xEurasia Odyssey

Impressions of Muscat

krodin — Sat, 23 Mar 2024 09:46:00 GMT

Impressions of Muscat. (FYI - I can't get the photos to load,sorry!)

For years, I have wanted to visit Oman, but the timing was never quite right. This year I decided that waiting any longer to make my way to Australia and New Zealand was nonsense as I’m not getting any younger, and who knows what the world situation will be like in a few years. So, 2024 is a time for living for today, and that means traveling to countries that I haven’t yet been to and have long wanted to see as well as to return to old friends, like Nepal, India and Bali. My first stop on this Asian/Oceanic adventure was Muscat, Oman.

First off, I need to confess that I made a mistake. I understood from the Omani government website that I needed a visa to enter the country. This is incorrect. If one is staying for less than 14 days, a visa is not needed, so you can spare yourself that money when you arrange your visit here.

Oman is fairly expensive compared to most of the other countries I travel to, but it offers a very different view of the Arab world than the neighboring Emirates. The country came out of self-inflicted isolation only in the 1970s, when the previous Sultan, a graduate of British universities and former Sandhurst student, overthrew his very tradition-based leaning father, who ended up living his last years in England. Over the next fifty years, the country transformed itself into a thriving modern civilization while keeping the Omani spirit and customs alive. In Old Muscat and the area around the port where the cruise ships dock, the houses are not allowed to have more than eight floors, and most have only four to five. They need to be either white or cream, though they can have some reddish or greyish highlights. The white structures provide a striking contrast to the brownish mountains and hills surrounding the city. When I came in from the airport at dawn, the early morning light hit the hillsides so that as the taxi drove by the hills took on rainbow colors as the natural minerals, including copper and limestone, appeared then disappeared as the car went by. The hills, i.e. the Hajar Mountains, and the overall landscape reminded me of central Iran with the same foreboding yet mysterious crags, cliffs, and scree. Modern Muscat extends for miles and miles along the coast, and this is where all the high-rises are. I didn’t spend any time there, so can’t comment on that area other than to say that the highway from the airport into Old Muscat and the port area makes for an easy and interesting drive, passing by the Grand Mosque and the Royal Opera House, both of which are architecturally stunning.

My guesthouse was in Old Muscat next to a small mosque a five-minute walk to the National Museum. It was clean and inexpensive, but there were no restaurants in the area, which meant that I needed to take a taxi at night to the Souq area for dinner. The taxis charge indiscriminately, so haggling is really a must. The National Museum is new, clean, and well-designed. There are exhibits from pre-history, for the Islamic World, Oman’s place in the World, Omani’s renaissance period (after they kicked the Portuguese out), and ethnographic collections. The informative placards are in English as well as Arabic.

The building is at the end of a long pedestrian passage to the Royal Palace complex. The Royal Palace sticks out as it has turquoise blue and gold pillars, unlike any else in the area. The hills around the complex still have some of the Portuguese forts from the 1580s, which is both a reminder of the need to be watchful of invaders as well as a testament to the spirit of Omani independence.

The back of the Royal Palace, from the viewer’s perspective, faces one of the many natural harbors along the coast. The Portuguese fort, Al Jalali, is on the right next to the Royal Palace complex and Al Mirami is on left side across from the harbor. Mutrah Fort is opposite the Cornish near the Muscat Port region. There are also a number of other forts dotting the hillsides, but these three are the most prominent. The forts have been restored in the same tan clay color they were originally in, so they look new while keeping the older style. Muscat also has a number of parks with fountains, lush green grasses and lots of blooming flowers – at least in March. What they would look like in August in 45+ heat, I won’t begin to guess.

The Corniche is much nicer than the one in Beirut. It follows the harbor from near Old Muscat to the fish market by the cruise ship docking area. There are small parks along the way for picnicking and the locals make good use of them on Fridays, Saturdays and in the evening. The main Muscat Souq is at the top of the harbor and is a haven for tourists from the cruise ships. The Souq is actually a couple of separate bazaars; there is the main one with every imaginable trinket, perfume, spices and general souvenirs, and then there is one just called the Gold Souq next to the main one. The two local products that are most in demand are palm dates and frankincense, both of which have been major Omani trading commodities for centuries. To highlight the importance of the incense, there is a large white incense-burner sculpture on the hill above one of the parks along the Corniche.

On Friday, I took a tour to Nizwa Fort and Al Hamra, two of the oldest cities in Oman. Nizwa was the old capital in the 6^th and 7^th centuries and Al Hamra, while newer – it is only about 400 years old, is a living museum. On Friday mornings, there is an animal market near the Nizwa Souq. Goats and cattle of various species were dragged around a circle from where potential buyers could see them. The prices are supposed to be fixed, but if the animal isn’t purchased immediately, it goes into a holding coral and the bargaining can begin. None of the animals I saw were in the least bit happy to be there, and most were avidly balking at their leaders.

The Nizwa Souq was very different from the one in Muscat. It still had lots of items for tourists, but there were also stalls geared toward the local population with mostly clay vases and incense burners along with other items for daily cooking use. Inside the main hall there were a number of vendors selling Omani sweets, which are almost pure sugar.

Entering Nizwa Friday Market SouqFriday market, NizwaView of the Souq hall, Nizwa

From the Souq, the nine of us on the tour (including people from Russia, NYC, Paris, Cologne, So. Korea, and England), walked over to the Fort, following Abdullah our excellent guide/driver for the day. Nizwa Fort is on the UNESCO World Heritage List. It was built in 1648 and took about 20 years to complete. It is surrounded by an older wall from about the 9^th C. There is also a small archeological site, Harat Al-Aqer, next door that is reputed to be around 1400 years old. From the ramparts the views extend as far as the eye can see. The Fort and town are surrounded by palm date trees, providing a sea of green amid the cream and brown colored hills.

There is a small museum in the Fort which has a timeline of events and a poster of the “Letter the Prophet Mohammed wrote to the Omani People.” Omanis have a form of Islam that is unique to them; it is neither Sunni nor Shia, but Ibadi. It seems that the original Omani Imam/Sultan didn’t want to get caught in the hereditary controversy after the Prophet’s passing and formed his own version based on the teachings in the Koran. To this day, Oman tries to stay out of the conflicts of neighboring countries. At the museum, I asked Abdullah about the lack of pre-Islamic figurines. They weren’t visible in the National Museum, nor here. He said that he knows there were idols in pre-Islamic times, but that in order to covert the people all the idols were destroyed. It would be near impossible to conduct research on ancient worship practices here.

After leaving the museum we headed back to the main square, where there was a traditional sword dance being performed and two women making Omani bread. The sword dance rhythm sounded like O Hani Hani Oh and was about a young man looking at a young woman commenting on her appearance. Omani bread is made from flour, water, and salt and is fried like a very thin crepe, then filled with either cheese and honey or cheese and egg. I tried the cheese and egg, and it was delicious. Omni food is quite good. The traditional meal is rice and chicken or rice and fish. For breakfast I was served roti with fried eggs, tomatoes, and sliced cucumbers. Traditionally, when guests arrive, they are served coffee and dates. In Al Hamra’s house museum, Bait-Al Safah, I learned that if a guest only eats two dates, not three, then he wants to discuss something. It is an unspoken sign that something is worrying the guest, and the host needs to get him to talk. (I’m assuming this is true for women as well, but that wasn’t specifically stated.)

Women making omani bread at Nizwa FortEntrance to fort from the old townArcheological site at Nizwa FortAl Hamra is approximately 40 minutes’ drive from Nizwa further into the interior. It is a small old village where most of the houses are falling apart. The costs to renovate are extensive, electricity is difficult to access, and there are no places to park a car, so people build outside of the old town. It was interesting, however, to see the old construction and go through the house museum. All in all, I can recommend this day trip from Muscat as it gives insights into Omani history.

On Saturday, I was planning on going on a dolphin watching excursion, but rain was forecast, and they cancelled the trip. There are a number of day excursions from Muscat, but because of the pending rains the ones to the Wadis were also cancelled. It turned out to be a good day to just walk around. Muscat is fascinating, safe, and the people I met here very friendly. Just remember to bargain with the taxicab drivers!

A Few Days in Salvador and Morro de Sãu Paulo, Bahia

krodin — Sat, 2 Sep 2023 19:06:00 GMT

A Few Days in Salvador & Morro de Sãu Paulo

After a week in Chapada Diamantina, it was time to head to the beach and the capital of Bahia, Salvador. This city is the oldest in Brazil and was once its colonial capital. The elite lived on the hill just behind the port, in an area now known as Pelourinho, the historical center. Before going to the city, however, I wanted to see the ocean. The closest beaches to the airport are in an area called Stella Maris. There is a very large statue of a fearsome looking Lemanjá at the turnoff from the highway to the suburb. I, unfortunately, wasn’t able to get a photo of her as the traffic didn’t allow for photography. But it was good to see the Candomblé Goddess of the Sea guarding the region.

The beaches in this area stretch for as far as the eye can see and are lined with palm trees and eateries. There were a couple of vendors going up and down selling hats, bathing suits and beach wraps, and there were a few fishermen trying their luck, and a few people in the water, but for the most part the clean sandy beaches were empty. The waves were strong enough for a few teenagers to surf and body board, but I didn’t see any really swimming. The beaches were beautiful and the sand absolutely perfect, so the lack of people surprised me. It is winter here now (August 2023), and it was a Monday, so perhaps that was the reason.

