Nepal Notes Part 6: A Tibetan Themed Birthday
If you are just coming into this, Part One is available here.
At a café, half a block from my hotel, I ran into Linda on her last night before leaving. We shared a vegetarian pizza and a Sprite, for old time’s sake. Over dinner, I told her about my growing pains, she was polite, and non-judgmental. Likely wanting to change the subject, she told me all about a Tibetan cultural tour she had done. She really sold me on it and I decided I needed to do the tour. The next day, I found the tour office and booked. It was expensive, but I didn’t care, I needed an activity to get me out of my rut. Anytime something is expensive, I just remind myself how much I have wasted on other silly things and how much I save by not smoking cigarettes.
Originally I had planned the tour for the day before my birthday, but it got delayed and it ended up being how I celebrated my birthday. A local man, the grandson of Tibetan refugees, took me, and 3 others on the tour. We took a taxi, I was comically big even in the front seat, the small Korean girl who sat behind me thought it was hilarious. She was also a bit thrown off by me opening and closing her door for her, is that not a thing in Korea? The guide took his motorcycle. He informed us that this was because he was not Nepali. Nepal gives citizenship based on paternal lines, ie: you can only be Nepali if you father is Nepali. This means that him, being a child of refugees, despite being born in Nepal, will never be a citizen. Non-citizens are not allowed to own businesses or “anything with 4 wheels” because having a vehicle lets you start a business as a taxi or delivery service. Its strange to think of so many people in a citizenship limbo for generations. Our first stop was a small Monastery where we were given a quick tour and a bit of Tibet history. Across the road was a rug factory. All the rugs were hand tied and had beautiful designs. I declined to purchase one as they were quite heavy and cost nearly $400. Our next stop was a Tibetan doctor. He checked my pulse and looked at my tongue then gave his diagnosis. Lower back pain, a stomach ache, and pneumonia. He told me my insides were cold and I needed more cooked foods. He also suggested exercise… point taken, Nepal. We had lunch at a Tibetan restaurant followed by a meet and greet with a monk. The monk was an interesting young man, I was surprised by how much freedom they actually had in their lives. He said simply “you are your own master and your own enemy” which was kind of reassuring. He also told us that he had joined the monastery when he was 7 years old and somewhat avoids going home to visit as he find he speaks a different language than his family. He didn’t say it, but I got the impression there are maybe some lifestyle differences, and how much could you have in common with people you only lived with until you were 7?
We then, went to yet another Monastery to take in the evening prayer. We were instructed to sit on the sides, do our best to be quiet, and take no pictures. At first it was a little slow, lots of chanting and singing from the young monks in the middle, kneeling at desks. An older monk carried up offerings from the locals and put them at the front near some pictures of recently deceased individuals. A white woman walked in, after prayer had started. She was wearing the typical yoga hippie trying to have a spiritual trip outfit. It was baggy yoga pants, a baggy linen shirt, fun blue framed glasses and hair that looks intentionally messy. That “its important to me that others know I don’t care” look. It’s the kind of person a lot of us loathe on sight. She wandered in, plopped down… sat for about a minute, then pulled out her phone and started taking pictures. A stout, bald, middle-aged monk, sat near the door, overseeing the prayer, waved at her and wagged his finger, we all speak that language. She looked confused, then kept taking pictures. He did it again. Then she went over to him and they spoke, I couldn’t hear but I can guess he told her not to take pictures. She sat back down for about one more minute, then got up and left. I rolled my eyes at her “I need to document my Eat, Pray, Love trip” attitude… I probably shouldn’t judge, I wrote all this about my trip. Once she left, the prayers got louder and faster, the gongs rang, and the horns blew. A strange auditory trick happened, the prayers sounded like small groups having conversations, then suddenly they would all fall into unison, then apart again. It was a fascinating and moving experience.
After the prayer, we were taken to our final stop, a local’s house for snacks. We tried Tibetan butter tea (think of a soup broth pretending to be tea) and a barley porridge, which tasted like a blander oatmeal somehow. The real star was Tibetan bread, it was like a fluffier naan bread and was amazing with some jam on it. As we tried the foods we were told all about the current struggles of Tibet and His Holiness the Dali Llama. I won’t get into that here as that is several books that already exist, but it was interesting to hear the story from someone so close to it. A funny thing also happened on the tour, one of the people on the tour with me was a very sweet Italian man. As a show of thanks for letting us enter her home, he gave the home owner some Italian pasta and some white powder to be mixed with water to create the sauce. He gave our guide detailed instructions of how to cook it properly and he translated for the homeowner. It struck me as such a hilarious stereotype that, of course, an Italian would travel to another country and try to teach them how to cook. He was very nice and very well meaning, to be clear.
