LETTERS & PICTURES FROM ASIA, 1988 | AROUND KATHMANDU | PART 2

In 1988, when I was eighteen years old I set off from New Zealand to Asia on an adventure. Accompanying me was my high school friend David. We were inspired by Tintin comics and National Geographic magazines. Although we had never actually been overseas before, we wanted begin our travels somewhere more exotic than the usual teenage Kiwi destinations. Our plans were vague - first Nepal, then India - then, after that, as far as our meagre holiday savings would take us. Once on the road, I wrote detailed and mostly illegible aerogrammes home, which my father kindly typed up to make readable for the rest of the family. My father also generously lent me his Pentax Spotmatic camera to ensure I got some good pictures. 

Below is the second letter I sent home, from Kathmandu (the first letter is here). We had only been in the country a few days, but immediately get sick. Then, while waiting for our trekking permits, we explore the temples, brave the traffic on bicycles and visit the surrounding countryside in the Kathmandu valley.  

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Kathmandu
Sunday 21st March 1988

Dear Everybody, 

Well here I am still in Kathmandu. We’ve been sick since Monday and so I decided not to write until we were better, so you won’t worry. I was unable to eat but was drinking plenty of purified water water and orange juice; we took turns to stagger down to the nearby shop and buy supplies. I tell you, it was a real ordeal! On Wednesday afternoon we made a trip to the bread shop and bought a salad roll, which prompted a very hasty rickshaw ride back to the hotel bathrooms.

The toilets here in Nepal deserve some description. They are flushed by bucket, which is fine, except the water is only on some of the time and the bucket is only available sometimes. In this hotel there are less buckets than toilets. So, if you are frequenting the toilet more than usual, the shortage creates an unappealing build up.

From Wednesday onwards, I managed to eat a little bit each day, even though it was hard work and I wasn’t hungry. I wanted something familiar; to open the bread bin and get some Vogels [New Zealand brand] bread. There is a Nepalese bar next door with a band that plays six nights a week - featuring tabla, flute, organ and vocalists. At first, when we got here, I liked it. But when you are sick there is nothing worse than listening to people wailing away. We are very familiar with the songs right now. 

Prior to all this we had a healthy life. Eating big meals for about $2 and riding bikes to all sorts of places. We hired big Indian bikes and headed off into the country or to one of the surrounding temples. I’ll tell you about those soon, but first I’ll tell you something about the traffic. All the road rules here are completely optional. Nobody gives way and everybody toots their horns all the time. Driving on the left hand side is also optional; sometimes a lane on the road develops going against the traffic on the far right side if the road is wide enough (and sometimes even when it isn’t), thus, it creates four opposing lanes. You don’t have to go the correct way on one-way streets, although it is a bit of a hassle working your way upstream against the onslaught of honking traffic. At a roundabout you just plunge in ringing your bell furiously, hoping for the best. If you stop you’ll get a car, two rickshaws and a cow up your rear. 

Traffic lights are only obeyed by some; it’s a case of the bigger the car the louder the horn and the more you do what you want. If you don’t have a big loud vehicle you act as if you have one anyway. It’s insane. But, fortunately, it’s not that dangerous because nobody can get any speed up, although I’m sure that if they could they would love it. It’s rather like the bumper cars, everything gets jammed up all the time into a standstill. Anyway, we have got very good at getting through all of this, we just ring our bells, insult other drivers and act as if we own the road. So, there is no need to worry! 

We rode out into the country the first day that we were here. The transformation was amazing; everyone was so friendly, especially the children. They call out “Namaste” or any English that they might know. We went up one very steep narrow road that we are guessing not many Westerners go up. Everyone was waving from the houses and fields. 

Another day we went to a temple called the Monkey Temple (Swayambunath). It is a Buddhist Temple that is 1000 years old. It is a depressing place and feels robbed of any sacredness. There were lots of beggars, tourists, coke-a-cola, hash and junk sellers. There was rubbish everywhere. There were loads of monkeys. They seemed like the only sane creatures there. 

Next day - yesterday - I had a large breakfast then headed down to the post office Post Restante to see if there was any mail for us. No luck. The system of mail collection is pretty shaky. There is just tons of mail stacked up alphabetically and you search through it and take yours. Lots of the mail looked as if it had already been opened. You don’t seem to need any identification to prove that the letter is yours, you just take what you fancy. I also ate two more big meals yesterday, so I am building myself up before the trek. 

One thing we did before we were sick last week was to go to the burning ghats. It felt like we might be in India at the Ganges. They carry the bodies to the funeral pyre and stack them up with wood and wet straw. They then set them alight. It seemed like a very casual affair. I did feel despair at all the tourists taking photos, as well as the surrounding hash and coke-a-cola sellers. Beggars and children asking for things can create a dilemma - should I give because these people have nothing, or not give because it encourages Western style values, degrades Nepalese values and they become dependant on Westerners?

I was talking to one of the many carpet sellers - the ones who follow you down the road asking “car-r-r-pet? Money change? Hashish? Good rate sir” - and he said he earns less than $1 per day…and he has apparently got a good job. These same people are the ones tourists really hate because they hassle you all the time. But we have talked to them and they are a group of nice ordinary guys. You feel sorry for them because it is a hard life and tourists and mean to them. 

Anyway, I’m still writing this in the morning. I am sitting in an outside garden cafe surrounded by trendy tourists. I am eating a croissant and drinking lemonade. Everyone is trying to be groovy and Asian - although they look a bit ridiculous. Some seem nice enough though. 

One thing I should mention are the thunderstorms. According to locals they are unusual at this time of year. There have been about four since we got here. One of them supposedly killed seven people - how, I don’t know. It starts with distant thunder and lightning in the south, which slowly draws closer until it hits you: high winds, rain, hail, lightning and thunder - like I’ve never heard before. It shakes the whole building. You see pieces of roofs and buildings fly by; it’s very dramatic. The storm finishes in about half an hour and afterwards the city is a mud bath for a couple of days. The power instantly shuts down as soon as there is any sign of rain. 

One hassle as a result of getting sick is that it is using up our trekking time. With the usual bureaucratic unhelpfullness, we have ended up with our trekking permits ending 15th of April, but my visa finishes on the 11th of April. We tried to extend our visas but they only gave me one week and David eight days.

Yesterday we saw a snake charmer. He had a big fat boa about six feet long and a little cobra in a basket. It is funny to see the real thing, like a comic book, flutes and all. The boa kept slithering off into the audience and scaring the small children. After a while the charmer rolled the snake up, put it in a bag, threw it over his shoulder, then wandered off. 

The bookshops here are excellent, mostly second hand. Right now I’m reading ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’ and I just finished ‘Siddhartha’. One last thing you should know, I can’t make collect phone calls from Nepal, and they only give you three minutes per call. Then you have to go to the back of the line - which is about an hour long. So, if you get a call from me, be in a hurry because it will be a short call. 

The next letter (part three) is HERE