After a morning at the beach, I took a cab into the Pelourinho. The majority of museums in town were closed because it was Monday, but there were a few open and, of course, the churches were open. I made my way to the center plaza, Terreiro de Jesus, where I made my first stop at the Archbishop’s house museum. Inside was a portrait room of all the Salvadorian archbishops on the ground floor and upstairs a series of rooms showcasing how the archbishops lived. In one, there were a number of over a meter-high prints showing how the priests converted the indigenous people and animals of the region. The episcopal residence is next to the Cathedral Basilica of the Transfiguration of the Lord. The church was built in 1654 in the Portuguese Mannerist style. It is filled with almost blinding gold figures.

Next door to the church, still on the Terreiro de Jesus, is the Afro-Brazilian Museu. This museum showcases the influence of African traditions on the development of Afro-Brazilian culture and especially the development of Condomblé, the local religion that evolved during slavery. There are two rooms where wooden plaques, by different artists, portray many of the local orixás, the local deities, including Lemanjá.

At the end of the square, opposite the Cathedral, is the Church of St. Dominic of Guzman that has an intricately painted and beautiful ceiling in Baroque illusionist style. It showcases a Catholic vision of Paradise - that which awaits the faithful after death. In a side room in Neoclassical style, are a number of sculptures and mini-altars. Two side panels had two female saints, Ursula and Cecilia respectively, nailed to a cross. It was the first time I’d seen this particular image. Behind the church in a mini-courtyard, there is a display case with a model of a local female saint who has a lock on her mouth. I couldn’t help but think of Mozart’s Papageno.

Around the corner from St. Dominic’s is a smaller square, with the Cross of St. Francis and the Franciscan church and convent at the top of the square. This church is known for its extensive azulejo tiles that line the courtyard and church’s interior. There are supposedly 55,000 of them, more than any other church in Latin America. Each of the tiled panel tells a moral message that is explained, also in English and Spanish, on small cards at the bottom of the panel. Primarily, they deal with messages against greed and the fact that one can’t take money with one after one’s death. After this warning, one enters the church and is overwhelmed by the gold everywhere. And this in a convent dedicated to St. Francis, who had his followers take a vow of poverty. Poverty is nowhere to be seen or felt in this church (other than perhaps a poverty of spirit as one is dominated by material opulence)! I simply can’t imagine what the local people felt when confronted with all this when the church was consecrated in 1686. The nave was built during the first part of the 18^th C with its gold gilt Baroque wooden panels.

After all the churches, I wanted a secular perspective and headed to Jorge Amado’s house, which is also a museum dedicated to his life and works. In front of his house, a band was playing on drums, and music was coming from a couple of the neighboring houses. Salvador is a city dedicated to music and the next day I made it to the city museum of music, which has interactive displays on the development of local music from each of the sections of the city. The same format is used in the Carnival Museum, which is a ‘must-do’ if coming to Salvador.

It lies just behind the Archbishop’s residence, and is easy to find. The museum showcases not just the local carnival traditions and history, but also carnival traditions across the globe. There are luckily headphones available in various languages so that visitors can understand the displays.

The last museum I went to was by the shoreline. There is an elevator that costs 15 cents, that brings people up and down the two levels of the city. Across the street from the elevator is the Mercado Modelo, which has all the handicraft, local foods, and tourist items anyone could wish for. There are two buildings to the Mercado and the first has two floors. Bargaining is a must as the prices for the same item vary considerably from stall to stall. Almost everyone accepts credit cards, though they may charge extra for using it. The music museum is off to the side of the Mercado and going in the opposite directly, almost directly in front of the elevator, is a huge modern white sculpture, that to me looked like a bra on stilts. The walk to the Museum of Modern Art is along the main highway, which makes it a not exactly pleasant walk, but it is less than a mile from the Mercado. The museum is free, which is different from all the others, including the churches, which cost anywhere from R$5-20. There was a what seemed like former chapel that housed an interesting photography exhibit and a couple of other rooms in a nearby building with artifacts, but I was a bit disappointed in the collection. The setting of the museum, though, makes the walk worthwhile as it is on a little spit with a small bay off to the side.

The next day I did a day trip to Morro de Sãu Paulo, which, according to the guidebooks, is the most beautiful beach in Brazil. I beg to disagree. The ones in Stella Maris were, IMO, much nicer, but they lacked the beach bum tourist feeling that Sãu Paulo had. The trip entailed a boat ride to the island across the bay from Salvador, then an almost two-hour bus ride to the opposite end of the island and then another boat ride to Morro de Sãu Paulo. For more information on this leg of the trip, please watch the attached video. The trip ended with a magnificent view of the full Blue Moon over Salvador from Vera Cruz on Itaparica Island just before the boat ride back to town.

The next day it was on to Brasilia and the end of my month-long journey.

Impressions of Lençóis and Chapada Diamantina, Bahia, Brazil

krodin — Fri, 1 Sep 2023 20:57:00 GMT

Lençóis and Chapada Diamantina, Bahia, Brazil

I arrived in the late afternoon on the prop plane from Bel Horizonte. The airport is quite small, but the staff were efficient, and the luggage arrived almost by the time we had deplaned. I had arranged for an airport pickup as I’d been warned that there wouldn’t be taxis available at the airport. Roberta was there with the sign for the guesthouse and when we got outside by her car, she introduced me to a friend of hers from Argentina, Guillermo, who now lives in Lençóis. I don’t speak any Portuguese, and my Spanish is rather limited, but somehow we managed to communicate in that language. After dropping off the bags at the room, Roberta asked me whether I would be interested in accompanying them to the weekly Sunday market; naturally I jumped at the chance. The market is at the end of town near the entrance to the Parque Natural Municipal da Muritiba and was filled with stalls covered with fresh fruits and vegetables from the local area. There were a number of fruits that I hadn’t seen before and some that would cost a small fortune in Salzburg, but cost only a few cents here, such as ocra, papayas, guavas, maracujas, lots of different kinds of bananas etc. They also had fresh coffee beans, which surprised me as almost everywhere I’ve been on this trip they only sell instant Nescafe. We then went to Roberta’s shop in town where she sells coffee, pastries, and ice cream. We had a good coffee and a chocolate vanilla sponge cake from a recipe she created as the sun set and night fell. I had a long conversation with the Argentinian writer, and I think I understood about 60+ % of what he was saying. He is very knowledgeable about the region and made good suggestions on where I should go. He also described a five-part novel that he is working on, which sounded like it would be interesting, as well as adjusting northern hemisphere Feng Shui to the needs of the southern hemisphere. He’s using ideas he gathered from Australian authors but is adapting them for South America. As I was tired due to not sleeping the night before because the first of the three flights left at 2am, I excused myself and tried to find my way back through the labyrinthian streets and alleyways of town. I managed to get totally lost but did find my way back to Roberta’s store where she gave me some simpler directions. I did finally find the guesthouse.

The next morning, I decided to stay in town and do the hikes right here that could be done alone and without a guide. There are two main ones: Parque do Ribeirão and the previously mentioned Muritiba. They are on opposite sides of the town. The first was near the guesthouse, so I decided to start there. It was luckily easy to find as it was basically a straight walk down a main road out of town behind a school. At the end of the hike, which takes about 35-40 minutes from the entrance to the park, there is a series of cascades and lots of little pools of water in the rock formations. There were probably 10 -12 people in the various pools dunking themselves in the refreshing waters. A couple of the pools were large enough to swim in, but most were for sitting and relaxing. The area is in the middle of the forest and there isn’t a house in sight. The air was filled with bird songs and small lizards scampered on the trail which made an entertaining and peaceful walk. The trail is an in and out, so when I walked back through town across the bridge with the river to where the market had been the previous evening. At the entrance to Muritiba, there is a check-in place and the park costs R$20 (US$4) to enter and one can only pay by credit card. The park consists of more cascading springs with pools in the rock formations. I boulder hopped up to the top of the park where there is a sign that says entry is only permitted with a guide. At the top, I noticed a couple of groups with guides coming down and taking a path on the opposite side from the one I had come up, so I decided to see if I could do a loop. I could and found that the entrance from this side is, again, near my guesthouse. It was a nice surprise.

Lençóis is a delightful small town. It used to be the center of the diamond trade and, according to the Argentinian, was the hub for French diamond traders in the mid-1800s. The oldest church, Igreja Nossa Senhora do Rosário, was built between 1855-1860 in the middle of this boom and houses a sacred image of the patroness of the town. Today the streets and alleys have colorful houses and shops and at night, the town comes alive with everyone outside in the street cafes and restaurants with lots of music coming from different quarters. As elsewhere in Brazil, however, there are a number of for sale signs and boarded up buildings on the side streets.

