs and was trying to beat him down for 150 when we noticed a small crowd of people - women, children, and elderly - gathering on the corner diagonally opposite.

"I bet THAT's where the bus leaves from." I hopped across the smelly grey open sewer ditch and strode across the road. "Changu Bus?" I asked the young girls in kurta-surwal. They all nodded.

The taxi driver, as usual in such situations, displayed no trace of shame or embarassment at his "no bus" lies, shrugged and sped off.

The bus was so crowded, we elected to sit on top. This is by far the best and best-ventilated way to travel, especially in hot sweaty summer, but is considered unorthodox for women. As foreign women, Lynette and I were somewhat exempt from the etiquette and clambered up the metal ladder to the bus roof - where the view is unsurpassed.

We were joined by half a dozen young boys till the tiny luggage-rack railing was crammed with humans. I made sure to get in the middle, sharing space with an empty red metal gas cylinder and a worn spare tire, where it seemed less likely I'd fall off. We need not have worried about falling - the bus creaked along slowly through wheat fields up the hillside.

Our fellow roof-riders seemed well-informed about the upcoming US elections and wanted to know "Who will be the next president of your country?" As usual in this part of the world, the name "Cleenton" evoked the most recognition - a trusted brand name on the subcontinent.

Changu Narayan has got to be one of the most reasonable entrance fees in all of Asia - 60NRs or exactly $1.00 US to see the oldest temple in the Valley (and the one best noted for its sculptures).

The last time I came was in September during the misty post-monsoon. I walked down from Telkot through damp pine forests that felt more like Scotland than Nepal. This ascent couldn't have been more different, in the hot dry season. However, it did mean this time I could take photos.

The isolated location of Changu Narayan means it's the least visited of the UNESCO World Heritage Sites in the Valley. It also means there are fewer tourists, which is both good and bad. It's never crowded, but ALL the attention of the shopkeepers, begging kids and touts was focused on US, the lone foreigners.

Changu displays a familiar Nepali combination - a rich upwelling of devotional energy manifested in myriad curlicues, psychedelic flourishes and startling chimeric beasts that defy description...lots of decay...and lots and lots of pigeon doo. In fact, a case could be made that the pigeon droppings rival the air pollution for destruction of the monuments. I can't support killing the pigeons outright, but I would definitely get behind a plan for pigeon birth control. (A few pigeons taking flight from the square in the morning light is nice. Hordes of them all over is a health and architectural hazard.)

Despite the fact that I can't read it, I think the stone below is my favorite part of Changu. In the ancient and now disused Licchavi script, it supposedly relates the story of how a Licchavi king dissuaded his mother from sati, or widow's ritual suicide on the funeral pyre of her husband, and instead persuaded her to stay with him among the living because he would miss her. (Some proof that, despite what many would like to claim, sati was real, not an invention of the British or anti-Hindu propagandists.)

Narayan is one of the names of Lord Vishnu, who represents the "preserver or maintainer" form of the Godhead. This is the aspect of god traditionally meant to be embodied in the King of Nepal, though the current candidate seems to have been asleep at the switch. Though we weren't able to see the murti or statue inside ("Hindus only"), there are plenty of surrounding toranas (engraved and embossed metal archways), friezes, and sculptures. Most of them depict the various DasAvatar or ten earthly incarnations of Vishnu, including Lord Krishna, the dwarf manifestation whom I think was called Vamana, Parashurama, Narasingha the man-lion avatar disemboweling a nonbeliever (below), and what looks like Vishwarupa (the overwhelming all-encompassing universal form of God), a masterpiece of mind-boggling Hindu psychedelia depicting the three worlds (of the underworld, men and gods, below).

Despite having been damaged during an attempted robbery, the detailed cosmology of Vishwarupa is well worth a few minutes' contemplation. I'm afraid the photos really don't do the sculptures justice. There is a legend accompanying each of the statues - I know most of them and was able to bore Lynette and Dave with my know-it-all stories, but there is no printed guide available so you should bring a guidebook with details to Changu Narayan.

Isolated in their gilded cage are small statues of a former Licchavi King and Queen, possibly the ones who built the actual Changu Narayan temple (the site is believed to have been used for worship long before the building was erected). This is a common feature of Nepali temples - the patron king and queen immortalizing themselves in the kneeling posture of devotion, hands folded in salutation, facing the deity.

