A Travellerspoint blog

Apr 2009

Ancient city,ancient art.

rain 15 °C

We are back once again in our friendly Sultanahmet hostel in Istanbul where the narrow alleys share equal space with 5 star hotels, rug dealers and doner vendors. Tomorrow morning we head further West to Athens , spend two days there before taking a ferry to the island of Santorini for a much needed rest.

Last Saturday morning, after having arrived in the town of Pamukkale the day before, Tom woke up with excruciating pain in his left side and unable to keep any food or water down. I knew it was serious when at 6.00am he consented and let me call a doctor. Even at that time in the morning I found friendly hotel staff busy sweeping the courtyard and upon understanding my frantic…sick!…doctor!, a call was made to summon the local family doctor out of bed. Within the hour Doktor Sakir Bayur knocked on our door armed with the old physician’s bag which holds everything to check patient’s vital signs and administer basic lab tests. Enough anyway for Dr. Sakir to diagnose a kidney stone. Part of his diagnosis resulted from a test Tom may laugh about later but not yet today. During the exam the pretty good-sized and hefty doctor looked at Tom and while questioning‘“ Hurts” chopped him in the left kidney with enough force to leave Tom out of breath and stunned. My kidneys felt rattled just watching Tom’s pain. Dr. Sakir , wondering about Tom’s lack of response whacked him fitfully once more before Tom thankfully moaned out in pain. Armed with Tom’s passport he took off for the pharmacy and returned shortly with two shots and four other medications with instructions on how to take them and to return if pain stayed on for more than three days. His total bill for the house call, tests and all meds totaled to 210 lires, $ 140.00 Not bad and how great that in this ancient town the ancient art of healing still continues. The day before we had taken a tour of Pamukkale, a small town, nestled close by the ruins of Hierapolis and while in the far distance snow capped mountains can be seen, the purest whitest slope ever is at the end of the village street, at the bottom of the plateau where the ruins of Hierapolis can be wandered. Thermal spring waters have formed these fantastic formations of stalactites and the calcium deposits appear at times like frosted cakes with blue icing on top. The blueness is the mineral’s water absorption of the sky above. Our tour guide Ramadaz was very informative on the history of Hierapolis, first occupied by the Greeks, then the Romans before Byzantine’s and now Turkey’s influence. We have learned that when one does not speak the language and all explanatory signs are in the native tongue it pays to spend a little more, and join a tour to hear the history. More ancient ruins, cities, catacombs and history will certainly be displayed and divulged when we continue our travels in Greece and Italy but our tour of Hierapolis will always remain special through the sheer freedom of wandering it gave us and the color of the wildflowers dispersed throughout the hillside. It was the red of the poppies mixed with the purple, white and yellows of other flowers that more than the old stone spoke of: “ As it was in the beginning, is now”. At the top of Hierapolis the old theater can be found, extremely well preserved after all these centuries and earthquakes. The greatest gift any old theatre/arena can be given was granted here when a couple of months ago this Roman built Apollo Theater was the place for a rock concert. What a tribute and how right to not be afraid to use it properly.

Tom snoozed a couple of days in Pamukkale, sweating away his pain and discomfort and even the muezzins sky flooding invitations were not enough to waken his rest. During that time we were greatly taken care of by the Koray Otel family members. There could not have been a better place for Tom to have taken ill. The Otel is family run, with “Papa” the patriarch still close by the helm and throughout the day he would charmingly bring me flowers and fresh mint for my tea, always making sure that all our needs and wishes were met. His sons and daughters run the hotel while his many grandchildren play and learn. Whatever the family ate became our meal and without menus seen the fare was grand. In the morning endless baskets with crisp, fresh baked baguettes were served together with the standard Turkish/Mediterranean breakfast of sliced tomatoes, cucumber , boiled egg and various olives. On our tour of Pamukkale we met 5 South African women, a mother with her two daughters and their friends. It was while anxiously waiting for Tom’s recuperation that I learned that all four young women were medical doctors and sitting in our Otel’s courtyard they shared their insight and were able to explain more about the meds Tom was taking since through our inability of understanding Turkish not all was clear. While talking with them, the call of prayer was chimed through town and these young, very modernly dressed and Westerly educated female Muslim doctors pulled their scarves higher over their head and explained so much of their religion to me, It was to them I gave the book “Sweetness in the belly” and in gratitude they gave me the only book they had with them which was the Turkish to English 3500Word two-way dictionary. It has come in handy.

We decided to forego the scheduled trip to Ephesus after Pamukkale and instead after an extra day rest at the Koray Otel headed back to Istanbul. Tom bemoans the fact of missing The Artemis Temple and the House of the Virgin Mary in Ephesus because of his kidney stone and while I am sure they are a great site to see it would have meant missing getting to know the wonderful people of Pamukkale and their friendship. We took the overnight bus back to Istanbul on Monday evening. It is a shame to take those long rides during the night hours. They are very long, tedious and the dark shrouds the beautiful landscapes found throughout Turkey. Sleep is difficult to find anyway on the overnight bus rides with the interruptions for refreshments and bathroom use. There is no such thing as a free pee in Europe and we are close enough to Europe to have it already in practice here. Common fee for public bathroom use is 1 and means either 1 Lire, Euro or US dollar which is somewhat comical since their value is not at all alike. Throughout Turkey all three currencies are accepted and without following daily market fluctuations the prices are usually set like these; Ten postcards 1 Euro, $1.50 US or 2 Lira and that is quite close to what our exchange rate has been. When asking a vendor for a price and he holds up 5 fingers do not assume he means 5 lira because when money is handed over it suddenly becomes 10 lira since he was holding up Euro fingers!

We arrived back in Istanbul early Tuesday morning and Tom who had started to feel better had enough of a relapse in pain and discomfort that I took him to an Istanbul Hospital after another uncomfortable night. At the back of the Istanbul guide book all the hospitals are listed, all 16 of them and of course “ American Hospital “ jumped out. Even more so when the young Canadian man sitting next to me at the hostel downstairs while I am frantically trying to make contact with our insurance company, points out in the little book he carries “ Good hospitals worldwide“ that in Istanbul American Hospital tops the lists, the only one the list BTW. A taxi is called and Tom and I head to the American Hospital and upon arrival are a little mystified that all the signs are still in Turkish and every one keeps on speaking that language we do not understand and where are the Americans? We quickly are told that American is a name for the hospital ? So , what does that mean for all the other Istanbul hospitals by the other names: Armenian Hospital, Italian Hospital, International Hospital, German Hospital, Jewish Hospital, Florence Nightingale hospital and all the others. All kidding now aside, the Istanbul American Hospital is a hospital that any American city would proudly claim as its own. Tom’s treatment there these past two days has been admirable and the surgery to remove a lodged stone in his ureter could not have been performed better anywhere else. Nurse Fathima did her best to be understood and all failure was strictly our fault for our inability to not understand her language. As Tom’s
“ attendant” I received royal treatment including meals, showers and a good bed. Admissions/discharge worked with us and through any language barriers and we were so happy to learn that our primary American Blue Cross/Blue Shield was accepted and without delay paid with us only having to pay the much smaller co-payment due by our Travelers insurance which the Istanbul Hospital does not accept. Here all along we thought it would be our travelers insurance which would protect us but strangely that was the one not accepted.

