December 5

Lal called me at 8:00 AM, while I was showering. I dressed quickly and went down to the desk to answer it. He told me that it was too early to meet him at 9:00, because it didn't take long to see Bodhnath, and I should meet him instead at 11:00 for lunch. I went to the German Bakery where I liked the breakfast pastries, and got a croissant, a cinnamon roll and coffee, as I usually did when I was in Kathmandu. I also bought two packs of yak cheese, one for myself and one for a gift. I wanted to see both Pashupatinath, which is Nepal's most important Hindu temple, and Bodhnath, which is Nepal's largest Buddhist stupa, this morning, but I was slow getting started, and did not get a taxi until around 10:00.

I first took an auto-rickshaw to Pashupatinath. A young boy there asked where I was from and offered to show me around. I tried to refuse, as I generally did, but he said he did not want any money. He was on a break from school, and just wanted to practice English. He said it would be useful to have a guide because only Hindus are allowed inside the temple, and I would not know what I was looking at otherwise. This was not quite true because I had my guide book, but since he was not asking for money, I let him come along even though this would probably make me late for meeting Lal. I had just planned to take a quick look here.

Pashupatinath

The boy took me to the river next to the temple and showed me a body being burned on a platform. There are platforms all along the river for this purpose, and a hospice nearby where people go to wait to die. The temple itself was enormous, but I could not enter. We got a good view of it from the hill across the river. On that hill, there were many monkeys, which are sacred animals. There were also some beggars, mostly crippled. A string of small white stupas stretched up the hill along the stairs. I was told these were `siblings' of the main temple.

Two holy men with painted faces sat in front of a small temple and one played a flute. The boy said there are many kinds of holy men. He said some carry things with their penises. Others smoke hashish and try to get tourists to pay for photos. I sat on a bench overlooking the temple and talked briefly with the boy while changing film. I then offered him 5 Rs for his services, which he said again was unnecessary, but accepted. I continued to the top of the hill and could see Bodhnath in the distance. I wondered around the Gorakhnath temples on the hill and took pictures of some monkeys.

It was already almost 11:00, so I hurried back down the hill and got an auto-rickshaw to take me to Bodhnath. The driver asked for only 40 Rs, which seemed very reasonable. It turned out that he only took me to the other side of the hill, where he insisted that Bodhnath was just up the stairs. I knew better, but he got a woman on the street to tell me that this was Bodhnath as well, so I got out. No other cab was around, so I would have to walk. I could see Bodhnath, which has a high spire above a large white dome, in the distance. My guide told me it was about a thirty minute walk from Pashupatinath, so I would be at least a half hour late to meet Lal, assuming I did not get lost.

I crossed a small foot bridge over a stream, and continued on narrow paths between houses toward Bodhnath. I could not always see it, but tried to continue in the same direction, although I was sometimes blocked by walls, and I took some detours around garbage piles and dogs. I passed through a large residential area where there were no other tourists, and occasionally tried to get people to point in the direction of Bodhnath so I was sure I didn't get off track, and to let people know why I was walking past their houses, since I was sure it was unusual. There was usually no path of the type which would be recognized as `public' in America. I just went over walls and through courtyards, right in front of the houses, following the best path I could find.

Eventually, I found a real road and followed it to Bodhnath, where Lal was waiting. I was 45 minutes late. We walked to his room down the hill from the main entrance to the Bodhnath complex. His apartment building looked somewhat nicer in the daylight, and the front was being freshly painted. Lal's brother was waiting for us. I tried to say something to him, but Lal told me he did not understand English. His brother was once a professional chef at the fancy Sherpa Hotel on Durbar Marg and the Hungry Eye Restaurant in Pokhara, and he prepared me an elaborate lunch. I had a large, spicy roasted chicken leg with French fries, hot spicy pickles, and an elaborate salad beautifully arranged on a large plate. The salad had carved tomato flowers and radish cut into sun-like scallop shapes, plus thin carrot medallions, onion, and lettuce, all neatly arranged in concentric circles. Ordinarily I would not eat a salad here, because uncooked vegetables are generally not safe, but now I had no choice.