After a dreadful and very overpriced lunch at the neat, tidy garden style restaurant near the front gate (don't be fooled by the appearance - they do have a bathroom, though), we elected to walk the hour and half back down to Bhaktapur town, through the pine forest (the best part), windy wheat fields, and dusty small towns.

We knew we were near "town" when speeding vehicles threatened to knock us off the road into the ditch, and choked us with their fumes. Back in Bhaktapur, we were greeted by still more clanging cymbals, beating of drums and tooting of flutes. Was Bisket Jatra STILL going on?

It turned out to be a different festival. The Maoists, along with a local affiliate Newar identity party, were celebrating their electoral victory with traditional music, traditional dance, red banners and portraits of Stalin, Mao, Marx and Lenin.

Dattatreya Temple square (also called Tachupal) was once surrounded by Maths, or Hindu ashram-style centres of residential learning. Students came from all over the region to learn traditional Ayurvedic (herbal) medicine in the ornately carved wooden buildings. Now, Pujari Math is a woodcarving museum, and another of the Maths has been transformed into a high-priced tourist restaurant.

New gods were being worshipped in the old square. It was high time for a shower and a pot of tea. We drifted through the narrow streets floating among political icons, Buddhist statues and Hindu gods back to the Bhadgaon Guest House.

---Thanks to Sudarshan for correcting some of the deity information.

Friday Faces

wrinkles in time
Leh, Ladakh

I just came from the Jamma Masjid ("Friday Mosque") in the main square of downtown Leh. Friday is the best time to take photos, because it's the special day for Muslim prayers.

I love the way identities are so confusing in Ladakh. People who "look Muslim" turn out to be Buddhist and vice versa. It totally messes with my preconceptions.

My favourites are the old-timers with ravine-filled faces and traditional clothing. When I was much younger, I used to hear people describe the elderly as "beautiful" and thought "yeah right, who would really want to look like that? They are just being polite...."

But now I really find it hard to take interest in photographing most younger people. The older people really are more beautiful.

This afternoon at 1.30 prayers, I was only able to photograph men. (Women generally pray in the home, at least in this area.) I haven't been able to upload today's photos of the old timers yet. So here are some more wonderful Ladakhi faces with the invariable Ladakhi smile.

Can you believe I've never been to the Taj Mahal?
I can't.

After all these years in India, I have been to so many places... but still not the Taj Mahal, definitely the most famous UNESCO World Heritage site in India, if not the whole world.
While browsing the UNESCO website (looking for information about protected rock carvings - the ASI director for Leh swears that such things are not protected by UNESCO, which of course, is not true) - I decided to list all the World Heritage sites I have visited.

Tamil Nadu:
Brihadeshwar Temple
Mahabalipuram monuments including the "Shore Temple"

Maharahstra:
Ellora Caves
Ajanta Caves
Victoria Terminus (recently renamed "Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus," which peeves me, because Queen Victoria's people built it....it has nothing to do with Shivaji, he was dead a long time before this building was erected; why should he get credit?)

Bihar:
Mahabodhi Temple

Delhi:
The Red Fort

Nepal:
Pashupatinath Temple (foreigners not allowed inside..but they want your money anyway)
Kathmandu Durbar Square (foreigners not allowed in Kumari Ghar or most temples. They still hit you up for entrance fees. Somehow they have it worked out that this makes sense)
Patan Durbar Square (same policy - foreigners not allowed inside temples. Indians, who technically are foreign, are allowed - just not white people)
Bhaktapur Durbar Square (same - foreigners not allowed inside temples)
Boudhanath Stupa
Swayambunath Stupa
Changu Narayan Temple

I have consistently lodged my own one-woman protest at the discriminatory Nepali sites, by never, ever paying the price for buildings I'm not allowed into. (Makes perfect sense to me.) Instead, I have enjoyed the surrounding areas without paying, and now know all the secret back entrances to each of the sites. Write me for details. I don't support places that claim to represent the heritage of "all the peoples of the world, irrespective of the territory on which they are located," and then discriminate based on race. I welcome you do the same.

All the other places listed do charge more for foreigners, but at least the access is equal for all. If I'm going to pay five times as much, I should be able to see the place - that seems more than fair.

The Bus Is Back

Good news, budget Himalayan travellers. The Kathmandu-Lhasa Express is back on the road (as of January).

Too bad the same cannot be said of Nepali politics. Yesterday was originally meant to be the historic elections. It passed without a peep as political infighting continues and fresh violence erupts in the Terai region.

Here's more about the bus:

The bus service ran into trouble soon after its start in 2005 and remained suspended. Though resumed again for a short period in 2006, it has been closed since spring.