It has been a week where al lot was learned. Walking through a sleeping village, waking up from its winter slumber while preparing for summer’s tourist onslaught is something I would not have wanted to trade. One learns a lot from a village and a country which sleepingly is arising to greatness. One truly learns a country and its people when misfortune happens and how it is dealt with. When we now hear the call to prayer we know why it is done five times. It is calculated according to the movement of the sun; the noon prayer time begins when the sun has just passed its zenith at one’s location and it therefore changes with seasons according to where one is in the world. Thus, there is not even a single moment without prayer being made throughout the world. Five stands for the pillars of profession, declaration of belief in God, obligatory prayer 5 times a day, the giving of charity, fasting from dawn to dusk during the month of Ramadan and the pilgrimage to Mecca once in a life time for those who have the means. What I will remember most are 5 South African women who explained when I asked them whether they needed to go to Mosque to pray when the muezzin called laughed and said they had an hour to find the place to pray and God did not live in buildings . It will be the words from Rifat Durune , from our Pamukkale hotel who upon our leaving was thanked for treating us as family and his simple reply:
“ That is what we are all called to be for each other”.

Tonight Tom is still a little sore but we are both very grateful for Turkey’s care of us both and its natural beauty. Reading through our little Turkish book we are slowly becoming wise to the language. One of our favorites is the numbers.
1 is bir (pronounced beer)
2 is iki(pronounced ee-kee)
See the fun that can be had while isolated in a small hospital room overlooking the great, ancient Turkish peninsula and the Bosphorous?

What we also learned is that gula-gula is an appropriate goodbye saying for those who are staying.
Those who are leaving say allahaismarladik

Tom and Els

Posted by tomstrick1 8:00 AM Archived in Round the World | Turkey Comments (1)

When nature and humans join hands

overcast 18 °C

While our plane from India carried us silently through the night over Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq and Syria before landing in Istanbul we read the book “Sweetness in the belly” by English author Camilla Gibb. While fiction, it beautifully crafts and transcends the boundaries defined by propaganda makers that pit Islam and the West against each other. It offered us an insight in the Muslim tradition we were previously unaware of and it now aids in understanding there where we are. Trading books all over the world with passing travelers has enriched our lives and kept money for other purposes. We have as of yet not been caught without a good read. In Phuket, Thailand on our way out of the door we came across the book ” America unchained” by Dave Goreman and a must read for our Kansas friends. The book in humorous details describes the journey an Englishman attempts in America, coast to coast, determined to not give any money to “the man”, staying away from big corporate franchises and only fraternizing the mom and pop businesses.

Our first Turkey sunrise was seen from the overnight Istanbul to Cappadocia bus and after a very long, sleepless night it was a welcome and beautiful sight to witness once again a bright red sun peeking over mountains. It was our first, clear sunrise in over a month since the sun is so overshadowed by smog in the Asian countries we have been. The overnight public buses in Turkey are quite comfortable, once one figures out which is the correct bus to board. We booked our Cappadocia trip through a travel agency associated with our Istanbul hostel and together with a large group of young travelers from all over the world we boarded a bus commandeered by a Turkish Al Pacino look alike who frantically tried to make us understand our transfers and who became quite frustrated when upon his order; “understand” all in unison shook their head. Being lost with the crowd is more freeing and enjoyable than being lost in the crowd and in great humor our trip to Cappadocia went under way. The bus ride is around 13 hours long and appears even longer if one has a cranky, old woman sitting behind you who is determined that you will be the only one on the bus not allowed to recline the seat. That was my luck and after an unsuccessful attempt to battle it out with sheer strength against 4 feet of veiled, distempered anger I used my wits and sweetly told the steward on board that my seat was broken and he put it in the reclined position under a barrage of angry retorts which continued with well placed kicks the rest of the trip.
Arriving and now spending three days in Cappadocia has been amazing. The area is set high above sea level and surrounded by the snow capped volcano’s whose eruptions formed this geological wonder. Spreading lava, together with lakes, formed a high plateau up to 100-150 meters in height. Today’s valleys were created through erosion and the harder, wider layer of rock on the top, called chimney rocks formed. Chimney rocks can be seen in other regions of the world but nowhere as densely formed as in Cappadocia. Human hands early on joined creation and carved these thick but pliable porous rocks and made them suitable for houses, monasteries, churches and underground shelters when protection was needed. Christianity settled in this region in the third century and a mystic monastery life began which lasted until the 12 th century when Islam took its place. The town of Gorame where we are staying in a delightful, family run, cave pension (Star Cave Hotel) is surrounded by hundreds of cave churches, all small and many used as schools before the 12 th century. We visited some and saw the ancient paintings on the walls which made them unsuitable for the Islam faith tradition. While some of the painting is very primitive and done by local church attendees many centuries ago, other church paintings are master pieces created by Roman artists. One of the cave churches we visited today, now well over 900 years since last used as a church, still carries in its domes and on its walls pictures of every biblical scene. These paintings have lasted through the years because of the natural make up of the paints. No chemicals were used since there was no existence of these in those times. The color red came from grapes, yellow saffron, blue ground lapis lazula, and green from ground shells. What will stand out more than anything we saw today was hearing a young Turkish, Muslim woman describe to us, in a very gentle voice, the biblical scenes portrayed so many years ago and still holding its color. What is equally amazing are how these formations, many years later, still offer its usefulness to the people who live here and not only as a tourist attractions. Centuries ago, human hands built pigeon houses and artfully built steps in the soft rock so that the pigeon droppings could be collected and spread as manure on the fields and around the grape vines. Today, these pigeon houses are still used for that exact same purpose and the wine, manufactured in the Cappadocia region is still stored inside the caves where the temperature is perfect without human intervention. As with all tours we have been a part of this past month, one does end up in the local industry and with their hopes up, cajoled into buying. In Cappadocia it was pottery and rugs and if we had the funds we gladly would have bought the pieces of craftsmanship we saw today. Even today, the red clay used for the pottery is still gathered from the river which runs through the region, and fitfully named the red river. It is the largest river in Turkey and flows into the Dead Sea. We have one more day here tomorrow and will use the time to hike around the region before boarding an overnight (drats) bus to Pamukkale region which also offers the beauty of natural wonders, this time in calcified, terraced hot pools.

