This past weekend was a nice adventure. Friday, I finally met the founder of the clinic, Debendra Karki, when he made his way back from a mountain trek to the village. He one of the only tall nepali people I have met. In fact, he is one of the few Nepali people people who are even taller than I am, which is kind of ridiculous as I am not tall by any stretch of the imagination. He is well travelled, having studied in the U.S and New Zealand and having lived all over the world. After getting his Master's in Public Health, he worked for the World Health Organization which he hated. He started this clinic to do something more tangible in public health rather than "push papers".
After a full days work, he invited Kate and I to go away with him for the weekend. Our first stop was a Hindu wedding, the bride being related to him in some obscure way. The wedding was in Biratnagar, one of the places I travelled through to get to Bhaunne. It was about an hour and a half away, We were sardined into a hot bus, standing the whole way. The wedding was on the hottest day in some time and even the locals were feeling it. Grasping for both food and shade, we feasted on some great dishes, which I still have a hard time distinguishing from one another, yet always enjoy. The dress was elaborate and traditional Nepali. Flowing robes, colorful scarves, decorated foreheads. The Groom arrived with a full ensemble of dancing friends and trumpets singing harmonious notes. I later learned that the trumpets were only to be played by a certain lower caste, a system of which is still alive and omnipresent in Nepal. Although Nepal boasts kindness, hospitality, and supposed tolerance for all. Once born into a caste, identified by one's last name, you are relegated to certain social limitations not all that unlike institutionalized racism.
The Bride accompanied by her own posse of colorfully clad women, met the groom under a large awning. Rituals involving painting tika, cleansing feet, and dawning jewelry enriched the upbeat ceremony. I have been to two Hindu weddings in my life, both amongst the most fun times I have ever had. This one involved a lot more stray goats running around.
It was a great time, but the weekend's excitement was still young. Debendra let us know that the the next day we would be traveling to a temple mostly unknown to foreigners. Halesi is a Hindu and Buddhist temple built into a cave in the foothills of the Himalayas. Foothills is a loose term because the hills would most certainly be looked at as large mountains most other places in the world. We got into another bus which would turn out to be excitement all on its own. On this bus we all had our own seats, which was probably a good thing considering it was about a 10 hour ride up and down many of these large hills. The roads were narrow and hardly roads at all. Our bus, lacking much suspension sped a little too fast for comfort traversing up and down mountain faces. Looking down out the window was a long long drop with no guard rail or much buffer zone. The driver was gracefful in avoiding oncoming vehicles, but I think he must have been able to defy the laws of physics considering the road width. The bus attendant continually handed out plastic bags in case vomiting ensued. A few of the passengers made use of these bags and luckily I had not. There were houses here and there on each hill we climbed, accessed only by hand carved stairs into the mountainside expanding thousands of feet in elevation. The stairs took at least a hundred years to carve as the huts they led to were dismantled and rebuilt higher and higher. In this area, all water is collected near the base of the hill and carried up. The same goes with many raw materials. Why they built the huts so high up I do not understand. We travelled for hours up and down these winding mountain roads until we reached our destination.
Halesi has a small village where a few people live, there is also a Buddhist monastery on the hilltop inhabited by what I think is a lot of monks. Three Hindu prayer sites, two residing in caves, one carved naturally into the mountainside are the pride of Halesi. After dropping our backpacks off, we ventured to the first cave. In it were many groups of praying Hindu followers and a few meditating monks. The inside of the cave was covered in stalagmites and stalactites. Many of which were painted and decorated in honor of Shiva. Throughout the open cave were narrow passages where if you can contort your body to fit through, you are considered to be holy and lucky. I am now both.
One young woman from our bus was sitting cross legged on the cave floor shaking violently. A man was kneeling in front of her, arms outstretched speaking some important sounding words. He was supposedly curing her lifelong epileptic disease. Although her shaking did not look like seizures and I somewhat doubt the curative abilities of the incantations, it seemed as though I was in the minority when onlookers cheered at her recovery.
Nepali people often stare and ask to take pictures with me as I walk by. They don't see many white people. Or any. Because Halesi is very off the beaten path, and virtually no foreigners hear about it let alone travel there, my presence was magnified. Most had confused looks. A few, at separate times, who knew a little English asked me "why are you so white?" At first I was at a loss of words, then I responded with some basic scientific answer about European ancestry and the lack of sun. The last time I was asked, I responded with a look of confusion, a glance down at my white arm and subsequent facial expression showing horror and bewilderment. That was kind of fun. Once people got over the initial shock I provided, I was given gifts of symbolic necklaces, colorful paints and bracelets by passerbys.
I happened upon a Hindu priest and Buddhist monk sitting cross-legged, engaged in conversation. Gingerly I walked up and sat down next to them. They loved it and welcomed me with words I do not understand. The Hindu asked to take a picture with me when he saw my camera and after the first snapshot, I asked if he would do another with the stipulation of a thumbs up. That made my day.
I was escorted to the one prayer spot carved into the mountain. It was a short but steep hike to find the hidden treasure. Constellations of lava rock formed statues resembling crocodile teeth and lion paws jutted out of the side of the rock. They were painted and had candles placed around. Buddhist prayer flags by the hundreds were draped overhead blowing in the wind. It was beautiful. that night we had a nice homemade meal at the house that offered us a place to stay. A few beers with the locals and my companions and I topped off another pleasantly surprising day.
We awoke the next morning at sunrise, about
4:30, to bathe at some holy site. We were led down a stone path to a pipe jutting out of rock. The water that was spewing out was considered holy and was carried by underground river originating from an Everest glacier. It was certainly refreshing. After cleaning, we were shown the second cave, which was much larger but less decorated than the first. A monk had been living in it for years and had a small mattress tucked away in the corner.
Walking out of the cave, down a small path, I saw Mt. Everet for the first time. About 400 km away, It was prominant and clear. It was surrounded by a few other mamoths but it was obvious which was king. The Himalayas are beautiful, Everest is the crown jewel.
We left Halesi that day to go back to the village. A very long trip led to an experience I never thought I would have. It's hard to believe how lucky I am to be having these opportunities welcoming me when most people never get the chance. 13 hours later, and a bus seat that I was definitely too big for, I collapsed, exhausted, under the starry nightlight.