There are many day trips available from Lençóis through the innumerable tour agencies in town. I only did a few, but they were quite interesting. On Tuesday, I sprang for a private tour as I couldn’t find a group, to Poço do Diabo, Morro do Pai Inácio, Gruta and Rio Pratinha and Gruta Azul. The first is a waterfall and one goes over boulders and a wooden bridge with no hand holds to get to the lookout sites. On a ledge above a cliff where there is one of the lookout spots, local guides have placed hooks in the rock so that tourists can rappel down to the waters below. I can’t say it looked very safe. The setting with the waterfall and cascading springs is beautiful. From there, we drove to Pai Inácio, which is a rocky plateau sticking out above the surrounding landscape. When the guide was talking about it, I kept understanding Parnassus, and was getting very confused. It wasn’t until I saw a sign with the actual spelling that I could understand where the confusion lay. As it turns out, the mountain is kind of like the Greek one in that the spirits are said to live there. What does live on the top of the rocks are a variety of cacti and other plants that can withstand the heat, lack of rainwater, and wind that beats down on the summit. There are 157 different species of plant life on the plateau. They receive their moisture from the clouds that surround the summit at night and in the morning but dissipate by mid-day. The view from the top is reminiscent of the area around the Grand Canyon, only green and not orangey brown. Pai Inácio itself looks like a green Castle Rock from Sedona when coming in from the Lençóis side. From the other side, a large media tower disturbs the view, but provides communication to the entire region. The walk up to the top is again over boulders, but only takes about 15 minutes, which surprised me as it looked longer from the road. It was cloudy and windy on top, so we didn’t stay too long, but headed back down and onto the swimming hole, Rio Pratinha. This place is a real tourist amusement park complete with zipline, which they call a Tyrolese. The highlight is the cave with clear turquoise waters. For an extra fee, one can go snorkeling, or have their picture taken in the water, or take a paddle boat shaped like a swan for a spin. I chose to simply go swimming. The water was refreshing as the temperature after mid-day had risen considerably. A little after 2pm, we walked over to the Gruta Azul at the opposite side of the complex. This was a real disappointment as there was nothing to do there other than get a picture taken by the sunlit turquoise waters in the cave.

All in all, it was an interesting day. My guide spoke broken Spanish and Portuguese, so I had to use my lousy Spanish to communicate, which was a good exercise. From him, I learned that the main road we were on most of the time was the one road connecting Salvador and Brasilia and the hordes of trucks going in either direction were bringing produce and industrial materials from one place to another. In the easterly direction, the trucks were filled with local fruits, soy, and local vegetables going to the docks where the produce would be loaded onto boats going to Europe, while in the westerly, they were filled with industrial material going to central Bahia province. The trucks were huge. Many had signs on them saying they were 26m long and the guide saw one that was 30m. Some had 36 + tires on them. Passing the trucks on the two lane ‘highway’ required skill and patience. I was glad I had chosen not to rent a car this trip.

The next day, I did a group tour to Poço Encantada amd Poço Azul about 100km south of Lençóis. Both locations were caves. In the first, one could only go down into the cave to see how the light reflected a magnificent blue on the waters below. The water was so clear that it was possible to see the bottom, which I was told was 61m below the water’s surface. The cave height was 55m. The guide, Marcel Luis, who spoke English, (though the others in the group were Brazilian and only spoke Portuguese) told me that when he was a child they were allowed to swim there, but since 1996 there has been a law prohibiting it. He also said that the area was owned by a Belgian, which confused me as I didn’t understand why the government would give property to non-Portuguese Europeans. I was told that between WWI & II and after the second, the government offered land to Europeans willing to immigrate. They didn’t offer the land to the local Brazilians. In any case, most of the other Belgians in the area wanted flat land for agriculture and couldn’t understand why this one fellow insisted he wanted ‘the hole’. They thought he was crazy. This hole now supports 30 families in the area through tourism. He wasn’t so crazy after all.

The final stop was for swimming in Poço Azul, another turquoise lake in the middle of a cave. They only let a set number of people in at a time, and a shower before donning a lifejacket with mask and snorkel is mandatory. The mask is helpful as it allows for much better visibility of the blind white fish that live in these waters. Both places required a fairly steep climb, and neither would be appropriate for anyone with mobility issues.

This tour entails a lengthy drive. Along the way we passed large stretches of seemingly dead and brittle vegetation. I asked if there were often wildfires and was told that what looked like dead plants weren’t dead at all. They were caatinga pioma shrubs that turn grey and black when they don’t have water, but when the rains come within two days new leaves sprout and the plant rejuvenates. I’ve not noticed this plant anywhere else. The drive also crosses the Parparaguaçu River, the largest in the province. The wood plank bridge is a bit unstable for the cars, and we had to get out and individually walk across before the car followed us. The river is fairly wide and this is where they do Marimbus Pantanal tours. As I hadn’t seen any wildlife in Amazonas, and only an occasional marmoset in Chapada Diamantina, I asked if the Mini-Pantanal tour provided more opportunity to see something other than caimans. I was told that there weren’t many wild animals left in the region as they had been hunted out. I find it incredibly disappointing that even acquaintances who were on a four-day Manaus to Belem boat tour didn’t see any wildlife. The most I’ve seen so far have been the vultures – they are everywhere.

On Friday, I went to Serra dos Paridas and Cachoeira do Mosquito. The first is the petroglyph archeological site. Not all of the petroglyphs can be accessed by tourists, but the ones that are visible are very similar to those that I saw in Columbia. There is no accepted scientific data regarding the age of the paintings, but archeologists from regional universities have dated the images to at least 6,500 BCE. A fire site inside one of the caves has been radiocarbon dated at 80,000 years old. I find this fairly amazing and am not sure I trust the dates, but regardless, the petroglyphs are ancient, and they are similar in style to others across the globe from pre-historic times. After viewing the images, we had lunch at a farmhouse, whose owner is also the owner of the land on which the Mosquito waterfall lies. There is a relatively recent dirt road connecting the farm to the trailhead for the waterfalls. The name comes from the shape of a small diamond that was found in the area about a 100 years ago and has nothing to do with the insect. Luckily, there weren’t any of those bothering us on our time at the falls or on the trail to them. The falls start out by a series of stepped pools, then an underground river merges with the steps to form the basis of what will become the impressive wall of falling water. We walked down to the bottom and the guide, again Marcel Luis, insisted that I needed to go into a new dimension by going through the falls to the rocks behind. Naturally, I slipped and went under, but was able to grab Marcel Luis’ hand and scramble back up behind the cascade. While the experience didn’t take me to a new dimension, it was pretty cool. This was a good tour day, filled with interesting history, art, a nature hike, and a very refreshing waterfall shower.

On my last full day in Chapada Diamantina and Lençóis, I went for a 9km horseback ride that was a definite highlight of the trip as I finally saw a monkey and a few marmosets in the wild. The ride went through the forest directly outside of Lençóis following near the river until we came to a spot where the Rio Lençóis meets the Rio Capivara. The name of the second river comes from the animals that were once prevalent in the area, but who have now been hunted so often that they have fled the region. Along the way, we came to a large wooden cross that is the starting point for the local Dia de Finados parade. This event is the Brazilian version of Dia de los Muertos in Mexico, celebrated for All Soul’s Day, Nov. 2^nd. Instead of a raucous celebration, though, it is a quiet time for family to honor those who have passed. In Lençóis, the faithful gather by the cross laden with flowers. They then proceed by foot to the town cemetery, a ca 3-4 km venture. Those in the procession give flowers to those who reach for them along the way and then decorate their ancestors’ graves. We also passed by a church dedicated to Iemanjá, the Afro-Brazilian Candomblé Goddess of the Sea. Her festival is on February 2^nd, when the faithful, dressed all in white, leave the church in the forest to walk into the center of Lençóis where they have a celebration by the main bridge over the river. It was a delightful and educational ride. The one thing that I did find a bit strange, however, was that my horse didn’t like apples and also didn’t want to drink until near the end of the ride. I’ve never known a horse to turn down an apple before. There are unusual creatures in Brazil.

Tomorrow it’s on to Salvador and the coast.

A Week in Amazonas, Brazil

krodin — Mon, 28 Aug 2023 00:00:00 GMT

A Week in Amazonas

I had been looking forward to finally getting to the Amazon River. I’d been in the Amazon basin in Bolivia, Columbia, Peru and Suriname, but had not been on the river itself. I was looking forward to seeing some amazing wildlife and to learning about the local indigenous cultures. It turned out neither came to fruition. Nonetheless, the week in Amazonas was interesting. Let me say at the outset, though, that the forest itself seems healthy, but the mammalian wildlife has moved far away from the human populations that surround the river and its tributaries.

Manaus is a huge metropolis in the middle of the rainforest. As my flight arrived at 7am and I couldn’t check in until 2pm, I decided to head straight to the Museum of the Amazonas, MUSA. The outdoor site is about a half hour taxi ride from the center of town and costs about R$90. When I got there, they said that I needed to wear other shoes; they had rubber boots for rent for RS10 and socks to buy for the same price. Thus equipped, I was free to wander the paths of the museum’s forest. They have a number of unique buildings with special exhibits, e.g., one for snakes, one for insects, one for fish, one of bromeliads and orchids, and one for butterflies. There is also a section where they have replicated skeletons of a few dinosaurs. At one end there is a large tower overlooking the canopy with platforms at various levels of the forest so that the visitor can get a sense of how the vegetation differs by height. I specifically say vegetation as there were a few birds, but not many, and no other wildlife to be seen. Humans were very evident, however, and the noise level from their presence was at times deafening. After leaving the museum and heading back into town, I stopped at a Sunday morning market near Teatro Amazonas heading down to the port. The stalls sold some tourist items, but mostly it was a market for locals with lots of middle of the street food venues. On the way back to Teatro Amazonas, I passed a little green shop that houses the best bookstore on items related to the Amazon. It was closed until Monday at 4pm, and I planned to go then after a day trip to swim with the pink dolphins the next day. My hotel was around the corner from Teatro Amazonas, and I was glad I chose that location as it really was in the center of things. The Piazza in front of the theater comes alive in the evening with street musicians, eateries, ice cream shops and bars. The feel of the evening’s entertainment changed each night, sometimes the music was more melodious and folksy, at other times more Brazilian samba.