Traveling these past couple of days with young people from Australia, New Zealand, Italy, Japan, China and Germany makes us realize how different it is to travel when there is at least 30 years difference in years. We listen to them and remember the ease with which we in the early seventies, as our young friends do now , threw on our backpack and the disregard we had then of where we would lay down our heads to rest at night and whom we had left behind. We require more rest, comfort and peace of mind now. In the book “ Sweetness in the belly” 6 year old Lilly asks her parents, nomad travelling hippies, why they have to move once again and her father’s answer is that staying in one place means that roots will be put down and roots grow. The child asks why that is so bad and the father’s reply; “It just makes the passage between places too painful. It’s all about the journey. You don’t want to spoil the journey by missing what you’ve left and worrying about where you are going”. If missing makes one a lesser traveler, we no longer are great travelers. Beyond missing our children’s presence we miss the normality of living life. The simple task of opening our own front door and finding the paper there and reading the news while enjoying a great cup of good brewed coffee. We now have spent many months in countries where tea is the norm. Our young traveling friends shared their journey time and we all bemoaned the noticeable inclined prices in Turkey and what can be expected when the Euro countries are reached. Some of our young friends were ready to head back to Asia where “ Life is cheap”. There are two ways to look at that statement depending on where the emphasis is placed.

Is life valued less there where lesser value is needed to live life?

Gule , Gule,
Tom and Els

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Bridging

sunny 20 °C

We decided to hire a car and driver for the trip from Agra back to New Delhi airport to avoid having to deal with luggage and taxi’s twice plus the train ride and it was surprisingly close to the same price. For an extra 300 rupees, about US$6.00 the air condition would even be turned on. With a temp. of over 40 degrees Celsius that was a nice option to have and use. The car trip was not 4 hours, closer to 7 but we had allowed for plenty of time after seeing New Delhi’s traffic from close up the week before. The drive gave us an opportunity to observe life in India in the smaller towns. Not too many of the cow pictures we took turned out while many, many cows were seen walking by and on the road. We asked our driver; who took care of the cows, who fed them? We learned that the cows take care of themselves. They look overall quite well and happy as they saunter in front of cars and buses whose drivers take greater effort avoiding the cows than the pedestrians. After checking in at the airport and clearing immigration, India had one more surprise which did not sit well with foreign tourists, including us. With 3.000 rupees left, the equivalent of $60.00 we stood in line at the foreign exchange counter and were made aware that rupees could only be changed into another currency if one had an Indian passport. The same held for all the stores in the departure hall, including the ones selling Indian souvenirs/merchandise, rupees only for those with an Indian passport otherwise US dollars. The only exception was the coffee shop but how many cups should one drink before boarding a plane for a 6.5 hour flight to Istanbul. Moral of the story, get rid of your rupees before setting foot in the airport and do not buy too many.

In Istanbul foreign tourists have to buy a Visa upon arrival. No paperwork is filled out, no one asks how long or where one plans to stay in Turkey, all the visa entails is an exchange of money (Euros) for a pretty stamp in your passport. Mine, for a Dutch passport cost 10 Euros and the identical stamp affixed in Tom’s American passport cost 15 Euros. Payable with a credit card. While waiting for our luggage I tried to exchange Indian Rupees for Turkish Liras, and was not surprised when that did not work. Turkish liras could not even be bought with a credit/debit card at the exchange, cash for cash only, and the only ATM was once again outside. All we wanted at that time was a 1 lira or 1 euro coin since that was what would unlock the chained dolly’s and we needed one for our luggage before hauling it through customs. Sweet revenge came when we wondered if a coin…is a coin..is a coin, and stuck in a 2 Indian rupee coin (worth an American nickel) and lo and behold it worked!!!
Istanbul is an absolute, delightful city. People of all walks of life live together in the mystery of the East and the practicality of the West. Our hostel is on the Historical Peninsula, steps way from the walls of Topkapi Palace and a couple of cobble stone streets up from the Bosphorus Strait which connects the Black Sea with the Marmara Sea and divides Europe from Asia. It is there where we headed to upon arriving last week. It was a great place to sit and be while inhaling fresh sea air and smelling the flowers which can be found throughout the old city and beautifully offsets the old, grey stone from the ancient mosques and palaces. We spent the better part of our first day inside Topkapi Palace, which was built in the 15th century but like a living organism it continued to grow and change. The palace was turned into a museum in 1924 with many treasures and relics stored inside. It was interesting to see side by side the arm bones of John the Baptist and inside jeweled casing the beard of the Prophet Mohammed with on the opposite wall, the staff which Abraham used to part the Red Sea. The biggest building, with 8 domes, houses the rich collection of old weapons, many adorned with precious stones. We walked inside the council room where the government held their meetings at which the Sultan could not be present but could listen through a window opened on a high point of the Harem section and covered with a curtain. The Palace has been beautifully maintained and the grounds were ablaze with the many colors of blooming tulips and pansies. Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia are separated by a park where the tourists gather throughout the day and evening for tea, Turkish coffee and the great pastries from the many bakeries surrounding the square. The Blue Mosque is one of the most famous monuments of the Turkish and Islamic world and the only mosque built with six minarets. The interior is a big hall where the men still gather in prayer 5 times a day while the women kneel in a separate, enclosed area in the back. It is one of the mosques which wakens us each morning long before the sky’s lightening with the muezzins call. This ancient call to prayer beckons a sleeping city and throughout the day it is heard again, from all the mosques surrounding us. Prayer is part of the day, part of life and it does not disturb. We were outside the New Mosque during an afternoon prayer meeting and watched hundreds of men, as one, bow their heads to the floor and after rising, leave and continue on with their day before gathering again later in prayer. Hagia Sophia, once a Christian Church (for 926 years), a mosque for 481 years , now sustains its historical function as a museum. It served as an example, even if on the basis of ideas and it is a product of the synthesis of the West and East. Upon entering, high up a mosaic panel can be seen depicting Jesus and his mother and throughout Hagia Sophia there is blending of Christianity and Islam, wonderful to see.
Old Istanbul has lots of charm and walking the narrow cobbled-stoned streets even without stopping at the many museums, mosques, palaces and bazaars is highly entertaining. Many wares are displayed, especially the rugs and the walking- by tourists will be encouraged to stop and take a look. Not being fueled by desperation, aggression is not present here and with a friendly wave one can walk by. One of our favorite walks is by the water of the Bosphorus where a bridge within minutes can connect one with Asia. It is a great people watching place where especially on a Sunday evening families take a stroll and stop to eat a doner sandwich which is fast becoming a favorite of ours. It is refreshing to see men and women walk hand in hand with their children hopping close by. The Muslim women are dressed in full length coats with their heads covered in brightly colored scarves . We have seen few women donned in the full black with scarves covering their faces. On one of our walks, when taking a picture, a young man stopped us and asked if we knew the significance of the statue which picture we were taking and we did not. He happily explained while walking next to us, hand in hand with his girl friend and the pride this young man took in his city Istanbul, the cradle of civilization, was evident. He was a young student and while pecking a kiss on her nose told us of his plans to marry this beautiful girl after completing his studies and mandatory 6 month tour in the Military, even if her father would not approve. In one of the guide books we read, the tourist is reminded that Turkey is a laic country where the Turkish people enjoy eating, drinking and dancing and that religion and government do not walk together like some other Arabic countries. Istanbul draws many tourists, especially the young, and throughout we hear Bulgarian, Romanian, Dutch and English spoken as well as many other languages. The traffic once again drives on the right side and with our many months seeing it on the left , at first this came across as being on the wrong side. As far as we are concerned after seeing the traffic in Thailand, Nepal and India; Pick a side and then please stay on it!