Officials in Nepal blame the closure on the Chinese reluctance to issue visas.

Beijing issued visas only to tourists travelling in groups, that too after stringent scrutiny. Travellers had to submit details of their itinerary and accommodation and the bus service was shut down by China on the eve of demonstrations in Tibet or anniversaries of historic days.

The revival of the flagging bus service coincides with the start of the Visit China campaign by Beijing to mark 2008 when it hosts the Olympic Games.

Nepal's state-owned Sajha Yatayat will run the weekly service from Kathmandu, like it did in the past. The pact will be a shot in the arm for the floundering state service, most of whose buses have not been running for over a year after an agitation by employees.

The one-way fare for the three-day trip will be $70.

Full news story here.

Camel walk

New to Nubra
Leh, Ladakh

Tomorrow morning at 5.30 AM, I board the J&K State Transport bus to Nubra Valley. I got Seat #2. This is extremely important. When riding any bus in India, but most especially a State bus (ie, cheap bus), you absolutely must get a seat in the forward section. Otherwise you are really not only in for nausea and discomfort, but possible danger. The taller you are, the more danger you are in....because when the bus hits bumps (which it does often), you will actually fly up in the air, off the seat, and bang your head against the luggage shelf above...then slam down onto the seat with spine-fracturing force. When I was in Bihar earlier this year, I heard no less than three separate reports of foreigners getting such injuries on local long-distance buses. I can think of much more interesting ways to fracture your spine.

The ticket for the 7-hour ride was 120Rs, or about $3.00 USD. (The cost for a return jeep to and from Nubra Valley is about 5000Rs, or $120 USD. I think I got a good deal. ) The ticket itself looks like a coat-check stub from a disreputable nightclub. The seat number 2 is scrawled on the back, so that no one can deny me my prime position.

There are two nondescript gray cinder-block buildings in the Old Bus Stand; one for LBOC (Ladakh Bus Operators' something) and one for the State-run buses, the Jammu & Kashmir State Transport Corporation. Both buildings are nearly empty, have schedules painted on the walls, and are manned by a lone guy sitting behind a formica desk. He wouldn't talk to me, though...I had to go to an office to confirm that I had the right place, that the bus actually did run Thursday morning, and that I really could buy a ticket right now (Tuesday afternoon). The only buses to Nubra run three times a week - Tuesdays to Diskit, Thursdays to Hunder, and Saturdays to Panamik (home of the hot springs). They all leave at 6am.

Big Valley
The Nubra Valley is a more temperate high desert than Leh Valley - home of apricot trees, hot springs and about 1000 shaggy Bactrian (two humped) camels which are actually left over from the days of the Silk Road. A two-humper can cary 4 times the load of a yak. The camels have been causing trouble lately raiding people's crops but the government is trying to encourage locals to start "camel safari" as a tourist attraction.

Nubra Valley requires a special permit, which only costs 120Rs but took most of the day today to achieve. The first two people were so busy telling me why they couldn't do it (too late in the day, not enough people to make the four-person quota, blah blah, etc) that they could have done it already in the time they spent complaining.

Finally I stumbled into a tiny office called Glacial Treks. Every town has someone like Mohammed from Glacial Treks. In Kathmandu, the guy is Bishnu at Youth Travel. This young man, who is very worth knowing, is not in a big, well-fursnished "professional" looking office. He is a young guy in a cubbyhole with nothing but a phone, and can-do spirit.

This guy will not waste my time telling me why he can't do it. He will figure out how to get it done as fast as possible before the Police office closes, and do it with a smile. Thank gods and gurus for the Mohammeds and Bishnus. I truly believe they are the future of India.

Big sky country

Great wide open
Leh, Ladakh (India)
My lower back is really, really sore from sitting watching the Dalai Lama all day, my eyes are burning from the arid dusty air and I am too tired to think of a third thing to round out this paragraph. Oh yeah! My nose is full of crusty stuff.

His Holiness is teaching the "Lam Rim" scripture. Because I am sitting in the press section, have yet to hear the English translation. Maybe I will skip over to the "Foreigners" section tomorrow
It is wild to see the Dalai Lama in a Buddhist place. Usually, he appears in predominantly Hindu places and the Buddhists commute in. Here, most everyone is Buddhist. There are easily 30,000 people at every day's teaching.

Man, there is a lot of space out here. And a lot of dust. And a lot of sky!

