12.14.09 from Kathmandu

Between dodging cows, chickens and goats and negotiating tractors and a swarm of motorcycles on both sides, Kathmandu is probably one of the most challenging cities in the world to drive. One of our monks, a 17-year old Tibetan boy, just received his driver’s permit and we are using him to drive the monastery van from place to place. On one of his first trips, a senior monk instructed him on when to hit the clutch and the brake and when to shift based on his experience playing video games that involved driving. I myself took the role of driver’s ed instructor when we took the van to get another monk’s foot injury looked at. He was quite scared of the higher gears (perhaps because of past experience stalling on steep uphills) and I had to plead with him to shift into 4^th gear as the RPM’s hit 9000 on the highway around Katmandu. Fortunately, though, he finally became comfortable with the higher gears and showed great improvement from that trip alone.

As the assistant of a spiritual teacher, you must have great flexibility to do anything and go anywhere at any time. Thus, on November 27^th, I was told that I may be going to Hong Kong the following day and asked for my passport so plane tickets could be arranged. I went to the travel agent on the day of the flight to pick up tickets, and only after a few hours did my name clear the wait list. While in the area, I went to the Royal Palace, which is now a museum after the illegitimate king and his murderous son (see previous entry) were kicked out of the palace. It was quite fascinating to see all the royal rooms, including the king and queen’s bedroom, office, dining room and so on. The mixture of Buddhist and Hindu iconography throughout the palace was particularly interesting for me, as the previous king was considered an emanation of a Hindu god and I didn’t expect him to have loyalties to Buddhism as well.

The splendor of the palace rooms transitioned into the macabre sorrow of the 2001 royal massacre sight, which was an adjacent billiards hall. The building where the massacre took place was dismantled but signs commemorated the events and there were some bullet marks still visible in some of the walls left standing. Later that day, I talked to my Nepali friend about my “conspiracy theories” and he confirmed my belief that the criminal-minded prince most recently kicked out (who survived the massacre) was most likely the one who carried out the plan.

After the palace, I made my way to Mike’s Breakfast to purchase an authentic American pumpkin pie to bring to my friend’s Thanksgiving party. Mike was a Peace Corps volunteer in the 90’s and founded this American food oasis about 15 years ago. When I was on the UW-Madison study abroad program in 2000, we enjoyed the food and atmosphere on several occasions. I then stopped by the fancy grocery store in town to pick up ice cream and beer for the party and caught a local bus to my friend’s house.

The Thanksgiving party was quite the scene—primarily ex-pat Americans who had lived in Nepal for 20 or more years, as had the hosts (the Director of my UW Nepal Program and her husband). To preserve the spirit of the original American hippies who first came to Kathmandu in the 70’s, marijuana-laced desserts were even past around.

The primary cooks for the feast were Manbahadur, a chain-smoking tough guy Nepali with a heart of gold and Baidai’s son. Baidai and Manbahadur were the cooks for the UW program when I went on it 10 years ago. Baidai died of cancer, but his son took over for him and worked for the UW program until it shut down in 2005 due to political instability. Hopefully, the UW will renew the program soon and they can feed a new generation of college students with their considerable culinary talents. I ate as much as I should due to the spectacular and rare nature of the foods available (at the monastery there is only rice and lentils).

That same night, I left with 14 monks to the airport with a plan of going to Hong Kong. That’s when things got interesting. The customs officials at the Kathmandu airport had been drinking and it was closing in on 11 p.m. They felt like getting some spending money by essentially hassling the Tibetan monks in an effort to get bribes. This was in part due to the fact that some of the monks didn’t speak Nepali, yet had Nepali passports. One monk, a big burly character who only spoke Tibetan, had in his mind to answer every question posed to him with the location he obtained the passport, “Sindhupar Chowk.” Therefore, when the official asked his name, he replied with great enthusiasm and his finger in the air, “Sindhupar Chowk!” When he was asked what country he was headed to, he replied with great vigor, “Sindhupar Chow!.” This incident provided many laughs for the whole group throughout the trip.

The other monks’ passports were questioned and backup documents were demanded. One of the monks took a taxi back to the monastery to retrieve the back-up documents, but this did not satisfy the officials. They wanted a bribe. One of the group leaders in Hong Kong talked to one of the Nepali airport officials and promised them that “Tenzin from Boudha” would give them whatever sum of money they wanted if they just let the group through to board the plane. (Boudha is the Tibetan part of Kathmandu). The official took down the cell phone number and stamped all of the passports so we could leave.

To be continued... Photos at www.flickr.com/photos/crunkman29/