Tonight we will board a bus and travel through Turkey for 7 days stopping in Cappadocia,Pamukkale and Ephesus before returning to Istanbul for a couple more days, where there is till plenty more for us to see and do.

Gule-Gule

Tom and Els

Posted by tomstrick1 8:04 AM Archived in Round the World | Turkey Comments (0)

Impressions

sunny 45 °C

We flew out of Nepal on Good Friday, heading for New Delhi, India and the flight over Nepal offered us great views of the Himalayas majesty which made us once again understand the draw and promise of adventure Nepal offers. Leaving the Kathmandu airport was as thrilling as arriving. Not once, twice but three times each passenger was thoroughly hand frisked and had to empty their total hand luggage and explain the items, which became quite comical with the language barrier. In front of me was an English woman and I admire and still chuckle on how she tried to get across to the male guard the function of birth control pills. “Head ache pills?”. “No, pills for when you do not have headache! “. We were prepared to pay the exit fee of 1750 rupees each (at exit rupees are accepted), made sure to have extra in case the number was not correct but lo and behold, no money was asked of us and now we have 6000 Nepal rupees on our hand which no one wants to exchange in India.

New Delhi airport is comparable with any large, international airport in the world and runs very efficiently. Retrieving luggage, immigration and customs was a breeze and within minutes we found ourselves in the arrival hall where signs alerted travelers to be on the safe side, not be subjected to touts and buy a government approved pre-paid taxi ticket, which we did with our newly acquired Indian Rupees which cost 50 per $1.00 as opposed to the 80 Nepal rupees an American dollar can buy. Armed with a paid ticket from the airport to Hotel Ashiana in down town New Delhi we lined up for our taxi which arrived shortly. We assumed that our driver spoke no English since our greetings were not returned or any other attempts in conversation by us. After giving him our ticket we took off. Almost immediately he lit up cigarette inside the taxi which was surprising but after all we did not know the customs here. New Delhi around the airport area and outside suburbs looks surprisingly like any big American or European city with impressive, towering business buildings and apartment dwellings but the scenery changed abruptly when we neared the inner-city where chaos took over as did the stench of animals and people living on the streets. In the heart of the city, at an intersection of very narrow alleys our taxi driver who had not interacted or acknowledged our existence at all turned around and in plain English said” Get out. Cannot find your hotel. Get a rickshaw. “ We were stunned but refused to get out since a crowd had immediately formed around our taxi and attempts were made to open our backseat doors. Our backpacks were tied on the roof of the car. Quite a bit earlier I had locked my door and Tom later mentioned that right before our driver pulled his stunt, it was a passing child who pointed to the then still up lock- button and made a locking motion which Tom did. Not surprisingly, it was men dressed as Holy Men who where the most aggressive. Tom and I insisted to be taken back to the airport if our driver was unable to find our hotel and that under no condition would we get out. Tom advised the driver to find traffic police for assistance since maybe they could give him direction at which time our driver moved on with a “ No, police”. He was able to find our hotel after all and a combination of exhaustion on my part and the aftermath of the scary and intimidating experience sent me into a weeping spell. It did not help that the hotel was by far not the accommodation advertised on the internet so I booed that this was not where I wanted to be at Easter and I may have added that I was ready to deck the next “Holy Men” who came close. Tom did a great job comforting and reminding me that it was all part of the adventure. It is true, we set out for experience but how we want each and every experience to be enjoyable and pleasant.
It is very easy to let first impressions, good or bad, cloud the rest of vision. In Nepal we had our very first rickshaw ride which has cured us of taking another. While still in Katmandu we planned a trip to Durbar Square and after consulting with owner Bishnu decided on taking a rickshaw. He warned us to be sure and have an agreement of the price before taking off, advice we read over and over in travel guides, and mentioned the customary fee for a ride to the square. Immediately when setting foot in the alley rickshaw drivers surrounded us and we asked one how much. His price was 3 times more than Bishnu’s recommended price and we declined. Immediately the price went down. We agreed and off we went. Rickety is a good name for the bikes, they bounce, rattle and shake and most of the time my eyes remained tightly shut. Fear can do that! The bike had a handmade horn, cleverly crafted from an old Nivea lotion bottle. Our driver decided to stop along the way, hoping to show us additional sights but we insisted that it was Durbar Square we wanted to explore. Upon arriving at the square he declined the money and instead grabbed the Nepal guidebook out of my hand and said he would wait for us. That’s all good and well but our book he was not keeping and I grabbed it right back. Money again was declined and we wandered in the square after being stopped to pay the “foreigner entrance fee”. Blondes do stick out as do men with bushy moustaches and Australian hats. After an hour we were ready to head back and our rickshaw driver must have kept a close eye on us and showed up next to our side We gave him our hotel card with the address and strict instructions to go only there before we hopped on once again. He stopped in a narrow, busy alley quite a while away still from our hotel and demanded payment for the 4 hours we had hired him as our guide. We totally agree that being a rickshaw driver and pulling tourists down busy, potholed dirt streets has to be a very difficult job and in our hands we had enough to double the original price(roundtrip now) and quadrupled it for a generous tip. We had been gone one and a half hours in total. He wanted 24x more!!! What Tom knows and the rickshaw driver was fast learning is that I have a temper and will stand my ground and cunningly not taking us back to the hotel did not sit well. Soon a guard walked close by and the rickshaw driver took off in haste after taking the offered money .
I thought back on this after our first taxi driver experience in India. Even when paying close attention to the warnings and following recommended guidelines, tourists can and will face unexpected encounters, some more pleasant and entertaining than others. We spent two days in the heart of New Delhi. One afternoon we explored and wandered around and again we were overcome with the poverty displayed. There were quite a few puddles on the dirt roads while New Delhi has not had significant rain fall in a long time. After noticing quite a few males urinating on the streets, often not turning around but showing the full Monty, we kept our boots on even with the temperatures in the 40 degrees Celsius mark. We found a great restaurant around the corner of our hotel where the non-veg Thali included an egg curry with a whole hardboiled egg floating on top. It became Easter dinner and was great. We took a guided day tour of the city and saw many beautiful temples including Shri Lakshmi Narain ( Birla Temple) where throughout paintings describe the Hinduism philosophy of life. None of the temples we saw in New Delphi allowed you to bring in cameras or cell phones and upon entrance were placed in a lockbox and we were given the key. Our last stop was the Swaminaryan AkshardhaM, a very unique complex of Indian culture, set in a vast 100 acre site on the banks of the Tamuna River as professed by HDH Yogiji Maharaj in 1968. His vision was fulfilled in 2005 when this grand spiritual monument was blessed by his successor HDH Pramukh Swami Maharaj. It took 5 years to complete. Upon arrival, before parking, all vehicles are thoroughly searched, both inside and out. There are signs alerting all on what cannot be brought inside the temple, the list includes at least a 100 items e.g – No bombs(duh), gum, papers, documents, purse, weapons, drugs, cigarettes, toffee, shampoo(?), brush, comb, pen, etc….the list went on and on. Batteries had to be removed from cell phones and cameras and turned in separate. It probably would have been simpler to post that what could be carried in and that’s the clothes on your back, money (without billfold) in your pocket, one watch per group (yes) and women could keep on their jewelry. Hand frisking before entering. Since our hotel did not have a safe and our sense of security there had not been very high I carried in my little purse our passports/tickets and had no intention of parting with those so Tom and I decided to have one of us wait with my purse on the outside and take turns entering and seeing the site. Good decision however it meant that I missed seeing Tom wander through the complex dressed in a yellow Sari since his knee length shorts proved to be unacceptable. Swaminaryan AkshardhaM is beyond description. It beautifully showcases Indian art, wisdom, heritage and values as a tribute to Bhagwan Swaminaryan(1781-1830)a torchbearer of Indian culture. The carvings out of red stone and marble are so detailed that one could spend hours admiring the craftsmanship. The Holy footprints of Bhagwan bear the 16 sacred signs of God and water is continuously showered on them from four auspicious conch shells in tribute to his (Bhagwan Swaminarayan) inspiring life and work. Walking through the complex is meant to radiate peace, beauty, joy and divinity. I expected to see Alladin floating by on his carpet. This was the India of story books and the fables I grew up with. Upon leaving and only minutes away we again saw the slums and cannot help but wonder how a country which can build such grandiosity as the Sawminarayan Akshardham cannot take care of its people. Why built such an empty extreme while the people still live on the streets and try to find shade with rags over their head while digging through trash hoping for a morsel. Should peace, beauty, joy and divinity not radiate for them also? Our driver was ready to show us more temples but we realized we were templed out. We had seen the temple of all temples and it would have been like going to the county fair after having spent a week in Disney World.
The very next morning, Easter Sunday at 5.30 am we left by train for Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. The train ride was great, once we made it on, and can be highly encouraged as a mode of transportation between New Delhi and Agra. The trip took around two hours and while it does not offer much in views it gives a great people watching opportunity. We were pleasantly surprised by the service; newspaper, bottled water, tea/coffee and a full breakfast were served and it was not until days later we learned that we travelled first class. Our three days in the Grand Hotel in Agra have been good. The hotel caters mainly to Indians and appears to be the place to celebrate special events like wedding receptions. From our balcony we observed a Hindu wedding and as sneaky observers we took no pictures. Enormous firework displays and outside the gardens the groom was kept for hours while quite a celebration was going on for him alone. At the hotel we met Barbara, a delightful woman from Melbourne, Australia who is here as a guest and member of the wedding celebrations which will start today for the son of the Hotel owner. The event will take three days and we would have loved to see more close up but we will head back to New Delhi for our flight to Istanbul later today.
Tom saw the Taj Mahal, our reason for the India stop and I could see in his eyes how much the moment meant. It is monumental to touch and be close to this seventh wonder of the world, built in the 1600’s , also on the banks of the river Yamuna. The entrance gate of the Taj bears inscriptions of the entire chapter of Koran. The most amazing feature of the Taj Mahal is its proportion and symmetric construction. Standing in one of the surrounding temples arches the whole Taj Mahal will be artfully in view. Peeking over the side we saw 14 women who while squatted cut the enormous lawns with small hand sickles while subjected to a male who angrily pushed them on. The other life, once again. We spent the day touring the other sites of Agra including the 14th century built Royal Palace of Fatehpur Sikri. Legend goes that King Akbar had three wives, Muslim, Christian and Hindu, and none had born him a son. After a battle he stopped in Sikri, the dwelling place of Sufi Saint ‘ Sheikh Salim Chisti’, who was famous for his spiritual deeds. The King asked for prayer to bless him with a son and it is said that Sufi Saint sacrified his own six month old son ‘Bate Miyan’ and thus the soul of this sacrificied son was reborn in the womb of Empress Jogha Bai, the Hindu wife. The Tomb of Salim Chisti is a shrine where one can buy a wish and with this purchase comes a sari which then will be donated to Agra’s widows and we hope that will happen with the sari we bought. At the entrance we were again asked to remove our shoes and knowing that we would be visiting temples we had dressed accordingly. It is such a strange culture where I see the Hindu and Sikh women walk in their beautiful silk draped saris, often with their midriff fully exposed, sometimes even from the belly button up, while I have lost the right to bare arms. My sensuous shoulders have remained covered in India and the few shirts with sleeves that I brought are getting quite a workout in the 45 degree heat. While dressed according to culture we notice that in the sacred temples souvenirs can still be sold and while trying to listen to our guide and taking in the history I am being followed by a very persistent young man who continuously holds 7 bracelets in front of my face …chanting “ How much”. Ignoring only goes so far when both vision and hearing are blocked. No, no, no obviously was not working once again and I got to that point where I stopped and asked if payment would mean his leaving. Yes! I bought freedom and the bracelets are a bonus?

