(2000 Saturday, April 10, 2010)
Saturday is the “weekend” here in Nepal. Don’t get me wrong; the shops are all open, the streets are just as bustling, the horns are still honking, but apparently no one goes to work. How the math works with that, I am not sure. Suffice it to say, we weren’t welcome at the hospital Saturday, we were told to take a rest day. Seeing as how we had gotten a day late start there in the first place, we were a bit disappointed, but that did not last long, as there was all of Kathmandu waiting for us, anxious to share its stories and secrets.
The original plan had been to rise at the crack of dawn (actually the pre-crack) to travel by bus 1 hour east to a small ridge-top village called Nagarkot, to stand atop a tower there and view the sunrise over the Himalayan range. Apparently the view is spectacular when clear, and many a visitor run out of film snapping photos of the experience. (I realize no one uses film anymore – the story sounded more romantic with film, than with running out of battery…)
Fortunately, Pete was in the recovery phase of whatever organism had been using his body as a vessel for its life-cycle, and was no longer vomiting, but the experience of the night before had left him exhausted and dehydrated, and he had a long way to go before he would be ready to traipse around the city sight-seeing. We took a bit of time debating our options, and finally decided to cancel/postpone the Nagarkot outing. Instead, Melissa, Ellen and myself traveled to Patan area with our friend/guide Bikki. We sadly left Pete back at the hotel, along with his dedicated and compassionate personal physician, Amanda. We certainly knew he was in good hands, so the rest of us decided it was ok to clear out. Jason wasn’t feeling all that great Saturday, more fatigue than illness, I think, and he stayed behind as well.
Patan is an older section of Kathmandu, and its draw is the many temples and stupas built so many years ago, yet still in tremendous shape. Some of them had to be restored after the earthquake of the 1930’s, and it seems they did an amazing job! We are able to go inside many temples, which reveals statues, offerings, and various symbolic items or structures of the religion. Hinduism uses a bell for luck and good feelings from the gods – a person entering a hindu pagoda would ring the bell at the entrance, or any of the bells throughout the temple as part of their prayer ritual. Buddhism, on the other hand, uses prayer wheels, and these are placed in similar fashion as the bells, at the entrance to the stupas, throughout the inside of the stupas, and often in a circle on the outside of the stupa, surrounding it, and allowing worshipers to walk clockwise around the temple turning the prayer wheels, and releasing the prayers into the breeze to be carried on the wind to the gods and to the people in need. Some of the temples were off-limits to Westerners, and we were not even allowed to photograph them from the outside. In the center of Patan is Durbar Square, a large cobblestone area, often bustling with people, where a large majority of the temples are located surrounding the main palace where the successive kings would live in those days. Each king apparently tried to outdo the previous by building a more impressive temple in the square in the image of his god of choice. Apparently each city in Kathmandu has a Durbar Square, (Patan, Kathamandu, Bhaktapur) meaning simply “Palace Square”, but Patan’s is supposed to be the best.
As beautiful as the temples were, the city proper of Patan was a bit of an assault on the senses, as it seemed more crowded and noisy even than Kathmandu itself and Thamel, the tourist district where we are all staying. By the time we had seen every temple Patan had to offer, we were shredded and on sensory overload, and decided to taxi it back to the hotel right quick.
Ellen was drained enough to hit the shower and the bed right away on our return to the hotel, and Jason was still in his bed, sleeping off whatever was bringing him down. When I checked on Pete, he had much more color than previously, and actually managed a smile (when he spoke of Amanda), and pointed me downstairs to the restaurant to find her, where she was dining solo and enjoying the night-time breeze out on the patio.
Melissa, Bikki and I ventured out into Thamel for dinner, settling on a garden restaurant whose name I of course forget, but it had much variety and was lovely. Melissa’s meal was apparently rather spicy, however she claims to have a rock solid set of taste buds, and she even accepted a bet I put forth to chew up and swallow a tiny green pepper that I had never seen before, but that Bikki said is the hottest pepper out there. 1000 Rupees she won from me as the tears spontaneously streamed down her cheeks, the clear liquid draining from her nostrils, and the drool collecting on her lower lip, hesitating there briefly until the drop was large enough to cascade with gravity down onto her plate as she leaned forward, smiling. “No problem” she says shakily, “Show me the money!” I learned my lesson, I suppose, don’t put any money (AGAIN) on Melissa’s iron stomach. She’s a machine.
This restaurant had no dessert. I don’t think it should be allowed to call itself a restaurant.
Off to bed! More manana. Namaste.
Sue/Team
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