Power is the Problem, So We Go for Bananas

Chris and I woke up early today to get some business out of the way. After meeting with Mr. Dhungana to go over tax issues, we booked tickets for my flight with Dr. Kattel to Danghadi (the first stop on the way to Sanfe). The rest of the morning was spent doing research on a tricky issue with the clinic— power. Electricity is not consistent at all in Achham (Chris and Bibhav spent over a week sans energy during a blackout) so it’s absolutely critical we get a generator there. Alas, the 2.5kW diesel generator that we have in mind is nearly impossible to find. We took a list of procurement businesses off the web and went down them, calling everyone. I also took a hike through downtown Patan, stopping at every machine shop on the way back to the guest house. Ten phone calls and eight store visits later, we could sense a pattern: nobody carries diesel generators. Most stores seem to have petrol (gasoline) generators, though, so things are leaning closer to that end. There was a glimmer of hope for a moment, when Rajan called us to let us know that he had found a place—but they only sell larger industrial-grade generators.

In lieu of our disappointing morning, we met up with Bikram to go on the long-delayed sightseeing trip. First stop: Durbar. This square, bounded by the former palace of the royal family, was bursting with temples, buildings, and monuments. Particularly memorable was visiting the Kumari, a nine-year-old girl considered a living goddess (the only living Hindu deity). We weren’t allowed to take photos, but she did peek down from her window. “She doesn’t look very happy,” noted Chris.

“She does this every day for hours,” noted Bikram. “Who could be happy about that?”

Also worrying to the Kumari is the fact that her position is temporary: Upon the onset of menstruation, the reigning goddess is unceremoniously and literally thrown out on the streets. A new girl takes her place and the cycle begins again.

On the way out of Durbar Square, a little man solicited me to buy something from him. The plaza is bursting with peddlers, so I was prepared, but he presented an item I really wanted: a Gurkha knife (khukuri). The huge blades are traditionally made by the residents of the region by the same name and are symbols of Nepal. They also represent the Gurkha army. During the British wars of colonization, their defense of the Terai led to the two year Anglo-Nepali war. Despite the eventual defeat of the Nepalese, the English were so impressed by the Gurkha fighting force that they were regularly called upon in WWI and WWII to serve the queen. Their regiment ended up being awarded 13 Victoria Crosses, the highest British Military honor. In addition, Britain has designated one of its most feared dragoon units the Gurkha Battalion, despite the fact that there are no Gurkhas in it (and of which Prince Harry is a commanding officer). To this day, many Rai and Limbu men still have khukuris (which they always carried with them into war) tucked into their belts.

Anyways, back to this knife, it wasn’t as elaborate or decorated as most I see in gift shops, but when I pulled the sheath back, it had the stamp of the Ghorka Army, complete with a serial number. Needless to say, I made the peddler quite happy. If nothing else, it'll also make an impressive mango slicer for me in Achham ;)

Unfortunately, buying one item in Durbar makes you a salesman magnet. One man harassed me in an attempt to sell me a lock for almost 15 minutes as I repeatedly denied his attempt (not to mention he was asking 400 Rupees [$6+] for an inch-long trinket!). I had learned my lesson. From then on, I kept my mouth shut, letting the peddlers descend on Chris instead.

We stopped briefly for lunch, where I had a buffalo sandwich (buffalo are not considered sacred like cows here), and noted that it tasted just like beef, just a little tougher.

Our next visit was Pashupati, the holiest Hindu site in Nepal. Unfortunately, this meant it was so holy it prevented leather shoes, wallets, and belts (and their hapless non-Hindu owners) from entering. Nevertheless, Bikram wanted to show us the small village that had sprung up around it, and proceeded to buy a bunch of bananas. We quickly found out the reason, as he gave each of us one, bit one himself, then threw the rest into the street. A crowd of monkeys descended onto the pile, squeaking and scrambling for the fruity morsels. I hate to put it this way, but they were definitely among the most charming of the area’s attractions. The rest of the temple was blocked from our entrance, though we were allowed to photograph whatever we could see from outside. We hiked around the gate, though, and caught a glimpse of a gigantic golden bull in the midst of dozens of statues.

There was a funny smell in the air, so I asked Bikram what kind of incense they burned here.

“People.” He replied.

Apparently, the river that runs through the temple is considered holy like the Ganges, and many Nepalis are cremated here.

“Oh.”

Shifting gears in religion, we then took a local bus to the opposite end of Kathmandu to visit Swoyambu, Nepal’s most holy Buddhist site. The Buddhists were more accommodating, and after a rainy 15-minute hike, we made it to the monastery and stupa at the top of the hill. The temple, exploding with tiny statues, was incredible, and offered a stunning view of the entire capital city. We spent a bit of time meditating with the monks and listening to recordings of Nepali chants. To Chris’ amusement, Swoyambu was also overrun by monkeys. No bananas for them, though.

Note: In my haste to get this blog up, I forgot to enable commenting by non-google people. I've since unlocked it so anyone can comment, so feel free. I'll answer. (And thanks to Jordan and Ryan. Much love).