This past month has been a whirlwind of travel, we have seen so much and attempted to absorb cultures so foreign to our own. Health wise we are doing great. We each have dealt with “travelers curse” and learned that squatting toilets have both pros and cons. For hygiene purpose they are better than the Western “sitting counterpart” but after a 20 KM hike, mainly uphill, squatting is the last thing legs want to do. Eating strictly with the right hand since the left here is used for another purpose is difficult if one has been raised in Europe where food is never eaten with hands and where the fork belongs in the left with knife in the right hand. It helps that here in India knives are not part of the cutlery laid out at the table. One custom which we do not believe we will ever get used to is the early morning practice we heard both in Nepal and now India. It is the hacking, grunting, attempting to remove every additional fluid out of lungs and sinuses and with lots of retching spit the wad out, preferably in front of our feet. This is common for both men and women, especially in Nepal and seeing this from dainty, delicate, exquisitely dressed women was shocking. These past couple of mornings we have been spoiled once again and are reading the Agra newspaper in English. Election time is getting near here and on both mornings we read of potential candidates found hung without much additional information. We read about a family of 4 traveling late at night on their motorcycle after attending a wedding celebration. Father, mother and two young children, ages 4 and 6. The children both died with the parents wounded. It happened the night after we observed the wedding celebration in our hotel’s garden and with the many children present there we now wonder if we saw them before they,as a family and with their heads unprotected, left for home.

At one of the temples we read the following, one of Hinduism philosophy of life.
Therefore , without attachment constantly perform the (right) action which is your duty for, by performing action without attachment men verily reacheth the surpreme one. “Gita”.Namante India. Take care of your people.
Tom and Els

Posted by tomstrick1 12:36 AM Archived in Round the World | India Comments (1)

Money matters

overcast 38 °C

l
Happy Easter from Agra, India, home of the Taj Mahal only minutes down the road from our hotel. We arrived this morning by train from New Delhi and this Easter will go down in memory as one like no other but impressions of India will follow later. This is the story of our time in Nepal.