The next morning, I was picked up at the hotel for the “Pink Dolphin Day Tour,” which consisted of swimming with some of the pink dolphins in the Amazon River, passing through the “Meeting of the Waters,” feeding pirarucu, a walk on a boardwalk lined with begging monkeys, and a ‘cultural show’ at an indigenous village. The people on the tour were all Brazilians, with the exception of one Venezuelan woman who was shooting her vlog with pictures of herself the entire time. This tour and the others like it were for tourists, not travelers. They weren’t intended to be educational, but simply entertaining. When we arrived at the place to swim, I got right in and the dolphins came almost immediately to play between and on the side of my legs. It was a strange feeling, but their skin is so soft, and they were so gentle. As soon as the masses of people entered the water, I got out. This was when one of the staff members got a bucket of fish and started teasing the dolphins with the fish. They would rise up to get the food and she would yank it away until the dolphin was pretty high up out of the water. The people in the water next to the dolphins thought this was wonderful, but to me just looked like she was teasing the sea creatures. To get to the next stop, we passed through the “Meeting of the Waters,” which is the official beginning of the Amazon River. The Rio Negro and the sandy Rio Solimões meet and flow alongside each other for six kilometers without mixing as the dark one from Columbia comes through the jungle and doesn’t have the sediment the other does. The Rio Negro flows slower and warmer than its partner from Peru that stems from deep in the Andes. One of the largest freshwater fish is the pirarucu, which is one of the mainstays of Amazonian cuisine. These fish are in a variety of dishes on most restaurant menus throughout the region. The next stop was to feed a few of them that had already been caught and kept in a penned-up area. The large fish, a few meters in length, barely had room to turn around. Next to the feeding area, was a typical artisan’s shop selling local and Chinese made products. The straw hats for sale were all from China. From here, our speedboat took us to the lunch location, which was a large buffet filled with local foods as well as the obligatory beef, chicken, rice and spaghetti noodles. The place was packed with at least 10 separate tour groups all with upwards of 25 people. After lunch, there was a short walk over a wooden boardwalk to an overlook by a large lily pond. The lily pads were over a meter in diameter and supposedly hold up to 14 kg. The best part of this jaunt was that there were monkeys at the side of the path, even if they were begging. It was good to see some wildlife! The last stop was to an indigenous village, where they put on a ‘real’ cultural show for the tourists. I can understand that this is how the tribe needs to make money, but there has to be a better way to do this. The show consisted of perhaps five dances, and at least one where audience participation was expected. While the other dances had perhaps some elements of the real cultural dances, the one with the visitors certainly did not. After they finished our show, the next group arrived, and they repeated the entire show again. This probably went on all afternoon. It was an eye-opening day. It was sad to see how the dolphins are treated, although, they are wild and do live in the river and can leave if they want to, and to see how the indigenous tribe was put on display. This day trip took place in locations west of Manaus. For the jungle trip, I headed 200 km south of the city.

Getting to the jungle lodge where I was going to spend the next four days was an adventure. It entailed a van to a speedboat, then another van, that had to cross two rivers on ferries as the bridges were washed out, and then a final hour plus motorized canoe ride. I was accompanied by three very young Frenchmen who were on their first overseas trip, (I believe they had just graduated secondary school), a young Spanish couple living in Hamburg, and two men in their mid-twenties from Uruguay, although one was working in San Paulo. The lodge we stayed at was on the Lago do Marmori and was run by a local family. Luckily, they had hired a translator, who turned out to be from Venezuela, so again, it was time to practice my Spanish. Come to Brazil and refresh Spanish. Hmmm, hadn’t intended that, but it turned out to be a good thing. When I really couldn’t understand something, the Spanish couple, both of whom had lived in English-speaking countries for a while, as well as the translator could help.

The first evening in the lodge the group split with the three Frenchmen going off on a solo tour for three days, while the rest of us were there for four. Our first excursion was to the other side of the river to see the shorebirds with a stop in the middle of the river for those who wanted to to jump in for a swim. I chose not to play with the piranha or jacaray, a form of biting caiman, and stayed in the boat. In the evening we went jacaray spotting, and we didn’t have far to go for that as one lived right by where the canoes were docked. The next morning, we got up at 5:45 for a sunrise cruise on the lake. It was stunning. After breakfast we went for a walk in the forest and the guide showed how a worm lived in a particular nut and that it was good to eat. The others participated, I’m not partial to wormy delights, so didn’t. The guide also showed how the local people (local Brazilians, who may have learned from the native peoples, but no indigenous tribes live in this area), get glue from a particular sap, make ropes out of the bark of a tree, and use the kapok tree to communicate. At one point he tried to get a poisonous monkey spider to come out of its hole, but it just didn’t want to. It clearly just wanted to be left alone. We could hear howler monkeys in the distance but saw no other wildlife. This was also true over the next few days and subsequent excursions and canoe trips. There simply were no animals to be seen. On the last night, there was a trip to a local family’s house for dinner and the guys in the group spent the night. The house was a simple wood construction that had three rooms, but what was surprising was that they had electricity, internet, a tv and gaming console for the three kids, the oldest was 9. There was, however, no furniture other than beds for the tourists. The meal was good, consisting of rice, spaghetti noodles, chicken and beans, and three of us left after dinner when it was already dark. The ones who stayed went harpooning. After a couple of successful harpoon catches, our group asked how the fish were going to be prepared. Only one of the fish they had been encouraged to harpoon was edible. The harpooning was an event for tourists to wantonly slaughter fish. The guys who unknowingly did this felt terrible about it once they found out. The next morning the guys also told us that the meat from the night before had been left outside and while the dogs at the house ate some of it, almost all of the meat was left untouched by the morning. It wasn’t that we couldn’t see any animals, it was that they simply weren’t there! There were, however, piranhas in the river and we all fished for them. A couple small ones were caught and released, but one large one was kept and served for lunch. The reports came back that it was quite tasty. On the last morning, we went to a local village of about 30 people. There was a school for students up to the sixth grade and two churches, an evangelical as well as a Catholic. The entire region seems to be based in these two forms of Christianity. Students going on after the sixth grade need to take a long boat ride, there is a school boat, to the middle school. For high school, local students must stay in a boarding school in Manaus.

On the way to the lodge, I had noticed the small cattle farms on the side of the river. On the way back, I was able to understand why we didn’t see wildlife. The forest had been cut back along long swaths of the riverfront. That had not stopped the mosquitoes, however. All of us in the group were covered from head to feet in mosquito and chigger bites. The cabanas where we slept were nice, but the lodge is in the jungle and insects and amphibians get in. Frogs lived in the toilets, and I had four over thumb sized cockroaches in my room. I’m convinced that insects are going to take over the planet after we’ve destroyed it.

For the last day in the Amazonas, I wanted to go north of Manaus, and headed on another group tour to Presidemte Figueiredo. This is a very lush area and quite different from the much drier forest around Lago do Marmora. After about a two-hour drive, we came to Caverna do Maroaga. This entailed a walk through the woods to a couple of caves where there was enough water to wade it. It was a beautiful area. After that we headed to lunch at Parque do Urubui, a local park on a river with cascading waters. The highlight of the day, however, was the Cachoeira da Iraceme waterfalls. We were able to sit under the falls, swim in the basin in front of it and lie in the sula-like pools of water that flowed over the rocks. It was absolutely delightful. This tour was well worth it, and it would have been better to only spend three days in the jungle and two here, but I didn’t know that ahead of time.

My time in the Amazonas came to an end. It was an interesting, partially disappointing, but always educational trip. Now I’m curious to see if there will be any wildlife in Chapada Diamantina National Park, which is the next leg of this journey.

A Week in Suriname

krodin — Mon, 21 Aug 2023 18:18:00 GMT

A Week in Suriname

Entering Suriname was supposed to be easy as long as one had proof of a yellow fever vaccine. The website said that there was no visa necessary for EU or USA citizens, but that an entry form did need to be filled out. The website said this could be done either at the KLM airport before the flight or at the airport upon landing in Paramaribo. As I couldn’t get the computer system to work for me prior to the flight, and no one knew what I was talking about in Amsterdam, I thought I’d just get it upon landing. Wrong. There was no one at the desk, just a sign where a person should have been with a QR code that sent me to a visa application website. This naturally, also didn’t work. After waiting for a while in the lengthy passport control line, I decided to go to the back of the line and see if I couldn’t find anyone in any of the back offices. I couldn’t, but finally an MP came by, and I was able to explain the situation to him. He then took me into one of the offices and filled out some paperwork and gave me the address of a place I was to go to on Tuesday after I had received an email from the visa folks. I was then able to simply walk through passport control avoiding the rest of the long line to the baggage claim area. The email never did arrive, but I duly went to the place I was told to go, only to be told that I first had to go to the Foreign Ministry office, then to the Central Bank, then back to the Foreign Ministry with the proof I had paid the $25 Entry Free, and only after I’d gotten the stamp from the Foreign Ministry could I go back to where I started for the passport stamp. I really don’t know why the system didn’t work for me – the airlines systems aren’t working for me either – because most of the other passengers had a printout with the voucher form. I guess I was just supposed to get a tour of various agencies in Paramaribo that I would normally not have sought out.

