Category: December 2017

My last full day in Nepal. I am ready to be warm again, although I know I will be regretting those words as soon as I hit Goa. I will miss Boudhanath, the deep voice of the oomse (sp?) as he leads the prayers these last few days. The site of the Stupa and those eyes, boring into my soul from every direction.

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I saw a couple yesterday as I was circumambulating with the crowd. I can’t get them out of my mind. They were dressed in rags, and it looked like it had been a long time since either of them had had a shower or bath. Hard to guess their ages but I’d say in their 50s.

The man was small, thin and stooped. And on his back, he carried his companion. She was bird like, and her left foot was in a cast. She was tied to him in a sort of sling, like you might carry a baby. He walked into the circle of the Stupa and bent slowly until he was on the ground, she still on his back. There they sat, hands outstretched, until the Stupa security folks came to move them along. He would then slowly get to his feet, his burden attached, and walk to another spot on the pavement where he repeated this painful process.

I helped them to get up at one point, and gave them some money, but their plight remains with me. I thought of them last night, once the sun went down and the temperature plummeted. Did they have shelter? Did they have warm clothes? Did they manage to collect enough rupees to somehow ease their suffering? I cannot think of them without crying…

As this year draws to a close, I am grateful for the privileged life I have led and continue to lead.

Happy New Year everyone. Love you.

The drone of prayers continues today, the second day of the 9th annual Nyingma Monlam. I don’t know what this is exactly. I asked Dr. Google and found something that spoke of prayers for world peace, so that’s what I’m going with. I do know that the Stupa is filled to the brim with Tibetans who have come to participate. For the 52nd day in a row, a clear blue sky and warm sunshine.

I believe I have a stalker. He looks to be about 13 years old, is well-dressed and seems intent on getting something from me. The first time I saw him was a few days ago. He appeared on my left – my bad side in terms of hearing – and it was some time before I realized he was speaking to me. He started with the usual get-acquainted questions then moved quickly to invite me to his village. When I declined, he told me his family was hungry and asked for money. As I said, he was well-dressed and looked healthy unlike so many others here. I said no and moved away from him.

Yesterday I saw him again in the crowd. He flashed me a great big gleaming smile and motioned to his friend who looked a bit older but was also well-dressed and healthy. They started toward me in ambush formation so I instituted evasive measures, merging into a crowd of older Tibetan ladies. Can’t wait to see what today brings…

My days in Nepal are numbered. I had dinner last night with a group from Kopan but a lot of them are moving on as well. To Delhi and Bodh Gaya for His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s teachings, to Lumbini, the city in Nepal where the Buddha was born. Me? I’m on retreat at a beach in Goa…

It’s quiet here at Himalayan Java this morning, and for the first time in days, no familiar faces. That could change if I sit here long enough as there are lots of folks from the Kopan course still kicking around.

Christmas was different – very different – but nice. I missed my family and my friends, but I did not miss the commercialism, stress and pressures that we all seem to place on ourselves at this time of year.

On Christmas Eve I met my friends Bishnu and Bimal in Thamel, and we had dinner together. A Nepali band played traditional music on a small stage behind us, and every once in a while I’d hear the strains of something familiar – like Oh Danny Boy. Not a Christmas carol but just as effective! When we left the restaurant, the streets had come alive with huge crowds of people wearing Santa hats, small illuminated horns (?) and steering tiny children dressed like Santa Claus through the fray. It was utter chaos and not at all what I was in the mood for so they found me a cab, negotiated a reasonable price and I came back to the beauty and relative solitude of Boudhanath.

When I stepped into the circle of the Stupa in the chilly night air, I almost burst into tears. The Stupa (Buddhist temple) had been decorated with Christmas lights in my absence. It was quiet, with only a few last worshippers and the local dogs, and I found my Christmas spirit for the second time this week. (The first was on the bus ride from Chitwan when the 4-year old next to me sang Christmas carols). The spirit of goodness is always there, right beside me, waiting for me to pay attention.

I ate Christmas dinner last night with Kelsi, a young American woman I met at Kopan. We shared veg wontons and immersed ourselves in a delicious cauldron of veg pho (soup). Perfect.

 

My last full day in Chitwan. What a treat this week has been. As I expected, it was quiet and relaxing, but there were a few surprises too.

On Tuesday, I did a full-day jungle walk which included a short canoe trip along the river. I didn’t want a solo tour, so I asked Chandra at the booking office to match me up with a group. Imagine my delight when I arrived st the canoe launch and saw not one, not two but three familiar faces from Kopan! One of them, Gunnar, sat beside me for 30 days in the gompa!