Upon landing in Kathmandu, Nepal, on March 31 we were informed to set back our watch one hour and 15 minutes from Bangkok time. Strange time change and when asking why, we learned it was to differentiate from India, which is 15 minutes West of Nepal since after all they are two separate countries as yes, they are. Kathmandu is the capital of Nepal and really the only large city left in the historical Kathmandu Valley and surrounded by the foothills of the Himalayas which because of the horrendous smog are seen only as distant shadows. Flying over the city showed us the crowdedness which we would experience soon but first one had to deal with Nepal immigration and the buy- upon- arrival visa which is a story in itself. It was almost at the last minute of our very pleasant Thai airlines flight from Bangkok that the paperwork for Nepal was handed out, including the Visa form which showed where a recent passport picture needed to be affixed. We had extra passport pictures with us but not that what was also required for admittance to Nepal….25 US dollars or Euros, since Nepal does not accept even its own currency for entrance. Obviously we were not the only tourists taken off guard at the foreign passport gate. Nepali’s and SAARC Countries were not subjected to the fee and happily walked through another gate while about 100 confused foreigners lined up at another gate wondering how in the heck we would find US dollars or Euros while so far from the countries where they are actually manufactured. I remained in line while Tom went on an ATM mission together with some very frantic tourists. Tom was even mentioned in the line as being the only one who was not losing his cool. True to form he calmly asked and did not appear upset in being sent left, right, upstairs, downstairs and eventually Tom walked through the Nepali passport exit gate and was not seen again for probably 30 minutes at which time I wondered if he found the solution to this whole dilemma and was waiting for me on the outside to join him. He eventually returned, with the correct amount in US dollars and the only ATM in the Kathmandu airport is indeed outside and I wonder how many chose not to return to pay the fees due, but of course on the way out of the country you are screwed since the correct papers for exit will not then be in your hands. Luggage was another matter. Before you can enter the area where your checked in luggage can be retrieved you have to go through security where they screen the hand baggage you brought in but do not check anything upon leaving with the rest of your luggage (?) Oh well. We were blessed to have the manager/owner of our booked hotel still standing outside with an ELS STRICKLAND sign held up high. Never before have I been so relieved seeing my name in print. Bhishnu, from the Katmandu View Hotel came through for us many more times during our ten days in Nepal.
Our inner city Thamel hotel was probably less than 10 KM from the airport but the sights, sounds and smells of Katmandu sent us in sensory overload long before arrival. I wonder if I would have ever complained about traffic in Bangkok, Australia and New Zealand if we had chosen to travel with the rising sun instead of the setting and seen Kathmandu first. Kathmandu traffic is beyond description but I will try. Very narrow, dirt streets, packed with pollution belching vehicles, low quality fuel, total lack of emission control and whether they have two wheels, three, four or more they are all destined to be there first and at all times will try to pass whoever is in front of them even if that means totally ignoring the left side of the street they were meant to drive. It is a given that upon passing the horn will be honked and since all are passing all, never waiting for even an opportunity, the incessant honking is an absolute lesson in futility. That is Katmandu and Nepal’s traffic in a nut shell. Most of the time the traffic is of course totally tied up and still, every one honks. Pedestrians account for over 40% of all traffic fatalities. It was during this drive we learned that electricity is only available in Nepal 8 hours out of every 24 and the hours while we were there appeared to be between 4.00 and 8.00am and 4.00 and 8.00 pm. Prime times? Power is still needed the rest of the hours, especially for the hospital located across the alley from the hotel, so diesel fueled generators operate during the off hour which adds not only to the noise but also the pollution and I learned to use my recently purchased Thai headscarf as a mask. Garbage covers and lines the streets and in the morning women sweep the alleys and on the spot the trash, including lots of plastic is burned. Our first hours in Nepal were spent exploring the narrow alleys of Thamel, lined with stores all ready to have us enter and see the wares. While years ago it was the tie-dyed hippies crowd which frequented Kathmandu , now it is the gore -tex hiking bunch it attracts evident by the merchandise displayed. Every other stand carried North face products, Mamot and trekking poles. While some enjoy the banter needed to bargain for prices, we do not. We learned that the prices asked are hugely inflated and through artfully negotiating on both sides one usually only has to pay a third of the original asking price. Not on our list of enjoyable moments, we truly prefer the ability to walk around, look peacefully at the items and see a price affixed which we either want to pay or not. In Nepal, like Thailand, that is not going to happen. Begging is quite common in Nepal partly because both Hinduism and Buddhism encourage the giving of alms. It is a very difficult, heart rendering dilemma ….to give or not to give… when encountering children on the street who point to a store and then raise their hands to their mouth. Feed me? We learned that Kathmandu has over a 1000 street children, lured by the easy money and that by giving you encourage a life style which serves no one, especially not the child. We learned of the various agencies in place assisting and supporting the children of Nepal who have been orphaned through the latest uprising, the insurgency which placed the Maoists in charge. Over 12.000 Nepali’s were killed and many more are still in jail while their children roam the streets. An organization recently formed is called “one Voice” and made up through efforts of Norway, the Netherlands, Japan and the USA. Upon our return we hope to assist the Nepali children and learn more about how to raise Kathmandu’s children’s living conditions while remaining loyal to the Nepali culture. The child who broke my heart was a little girl, at the most 4 years old. Sitting alone by the side of a congested, very busy street, tin cup in front. I squatted in front of her and asked. ” Who, my child, is looking after you”? Without any expression she stared back. I noticed a bottle of water next to her and a rag over the railing to protect her from the sun and knew somewhere close, someone was watching and would take the money I left in the tin, praying that somehow that little effort would help this little girl while knowing it would not. It is especially around the religious shrines where lines of beggars can be found, knowing where the tourists are often headed. Standing on a street corner, looking at our map we were approached by two “Holy men” who without asking planted a Tika on our foreheads and demanded significant payment for a “blessing” we did not request. It was frightening at first and while we have tremendous respect for the Hindu and Buddhist religions and respect their tradition , having two fake Holy men paste a large red dot on our forehead while unaware did not sit well with us. Let’s say the Tika, ticked us off and while walking quickly away I started rubbing it off while Tom pointed out that I had now successfully dyed my whole forehead red. We scrubbed each other clean with only our own spit at hand and learned to watch out for future Holy men. We learned that the true Holy men are in the temples and treat all with respect. At our hotel we met a couple from Belgium, Miriam and Arnold who have trekked at regular intervals through Nepal for over 20 years and days earlier finished a twenty day trek with their 5 year old son Arno. Quite a feat. They came within 500 meters of Everest Base camp.
