Homeward Bound

Traffic was back to normal in Kathmandu as we made our way (slowly) back to the airport. Our flight to Delhi was on IndiGo, a budget airline. We had some trepidation about that, since our experience on the supposedly “premium” airline (Air India) had been so awful, but it really wasn’t too bad. The plane was new and clean, and although nothing but a cup of water comes standard, the attendants were present and eager to sell us a drink or snack. One oddity was that the flight departed 45 minutes AHEAD of schedule! Apparently “Indian Time” works both ways, and if you are ready to go before the appointed hour, that works as well as if you happen to be ready after the appointed hour.

            We were met at the airport by the same tall, slender young man who met us on our initial arrival there, three weeks ago. His English is fine, but he seldom speaks, and when he does, he mumbles, so he’s very difficult to understand. People in the group had all sorts of questions about the layover, their flights home, etc. This man of few words gave very little information and didn’t answer questions well, creating a bit of frustration.

            We were taken to a hotel near the airport where we had rooms, but we wouldn’t be in them for long. Dinner was provided (some confusion about that, too, due to the quiet man’s lack of information), and it was quite good. The room was too hot (I understand that Indians believe 60 degrees to be a frigid cold winter day, but it would be nice if thermostats actually responded), but we got a couple hours sleep before the alarm roused us for a quick shower before departing the hotel at 10:30 p.m. for a 2 a.m. flight. We got through immigration and security (at least three separate checks, plus one more just before boarding) in plenty of time, but the flight was delayed, though the weather was crystal clear. They said the plane had arrived late and needed to be cleaned, but once on board there was little evidence of any cleaning -- much less any that could have taken two hours. We finally pushed back from the gate at 3:30 a.m. We only had 2 hours between flights in Chicago, so taking off an hour and a half late did not bode well.

            The flight home is even longer than the flight to India, due to upper level head winds. The plane was identical, if not the same aircraft, and we had the exact same seats. The exact same woman who had been our inattendant on the way over was equally inattentive on this flight. Beverage service, once again, consisted of a bottle of water at our seat when we arrived on board (that’s what must have taken the cleaning crew so long, passing out all those bottles, one to each seat). We were “served” a breakfast about an hour and a half into the flight – if you consider having tray tossed in front of you service. There was another little water bottle on it with the breakfast. There was also a coffee cup, and a package of sugar, or creamer, and a stir stick – but no one ever came with any coffee or tea to be stirred.

            A larger meal was served mid-flight. Again, another small bottle of water and a coffee cup. They did come by with a pot of tea this time. I asked if there would be coffee, and was told that the coffee machine was broken. Given the condition of everything else, something broken was not a surprise, but I got the distinct impression that the real reason was that bringing coffee would mean an additional trip up the aisle with a different pot. Too much to ask. Another small meal was served near the end of the flight. Again, water and a coffee cup, along with creamer and sugar, but with nothing to cream or sugar.

            Thank you, Air India. You win our prize for the world’s worst airline. We got more service on United’s one hour flight from Chicago to Minneapolis than in the combined 30 hours we spent in the air going to India and returning.

            The only good thing was that, without being bothered by pesky flight attendants, we did manage to sleep quite a bit on the long flight (one only needs water to take a sleeping pill). So we were feeling pretty good, and not terribly jet-lagged when we got to Minneapolis. We took quick showers and changed clothes at our daughter’s house in the Twin Cities, and hopped in the car for the 2.5 hour drive home. Aside from the flights, it was a wonderful trip.

Tamu Losar

After breakfast we boarded the van for a drive into the Himalayan foothills. There was more traffic in the city today, but still not the gridlock of the first two days. The strike has been lifted today. The only rioting took place in the Nepali parliament, where the Maoist minority pushed some people around and threw chairs during a midnight session. However, today is a national holiday in Nepal. The Hindu majority celebrated their new year a week or so ago, and the Tibetan Buddhists will celebrate their new year in February. However, the Tamu people, who are Buddhists of a slightly different stripe, celebrate their new year today. That means there is little to be gained by another day of general strike, when a good portion of the population wouldn’t be going to work anyway.

           The drive over narrow, twisting mountain roads was far more of a challenge to those who suffer motion sickness than anything on the mountain flight yesterday. There was relatively little warning, so those afflicted (Mary and one other in the group) had taken their OTC medications the day before, but didn’t bring them along today. Big mistake, but both managed without incident.