Lal and his brother had small bowls of bony spiced chicken chunks, which is much more typical in Nepal than the large `chicken steak' they served me. Lal's wife came in and sat on the mat on the floor. I offered to share my salad with Lal and his brother before I started eating. It is impolite in Nepal to offer someone food from a plate you have eaten from. Lal took as small share. He poured us a beer. It was warm today, and the windows were open. Outside were cows and dogs. Two pigs rooted through garbage around the building. Lal gave me a small thangka his friend made. He said he had wanted to give me a bigger one, but there was not time. A big one would take at least two weeks. He said he would like to send me one.

A tape of `Funkytown' which was apparently a local recording, not the American version, played on his tape deck. When I mentioned the tape, he remembered that he had promised to give me a tape of Nepalese music. He asked whether I would prefer popular of folk music, and I said folk music. He then gave his brother some money to run out and buy me a tape. It looked like one I had bought at Pilgrim's Bookstore. I was not sure since all the writing was in Nepali, but it had the same picture. If it were the same, my brother could have it. I already had two other identical folk music tapes which I had bought from the sarangi salesman in Kathmandu and at a music store in Pokhara, so my brother might get two tapes. We listened to the tape while Lal got out his pictures to show me again, since I had been sick the last time. He showed me the trekking pictures, including some older ones from when he was a cooking porter, and carried a large basket with a head strap. He also had pictures from his home. He showed me some post cards and letters that he had received from people who he had guided in the past.

After lunch, we took group pictures in Lal's room, and then walked up to Bodhnath for a quick tour. Lal's brother came also. We walked around the stupa clockwise, in the correct direction. It was surrounded by shops, and I recognized this area from the movie The Little Buddha, including the Stupa View cafe on the upstairs porch of one building. We looked at a large prayer wheel near the stairs up the stupa, and then climbed up, and walked around the dome, which was surrounded by small prayer wheels. We could see mountains in the distance, and a large monastery on a far-away hill. There were numerous monasteries near the stupa, and many monks wearing red robes, but the closest monastery was closed and we could not visit it. We took some pictures at Bodhnath, and then climbed down and completed our circle.

At 1:45, it was time to find a cab, and we drove back to Hotel Garuda to get my bags. The staff shook my hand as I left. I picked up the T-shirt I had ordered around the corner, and then we drove to the airport. On the way, Lal gave me a necklace of flowers for good luck on the way home. We took a final picture and said good-bye at the airport. Local people are not allowed inside without a ticket. Lal said he hoped I would come back with a large organized tour. He could make a lot of money from one of those.

I checked in, and my bags were weighed. The man at the desk told the baggage handler that my bags were 20 kg overweight, and there would be a charge. The baggage handler led me upstairs to the roof and gave me an immigration form to fill out. He then told me that there would be a $100 charge for my excess baggage. I did not believe him, and asked for proof. He said that this would not be true if I were flying to Thailand, but Indian Airlines had tight baggage limits. I demanded to see an airline representative, and told him I would not give him $100. He said that for $50, he could say that I only had 10 kg. I still wanted some proof, and he said that he would take $20, and I would have no excess baggage. By now I was sure he was lying, but offered him $10 in case there was some grain of truth in what he said. He accepted it, and led me to the departure area, where I passed my film through security by hand.

While waiting for the plane, I spent my last 500 Rs, or about $10 on snacks, beer, and a box of Nepalese tea at the snack bar. I spent my last rupee buying some pastries to take with me on the plane, and left Nepal with about $140 in American cash and traveler's checks. At departure time, I went out to the runway to identify my baggage before it was loaded on the plane, and boarded, carrying my mostly-empty backpack as a carry-on bag. The plane took off on time at 4:20 PM, and I began my long trip home.

We arrived at the Delhi Airport in 90 minutes. This time I knew where to sit to wait for my bags to be brought to me. When I received them, I was led to a seat upstairs, and told to stay there until a Delta representative came for me. Several hours later, a man arrived and took my bags to check them. I rested in the chair for a long time. A fat Russian woman sat in the seat next to me, but I didn't move, even when she started smoking. While I waited, I ate an orange and a pastry from my pack, and drank some Gatorade I had made in Kathmandu.

Copyright Scott A. Yost, 1994. All rights reserved.