Nepal is a country that needs to be seen and explored with an open mind. It is one of the poorest countries on earth and greatly depends on the tourism trade. Tourism has been down these past 5 years mainly because of Nepal’s political unrest and now by the trickledown effect of the World’s economy. Last year’s insurgency brought the Maoists in control but it was very evident during our stay that all is not well. On the day we had bus tickets for Chitwan Park, a supposedly 5 hour drive away, a strike took place which closed the roads in the whole country for the day. We were unaware and together with a young worker from the hotel walked to the bus station. We thought nothing of the quiet roads, only driven by motor cycles, since it was after all only 6.30 am. Our escort did not mention the strike until we arrived at the bus stop where many other tourists were waiting and learned for the first time of the boycott/strike called by a disgruntled opposite political party. It was evident that all knew in Nepal except the foreign tourists who were waiting in vain for buses which never arrived. I questioned why our hotel had not informed us of the strike and instead had us walk to the bus stop with one of their employees but remembered reading that the Nepali people love to please and it was evident that our young friend hated to be the bearer of bad news and had chosen to avoid the inevitable for as long as he could. We headed back to our hotel, a little disgruntled and disappointed with hopes to leave later in the week. Later in the day we walked briefly through Kathmandu but after seeing the streets lined with heavily armed and armored Military Police and groups of young people carrying opposition party and Maoist flags we headed back to our hotel and spent the day reading on the roof top. Ironically my book was titled “prisoners of birth”.
We took a three day guided trek and hiked through Shivapuri National Park up to Nagarkot and back to Bahktapur and are forever changed by the experience of trekking through Nepali’s beautiful hills and villages. We met our guide Jun the night before leaving. It is highly advisable to hire a guide, not only for the safety, security and understanding it offers but it also provides employment and brings money into the hill’s economy. Jun, is a very well read, highly intelligent and insightful young man who has guided tourists, clients as he calls them, now for 14 years. When he asked us where we lived we noticed a small smile when he heard America. We learned the next day why. He mentioned that not often, but at times he has guided American clients but they always said they were Canadians but still he knew through listening where they were truly from. He asked us why they would not have wanted to disclose, was it being afraid or ashamed? We told him that we could not talk for them, did not know their reason, but that we were neither afraid nor embarrassed to say out loud there where we lived. Friendship with Jun started immediately and he shared so much with us about his country’s history, struggles and disappointments. While still driving the chaotic streets of Kathmandu, on our way to the trek take- out point, Jun asked us “You live in America and now see Nepal. What does Nepal have to do”? Our reply was that America does not have the answers still his question stayed close in my thoughts during the next three days hiking. Nepal is second in the world with riches in water supply still the country does not come close to supplying electricity. Spending time in the villages while waiting for lunch at a teahouse gave us opportunity to observe wholesome living. In the village all have their part to perform and Nepal village life can teach us all about sustainability. Elderly women sat on the roof sorting the grain while others attended to the children who happily were doing what children do best….play and make noise. The younger women were attending to the beautiful terraced fields with their babies very close by just like the goats had their kids, the buffalos their calves, the chickens their chicks all within reach. Throughout the villages we were greeted with” Namaste” while hands were placed in respectful prayer with head bent. Often after our Namaste exchange the village children opened their hands and asked for “balloons, pens, chocolate, money?” signs of the tourists and Jun explained the wrongdoing to the children if their requests were met and we agreed. Jun himself was raised in a mountain village and his marriage to a girl from a nearby village was arranged at the age of 15. His marriage did not last. While a devout and sincere practicing Buddhist he believes all are entitled to find their own life partner. He moved with his son to Kathmandu a couple of years ago so that his son can have the advantage of a good, private school education which Jun supplies through his earnings as guide while they live together in only one small room. Education is very important for the Nepalese and children are taught English from Kindergarten on and we were amazed by the Nepali children in their ability to converse with us. After primary school all the subjects are taught in English only. Both private and government schools demand their students to wear uniforms and while the government schools are free, the uniforms are not which adds a financial burden to many. In Nepal, public display of affection between men and women is frowned upon and was never seen while there. What is very noticeable is the affection the men show for each other and men holding hands, or with arms draped over shoulders, even sitting on each other’s laps is constantly observed as well as the obvious love the women share for each other and usually walk with arms linked. None of this carries sexual overtones but does appear somewhat bewildering when raised in a society where usually men only slap each other on butts during football games and are afraid to show any additional affection in case it is misconstrued. Traveling Nepal allowed us to look closer at our own culture and life style. On our first day hike while covering 800 meters uphill mainly done over baked steps and watching the village women carry their heavy load up these steps after their weekly shopping trek to town I mentioned to Jun how in America women pay money to climb steps and described a stair climbing class. He thought that to be hilarious …Pay money to climb stairs which go nowhere? Yes and let me explain stationary bikes and treadmills. Jun taught us how to trek in the mountains and basically he slowed us way down and introduced what Tom now calls the Himalayan shuffle but it meant hiking for 20Kilometers uphill while never needing to stop for a rest. There is no reason to catch your breath when it is not first lost. Jun described the distant brick ovens seen in the valley and how the brick industry is one of their exports, with high quality bricks sent to Japan and China with lesser quality bricks manufactured for Nepal. He mentioned the same for all the products made in Nepal, high quality for the exports with considerably lesser products to remain. We noticed his boots which were not near the quality of ours while his feet equally deserved and I wonder when this country will learn to treat their own people with the same respect as they give to their visitors. It was noticeable at the teahouses that it was Jun who was always served last, long after us, while we shared the table and would not leave until Jun had finished his meal. The main dish in Nepal is called Daal Bhat and is basically