|
So
My Family came to Visit
- no further than Kathmandu,
Nepal
Of all the places in the
world,
I never though my father would set foot in Nepal,
but come he did, with Cathy, my stepmom and
Sophia,
my sis in tow. They were spending a month in
Thailand
and came over for a brief but ever so
eventful
visit. Landing in Kathmandu, the adventure
started
with the taxi ride to the hotel. In the
smallest
van ever built, we all loaded in, with one
suitcase
for each day they would spend in Nepal (all
of
two.) The rickety van took off and right away
nearly
plowed into a cow leaving the parking lot. With
their
hands firmly gripping any available surface, we
veered
through the tangle of Kathmandu streets, a
thick
stew of people, cars, rickshaws, motorbikes,
trucks
and wildlife. Their amazement grew every second
as
we proceeded to fit by oncoming cars with an inch
to
spare, speed up to meet oncoming obstacles, which
fluidly
slid by. Traffic in Kathmandu can only be
described
as fluid, in the best of terms. My father, a
seasoned
driver, was overcome with fear at the thought
of
taking the wheel. We finally made it to the hotel
and
unloaded and Nepal's renowned efficiency left us
with
two uncleaned hotel rooms, one reeking of smoke.
They,
good-naturedly squeezed themselves into a
smaller
single room, and relaxed for the first time.
As
their itinerary was for three days only, we had
already
rented a van for the afternoon for
sightseeing.
No time for rest, bah humbug, I was going
to
take them for an adventure. We set off to see the
sights
and thankfully the van was a wee bit bigger,
although
this seemed to heighten the excitement of
city
driving. The sightseeing was fine, save for my
consternation
at two separate sites having fees now
attached
to them. Just one month ago, I had walked
these
same streets and sites free of charge, a citizen
of
the world. Now to step foot in Boudanath square or
Patan
Durber Square, the camera-toting, fanny-packing,
spotted-from-a-mile-away
tourist has to fork over
three
hundred rupees to set foot upon this now
expensive
ground. This can only be compared to
blocking
off the Magnificent Mile and adding a
surcharge
to shop! The locals freely pass, but meek
local
officials, who gamely try to collect these new
fees,
keep tourists at bay. I, in my kurta and
passable
Nepali, laughed them off and sauntered
through,
but my family, with five trinket vendors in
tow,
were easily caught in their net and paid the
fees.
We made it safely through the afternoon,
although
our trip down a one way street brought to
mind
the poor salmon struggling upstream. A bit scared
of
what the food might entail (doesn't everyone need
more
excitement in the bathroom) for dinner, my poor
family
opted for peanuts, saved from the airflight
over
and went to bed exhausted.
The
next day, our plan was to escape the polluted,
crowded
and dirty capital city for the clean, fresh
air
and incredible mountain views of Pokhara, a
five-hour
drive to the west and my second home.
Loading
into the same van, we headed out of the
Kathmandu
valley. As the word valley intimates,
Kathmandu
is a high plateau surrounded by mountains
and
foothills, and once on the outskirts of the
valley,
we had to begin a harrowing descent down the
steep,
twisty, turny roads into Nepal's heartland. My
father,
afraid of heights kept switching seats away
from
the window peering out into the incredible lush
green
rice-terraced mountain valley. One moment he
would
be on the inside, then the van winding through
another
sharp S-curve of the road, and the next he
would
again be staring out in the abyss, the road
below
us, unable to be seen from the van. We traveled
in
this manner for a good hour before finally reaching
the
valley floor and snaking our way towards Pokhara,
along
side the beautiful rushing Trisuli River.
About
two
hours into the trip and a mere half-hour from my
school,
which I was so excited to show them, we
stopped
quickly behind a long line of trucks and cars.
Noticing
the rocks behind the tires, we got out,
realizing
that whatever the obstruction, it would be a
long
wait. From our vantage point, we observed a very
long
line of traffic spread out in front of us and at
some
point behind a turn in the road, we realized the
cars
we stopped in the other direction as well. Word
gradually
leaked back to us, LANDSLIDE. Our game
driver
decided to head to the front and see how bad
this
so-called landslide was. As we drove to the front
of
the traffic in the opposite lane, we once or twice,
saw
a motorbike and it's passengers coming from the
landslide
area, covered in mud. Not exactly
encouraging.
We finally neared the front of the
traffic,
snuck in behind a bus and then walked to the
landslide
area. It was a 70-yard patch of the highway,
covered
in a two-foot layer of mud and rocks. To one
side,
a motorbike was again attempting a crossing with
about
seven men shoving it through. The rumor now
circulating
was that a bulldozer had left Naranyghad
four
hours earlier and was on its way to the rescue.
We
decided to wait awhile and see if anything
happened.
People all around us were settling in for
the
long haul. Pots were brought out and food was
cooked,
the roadside vendors did blowout business and
entrepreneurial
youngsters quickly bought snackfood
and
sold it to hungry tourists at horribly inflated
prices.
It was a regular bazaar and my family was in
the
thick of it. One man tried vainly to rally some
people
to try to shovel it off the edge of the road.
He
actually gathered a few shovels and began in
earnest,
but after a mere ten minutes, the futility of
the
effort sank in and he resorted to drinking beer
and
complaining loudly along with the rest of us.
After
about an hour and a half of waiting, we got some
news,
not the good kind. The bulldozer driver,
apparently
there is only one per dozer, was sick and
the
dozer never left. The next closest dozer was a
good
six hours away, so much for getting to Pokhara.
We
turned around and defeated by the hostile terrain
of
Nepal, headed back to Kathmandu. We later learned
that
the road was not opened till sometime in the
middle
of the night. So much for visiting my school as
well.
Once in Kathmandu, I dumped them at a restaurant
and
searched out a quieter hotel, to shield them from
the
realities of the third world. Finally finding the
ideal
place, they made the suggestion that having seen
the
'wonders' of Nepal, maybe it was time to head back
to
Thailand for a vacation.
Not really sure what to do
with
them for another day, our attempt at getting to
the
real 'wonders' of Nepal thwarted, I obliged and
changed
their tickets to the next day. At least we had
a
pleasant dinner that evening, dining on the sacred
cow
served at numerous tourist restaurants and
enjoying
good conversation, so good in fact, that I
longed
to spend more time with them, under less
inhospitable
circumstances. Maybe that is the true
lesson
of Nepal, one I have learned dearly in the last
five
months, the closeness of family and friends, in
the
face of harsh realities. The people here, if they
have
a small home, food and access to a radio and
bicycle,
they truly believe what more do they need.
Having
not really spent any time with my father since
leaving
for college, I felt acutely out of touch with
him
and the changes in his life, especially his
new wife Cathy and her daughters. So much so
that
with still plenty of school vacation left, I
decided
to hop a plane to Bangkok and spend some time
with
them and also get a bit of R&R in. Ya know,
everyone
needs a vacation on their 'vacation.' And
because
I also realistically knew the challenges of
spending
large amounts of time with family, I took
along
a companion, my good friend Devi. It was to be
his
first trip outside of Nepal and would prove to be
definitely
interesting in that respect.
over
and out
ann-marie
back
to Meet the Sapkotas |