The history of Suriname is fascinating. The first settlement was in 1651 when about 100 Englishmen from Barbados came to establish plantation settlements along the coast. The Dutch came a while afterwards and the two countries agreed on an exchange, the Netherlands would give up New Amsterdam in the colonies (i.e., New York) to the British, and the British would give up Suriname to the Dutch. The colonial legacy remains alive and well in the country as is evidenced in Paramaribo and the attitude and life-styles of the people in the interior.

Luckily, the time taken running around didn’t impact any sightseeing in Paramaribo as on the city center side of the river there are only two tourist attractions, the old Dutch Colonial buildings, which I had to walk by on my way to the various agencies, and Fort Zeelandia, with Suriname’s very small museum. The museum briefly showcases the history of the country and has a few ethnographic exhibits. It also has perhaps the nicest café in the city, right behind the old wall overlooking the river. One doesn’t come to Suriname for the capital city, however, but for its extensive rainforest, and I was lucky to have been able to visit two very different sites, Fredberg near the Saramacca Creek and Anaula on the Upper Suriname River.

I booked the trip to Fredberg while still in Austria with All Suriname Tours. I chose the two day one night option as I had originally planned on flying to Guyana on Tuesday, but that was cancelled due to the entry fee issue as well as flight problems. It turned out this was the better option for me anyway. The tour started at 6:45 am from the Fredberg agency office, which was about a 25-minute walk from my hotel. There were two young couples going in the van with me. Two Dutch sisters, who had family in Suriname, and their boyfriends. This was my first introduction to what turned out to be a social phenomenon – it seems everyone in Suriname has relatives in the Netherlands, and everyone I met I on the two tours was either Dutch with Surinamese roots and relatives or was Surinamese. & while everyone could speak English, we were in a Dutch speaking country, and they were going to speak their language.

The way to Fredberg entailed first a van ride, with a stop for a toilet break after about two and a half hours, and a pickup of other visitors from a van coming from Brownsberg, then a change of vehicles as the van would never make it through the jeep tracks. The 4x4 vehicles were also vans and not real jeeps and this proved to be their downfall on the return the next day. The monsoons had stopped around 10 days before, but the road was still filled with very deep mud holes that the ‘jeeps’ had massive trouble getting through. After about 4 hours we reached basecamp at Zintete on the Saramacca Creek. This section is a sidearm of the Saramacca River, and is above where the goldmining is taking place and polluting the river downstream. Guests were swimming and tubing in the muddy brown water and were clearly enjoying themselves. We were only in basecamp for lunch, which was rice, chicken, fish, beans and watermelon. This turned out to be the basic meal both at Fredberg and at Anaula. After lunch, we climbed back into the jeepvans for about a 30 + minute ride to where the trail to Fred’s hill began. We were now a group of ca. 20 people, who were happy to be there and were talking amongst each other (all in Dutch) in fairly loud voices. As I couldn’t participate in the conversation and had come to the region to listen to the sounds and sights of the forest, I hiked ahead, waiting for directions at the forks, then continuing on alone. The path followed two jeep tracks to begin with, then entered the forest on a foot path. During lunch, I had asked the guide if there were indigenous people living in the area and was told that people hadn’t inhabited this area in known memory. I had also asked if we needed to bushwack during the hike and was informed that we would be following a well-trodden path. Given this information, I figured I could simply go ahead and follow the path at my rate and immerse myself in the flora and fauna of central Suriname. Fredberg is only 280m high and the path is only 4km, but the guides said the hike would take between 3-4 hours. Somehow this didn’t make sense to me, but it did take the others that long to make it up. There were a couple of steep places with ropes for assistance and one short ladder, and one river crossing on logs (I didn’t trust my balance on the log and decided to wade across instead), but otherwise it was a regular easy to follow path through the forest. The vegetation was so dense that it was impossible to spot the birds who were singing all around me. The songs were like vibrations massaging the way uphill away from the noise of the city and airports of the previous few days. It was very hot and sticky, but the mosquitoes weren’t too bad. At the creek crossing, a lone figure appeared behind me. It turned out he was the cook and spoke excellent English. I now had a private guide for the rest of the path. We walked in silence until he saw something of interest and only then did we speak in whispers. He was able to point out the howler and spider monkeys that I had heard but hadn’t been able to locate. He also alerted me to a toxic leaf frog that was right in the middle of the path. When we arrived at the top, I found that sleeping in hammocks under the stars as advertised meant sleeping in hammocks strung side by side in a large tent. The shower consisted of a very welcomed bucket filled with rainwater.

The top of the hill is a rock slap, with a fairly steep angle. The staff have made a couple of benches for sitting and there was evidence of a firepit, although we didn’t use it. The view from the top is worth the climb. It seems like the rainforest goes on forever. The sunsets and sunrises from here are spectacular and are accompanied with a chorus of howler, spider, squirrel monkeys and infinite bird and insect melodies. Suriname is over 90% forest and most of that untouched. The government, which is notably incredibly corrupt, gives out logging permits to foreign investors, mostly Chinese, but officially they are only allowed to harvest for a three-year period and only 10% of the land they have contracted for. It doesn’t seem that anyone is controlling this, however.

After breakfast the next day, one family of guests headed down early as they had a connection to another tour that they needed to make. I waited a little bit, sitting on top of the rock slab enjoying the stillness, before I headed down on my own as I was concerned that I might now hold up the others as my knees aren’t the greatest going downhill and the rest of the group was no older than 35 with good knees. This turned out to be another delightful silent walk in woods, and I am so glad that Fredberg staff were not concerned about my taking off on my own. I waited for the others and the jeepvan at the pickup point and waited and waited. I heard a scurrying sound in the leaves just off to where I was sitting and thought it was just another of the many lizards, but when I looked at it, it was a brown snake – I don’t know what kind – we looked at each other, and he turned around to slither off and I grabbed my bag and went to the other side of the road. The van finally arrived with the husband of one of the guests and his ornithologist guide, who was functioning also as the driver. While we waited, he pointed out a beautiful green backed trogon, that contrary to its name really has a blue back and yellow front. When the group finally arrived, we loaded up the van and headed back to basecamp. After lunch and a wade in the Creek, the group going back to Paramaribo loaded into a jeepvan, again driven by the Sean, the ornithologist and not a Fredberg staff member. It turns out one van broke down the day before, and the one carrying the group ahead of us on the mountain had also broken down and they now didn’t have enough staff to handle the situation. This problem was compounded by the fact that there was no cell reception at basecamp, only at the very top of the mountain. The two sites couldn’t communicate with each other and there was no way to talk to basecamp. IF someone had been hurt, this could have led to a disaster. Sean did an excellent job negotiating the van through the swampy muddy gooey sinkhole-like sections of the ‘road’ but the vehicle was clearly struggling through them. For safety’s sake, he did make us get out and walk across a dilapidated bridge that we had crossed in the vehicle the day before. We made it to the asphalted main road before the car really started to overheat. We stopped twice to let the engine cool down, but by the third time, it was clear the vehicle was not going anywhere, and we were still a good two- two and half hours away from Paramaribo. Sean called a number of people before finally finding someone who could come and pick us up. He would then stay with the van for the tow truck. This went well beyond the call of duty, as he now had to upfront the costs for the towing etc. and he was only driving as a favor to the company as they were short staffed. The company was now down three vehicles in the height of the tourist season with little back up. I don’t know how they handled it. We finally arrived back in the city ca. 10pm. The two-day trip to Fredberg turned out to be a real adventure.

The next inland tour I took was to Anaula Nature Resort. I chose it simply because it was the only one that still had space, so had no clue what to expect and after Fredberg, my expectations were suitably low. What a delight to have the guide and manager be able to explain everything to me in a language I could understand. The pickup was directly from the hotel in a van where there were individual air conditioning vents so that they could be regulated according to personal preference. This may seem like a complete luxury, but it was very welcomed as some people like it much colder than others. It took about three hours to get to Ajoni, where we boarded a motorized canoe for about an hour’s ride on the Upper Suriname River to the resort. The river was quite calm and there were only a few ripples that would have been rapids had the water been higher. As it was the dry season, the river was more than a couple of meters below the settlements. According to our guide, Umberto, we were lucky that we weren’t there in April when a major storm came through devastating the shoreline and raising the water level over seven meters thereby flooding many of settlements. No one had ever seen the river that high before; another toll from the changing climate patterns.

After checking into the cabanas, each group had their own, and lunch, we got back into the dugout canoes for a very quick, just around the corner, ride to the Sula for a water massage. The sula is a series of rocks in the river and as the water migrates around them if forms a place where when one sits just right, it massages the back and neck. There is also a place that acts as a natural waterslide and Umberto was at the end waiting to catch everyone who went through it so that they didn’t get pulled further downriver. The kids – and the adults- thoroughly enjoyed the time there. After the Sula, there was a snack back at the resort and then an evening caiman spotting excursion, again on the boat. Umberto was a trained tracker and could locate them through their eyes even across the river. The first day ended with dinner and a discussion of the events planned for the next day.