It was a fabulous day. We canoed about an hour in the morning mist and were treated to many different species of birds and a crocodile making its way downstream. The walk itself was amazing…this is jungle as I imagined it with every kind of tree, choked with vines and the most beautiful grasses I’ve ever seen. Some towered above us at 4 and 5 metres with soft feathery blooms wafting in the gentle breeze.

We saw deer, monkeys, turtles and a huge Burmese python wrapped around the branches of a bamboo tree. They said it was sleeping but in one of my pictures (sorry – on my camera and not currently available) I can see an eye and it is open. We heard plenty of rhino grunts coming from the grasses but they remained well-hidden until the very end of the day as we were heading back to catch a canoe to the other side. A lone female, munching on grass in full sight. I believe the guides were happier than we were at this point; we were dog-tired and dreaming of a hot shower and food.

Speaking of food, I discovered the best restaurant in town early in the week. Actually, a guy on the bus told me about it, and I’m happy I checked it out. It’s owned by a group of friends (hence Friends Cafe) and their excellence extends far beyond delicious food and exquisite masala tea. They pool their tips to support an animal rescue operation in Kathmandu, and Sangram, one of the owners, does wildlife conservation work in Sauhara as well as supporting an orphanage in the area with other members of his family. He and I had some great conversations this week against a backdrop of THE best music playlist ever.

As icing on the cake, my Kopan roommate Astrid arrived yesterday. She is hilarious without meaning to be as she does her best to be a good Buddhist. Love her to bits!

This morning, I am doing something I should have done a long time ago. I am inventing a fictitious family.

This has become necessary as a result of an encounter yesterday morning with Raj down at the river. Raj is a guide, he says, but he had no official badge or paperwork to prove that. At first, he wanted to take me on a guided walk but when I refused that, he offered to walk with me “free”. He had something much more lucrative in mind.

In the course of conversation, as always, marital status came up. Raj said he was divorced with a five-year-old son and an ex-wife who doesn’t understand him. I was shocked I tell you, shocked! And then the outpouring of how none of his friends and family understand his wish to live free (perhaps die young…which just may happen if he isn’t careful…)

Out of the blue, the suggestion that we should start a relationship. Not to have babies or anything, just to be together so as not to be lonely. Travel together, eat breakfast together, eat lunch together, eat dinner together (I am bloated and suffocating just thinking of all that eating and togetherness).  He went to great lengths to explain in a roundabout way that he wasn’t talking about sex but he couldn’t quite find the words. It was funny to watch him dance around the subject. What he didn’t mention of course because it is a given is that I would pay…

I know that most Nepali people cannot understand the concept of being alone to drink coffee, let alone travel across the world. Many just assume I have no friends, which I find incredibly sweet and funny. But this latest was so damn blatant…he seriously expected me to consider it and kept pressing the issue.

I contained my annoyance (thank you Kopan) and got away as fast as I could, declining his suggestion that we have lunch, or coffee, or go for a bike ride. I have until the new year to perfect my fake family before I get to the big leagues…Mother India.

PS  All was not lost as a result of that encounter. We saw a crocodile basking by the riverside and two rhinos, a baby feeding in a gully not 20 metres off the path and a big male, also feeding at the riverside. A little further along, several huge male elephants going off into the forest. I’ve not seen males out and about before; they are too ornery and unpredictable to give rides and are used mostly to patrol the park in search of poachers or to do animal counts. Scary beasts to meet on foot (and me dressed in red). One of them trumpeted at us but his mahout had control, for which I am deeply grateful.

Given that you cannot leave monastery and monks are not being cooperative, accept kind offer of young woman who lives close to Kopan to inquire about bus tickets for you in Boudha.

Give her the full cost of tickets plus 500 rupees as a thank-you for saving the trouble of getting them yourself or trying your luck again with the monks.

Call travel agency the day before trip to get the name of the bus.

Wait all day in vain for the agent to call back.

Give up on getting the name of the bus. How important can it be?

Take taxi to the bus stop at 6 a.m. on day of journey. When asked, explain to driver that you don’t have the name of the bus.

Wait while driver stops at every one of the line of buses to see if they can understand why a tourist has a bus ticket with no bus name on it.

Sigh with relief as the driver finally deposits your backpack into one of the aforementioned buses.

Climb aboard.

Wait patiently while attendant explains that he cannot accept a ticket without a bus name on it and that you will have to buy another one.

Settle in for the 6:40 a.m. departure.

Adjust shawls in every combination possible to keep out numbing chill of the morning air.

Curse silently at 9 a.m. as bus winds its way through what seems like every street in city to pick up additional passengers.