It reminds me of a Halloween craft we did in kindergarten. We made a "starry sky" picture out of silver glitter, dropped onto blobs of glue, on black construction paper. But too much glitter always comes out of the tube, at first. We had to knock off the excess glitter into the waste can, and what was left was the "night sky." (Later I added a big yellow construction-paper cutout crescent moon.)

The night sky in Ladakh looks like the paper, before we knocked the extra glitter off. There are almost too many stars. I have a hard time identifying large constellations I know. But, a crescent moon rose last night. Not of yellow construction paper, but a wafer-thin silver sliver.

Air conditioning of the gods
The most fun thing on this trip, so far, was also the cheapest. Returning from the teachings, the entire Choglam-Sa highway is packed bumper to bumper. I have to wait for the crowds to thin, and taxis want an outrageous 250Rs back to town. So, yesterday my German friends and I just hopped on top of a public bus, on the luggage rack. What fun! Who needs air conditioning, overpriced taxis, seat belts? Ten rupees for a panorama view of the valley and mountains. It really was much better than the hot, stuffy taxi stuck down among the exhaust fumes, or sitting inside the crowded bus itself. Of course, we had to constantly duck under the prayer flags that had been strung up across the roads for the Dalai Lama's visit.

Far from the madding crowd
One reason Ladakh does not "feel like" India is that it is just not crowded enough. Not that I am complaining. But at first, I really could not figure out what felt so weird. Almost lonely. Then it dawned on me....it was more like parts of southwest America; Arizona or New Mexico, to be exact.

My friend Gary warned me years ago that all the sensory overload of India would burn a hole in my brain, so that when I finally went somewhere quiet, I would miss the noise and clutter. Gary, you were right. I found myself looking around the relatively empty roads of Leh going, "where is IT?" and realizing I couldn't even define IT.

Another thing that doesn't feel like India is the absence of Hindus. There are a few. But I had been here five days before I saw my first Hindu temple ( a little tiny shrine). It looks like one of the orange pyramidal ones the BJP put up in Buddhist places, just to say "we're here!"

Leh is the kind of place you can see minarets of a mosque superimposed with Buddhist chortens and prayer flags, or sit in the Buddhist gompa and hear the Muezzin's call to prayer, and it feels totally normal.

Ladakh List
Definite must-brings for a trip to Ladakh:
1-Sunglasses
2-Sunblock
3-Lip balm, even better, sunscreen lip balm
4-Umbrella, or big floppy hat as sun protection
5-Eye drops - since I wear contacts, the aridity and dust is wreaking havoc
6-Trekking boots or chunky walking sandals
7-Jacket - evenings get nippy, though days are warm
8-Face moisturizer, which you will also have to put inside your nose to keep it from crusting over, especially at bedtime
9- ORS (Oral Rehydration Salts, available at any pharmacy here for 15Rs). ORS have exactly what your body needs to replace fluids (potassium, sodium chloride etc) and are a literal lifesaver.
10-Lots and LOTS of water. Your water bottle can be refilled for 5Rs at the ecofriendly Dzomsa shops in town. If you feel weird, lightheaded, fatigued and cranky but don't know why, you are probably dehydrated.
11-Flashlight. The power goes out frequently, and if you are lucky the walk home to your guest house will be down a country road with few street lights.
12-Toilet paper. Guest house bathrooms do not have it, but will sell it at an inflated price.

Things that are totally useless here:
1-"Nice" shoes
2-Deodorant - you won't sweat-- or if you do it immediately dries into salt crystals on your skin
3-The talcum powder and astringent that are so needed in humid lower India. Again, you won't be sweating much
4-Tank tops, sleeveless blouses, singlets etc. show too much skin for local standards, and besides, you will either get a sunburn or freeze to death.
5-Your cell phone, unless you have post-paid. In Delhi, they happily sell you (ha ha) a SIM card saying it is good for all India. What they don't tell you is that in Ladakh and Kashmir (not Jammu), you must have a post-paid account; that is, you must be a resident with proof of address for billing. The prepaid cards are no good here. Of course, all tourists and most internationals have prepaid cards.
6-Alcohol. A disaster at this altitude, and not widely available anyway - rightly so.

Also, be warned - Internet is run by a cartel ("Ladakh Cyber Cafe Association") that has fixed prices at an obscene 90Rs an hour ($2.10). Not the place to play around tweaking the widgets on your homepage. And "photo uploading not allowed" - so, sharing the photos of this amazing place is quite difficult.