Day two started after breakfast with a boat trip to one of the local villages. The village had a traditional section and a Christian section. There was to me no discernable difference in the construction of the houses, other than some had the traditional roofs and others had the newer metal ones, but there were sacred spaces in the traditional village, and a church in the Christian section. The meeting house was for all the people. The villages along this section of the river belong to the maroon tribes. The ancestors of the maroons escaped from plantations in the 1700 and early 1800s. In 1762, the maroons along the Upper Suriname River negotiated their freedom, two years after some of the clans along the Saramacca River. There was a catch to their freedom, however. Only those who were in the villages at that time were permitted to be free. Any runaway slave who sought sanctuary with them had to be turned back and the village would get paid for the returned slave. A fairly nefarious arrangement. Slavery was officially abolished in Suriname in 1863, but those still on the plantations had to remain there for another ten years working for a pittance, and so that the plantation owners weren’t negatively affected, the government gave the owners the equivalent of $3,500 per freed slave – while the workers were still working, and they received nothing from the government. It was about this time that the first Indian workers came to replace the maroons, followed by the Javanese. Chinese workers were brought over in the 1860s. There are six maroon tribes, comprising different clans and each clan has a number of villages. The social structure is matriarchal, i.e., the mother’s brother teaches her son a trade not the father, and the women live together, the father elsewhere. The grandmother -or great-grandmother- is the focal point for the family. There is a chieftain for all the tribes, and he is supported by clan captains and secretaries. Decisions are made by a council of these individuals, with the final say resting with the chieftain. The positions are held for life. The local traditional religion is called Wirti, which is a combination of African spirit religions and ancestor worship. Some scholars say that Wirti is only on the coast, but Umberto said that this religion is also practiced on the Upper Suriname River along with Christianity. It was an educational tour through the village. Photography wasn’t permitted other than for the boys holding various species of parrots wanting their picture taken with the bird so that they could then charge for it. They also had parrots in cages for sale. That this latter is completely illegal didn’t seem to bother them.

After lunch, there was a break in the scheduled activities until 16:30, so I headed down to a corner of the property with a staircase down to the river where there was a small inlet. It was a perfect swimming hole in the middle of the rainforest. The afternoon concluded with a forest walk during which Umberto explained about the traditional uses of some of the plants along the path and pointed out some of the squirrel monkeys swinging in the canopy. The day ended with a cultural show with modified traditional dances performed by people from the village we’d been at in the morning. The last day included another trip to the sula prior to departing after lunch for the trip back to Paramaribo. The schedule makes this stay sound like a holiday camp, but it wasn’t like that. It was completely refreshing. The river was beautiful, and the forest filled with nature’s sounds. It was a very good trip.

In the end, I had two very different experiences with the tours, and each offered insights into the land and people that complemented each other. At first I was sorry I didn’t get to Guyana, but in the end, the week in Suriname was perfect the way it was.

Tengboche and Heli Flight videos

krodin — Mon, 26 Dec 2022 05:57:00 GMT

Here are the links to two videos from my October 2022 trek to Tengboche and then a helicopter flightfrom Tengboche to Kala Patar and back to Everest View Lodge. The heli video is intended for friends to at least virtually go on the ride with me .

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZJaOcSEHzA&t=188s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPyQ-zJla5s

Thiruvanananthapuram Temples and concluding thoughts

krodin — Wed, 14 Dec 2022 21:56:00 GMT

Temples & Beach: Thiruvananthapuram & Kovalam

I had a hotel booked on the beach in Kovalam for the last couple of nights and the drive went through Thiruvananthapuram, so I stopped at a couple of the temples before heading further south. The first was the famous Padmananbha Swami Temple, which has a large ornately carved 100 ft. tall Kerala-Dravidian Style gateway. It is dedicated to Lord Anantha, one of Lord Vishnu’s avatars and the city’s name means “Land of Lord Ananthatha.” The temple was closed to visitors and only Hindis are supposedly allowed in, so I just got a couple of photos from the outside. I had to stay fairly far away as the guards don’t let anyone within 100 feet of the place. The carved figures in what I believe is sandstone are amazing. When I came back with a guide the following day, I learned that the temple is famous not only for its architecture but also for its history. The first recorded mention of the temple is from the 9^th C, with further records from the 15^th. It was renovated in the mid-18^th and major work was undertaken by King Anizham Thirunal Marthanda Varma who was one of the most powerful rulers of the region. He and his successors collected tribute in addition to taxes from worshipers, his people, additionally other kings and traders made substantial donations to the temple. The royal family kept the gold, silver, coins, and jewels etc. in the temple and it eventually became the wealthiest temple in the world. In the late 20^th C, four of the six known vaults were opened, and they did in fact hold hundreds of millions of dollars worth of treasure. It's no wonder the guards didn’t let me get any closer.

The next temple was the almost as famous Attakal Bhagavathy Temple, which is dedicated the Goddess of that name. The website states:

The story goes that the Goddess Bhagavathy revealed herself to a fervent devotee of a notable family viz. Mulluveettil family. It is said that one evening a young girl appeared before the head of the family while he was performing his oblations in the Killi river and requested him to help her cross the river. Impressed by her charismatic demeanour, the- old man bent before her with awe and reverence and not only helped her cross the river but took her to his house nearby. Strangely enough, while the household members were amidst preparations for intending a warm welcome to the young girl, she vanished. That very night she appeared as an icon before the old man in his dream and demanded that he should establish an abode for her in the nearby sacred ground of shrubs and herbs (kavu), at a consecrated spot marked by three lines. The next morning the old man went to the spot revealed to him in the dream and to his great surprise he did find three marks indented on the ground.

He lost no time in erecting a temple on this consecrated spot to house the Goddess. Many years later, the building was renovated by the local devotees. They also installed a beautiful and majestic icon of the Deity with four arms, bearing weapons of destruction in each, like spear, sword, shield etc. The consecration ceremony of this Exalted Being was performed by no less a person than the high priest of the Badarinath Temple.

Another story relates: Attukal Bhagavathy is supposed to be the divinised form of "Kannaki", the famous heroine of Chilappatikaram, the sangham work of Tamil Literature written by ilamkovadikal. After the destruction of the ancient city of Madurai, Kannaki left that city and reached Kerala via Kanyakumari and on her way to Kodungalloor took a sojourn at Attukal. The hymns of the "Thottampattu ) sung during the annual temple festival, are based on the story of Kannaki. Moreover, architectural depictions of Goddess Kannaki seen on the Gopuram (entrance gate) temple substantiate this mythology.

The Gopuram brings the legends to light as it features brightly painted figures of various gods and goddesses in scenes from the epics and puranas. It was difficult to really see the scenes, although the individual figures were visible, as the tower was blocked by a metal roof shielding worshipers from the weather, but obstructing a view of the storyline. There were workers in the temple and the gate was open, so I walked in and was quickly able to see the idol of the Goddess before a guard came yelling at me to get out. The temple was supposed to be closed. Oh well, I did go back with the guide the next day and that is when I learned about the legends. The guide, Navreen, was excellent and I’m glad he accompanied me to the other temples.

The next day we started out back at Padmanabha Swami Temple and then walked over to the Ganapathy Temple but weren’t allowed in as only Hindis are permitted to visit the deity. We had better luck at the Chamunda Temple, Shree Udiyanoor Devi Temple and Vellayani Devi Temples, all of which have incredibly ornate and vivid Gopurams. People pray to the differing forms of the Goddess based on what that particular idol represents. In the Chamunda Temple, she is known to help with career advancement, help with education and studies, and with the arts. In the Udiyanoor Devi Temple they ask the Goddess Bhadrakali for help with family and health. In Vellayani the same Goddess is honored and asked for protection against all evil and suffering. The legends of the origins of these temples can be found on the temple websites and are copied at the end of this blog.

The last temple we visited was the famous Pazhanchira Devi Temple, which was first built in the 13^th C.. It was closed, so I could only walk around, but the outside was something to behold. The figures that had just been on the Gopurams in the other temples, were now covering the entire structure. The high relief and 3-D images lived and acted on the sides of the temple. They are supposed to help the worshiper stay on the path of Dharma “by understanding and transforming oneself” through contemplation of the figures and what they represent. (https://www.ishtadevata.com/temple/sree-pazhanchira-devi-temple-manacaud-thiruvananthapuram/)

In the courtyard was the large sacred tree, this time with cradles hanging from its branches. The cradles had little doll figures in them as women who want children come and pray to the goddess for fertility. There is also a Naga temple and people with eye and skin diseases pray at that shrine as well as to the Goddess. As with the Attakal Bhagavathy Temple, there was a metal roof blocking a clear view of the temple and Gopuram, so I wasn’t able to get the entire visual effect, but what I was able to see was an artistic wonder. On the side, above the metal, the top of the dome was partially visible. There was a monster-like looking creature holding two very European Renaissance looking women figures, and I couldn’t figure out what that was supposed to represent. Navreen didn’t know either, so he asked one of the priests who was having instant coffee by the entrance. He said that the women were supposed to be the Goddess Lakshmi and the monster, wasn’t that but the wishes of the people who want to keep her near them so that she will bring them good fortune. I put a photo in the gallery, and you can see what you think. When we were in the Attakal Bhagavathy Devi Temple, there were a number of independent wooden statues of devis holding various objects and I wasn’t sure what they represented, so again I asked. Neither Navreen nor the temple priests could answer that question though, and as photography wasn’t permitted, I wasn’t able to do an internet search. It’s unfortunate because the artworks are placed in the temples for a specific reason and that reason gets lost over time when there is no written record or oral history.

The last stop of the last full day in Kerala was to the Vizhinjam Rock Cut Temple. These 8^th C carvings are on what is really just a large granite rock with a cavern in which a figure of Dakshinamurthy is placed in the center and as guardians in unfinished low relief Tripurantakara on the left and Shiva Nataraja and Parvati on the right. This is reputed to be one of the earliest rock cut temples in Kerala. When we were there a fresh garland of white blossoms had been placed on Dakshinamurthy. People obviously still use the rock for puja worship.