Re-arrange shawls as bus heats up in mid-day sun.

Accept kind offer of Toblerone chocolate bar from young guy in the next seat.

Sit patiently as driver and attendant change flat tire.

Struggle to keep from falling out of seat as bus manoeuvres its way for 13 hours over boulders and craters, stopping every 15-20 minutes for lane drops, accidents or both.

As bus nears Sauhara, listen carefully as young man in next seat explains what to do if you encounter a rhino on streets of village.

Resist impulse to fling yourself into arms of hotel owner who has come to collect you at bus park – six hours late, covered in dust and wondering whether a return trip via India or China is possible.

Re-entry. Maybe not as intense as if you are returning from the moon, but challenging nonetheless. The noise of daily life around Boudhanath Stupa is deafening to ears that are accustomed to silent mornings, sitting in teachings and periods of meditation throughout the day. I will adjust I know, and more quickly than I’d prefer.

There is really no way to describe the Kopan November course experience. The monastery setting brings its own set of unique circumstances. The comings and goings of 300 or so monks of all ages, the rituals, ceremonies, chanting and singing, and the rules that dictate monastery living. Add to that approximately 250 students, some of whom were away from home for the first time and were new to Buddhism. I am not exaggerating when I say that more than a few of them had breakdowns of varying proportions, including the one young woman who was taken away in an ambulance in a near catatonic state.

The daily schedule was gruelling. The bell went at 5:00 a.m. for those who were doing prostrations (I was not one of them) and 5:30 for the rest of us. There were a few breaks during the day but we went straight through til 9:00 in the evening most days, and it was exhausting both mentally and physically.

There is the challenge of living with a roommate – one if you’re lucky but it could be two or three or seven. Jockeying for position for bathroom time, space to hang your laundry on the dorm roof (where it dries in record time in the Himalayan sun).

Then there is the food. At first I was appreciative of knowing it was being prepared for me and all vegetarian. That changed gradually, until as we neared the end of the course I was certain I’d lose it if I saw one more grain or rice, potato or slice of white bread.

Which brings me to the teachings. I made progress this time around with some of the concepts but like the first time hit a brick wall with others. Hitting that wall quickly turned into an important lesson about myself and how I often quit when the going gets tough. Not this time though, I’m happy to say. As to what it all means, only time and space will tell.

What I am absolutely certain about are the people I met. Young, old, rich, barely scraping by, knowledgeable, novice, we represented every nationality and came from every corner of the earth with a common purpose…to learn how to live happy, useful lives. I will hold these folks in my heart as I continue the journey.

It’s Day Whatever. I am managing to carve out a niche of what works for me amid a sea of teachings that make me want to run away screaming. There’s a fine line some days. People make the difference – being able to lend an ear or to hug someone who needs it more than I.

Our discussion group has been banned from our original spot on the dining room roof. Apparently, we are disruptive and “new age-y” as a result of one of our motivational exercises which consisted of placing our hands on each other’s shoulders. It’s just like being back in Grade 8 at Holy Family School when Sr. Jacqueline banned her Grade 9 class from the basement where we heathens were located. Ven Ailsa – our principal teacher – remarked a few weeks ago that Tibetan Buddhism is to Buddhism what Roman Catholicism is to Christianity. My freakin’ luck.

That’s not to say we aren’t having fun though.

.  Female student: Why is there a rule against sexual activity in the monastery? Male student: What’s your room number?
.  Out for a walk along the ridge overlooking Kathmandu on Day 3. Met a herd of goats. Head-butted by one of them. Asian animals 3, Susan 0.
.  Day 8 and we’re encouraged to relax and enjoy ourselves. After all, this is our holiday. Topic of the day: death and the dying process.
.  We are studying impermanence and emptiness, concepts at the heart of Buddhism which remind us that all things change and that nothing exists as we see it. A fine example of this is Air Asia’s flight schedule which appears to have been only a suggestion when I booked the Delhi-Goa flight. Breathe.
.  Despite the fact that we don’t get fruit often, there are bags of bananas in the dining room. These people have dealers! I need better contacts.
.  A-h-h-h. The gardener is trimming trees in front of the dining room. Smells like Christmas!
.  I encountered an 80-year-old woman at the top of the steps next to the main gate a few days ago. These steps are steep and even the fittest among us are puffing when we reach the top. It turns out this woman comes to KTM every year from Switzerland to volunteer at a soup kitchen near Boudhanath Stupa. She attributes her good health to staying active and away from seniors’ homes. Note to self.
.  Two kinds of instant coffee on offer in the dining room: McCoffee and Timm’s.