Category Archives: Nepal

A Passage (back) to India

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Kolkata, India -After the trek around Annapurna, I moved into a quiet guesthouse near the massive Boudhanath Stupa in Kathmandu, read books about Tibetan Buddhism, and joined hundreds of locals in the daily rounds circumnavigating the Stupa in the morning and evening, spinning prayer wheels and chanting mantras. All told, I stayed in Nepal for over two months. Then came time to leave. I heard about a direct bus from Kathmandu to Bodhgaya, India. Bodhgaya is the holiest pilgrimage site in Buddhism. It is where Siddhartha Gautama sat down under the Bodhi tree and got enlightened over 2500 years ago. The tree is still there (a descendent of the original), and I wanted to go sit under it.

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I was hesitant about the bus at first. We would be traveling at night, which is not advised for many parts of Nepal and is downright risky in the state of Bihar, India. Many Indians won’t go to Bihar at all, let alone travel by night. It has a reputation as a desperately poor and lawless place, where the wild dacoits roam, robbing busloads at gunpoint. Plus we would be crossing the border at Raxual, notorious for its sleazy and corrupt border guards. (“Don’t even think about it” is pretty much the sentiment on the travel forums.) But hell, if you got scared every time someone told you it’s dangerous, you’d never go anywhere (especially if you listen to the US State Department travel advisories). And anyhow the nice Nepali girl at the ticket office assured me it would not be a problem. Sensing adventure, I paid the twenty bucks and got the ticket. Continue reading →

Trekking in Nepal- The Annapurna Circuit

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Kathmandu, Nepal – I almost decided to skip the trekking, and instead cruise around Nepal for a week or so on a motorbike. But I ran into a guy named Zed. He was also staying at the Himalayan Buddhist Meditation Center in Kathmandu. He was young, incredibly intelligent, made money trading money, had traveled the world, been on all the major treks in Nepal at least once, and was weary of life. But he convinced me: you have to walk to Nepal. Kathmandu and the relatively few cities and towns connected by roads are like a different country. Most of Nepal is made up of small villages scattered amongst the valleys, cracks, peaks, and mountainsides of the Himalayas. I explained to Zed that I was put off by the new rules requiring certifications, guides or porters, and set itineraries; and by the continuing presence of the Maoists demanding “taxes” from trekkers (refuse and they beat you with sticks). Plus I was alone. Zed explained to me that I was being ridiculous. You want to see Nepal? You have to walk.

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Zed told me about a place nearby with a bulletin board for trekkers seeking partners. I decided to check it out. Hidden in a twisted vein of Thamel, I found the place. Not a single note on the trekker board. Empty. I sat down in the cafe there and glanced through some mostly outdated trekking log-books. Before long, an Irish woman, some ten years younger than myself, wandered in and started sifting through the logs as well. We sat like this for a few minutes, looking at logs. Then I spoke. “Are you thinking about trekking? Where and when? Are you looking for a trekking partner? Can I go with you?” almost as fast as that. “As long as you’re not an axe murderer… [I guess you'll do],” she said. “Well, I haven’t murdered anyone…yet.” And with that, Nate and Susanna began planning a 16-day trek around the Annapurna circuit in the Himalayas of central Nepal, to begin the following morning. Continue reading →

Notes from Nepal

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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. Continue reading →

A Short Border Story

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Sunauli, India - Whatever possessed me to stay the night on the Indian side, in the god-forsaken border town of Sunauli, rather than cross into Nepal first chance? The whispering spirits of Dust, Grease, and Diesel. Maybe the town was lonely. It was certainly desperate. And I was tired. All night on the hard-pack bunk (#14) of the only sleeper car on the passenger train from Varanasi to Gorakhpur, someone else’s smelly feet, my bad stomach forcing me to grab my cowshit-encrusted shoes from under the pack which occupied a full half of my bed, slink down to the floor without kicking someone below me in the head, and make my way to that little metal room at the end of the car with a keyhole-shaped squatter flushing directly onto the tracks. Then the bus to the border which, like the passenger train, stopped everywhere, finally landing in Sunauli where I was met by the inevitable chorus of rickshaw drivers jockeying their wheels into position in front of the bus door and shouting at me (only me) through the closed window pane. The only way to lose them is to keep blurting “No thanks” and head off with determination in some direction, any direction, as though you know where you are going. Which you don’t.
Continue reading →