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Kathmandu, Nepal -
Crossing Over – The Lama and the Monk – Vipassana, Nepal Style – Violent Generous Nepal.
Crossing Over
Nepal started working its easy charm the moment I crossed over. A man in a colorful topi (traditional Nepali cap) stood outside of the humble immigration shack holding a steaming cup of tea. “Namaste, sir,” he said with a smile. “Namaste,” I said, and then looked to move past him, thinking that he was just some local guy hanging out, he seemed so unhurried and wore no mark of authority. “You are coming from India?” “Yup. On my way to Kathmandu.” “Welcome to Nepal!” We chatted for a few minutes and then he casually asked me for my passport. Only then realizing that he was the immigration officer, I handed it over, along with $30 US. He went in the shack, stamped the book, and handed it back to me. “That’s it?” I asked. “That’s all! No problem. Enjoy your time in Nepal!” 60-day tourist visa, easy as pie. The most pleasant border crossing yet.
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Soon I was packed into a mini-van for the 8-10 hrs push to Kathmandu. I had no guidebook and knew almost nothing about Nepal. I only knew that I was going to try to get to Kopan Monastery for a 30-day course on the Lam Rim, or Graduated Path, introducing all the basic principles and practices of Tibetan Buddhism. Nepal felt different to India from the moment I arrived. It was spacious, easy-going. There was less garbage everywhere, less raw sewage. There were plenty of people, but nothing like India. They were mostly smiling, caught up in friendly conversations. No-one seemed stressed or in a hurry. Half the people were busy at work, the other half sitting around chatting. Little kids were everywhere, running around chasing each other. Older girls decked out in white blouses, blue skirts, and knee-high socks dragged younger brothers to school by the hand. We drove on across the valley and up into the hills. Throughout the towns and villages, painted wall murals advertising Carlsberg Beer, Playboy Whiskey, and 2PM Noodles competed with the (globally ubiquitous) red and white swoosh of Coca Cola. Buddhist prayer wheels and Hindu temples took turns. A dancing cartoon condom man on a billboard smiled from in front of the dark silhouette of an embracing couple and waved at passersby. “Be safe!” he said in the cascading flow of Nepali script. Further up the road, we drove past the brutal remains of two passenger buses that had collided head-on in the night, each torn open, crushed and shredded from the impact. The wounded and dead had been removed. (more…)
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