Apr 2009

Written: February 3, 2009

While I love Wikis, specifically the site Wikitravel, they’re not exactly impervious to bias. The Wikitravel entry for Pokhara includes a line that states the city is “considered by many to be the most beautiful place in the whole wide world.” Pokhara, the second largest city in Nepal, is a lovely city situated by Phewa Tal Lake and surrounded by majestic mountains. After spending a few days there, it’s hard to disagree with that statement.

I left Varanasi at 6 pm for Sunauli. Staring out the window, I watched the hustle and bustle, the shops, the shanties and countless faces. My mind scrolled through all the sights and smells of India I captured, ones which could not be taken on camera, stored in my head. I thought of towns and villages zooming by on train rides. I thought of the innumerable small one-room shops with the shopkeepers looking back at you. I saw images of men standing in a group drinking chai, faces of kids looking back at you curiously. I saw a country quickly adapting and advancing technology. However, I also witnessed India’s sheer poverty and inequality. I’ve spoken to many travelers about India. While it is not my favourite country, my visit has been truly an eye opening and enriching experience for which I am thankful.

The bus ride to Sunauli was extremely bumpy and cold. The window beside my seat refused to stay closed. After two minutes of fully closing it, it would creep back down by 1 cm and after five minutes it would be down by 5 cm letting in a chilly stream of air. I wore my toque, windstopper, outer jacket and gloves yet I was still cold. The constant need to push my windows up and the cold prevented me from getting much sleep. Finally, we arrived to the Sunauli border stop at 4:30 am. Since it was pitch dark and we had no clue where the actual Indian-Nepali border offices were, we had to spend some time walking around and avoiding rickshawallas. Jeff, a Taiwanese guy I met on the bus, and I followed a Tibetan monk since we expected he would know the way. However, after 5 minutes we realized he had no idea and followed our instincts. After getting some directions from a jeep driver, we found the Indian customs office and waited an hour before it opened and a sleepy border guard gave us our exit stamp. After a short walk across the border into Nepal, within minutes, we got our entry visas and hopped on a bus for Pokhara.

Even though the bus ride from Sunauli to Pokhara was more scenic it was still a painful experience. The old creaky bus was crammed with passengers and, from the very start, there was a group of teenagers loudly laughing, talking and yelling throughout the long 9.5 hour trip. Additionally, the journey on the Siddhartha Nagar highway was dizzying, the traffic dangerous and the cliff drops a bit scary. At one point everyone in the bus looked over to the left side of the bus. I asked a passenger what he was looking at and after a pause, he hesitantly replied, “Accident.” A bus had gone over the edge and down the 100 metre cliff; it was impossible for anyone to survive that. I was glad I took a day bus instead of the notorious night buses for this scenic yet treacherous journey. Still, the combination of aggressive driving style, the lack of rails and the huge cliff drops right out my window made my stomach churn every now and then. One mistake or a faulty brake would easily send the bus over the edge and into all but certain death. We arrived in Pokhara at 4:30 pm after 9.5 hours but, perhaps due to my anxiety, I definitely felt like the trip was longer.

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After checking around, Jeff and I settled into different hotels before meeting up for dinner. I’m proud to boast that due to our aggressive bargaining skills he was able to score a double room with common shower/toilet for 120 NRs ($2 CND) and I paid 165 NRs ($2.5 CDN) for a double with hot shower/toilet per night. Both of our hotels were in Lakeside Central and I highly recommend people to go to Hotel Peace Horizon if they visit Pokhara. After settling in, we had dinner at the Rainbow Restaurant and Bar and I had a spaghetti bolognaise; the first time I had meat in 2.5 weeks and it was scrumptious. Pokhara would turn out to be a great place to feast and I went back to Rainbow quite a few times during my stay in the city. I spent the next day walking around the main touristy strip of Lakeside and its surrounding areas. Since Jeff was taking off for a trek in the Annapurna region the next day, we had a steak dinner at New Everest and the half-steak was filling and fantastic.

On my last day in Pokhara before taking off on motorcycle, I decided to hike up to the International Peace Pagoda. I took the scenic route to the pagoda, located on a narrow ridge overlooking Pokhara, by following the directions from Lonely Planet (LP). Finding my way was a challenge since LP’s directions were more of a loose guide. After hiking 1.5 hours through rice paddies, farmland and forested areas, I became somewhat worried about my lack of fitness and how I would fare on the Everest Base Camp (EBC) trek. I alleviated my concerns by realizing most of my anxiety centered on being lost, not knowing the direction and I would have enough time to take lots of breaks. I felt relieved and I rejoiced when I finally came upon the clearing in front of the pagoda. The view truly was amazing, the pagoda very beautiful and the trek well worth the effort. I sat to catch my breath and admired the snow-capped peaks surrounding Pokhara. I watched the hawks circle and surf the hot-air currents abundant above the hilly range. I wished I could do the same (which is possible in Pokhara, a pursuit called “hawk-assisted paragliding”).

International Peace Pagoda, Pokhara

Pokhara by Phewa Tal Lake

Machapuchare in the clouds

During my exploration of the pagoda, I saw a guy with a Team Canada shirt and a Canadian flag on his backpack. I approached him and said, “Can you make it any more obvious that you’re Canadian? Do you also have MEC gear?” I jokingly checked his backpack and ironically it was indeed a MEC bag with an oversize Canadian flag which he explained he got in his younger days for backpacking Europe. I chatted a bit with him and his girlfriend Danielle about India and Nepal. Another group of tourists nearby overheard us and humorously asked him, “Why?” when he said they were heading to India. I prepped them for the Indian experience by telling them my “toilet everywhere” story. I also met an Italian tourist who had recently done the EBC trek and he said it was great. With regards to the trek, he reassured me the lodges were open, it was not too painfully cold and that meeting other independent trekkers would be easy. Effectively, he took care of all my major concerns and made me even more excited about the trek with his enthusiastic description of excellent clear weather conditions.