Not too far from the rock shrine, is a 13^th C temple that is dedicated to Parasurama, Brahma and Shiva. This is one of only two temples in India that are dedicated to Brahma. It was closed, so I couldn’t get in and the view from the outside wasn’t inspiring, which is why there are no photos of if in the gallery.

The hotel I stayed at was directly on Kovalam Beach, which is a soft gold and black pebble-free sandy beach. It is divided by a rock outcrop, but there is a path behind a small park that connects the two sections. The weather wasn’t conducive to swimming as it was extremely windy, and the waves were too high. Signs were posted that said swimming was prohibited, and I saw lifeguards chasing a couple of kids out of the water. People were nonetheless allowed to lie right by the shoreline and let the waves roll over them as a means to cool off. Even the wind didn’t stop the humidity. It was in the mid-90sF (ca. 37-38 C) with 90% humidity. A romp in the sea was very tempting despite the warnings.

I learned from Navreen that Kovalam is about to change. The beautiful beaches will soon have a new neighbor. The largest port in Asia is planned just on the other side of the last rock outcrop. It is supposed to bring jobs that will help the economy, but it will definitely ruin the now pristine shoreline. The clean soft sandy beaches backed by lush rainforest vegetation are famous, and they deserve their reputation.

And so, this Asian Pilgrimage Adventure came to and end. It began in northern India and ended in the southern part of the country. The last day between flights was spent in Delhi at the National Museum and the Lakshmi Temple, where photography is prohibited as it was inside most of the other temples. During the trip I was able to visit various kinds of Hindu, Buddhist, Christian, and Muslim shrines and sacred places. Photos of many of them are in the galleries. The trip also had me trekking the high Himalayas to snorkeling in the sea. I went from freezing in the mountains to roasting on the seashore and in some of the major cities, e.g. Manila. I saw places of pristine natural beauty and human made squalor. We inhabit a phenomenally diverse planet, and it should be respected and protected. If there was one lesson that came across loud and clear was the statement from the Kerala spice plantation owner who said his success depends on the careful attendance to enhancing a harmonious diversity of vegetation. My perennial hope is that travel can foster respect for and enhance a harmonious diversity of cultures and protection for the natural world which we jointly inhabit.

I welcome comments.

Thiruvananthapuram Sree Udiyanoor and Vellayani Temples mythology from the websites:

Sree Udiyanoor Devi Temple https://sreeudiyannoordevi.in/about.html

The origin of the temple is as follows.There is a devotee named Neelakandan belonging to Udiyanoor family in Vattiyoorkonam,Thiruvananthapuram. Later he shifted his house to Maruthankuzhi.He completed his education under “Kesarapurathu Aasan” belonging to Pallichandra family. At that time, his family goddess Sri Bhadrakali came to his dream. She said that he will get an idol from the flood water, during the rainy season from the Killi river and he must take it and worship that idol. The same thing happened during the rainy season. Neelakandan and his friends went to see the flood .

By seeing the idol, he jumped into the water. He captured the idol,but he and the idol disappeared into the flood.Everybody thought that he was dead.By knowing this incident Kesavapurathu Aasan came to the place and committed pooja with red flowers.He returned back to home after 7 days by surprising everyone. He kept the idol in a box made of jack tree covered with dhothis and silk. He made archana with flowers. He gave tender coconut,bananas and rice as nivedhyam to devi.Nelakandan’s mother made the “Ada” and dedicated it to devi.Later this “Ada” became famous as Udiyanoor Ada.With the advice of his mother and Guru,the poojas are done by Neelakandan.

No soon later,the idol is installed on a stone(Kallara)near his house.Later,Neelakandan became a famous moth because of the believes in devi. He got the super natural power from devi. Then after he became famous as Sri Neelakanda paramahamsasadguru. The place where he worshiped with the idol is now known as “Mudipura”. At that time Neelakandan and his mother moved his family house to Vattiyoorkkonam. For the poojas, he came to the temple from Vattiyoorkkonam. Later Sree Neelakandaparamahamsar became the famouse moth and Yogeeswaran.After fulfilling his ambition in life,he dedicated his life to devi. https://sreeudiyannoordevi.in/about.html

Vellayani Devi

https://www.ishtadevata.com/temple/major-vellayani-devi-temple-vellayani-thiruvananthapuram

Vellayani Devi’s story: Goddess Bhadrakali -The history says that Kelan Kulashekhara, a blacksmith, saw a frog with divine powers near the lake. He caught the frog and brought it to the Nair chieftains of the locality. Kulashekhara, then, constructed the Thiru mudi (idol) in which the divine spirit is stored. From then on, the right to perform the rituals is held by the Nair families. The priest of the temple also belongs to the blacksmith family.

Another part of the story says that Darika, a demon who received a boon from Lord Brahma went on to conquer the world by defeating the King of gods, Indra, with his immense power. His intolerable atrocities made the divine Sage Narada to request Lord Shiva to destroy Darika. Lord Shiva opened the Third Eye and created the ferocious Kali to destroy Darika who had received a boon that he can’t be killed by any human living in any of the fourteen worlds of the Hindu Mythology. Goddess Kali was a woman who was given birth by a divine power. Kali, the most ferocious form of Lord Shiva’s third eye did not stop even after killing the demon. She went on to kill all the human beings for whom Darika was killed. No God could stop her. Kali was finally calmed down after Lord Shiva, her creator, surrendered to her.

Kerala 1: Kochi to Alleppey

krodin — Sun, 11 Dec 2022 01:44:00 GMT

Kerala

Kerala has long held a certain fascination for me. The combination of saltwater sea, freshwater Backwaters, Western Ghats, and lush rainforests evoked a mystical magical world in my imagination, and I thought it would be a fitting place to end this Asian Pilgrimage tour as the state tourist bureau’s nickname for the region is “God’s Own Country.” Pilgrimages are not just to human made sites, but also natural ones, like the hike in Sagarmatha National Park. What I found was perhaps not exactly God’s country, but rather a region where differing religious faiths live in harmony as neighbors and for the most part with the natural world.

The trip started in Kochi, and the first day was spent exploring the former Fort Kochi area. The actual fort no longer exists, but some of the walls are still standing and now have beautifully painted murals on them. The fort was originally built by the Portuguese who came in 1503, but they weren’t the first foreigners to land in the harbor. That honor probably goes to the Arab and Chinese traders from the 9^th C onwards, who came looking for the region’s spices. The Portuguese, however, didn’t just trade and leave, they established a colony and ruled alongside the local royal family until the Dutch came at the end of the 16^th C. The Dutch pushed the Portuguese north towards Goa and took over the Fort and the relations with the local royal families, of which there were three major ones in what is today the state of Kerala. The Dutch ruled until the British took over at the end of the 18^th C, although the official treaty wasn’t signed until 1814. The British, however, never completely ruled Kochi as it remained a kingdom until 1956 when the state of Kerala was formed by uniting the native kingdoms of Travancore, Kochi, and British Malabar. The three Western nations did leave their distinct marks on Kochi’s culture, though, so it is now a blend of the earlier indigenous traditions, early Syrian Orthodox Christianity (St. Thomas was supposed to have landed here and preached the Good Word in the 1^st C) as well as Roman, Protestant and Anglican forms of Christianity brought by the European overlords. The first Western style church was built in the 16thC by Franciscan missionaries and is dedicated to St. Francis. The building’s history encompasses that of the various eras as it was first a Roman Catholic, then Dutch Protestant and finally an Anglican church, which it remains today. At one time it housed the remains of Vasco da Gama and Magellan, both who died here. Magellan lived in the house immediately behind the church and the Dutch East India Company had their Indian headquarters in the building next door. The second Western style church, Sta. Cruz Cathedral Basilica, was first constructed in 1558. It was destroyed in the wars with the Dutch, who used it to store weapons. The British completed the destruction. It was only in the late 19^th C that the current church came into existence following its original Roman Catholic tradition. Prior to the Western Churches, Christians in the area worshiped in structures similar to the Hindu temples that have their own distinctly southern Indian Dravidian style. Mosques were also built from around the 8^th C onwards. The Paradisi synagogue was built in 1608 and is located at the entrance to Jewtown, near the Royal Palace. Jews had been trading in the region well before the Portuguese, but it seems the first real community was only developed after the Iberians arrived. They were encouraged to come by the Royal family as they were known to be good traders. The palace itself is better known today as the Dutch Museum. The synagogue and clocktower can be seen behind the Krishna temple from the palace windows. The synagogue is currently undergoing renovations and will be back open as a museum after they are completed. The Jewish community has left Fort Kochi and there are only two elderly people left of the tens of thousands who had once made this area their home.

The palace’s official name is the Mattancherry Palace Museum. It was built ca. 1555 by the Portuguese and gifted to the local ruler, Vira Kaerala Varmato, make amends for plundering a nearby temple. From that time until the establishment of the state of Kerala, it served as the seat of royal government and the home of the royal family. Around 1665 the Dutch repaired it, which is why the current name. Near the back of the building near the central courtyard is the temple to the tutelary deity of the royal family – Pazhayannur Bhagavathi. There are two more temples on site dedicated to Lord Krishna and Siva respectively. The palace is a blend of European and local architectural ideas. The most famous aspect of the building is on the second floor. Mural paintings depicting scenes from the Ramayana, the puranic legends connected with Siva, Vishnu, Krishna, Durga etc. , and a local origin legend cover nearly 300 sq. m.. Unfortunately, they weren’t allowed to be photographed.

