It’s called the “roof of the world.” And while Nepal might be a storied land that conjures romantic notions of adventure and danger in the Western consciousness, it is eminently accessible as a destination for short visits or longer expeditions from Taiwan. Naturally, the country is still a mainstay among mountaineers, trekkers and other masochists, but I found myself bound there for another, more sedate purpose. In this case, an academic conference.
Visas are obtainable prior to arrival, but then you’d be denying yourself the experience of scuffling for one on arrival. The Tribhuvan International Airport is a study in barely controlled chaos — arriving passengers who, like us, decided to obtain the visa on arrival stand in no semblance of a line in front of a tiny wooden desk staffed by a tiny wooden man wearing the ubiquitous Dhaka topi hat, accepting money and hastily scribbled forms thrust at him from the melee, only to stamp them and usher the holders into the next non-queue.
The chaos inside the airport pales in relation to that just outside, with no shortage of private cars willing to convey you into the city and assuring you that, yes, they were sent by your hotel — what was the name again? You might find that the ride in is a little disconcerting if you are unsure that these four men accompanying you on the ride were indeed sent by the hotel, but that would be cynical and overly cautious given what you’ll discover is the Nepali norm for friendliness and generosity, confirmed perhaps with the presentation of a miniature, if illicit, welcome gift dropped into your hand at a surreptitious moment.
Photo: Dean Karalekas
KATHMANDU: MEDIEVAL METROPOLIS
The city of Kathmandu is structured and operates almost as you’d expect a European city to, though during the middle ages. Shop owners rise at dawn to sweep the dust from their doorsteps — and it is a dusty environment, what with the 1,400m altitude and dryness of the air. As a result the streets are impressively clean, littered only with the tiny votive offerings of vermilion, rice and flowers, so one still must step carefully. The poverty in the city is palpable, and yet there are very few beggars or idle youth, and our impression was a sense of quiet dignity in the way they live their lives. Even the children — whom one normally avoids in poor countries because it’s just so heartrending to see them taken to begging — seemed more interested in observing the strange foreigners than hustling for a few coins. The buildings all seem to have been built centuries ago, because, we are told, people were shorter back then. The narrow stairs, low ceilings and door frames caused more than a couple of forehead scars on our short trip.
There are ample sights in Kathmandu itself, including the Patan Durbar Squares filled with ancient temples, statues and courtyards, and Old Freak Street, so named for the hippies who ventured there in search of government-run shops selling hashish. You can visit the residence of the Kumari Devi, or Living Goddess, who is an incarnation of the Hindu goddess Durga in the body of a prepubescent girl chosen by an arduous selection process. While non-Hindus are not permitted to seek her blessing, tourists are allowed to visit her palace, and you may just catch a glimpse of her, and she of you, through the window of her chamber.
Photo courtesy of Moises Lopes de Souza
The historic and culturally rich region around Patan is not for everyone. Visitors may want to lodge in Thamel, which is the tourist center of the city and filled with bars and restaurants, souvenir and mountaineering shops, as well as nightclubs which are best avoided if you don’t know the rules. Thamel today is reminiscent of Bangkok’s Khao San Road, or Siem Reap, or any of a dozen such neighborhoods that evolved to cater to the backpacker set but are now adapting to an influx of wealthy Chinese tourists.
MOUNTAIN TREKS
Of course, you’ll want to get out of the city and experience the lush countryside of Nepal. On our antepenultimate night in town, my companions and I found ourselves drinking a pretty good approximation of a caipirinha in a Mexican bar in Thamel and trying to decide whether to venture south, to visit Lumbini, the birthplace of the Buddha, or North, to see how close to Tibet we could get. “It’s just a big white building” said our host, referring to the former option, and so we chose the latter. The following morning we were on the Araniko Highway, on the road to Kodari.
Photo: Dean Karalekas
At the time, we were unaware that the so-called friendship highway — it was built with Chinese money — was considered the most dangerous in Nepal — a country already not known for its road safety record. And indeed, as is most often the case, danger and beauty go hand in hand. The gorgeous views of the steep, rising mountains with their terraced fields and terraced villages — with the Himalayas rising above, seemingly sitting atop a layer of clouds — were nearly offset by the precarious strip of sometimes-road, sometimes-dirt path carved into the side of those mountains. Our driver, Nine, did a masterful job at both keeping us alive and making good time, negotiating with police at all-too-frequent checkpoints to access detours to sidestep impassable sections. But even he was unequal to the so-called “Highway to Hell.”
Three months prior, an earthquake and subsequent landslide buried the town of Jure in the Sindhupalchowk District, killing more than 150 people, damming the nearby river and turning road into fine sand and jutting rock. The entire area was a moonscape; knee-deep, at points, in dust. It was here that our car foundered, pinned on a rock by the differential gear. We got out to relieve some of the weight, but our vehicle had become a one-wheel drive, and that last remaining wheel could find no purchase.
We set about finding a way to either break the rock (not an option) or lift the car off it with the objects at hand. It was here in this desolate place that we met the only beggar we would encounter on our trip. Raggedy and barefoot, dust-caked and unshaven, he seemed oblivious to our preoccupation and set to extracting money from us. One of my companions gave him a few rupees hoping it would convince him to help us lift the car, but it only convinced him to continue his begging. I admit, in the back of my mind, that if this were some Hollywood movie, a show of generosity by us would magically transform our interloper into an almost magical problem solver and extricate us from the predicament, and in the process provide an object lesson on judgments based on appearances. But he just continued begging.
Photo: Dean Karalekas
We somehow managed to lift the car off its anchorage, and we walked as Nine drove back to the previous police checkpoint, certain that we’d have to find our way back to Kathmandu if we would ever catch our flight home the following day. He insisted, however; he would get us to the border town of Kodari, and visit the Tibet frontier, and then back to Tribhuvan in time for us to catch our flight, and say goodbye to the danger and the beauty, and the romance of Nepal.
Photo: Dean Karalekas
Photo: Dean Karalekas
Photo: Dean Karalekas
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