Everyone -- even the “journalist” who asked to interview me -- is running a hustle in Kathmandu.
My time in Nepal’s capital started with a thangka artist named Ravi who approached me on my first morning there. I went with him to the school where he said 45 artists work and sell their art. The prices they were advertising the ornate Buddhist paintings were similar to those offered by a trader I had spoken to in McLeod Ganj a few weeks earlier so I entertained the conversation.
I had really wanted to buy one in McLeod Ganj but time was not permitting and I did not go forward. Needless to say, I ended up buying some art. I guess it is genuine. It is on real canvas and the painting appears real. I have no eye for art. I will just have to trust my gut and have faith in the workings of the wheel of karma that what I got is actually going to good means and not just a Kathmandu scam.
Regardless, the artworks are quite nice and the artists are going to mount them in brocades and ship them back to the U.S. for me. Hopefully this all works out.
Even the Young and the Old Work Angles
But it wasn’t just the artists – several more of whom have approached me since – but storekeepers trying to get me to buy cashmere and statues of the Buddha made of precious metal or stone, mala bead peddlers, travel booking agents and mountain guides, little kids dressed in fast fashion begging food for their families, marijuana and hash-hish dealers and other unmentionable service providers. Even an old man with a press badge who approached me at the Boudanath Stupa asking to interview me about my opinion on Nepal was working an angle to get me to give him money for the book he was trying to publish.
Although a largely Buddhist country, the Nepalis seems to be a lot less scrupulous than the Indian people. From illicit drugs, excessive alcohol consumption, prostitution and government corruption, it appears anything goes here in Nepal. It is unfortunate, because underneath this hustle to push services and make money to support their families, I see the hard-working and devoted nature of the people.
And don’t get me wrong, not all of the people are bad. Most are just working to make a buck and many are not even pushing their services, just sitting quietly in the doorsteps of their shops for hours on end competing for customers – and occasionally shouting for the obvious foreigner to come in and have a look at their wares.
Dead Quiet Dashain
And speaking of quiet, the city was dead for most of the three days I was there. As I mentioned in Siliguri, this time of year is a major holiday in both India and Nepal.
Here they call it Dashain and people leave the cities to visit their families and friends in the villages. It lasts through the full moon, which is today (Sunday). Many of the streets that would normally have been bustling with activity on a typical weekday were dead silent. Not a store was open for blocks on end. Being in Kathmandu was like being in the downtown of a major U.S. city on the Christmas morning.
A large portion of the people I saw on the first few days were clearly westerners and tourists who, like me were pretty oblivious to the fact that they chose a major festival time to visit Kathmandu. The few stores that were open were mountain trekking gear shops and the higher priced restaurants that serve continental meals to foreigners.
And not to mention that it was raining pretty heavily. On my second day there, I did not venture far early in the day as the rain was strong throughout the day.
Later, however, I found an in-person AA meeting was happening just over a kilometer away from my hotel. The rain had let up at that point, so I decided to head up there. I don’t know if it was because of the Dashain festival or if the meeting had just folded up at some point, but the door to the meeting place was still locked at the start time.
I wandered back toward my hotel and grabbed a bite before hitting an online meeting and calling it a night.
A Riverside Farewell to Old Friend
On my final day in the capital city, I wandered about in the morning and found a nice breakfast joint where a mountain guide offered to let me join a trip with a few Canadians who were headed toward the Kachenjunga basecamp. It was an appealing offer, but I have seen Kachenjunga and am heading the opposite direction toward Pokhara, so I declined the offer.
Instead, I inquired about white water rafting trips. My options were either a more technical trip along a river northeast of Kathmandu or an easier touristy trip east on the Trishuli river that would land me in Pokhara on the opposite side. I decided on the latter as it fit better with my travel plans and here I sit, typing the blog as I wait at the Trishuli Riverside Resort for the second day of rafting to begin.
Day one was without incident. The water is very high from all the rain, but our guide said that, contrary to what I thought previously, the high water decreases the potency of the rapids themselves.
But don’t get me wrong, the current is strong and the powerful nature of water cannot be underestimated. It saddened me this morning to learn that Bellefontaine’s own Kip Robinaugh – former owner of Peach Tree Books and Gifts – was lost in a rafting accident in Bali and is presumed dead.
I remember him fondly from his days running the downtown store. He was hard-working and just like the Nepalis, always hustling to make a buck. If there is any consolation in his story, he died dowing something he cherished and I have faith that karma and reincarnation will rejoin him with the love of his late wife he was in Bali to commemorate.
With love from one adventurer to another, may I meet you again on our infinite journeys through this universe, Kip.
P.S. I am about to head out on a nearly two-week trek around the Annapurna mountains near Pokhara and won't be posting for a while.