I appear to have missed all the really big Lama Dances with masks and costumes. In case you want to catch one, here is a calendar for next year.

Jeep 54 Where Are You?
Getting my press clearance to take photos of the Dalai Lama, when I am in a relatively podunk town like Leh or Bodh Gaya, means making friends with the police. Fortunately, this is easily done. I am the only foreign media person at these entire teachings, and probably one of the few the police have met all year.

What's not so easily done is catching the right guy in the office. The Superintendant of Police closed at 4pm (!) and the following day, Friday, was a holiday. God knows why, probably literally - in India, an unexpected holiday usually has something to do with religion. So I had to go to the main police station ("we never close").

It was an adventure but unfortunately, by the time I sat down to write about it last night, the net connections were down. Now, I am too tired. Maybe later.

The intrepid anthropologist in me never tires of poking into people's social dynamics. I discovered that among ethnic Ladakhis, there are both Muslims and Buddhists, and they feel themselves to be quite distinct from the ethnic Kashmiris. "He is Kashmiri," one Ladakhi Muslim officer hissed to me, pointing out a Muslim guy on the street dressed in stereotypical beard and kurta-pyjama.

The kurta-wearing "Kashmiri" turned out to be another police officer, who helped me to get the pass, after a few bossy questions delivered in the usual accusatory style ("why did you not come earlier??") of the Indian "mainland."

Indeed, a lot of "Kashmiris" seem to have taken refuge here only as a resort from the violence in "Kashmir" proper. And they don't consider this Kashmir. One of the first things the kurta-wearing officer asked me was "Have you been to Kashmir?"

I thought we were in Kashmir, Sir.

"No, I mean Srinagar, real Kashmir. You should leave here immediately and go to Kashmir. Gulmarg, Dal Lake...." Then he started reminiscing about his homeland. Clearly, he felt Ladakh to be a hardship posting.

Lost tribe
I have also spent some time interviewing and photographing the "Indo-Iranian" Buddhists of Ladakh, the Brokpa people. Originally, they came from what is now Pakistan in Gilgit region. They speak a language called Dardi and have been Buddhist for many centuries. The Brokpa are supposed to be the last "Aryan" indigenous Buddhist people. (They actually call themselves Aryan, which in this case, just means originally from Iran.)

Since I can't upload my own photos, here is one cribbed from a Ladakhi tourist website.

The Brokpa traditional dress worn at the Dalai Lama's teachings is really distinctive, and their features set them well apart from the Mongolian-looking other Ladakhis. I am curious about the form of Buddhism they practice; it must date back, at least in part, to looooong ago when northwestern former India (now Pakistan) was Buddhist. Guru Rinpoche, the bearer of Buddhism into Tibet, was originally from Swat Valley, Pakistan. Tibetan scriptures still refer to that area as "Ugyen" or "Oddiyana."

I went to the biggest bookstore in Leh looking for a book about the Brokpa. "Who?" said the Kashimiri Muslim guy at the desk. I pointed to a photo of one on a postcard (sold as proof of quaint tribal life in Ladakh).

"Oh, the Aryans? No, no books about them. Something-something in various books here and there, but nothing just about them." If they don't have it here, they don't have it anywhere.

Maybe no one could talk to the Brokpa. All the other foreigners take pictures of them from a safe distance with powerful zoom lenses. I guess there is one advantage to having a cheap camera...you are required to make contact with your subjects.

OmniBus

Thoughtful fan mail
Kathmandu, Nepal

A very thoughtful and newswatching Tom in Iowa writes:

Hi SirensongsIndia,

If you respond to this that means you were not on the bus that plunged over backwards down a 1000 ft ravine in Nepal.

Crowded bus plunges off Nepal road, killing 42: An overcrowded bus plunged off a mountain road in western Nepal on Saturday, leaving at least 42 people dead and 45 injured, police said. Police were investigating the cause, but an initial probe indicated the driver may have lost control of the vehicle because it was overloaded with passengers. (source: USA Today)

Overloaded or overcrowded? an Asian vehicle? Imagine that. Check this out (these photos are really nothing extreme) and welcome to my world!

--Nope, I wasn't on that or any other bus; I was safe several hundred miles away filling out papers in triplicate in an immigration office, on an otherwise bee yoo ti full fall day. Sorry for the brevity, just wanted everyone to know I am safe, if preoccupied. Thanks for your concern!

The snowcapped Himalayas are now visible even from the mundane valley streets. I yearn to be among them!

photo source: "Lords of the Logistic" from Aistigave, Belgium