I went back to my hotel for a shower, it was 30 degrees outside that day and I had sweat through my shirt. It was still my birthday and Rita had texted me asking what I was up to. I told her I was going to get some cake, because it was my birthday. I was really starting to see a pattern with my diet and people commenting on my weight… Was it really getting THAT out of hand? I did just hike Annapurna!… barely, though… I guess. At any rate, she met me at The German Bakery and I had an underwhelming slice of dry cake and felt a little self conscious. We then walked to the end of the lakeside boardwalk and back and stopped at a Café near my hotel. I had an iced tea and some nachos that were so bad I, uncharacteristically, sent them back, they were replaced with bruschetta which was a little better. From there we went to Rita’s hostel and chatted with other guests in the common area about my tour. I then went back to my hotel and went to bed, unsure of how I felt about the day.
I spent the next morning being a bit lazy, but in the afternoon I decided I wanted to rent a canoe. At the docks the prices were about $5 an hour and an extra dollar to hire someone to paddle for you. Having proud Canadian heritage I am a firm believer in “Paddle your own canoe”. It must have been a rare thing because people sure got excited to see me paddle that bulking boat. What they called a canoe was more of a narrow row boat. Heavy wood slabs just narrow enough to allow for a canoe style paddle to be used. The edge of the lake had dozens of them, sank to the bottom in less than 10 feet of water, I wondered if anyone ever tried to recover them and if it was heavy rain, tourists, or negligence that sank them. As I went along a lot of people waved and chatted with me. One man spotted my red hat with the Canadian flag on it, cheered and said “hey Canada! Looking good!…. smoke hash?” and gestured toward his mouth with his fingers. In his boat with him were two elderly Asian tourists laden with cameras… I chuckled at the thought of a boat-to-boat drug deal with witnesses snapping pictures. It was one of the few times in my life I wished I did do drugs. I declined and continued on, one thing about Nepali drug dealers, they’re very polite about rejection. After some miscommunication and confusion, I found Rita waiting for me at the shore. She was supposed to meet me at one of the docks but “got bored and went to use the bathroom and didn’t see her phone ringing” it struck me as a no accountability move. I paddled us around the lake for a few hours including a lap around a small but crowded temple on an island just off the main shoreline. It was a nice little outing in the sun.
That evening we went to The Movie Garden. An open-air theater that played all kinds of movies. That night we watched The Grand Budapest Hotel. We ended up at The Juicery, again, and split two beers. I then called it a night and we went our separate ways. I decided that night I needed to do something to get out of here. The ladies at the local shop were starting to give me the local discount for bottled water. My “relationship” with Rita, for lack of a better word, was starting to annoy me. To be honest, I think I am better company than she is. I still don’t know what she wanted from me, but I felt a little used, like she just had nothing better to do than waste some time with a dork like me. Digging through the chambers of my memory, she does not seem to be the first woman that found me just tolerable enough to spend time with when no one else was available. Its an odd place to be in this world, like the bad fast-food of men.
Technical
I did it on a whim, but I now believe a Tibetan cultural tour is a must-do activity if you ever find yourself in Nepal. The guide had also recommended a few books on the subject, the one I read was titled Buddha’s Warriors and it was quite good.
The brick of tea pictured earlier is actually how most tea used to come and still is sold in solid bricks in a lot of the world, we just dont see it much in the west so I thought it was interesting.
I found prayer wheels interesting and was happy to spin them, being told they bring good karma and/or good luck. The guide was kind enough to explain that in Buddhism you gain “merit” by saying and reading prayers (you also gain it by doing good things). The idea with prayer wheels is inside them are rolled up written prayers over and over, when you spin them you gain merit similar to reading or saying them. That said, it is important to spin them the right way, so as not to “read” them backwards. Below is a photo of what they look like inside. The guide opened it to show me. Despite my curious and tinkering nature, I would have never thought to pop the lid off one.
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