Finally, after walking around inspecting the pagoda, which was a 3-tiered structure and had statues depicting Siddhartha’s major life events, I snapped a few pictures and made my way back to town. I had earlier considered taking the direct return route and paying for a boat ride back to Lakeside; however, after resting for a while and feeling more confident I would remember the way back I decided to hoof it and save a few dollars. I made it back to town in under 1 hour, took a relaxing hot shower before hitting Rainbow for some lasagna bolognaise. It was an early night for me since I needed to wake-up early to pack, rent a bike and start my motorcycle tour of Nepal. I had a hard time sleeping that night since I kept thinking of the windy roads, the big cliffs and the chaotic traffic. Though I was anxious, the excitement of such a trip outweighed all my concerns and I never back down from a challenge. I told myself: if I left Nepal without riding its challenging roads and explore its towns, I would regret it for the rest of my life.

See you in eight days Pokhara!

Written: January 30, 2009

Preface: First of all, I apologize for the long delay since my last update. It's taken a bit of time to get settled back into normal life and I've been procrastinating. Perhaps, as in previous experience, I was also denying and delaying the finality of my trip.

The corpses wrapped in saffron silk burn brightly in the night sky. The sun has just set. There are eighteen cremations taking place at Manikarnika Ghat, also known as the Burning Ghat, and many more are being queued up in the middle awaiting their turn. The sky above Manikarnika is filled with smoke, it remains so day and night for Death waits for no one. I am within metres of the cremations and the odors of death, a combination of smoke; ash and sandalwood, fill my nostrils.

I notice that one of the cremations nearby is almost complete. After 3 hours of burning, the closest male relative tosses a clay pot of Ganga water into the embers over his shoulder. He and the rest of the attending family, all males, walk away and do not look back. Female relatives aren’t allowed to attend since some would throw themselves into the funeral pyre in grief and desperation. A friend of mine told me that fact made her visit more moving.

The cremations happen at all hours. With the departure of the previous family upon completion of the cremation, a new one arrives to take its place. A group of eight family members carry a body wrapped in saffron coloured cloth to the funeral pyre with re-stacked firewood. The quality and the amount of firewood depends on how wealthy was the deceased. In a way, wealth and social hierarchy still apply even in death. The family of the deceased transport the body; covered with roses, jasmine and marigolds; from all over India to Varanasi, which is considered the Holy City of the Hindus and most auspicious place to die. It is believed that bathing in the River Ganges will wash away one's sins.

More than 1 million believers make the pilgrimage to Varanasi each year. During my visit, I witnessed many funeral processions. The male relatives carry their recently loved one, wrapped in bright saffron coloured cloth, on their shoulder through the timeless and narrow windy streets to the shores of Mother Ganges. They repeatedly chant, "Rama Nama Satya Hai!", meaning "God’s name is truth". A custom and tradition that has been performed for centuries.

After the body arrives to the Ganges, it is dipped in the spiritual water 3 times before being cleansed by the seven natural elements and placed on the firewood. The closest family relative then leads the attendants through the whole process with the help of the brahmin. After certain rituals involving various herbs and spices, the funeral pyre which can be composed of up to 220kg of wood is set on fire to burn for nearly 3 hours. Once the time is up, ashes and bones are collected and spread into the Ganges. For the Hindus, Benares is a Holy City. People come to bathe in the spiritual water and await death as it is considered most holy place to cross. In fact, a cremation at Varanasi can cost a fortune. The act of cremating a body, unabashed displayed, is such a final act. I believe it is fitting in providing closure for the relatives of the recently deceased. In Varanasi, the finality of death is prominently displayed in comparison with other funerary rituals.

While the city brims with life as it has been for more than 3000 years, the smoke and the funeral processions reminds us of the ever presence of death. Rich or poor, young or old, you cannot run away and you cannot cheat death. Everyone returns to the Ganges one way or another.

I am fortunate to have met a cool group of people before arriving in Varanasi to explore the city together. The two French girls, Angeline and Brunilde, as well as Benjamin and I took both a sunrise and sunset boat ride. We also walked along the river and numerous ghats (which are steps leading down to a body of water used by locals to bathe, wash, perform religious/spiritual rituals) to experience the colourful life of Varanasi.

There are some distinct experiences and images from Varanasi I will always remember: pilgrims praying and bathing at the ghats, laundrymen beating sheets on the rocks, stiff legs and does burning in the dark night and that distinct odour from cremations, the smell of death.

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After 2.5 days in Varanasi avoiding barking dogs (hopefully without rabies), cow manure in narrow windy alleys and getting lost in one of the oldest continually inhabited city in history, it was time for all of us to move on. The girls flew to Delhi where they will have one last night of partying before flying back to Europe. Benjamin is off to Darjeeling and Kolkota (Calcutta) before continuing to Sri Lanka and the rest of his round the world trip. As for me, it's time to head into Nepal. I'm taking the bus to Sunauli where I'll cross the border and catch another bus for Pokhara.

Namaste India, Namaste Nepal.