white rice with lentil soup on the side. Sometimes curried vegetables and meat are served with it as well as a small dish of pickles; however they are not the pickles we are used to. Jun, like most Nepali’s eats this dish for breakfast, lunch and dinner, day in and day out. He ate it at every meal we shared and we asked him if he ever gets tired of it, bored with it? He looked at me bewildered. “Why? It is food”. I decided to join him one day and strictly eat Daal Bhat and was tired of it before the day was over and went back to changing it up with fried rice and chowmein and even that became tiresome. The choices we want in our diets and how we miss them when we cannot. We heard Sanskrit chanted outside the temples and at times we would stop in for a visit. We were careful to dress within Nepal’s culture but I was glad to learn that I did not have to hike in a skirt and that modest shorts are acceptable for men and women on treks. When stopping by a temple I asked Jun whether I needed to don a skirt and he simply replied it was not God asking women to wear skirts and to whom did I listen? It showed again the gentleness of his soul. If we ever return to Nepal it will be for trekking and it would be with Jun. We returned by bus to Bahktapur and in Nepal a bus never gets full. The roof will be filled with people and there is always room to hang on. With not even standing room left a mother entered with 5 children who stood so tight in front of us there was no way to even lose balance. The youngest child was a little girl around three who was wedged in tight. I patted my lap and held out my arms inviting her up. She was hesitant at first until her elder brother nodded his head and for the rest of our trip she sat silently in my lap looking out of the window and at times peeking a glance at me. When it was time for her to depart, she very gently placed a kiss on my cheek before folding her tiny hands and bowing while whispering Namaste. I was deeply touched. This Namaste had no strings attached. In Bahktapur there was a palace Jun thought we wanted to see, filled with antiques. All over Nepal, foreign tourists pay to enter to see the sights, cities and squares. This palace was $ US. 10.00 each and we decided Jun and his son would be better served with this money and declined and added it to Jun’s tip instead with the words that he had shown us Nepal’s true palaces and antiques in the valley’s villages and the extra-ordinary terraces which took centuries and generations to create and now feed the people well.
During our final three days in Nepal we were able to take the bus to the town of Sauraha, outside of Chitwan Park where we arrived at Hotel Parkland, very hot and sweaty after a 7 hour bus ride and met up with 5 outstanding young travelers. Sanna from Finland and 4 young Americans. We stayed together for the next couple of day’s hectic park adventures and enjoyed tremendously our time with them even if it made us miss our own children more. Sanna finished her studies in Social work in Finland and is spending time now in Nepal, working as a social worker and the stories she shared made us realize the hardship of especially the women and children in Nepal. Nicole, one the American women, teaches in a Katmandu private school and hopes to continue teaching in Nepal for a couple of more years. She finds it more rewarding than teaching in America since in Nepal the children still know that education is a privilege. Together we went elephant bathing which was not at all what we had envisioned. It was not standing in the river while gently pouring water over an elephant. We were on top of the elephant, no saddle or seat and the elephant took us down the embankment, into the river where it filled its trunk over and over with water and happily spouted it over us before rolling over and tossing us off. Naming this event “Tourist bathing “would be more apt. I asked our guide whether the river we now were splashing around in was the same river we canoed earlier in the morning and sighted crocodiles. Yes, indeed it was but he reassured us the crocodiles were down stream. That gives the same confidence as learning that the peeing section of the pool is on the other side of where one is swimming. It was wonderful to be once again removed from the city and able to see the moon and a starlit sky and awakened not by honking traffic but by the singing of exotic birds and elephants trumpeting the rising sun. One evening a group from a nearby Thuro village performed the age old stick dance and Tom joined them and became the star of the show. Very early, on our last morning in the park, we took a jungle ride, again on an elephant. This time there was a large padded seat with room for 4 . We had previously noted steps/ladders out in the nowhere which made no sense until an elephant was placed in front and we learned of their mounting purpose. Our jungle ride became quite intense when our driver (mahout) spotted a large rhino with her calf, pulled out a cell phone and started texting! Yes! Our mahout had a cell phone and coverage! That’s more than ATT has in Nepal. Obviously he made contact with the other elephant mahouts and the Rhino chase started in earnest. We no longer followed paths but went straight through the jungle while it was my face which tore apart the spider webs and sadly my glasses did not fully survive the assault. It all went by fast and briefly we wondered about the sensibility of it all. Do rhino’s not become very aggressive while protecting their young? Days earlier a guide on foot had been attacked and severely wounded by a charging rhino and here we were, chasing them through the jungle. We were right on their tails and at times the mother rhino would stop and turn at which time the elephant would be held back. Surrounding sounds made us aware of the other elephants involved in the chase and roundup and eventually, in a clearing the rhino’s stopped and looked dejectly at us, wondering maybe what would be next. We felt sympathy for the rhino’s but could hear that we were outnumbered and that for the others it had been an experience of a life time. On the more peaceful ride back many animals were sighted, including a couple of wild boars “Razorbacks”. Later that day we again boarded the bus back to Kathmandu. The drive offers great views of living by the river and the busy road. Small children walk inches removed from large trucks and buses, seemingly oblivious of the danger.
Nepal has two seasons, dry and wet and the times to visit are the months before either season has set in. For mountain trekking October and November were mentioned as the prime months while March and April are still considered good months since the heath and monsoon rains have not yet started. With temperatures in the Chitwan Park reaching near 40C degrees while we were there we wonder what the summer, wet times are like. Clothing was more relaxed and shorts, t-shirts and swimsuits were acceptable, thank goodness.

In the Kathmandu Post, English version, we found a poem written by 11th grader Aastha Khanel. While we do not know who she/he is, the poem beautifully speaks loudly about Nepal, now..

The Horizon.

I was up one morning,
And gazed at the horizon
I no longer see the reddish hue,
I find dark bloodshed clouds instead.
Nepal is a peaceful country
Where the tales, I heard long time back.
No longer doves fly across the skies
Vampire, bats hunt the silence of our night
Brothers against brother,
Dust to dust and ash to ash is what they believe in
Mothers are crying in agony
What could equal the grief of their dead ones?
I wish I had a Pandora’s box
I would open and let fairies come out
Make my land as I have heard in grand Pa’s tales
A land of love and peace.

Namaste Nepal. We wish you well. We wish you peace. Tom and Els.

Posted by tomstrick1 3:05 AM Archived in Round the World | Nepal Comments (1)

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