We stopped for a bit along the way to climb to the roof of a house (nobody home and the stairs are exterior) for a look at the Kathmandu valley. The smoke from brick kilns and other general pollution leaves a cloud of pollution hanging in the valley that is nearly as sickening visually as it is when breathing it. Up here we could look down on it while enjoying beautiful fresh air and watching several Brahminy Kites (birds of prey, not paper and string) soaring across the clear blue sky.

           We continued upward to a spot our driver knew. Though it did not look promising when we left the paved road onto a steep dirt track, it was probably less than 100 yards until we crested the hill for a tremendous panorama of the Himalayas, the largest peak probably being Langtang Lirung (23,734 feet), though without our Nepali flight attendant along to identify the peaks for us, we were only guessing from the guide book. To tell the truth, a lot of these mountains look alike! However, the peak had a beautiful, textbook perfect lenticular cloud behind it.

To celebrate the breathtaking vista, Sanjib observed that he usually buys a round of drinks for everyone at some point along this trip, but because of the light, holiday traffic, we are ahead of schedule and it’s still morning. We countered that it was late evening back in the U.S., so we wouldn’t object. So bottles of beer and bags of chips were acquired at a nearby roadside stand, and we toasted the mountains.

A motorcycle arrived while we enjoyed our drinks and the view. It carried a young Hungarian couple who spoke excellent English. They had saved up from several years of teaching in Scotland, then quit their jobs for a one year travel adventure, beginning with 19 U.S. states, China, southeast Asia, and heading on to India, the Middle East, and hopefully a bit of Africa before heading home. They were stretching their Euros by couch surfing, and had been having wonderful encounters. It was fascinating to hear their story.

We continued on a bit higher in altitude to a very up-scale resort hotel where we had lunch on an outdoor patio overlooking the mountains. Although the temperature was only in the upper 60s, the warm sun in the thin air made it very comfortable to remove our jackets as we enjoyed the meal.

We began the trip down after lunch, but then stopped and left the van for a bit of Himalayan trekking (which sounds sort of like mountaineering, but is actually more of what we would call hiking, or the Brits might call rambling) in the foothills. The path was easy, well-defined and mostly downhill. For a change, Sanjib set a nice walking pace, though we had to stop from time to time to let everyone catch up.

As we passed the farmsteads and hamlets there was lots of activity. People were getting cleaned up and dressed in traditional costumes – particularly the women in bright red – in preparation for the Losar celebrations. 

We passed one celebration already under way in one hamlet, where an old woman who was probably the local character started dancing for us and wanted us to join in (though the other women looked on in obvious disapproval). 

At the next village, a somewhat larger place, we first me people leaving their offerings of grain and fruit at the tiny Buddhist temple, then went up to the main event, where the MC switched to English when he saw us, and invited us to remain for lunch. As we had already eaten, and were on a schedule, we declined. But it was an indication of the friendliness that was everywhere in Nepal.

Back in the van, we retraced our route on the paved road down to the city once again, where the sky was not so blue nor the air so clear. We drove to Bhaktapur, which is an historical area around the third of Kathmandu’s pre-unification royal palaces. 

This area was severely damaged by an earthquake years ago, but was reconstructed with aid from Germany. It’s now a heritage area focused on tourists (Nepalese enter free, others are $15 a head). 

We watched a potter working in the traditional way, much as we had seen in India, and saw intricate carvings outside a Hindu temple. During the time we were allowed to wander free after our tour, vendors, shopkeepers, and would-be guides were aggressive in greeting us.

Returning to the hotel, we had a very interesting hour-long presentation by Shailee Basnet, coordinator of the “7 Summits Women Team” (http://sevensummitswomen.org/). This group of young women climb mountains (Shailee has reached the summit of Everest three times herself, and has reached the top of the highest peaks on six of the seven continents), but more importantly, they inspire young women in Nepal and around the world to get education and aspire to goals that seem out of reach to many girls.

Finally, we enjoyed a excellent traditional Nepali farewell dinner in a private room in the Hunter’s Lodge, one of the original buildings that existed on the site of our hotel prior to development of the resort.

