Saturday, April 12, 2009
I talk to Oswaldo before going to sleep in my cottage #433, and when he hears that I am not really fully packed, he strongly urges me get out of bed and finish the job. Realizing the soundness of this advice I take a bath and get everything ready. Thus, when I am woken at 5am, I spring into action, close a few zippers and am ready for our departure in the cold dark morning 30 minutes later. The full moon is slowly sinking behind a hillside and we can begin to see the outlines of the many hills around. There is no time for breakfast, but Tshering assures us that we will be offered one in the departure hall after check-in. We leave his protection outside the airport - he is not allowed to go in. 'Give me a hug,' he says, and I do - what a great guy - and also say goodbye to Ugen, suddenly shy. We join a line of lacklustre early travelers waiting for people to staff the x-ray machines, which the luggage has to pass through, and then the check-in counters. We think back on our arrival here and accept our situation. Eventually everything gets moving, luggage is checked, we are checked in with seats on the right side (to see the mountains), we pass security - now wait: mistake! Breakfast was BEFORE security. Too late now. No way to go back. In the departure hall with access only to a Nescafé, we share whatever food we have and enjoy, yes, the internet.
I get a window seat and am unprepared for the full, glorious, unclouded display of the Himalayan range. The mountains - the reason for my trip, really - are displayed as clearly as they ever could be. 'We're having a mountain-trip,' says the Nepalese gentleman sitting next to me, probably meaning that in all his years of traveling back and forth he has never seen them like this. I snap pictures like one possessed and then offer to snap his. I notice a frustrated young couple - Argentineans, as it turns out - across the aisle, stretching to see, and offer to snap theirs also. Heart beating, juggling the 3 cameras I look and I look: such beauty, such majesty, such luck to be here to see this. Nature at its most awesome best - my dream come true.
The Himalaya pictures are a must:
It is a short flight and an hour later we are descending through the smog of Kathmandu to find no-one waiting for us in the chaos of the airport having passed through their stringent immigration and security procedures. After a while the agent turns up - very plausibly delayed by the insane traffic, and we are hurtled through the dusty, honking mess of narrow city streets, many of which have construction work going on. We ask for a quick detour to see the 'Stupa', the huge blue-eyed Buddhist monument revered by Tibetan refugees and tourists alike. 'Blue eyes means peace,' explains the guide, but doesn't react when I lover my sunglasses and fix him with my own very blue specimens - mabe the Nordic version doesn't count? Circumnavigating the huge white domed structure in my mountain gear in the blinding sun and sudden heat I feel I can barely take it in. My eyes smart from the pollution and the throng of people is oppressive after our recent serenity. Soon, however, we are back at the Shangri-La, where we can drop our things and change into our summer clothes. Ahhhh. I get out my Indian garb and feel human again.
Here's the arrival in Katmandu:
I have a mission in Kathmandu. About 4 years back I lost a treasured earring from Nepal. When I finally gave up ever seeing it again, the Rio dealer suggested I have a necklace made with the remaining earring. He took it to Nepal - and forgot it there. A year later he traveled again and returned with a lovely necklace for which I bought other pretty (and expensive) earrings. Then, one day, the missing earring re-appeared, innocently dangling from a little used long shell necklace. Now I want to reconstitute my original pair of earrings and find a new centerpiece for the necklace. Squeezing into a Suzuki taxi without air-co we make our way to Tramel, a mecca for shopping - jewelry, cloths, sportswear, pirated dvd's, etc. etc., but first we sit in the calm shade of the Kathmandu Guest House restaurant - which Jytte and Ole visited 30 years ago - and have a little lunch. Then we are ready and hit the streets looking for bargains. Going in and out of stores I eventually find a likable man in the Shangri-La Crafts store, who sells me a pretty medallion and offers to do the whole thing for a pittance in 1 hour. Meanwhile, Jytte and I continue to go absolutely nuts about with the beautiful things on display in all the surrounding stores. I am wearing the other earrings when we enter another establishment. 'Mam, would you mind telling me where you bought those?' asks the owner. Turns out he made them. He won't tell me their price (nor will I), but by now I know I am following in the footsteps of the Brazilian dealer, known also to Mr. Shangri La. 'I have those!' I say surprised to Jytte and point to another pair of earrings displayed in the store.
When I later get my original earrrings, wear them, and enter yet another store, 3 corpulent men resting in the cloudy dark - they have constant black-outs and must rely on the additionally polluting generators - each murmur in turn , 'Beautiful earrings...?'; by then I decide not to ask any further. Tired out we return to the cool Shangri-La garden, where a huge party is in process, and have drinks and dinner watching the people in sari have fun.
Last photos of shopping:
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