Top of the World

This morning was, literally, the high point of the trip. We left the hotel very early before dawn to drive through nearly deserted Kathmandu streets to the airport. This time we went to the “Domestic” terminal – not as classy as the International Terminal (which is to say, it’s very basic, because the International terminal ain’t much!). We were booked on a “Mountain Flight” which would fly us about 100 miles north to Mt. Everest, then turn around and bring us right back to Kathmandu once again. The flight was delayed awaiting a weather report. Apparently a plane is sent out pre-dawn with only pilots aboard to determine whether visibility and turbulence would both be at acceptable levels. They were. We had a very smooth flight under the bluest of clear skies – CAVU in pilot-speak: Ceiling And Visibility Unlimited.

The flight attendant was great. She moved back and forth through the cabin constantly, pointing out all of the tall peaks: Gauri Shanker (23,405 feet), Melungtse (23,560), Gyachungkang (26,089, Lhotse (27,940), and Everest (29,028). She even ushered the 19 passengers, one at a time, to the flight deck, so that we could see the whole panorama through the windscreen and snap a photo of Everest. The view was absolutely fantastic!

We drove back to the hotel for a late breakfast, then set out in the van once again. Our guide, Sanjib, explained that the deliberations over the new constitution were not going well, and that the Maoist party had called for a general strike that day. The Maoists have almost no support among the population, but intimidate people with threats of violence. Thus, almost all of Kathmandu was shut down. We had the streets to ourselves, with hardly another vehicle except other tourist buses. Sanjib assured us that, because of the importance of tourism to the economy, there would be no interference to our planned schedule. In fact, we got along much more quickly with no traffic gridlock. 

As we traveled, we saw hundreds of people walking to work or other activities. There was no bus service and no one dared drive. There were quite a few bicycles and bicycle rickshaws moving, as well as the occasional dare-devil on a motorcycle. Police were everywhere, but mostly just standing around. Some were in riot gear, but there were no riots that we saw. Except for fresh food vendors, shops were closed with their metal doors drawn down and locked. Kids of all ages we in the streets, parks, and vacant lots playing cricket or soccer, because there was no school. 

Our destination was the village of Lalitpur, not far outside the city. As we arrived and were getting out of the van, all sorts of people were in the streets, pointing at the sky. We thought it might be something political, but they were all pointing to a high-flying jet that was leaving behind a bright white contrail across the clear blue sky. Apparently, this is a highly unusual sight in this part of the world, and it created far more interest than a half-dozen Americans.

The buildings here are mostly traditional, our guide indicated most were 100 to 150 years old, but there were new homes interspersed among them. 

 

We walked the streets of the village, seeing people outside their homes, washing their laundry, their fresh vegetables, or their children (women), playing cards (men). 

 

Despite the general strike that was paralyzing the city, people here were working at various crafts, such as spinning, weaving, or embroidery (entirely women), and some wood working (a few men). 

People largely ignored us, even when we took their pictures, but when our guide chatted them up, they were all friendly enough to converse, and answering our questions when interpreted, and even asking some questions of us.

We continued walking out of the village, where there were still homes and shops, but scattered along the road, not pressed together tightly as in the village. There were a few people of both genders working in their small fields. 

It was only a short walk to the next village, called Bungamati, where there was a hostel for disabled students and a school that was closed for the general strike day. Despite the closure, some kids were hanging around the school yard, including some of the disabled students. 

Our guide asked them if a particular student was around, and a blind boy was brought out by a girl. The guide told us that he had recently been on TV as a contestant in the local Nepalese version of “Nepal’s Got Talent.” He asked the boy to sing for us, which he did. It was a Nepalese folk song of some sort. He told us he was 11 years old, and had been living at the hostel since begin abandoned there by his family at about age 4.

We left the villages and drove back to the city, once again on streets deserted of traffic, but alive with people and police milling around. There were no political activities that we saw, and certainly no violence. But other than police cars, ambulances, and other tourist vehicles, the streets were empty.

At Patan Durbar Square we visited another of Kathmandu’s royal palaces, this one dating to before the unified monarchy, when Nepal was a patchwork of tiny principalities. The place was crowded, with lots of local people enjoying the day off work to visit the temples here or just hang out in the sun. 

We had tea in a beautiful little courtyard restaurant that was hidden inside the palace, then had some free time. A couple of people bought tickets to the palace museum, which they later told us was surprisingly good. 

We skipped it to walk the streets of the surrounding neighborhood. Despite the strike and the crowds, we never felt unsafe. People hardly noticed two lone Americans. 

As the sun was setting, our ground gathered back at the palace and got in the van for another quick trip, with no traffic, back to the hotel.