According to a plaque in the palace, the local legend relates that “Parasurama, one of the avatars of Lord Vishnu, was doing penance in Gokarna. The Brahmin priests requested Parashurama to create a land for them to settle. After getting the blessings of Varuna and Bjumidevi, Parashurama flung his battle axe over the waters and it came to rest in what is now Kanyakumari. The waters receded and a narrow strip of land emerged from Gokarna in the north and Kanykumari in the South to create the land of Kerala, also known as “Parashuramakshetra’ (or the land of Parashurama).”

Another versions states that: “According to Keralamahatmyam (44^th Adhyaya chapter) King Vishravanana’s daughter Bala told Parashurama that she needed a land with her own name for her home. Parashurama, fulfilling her wish, created a land from sea and called it Kochi. Lord Parashurama promoted this land and invited people of all religions, castes and creeds to settle here.” So in this sense, I guess it truly is “God’s Own Country.”

Before Hinduism became prevalent the people of the Kochi kingdom, the larger region, and most of Southern India, practiced ancient Dravidian rites of animal and spirit worship. Several forms of animal gods like Pashupati and spirit gods like Yakshi or Devi were common deities of worship. By the 3^rd or 4^th C, there was a blending of the indigenous traditions with the Hindu pantheon. For example, Pashupati was assimilated with Lord Shiva, and Devi or Shakti – the symbol of the Mother Goddess of the Dravidian cultures - was absorbed as the universal female deity and consort of Shiva, Parvati, in one of her numerous forms. The Kochi kings mainly worshipped Bhagavathy (the Goddess) as their Paradevata, main deity, as well as Sree Poonathrayeesh (Vishnu in Santana Gopala form). Shiva, Krishna, Mahalakshmi and Ganesha were also popular deities. Tribal gods and goddess forms survived in worship rituals as lower gods, specifically in Bhadrakali and Durga temples. A few were also absorbed as children of the higher gods, like Ayyappa, who became considered the son of Vishnu and Shiva, or Muruggan who was incorporated into the family of Shiva and Parvati.

Ayyappa is an interesting figure. I’d not heard of him before, and the coupling of Shiva and Vishnu in his/her Mohini form was also new to me. Ayyappa, however, is perhaps the most popular god in the region and thousands of people make the arduous pilgrimage to his temple in the hills, which can only be reached by a reputed to be steep climb of about 4-5 hours. In order to prepare for the pilgrimage, one is supposed to fast for 41 days and not have any evil, lustful or greedy thoughts – much less actions – for that amount of time as well. I’m not sure that all the barefoot pilgrims I saw wearing black cloth had actually successfully completed the official preparation, but they did seem intent on showing their devotion to the deity.

The Kochi royal family was somewhat unique in that they practiced marumakandayam (nephew + inheritance/gift) a matrilineal system followed by certain castes in Kerala. It was one of the few traditional systems that gave women some liberty, and the right to property. Again, according to descriptions in the museum, “In the matrilinear system, the family lived together in a Tharavadu or the family house, which comprised a mother, her brothers and younger sisters and her children. The oldest male member was known as the Karanavar and was the head of the household and managed the family estate. Lineage was traced through the mother and the children ‘belonged to the mother’s family. All family property was jointly owned. In social anthropology, Marumakkathayam is best described as Matrilocal Residence where a woman even after marriage resides with her maternal family. The particular status and privileges accorded to women created a social structure where there was no gender bias towards male children. Female offspring were considered good fortune and their birth a symbol of prosperity. They enjoyed the freedom and protection of their own family and kin group. When they visited their husband’s homes they were treated as special guests according to the status of the husband. When the male head of the household died, the lineage went to the eldest woman’s nephew and not her son. In the modern era Marumakkattayam was increasingly seen as an undesirable remnant of a feudal past and discontented groups including Nayar men sought to bring reform. In 1920, 1925, and 1933 laws came into effect that prohibited polygamy, installed formal marriage, and recognized land as formal property that could be inherited. The husband as the wife’s guardian undid the concept of Marumakklattayam. While the system may not be adhered to legally, it is still evidenced the social structure and cultural practices of modern day royal family members and Nayas. The Tharavadu remains the focus for family members. Even today, most children carry their mother’s name. It was only after 1900 that the royal family was allowed to hold personal property.

Until the 1920s, under the Marumakkattayam practice, the most sought after partner for a royal lady was a Namboothiri Brahmin. These alliances were sought across case lines, so that the father of the King is a Brahmin. By the 1920s royal women attended schools and became teachers. Many also became Sanskrit scholars and poets.”

The palace is near the shoreline, but the waterfront by Fort Kochi is not inviting. The canals and river are continually dredged to ensure safe passage for the ships and what comes up from the dredging stinks. That doesn’t stop locals from walking along the boardwalk, but I didn’t see anyone attempting to get into what looked like pretty polluted water.

From Kochi I made my way up through some of the Western Ghats to Thekkady to get to Periyar Tiger Reserve. On the drive, I was astounded by the number of new very large houses that lined the road. They looked like villas in Florida or Southern California and not anything like I had seen elsewhere during my many trips to India. I couldn’t imagine where people were getting the money to build them, until I was told that it was with the funds earned in Saudi and Kuwait. The men go off to work, basically as slave labor, for a number of years and send the majority of the money home so that they can purchase land and build the houses. That also explained why there were also a number of unfinished and seemingly abandoned structures. Covid took a toll on this enterprise as well. As the car moved up the hills the vegetation changed from rice paddies to rubber plantations to pineapple fields to coffee and tea plantations covering the entire hillsides and finally to spice orchards. I stopped in for a tour of one of the spice places. It was fascinating to learn about how the family who owned the land had been growing and harvesting spices for food and medicinal purposes for over four hundred years. My tour guide at the site showed me how they can tell when each plant is ready to be harvested and demonstrated how everything is still done by hand. He insisted that the success of their business is based in having a complete ecosystem where the plants work in harmony with each other. Some need shade, some need light, some need the nutrition from the seeds or leaves of the other and some work as natural protectors against invasive insects or other plants. It is important to get the balance right, but when it is, then all the plants blossom. There is a lesson for all of us here, I think.

This wasn’t the case with the two elephants that were working next door. They were being used for 10-15 minute rides through the brush and had a chain on the right foreleg and around their neck. It nearly broke my heart to see them. Domestic tourists stood with them to get their photos taken, much the way we did in Thailand, but these elephants had to perform a particular pose for the camera and the mahout had a stick prodding a very tender area of the elephant’s foot to keep him in place. When I mentioned that I was upset by what I saw, I was told that they were born in captivity and never knew any other kind of life, as if that was supposed to make me feel better. In the end, to appease me, they brought me some bananas so that I could feed them. It didn’t help much, but at least they got a small snack out of it. I later learned that elephant logging is now illegal in India, and there is a law that is supposed to go into effect sometime next year to stop the elephant rides. I was feeding the elephants while I was waiting for the jeep to take me to the Tiger Reserve. The Tiger Reserve is quite large, and the jeep trails very bouncy. Unfortunately, I didn’t see one, nor did I see any of the wild elephants the Periyar National Park is famous for, but I did see a wild buffalo herd in the distance and a beautiful kingfisher bird that the guide pointed out.

The next day it was back down the hills to Kamarakom and Vembanad Lake. On the way, there were some very large Roman Catholic and Syrian Orthodox Churches and lots of temples to Shiva, Bhagawathy/Devi, Ayyappa and Vishnu along with clusters of mosques. It seems there are primarily Hindus, Christians and Muslims in Kerala, no Jains, Sikhs, Buddhist or Jews – other than the two remaining elders in Fort Kochi.

The distances between places don’t look like much; for example, it was only about 150 km between Thekkady and Kamarakom, but it took almost five hours. The drive was generally about 25-30 km per hour, which threw my original plan out the window. I did have time to visit the Kamarakom Bird Sanctuary in the afternoon for a brief 3.5km walk through the trees and overgrown vines along backwater canals. There weren’t many birds that I could see, but I could hear them, and saw another monitor lizard, which was fun. In the evening, I made it in time to catch a sunset cruise along the shoreline of the lake. It was a perfect evening with a slight breeze after a very muggy humid day.

The next day I continued on to Alleppey for an overnight on a houseboat and cruise around that that lake and the canals that feed it. This was perhaps the most relaxing experience I had during the entire trip. The two gentlemen who run the houseboat, two brothers Biju and Subash, explained what I was seeing on the shoreline, cooked meals I could eat – those without sharp spices – and took immaculate care of their boat. This is an experience that I can highly recommend to everyone who comes to Kerala!

The houseboat trip was the last day of my mini-nature excursion. The following day it was on to Thiruvananthapuram and back to city temples.

These first few days in Kerala were fascinating. Even without seeing a tiger or much of the wildlife that I’d really wanted to, simply seeing how this region is so vastly different from elsewhere in India made the trip worthwhile. I didn’t have a mystical experience, but did love being on the sea and backwaters, in the Western Ghats, and lush rainforest. Kerala is beautiful.

Photos: Thiruvananthapuram

krodin — Fri, 9 Dec 2022 16:58:00 GMT

city, Hindu temples

Photos: Kerala: Kochi to Alleppey

krodin — Fri, 9 Dec 2022 16:43:00 GMT

city, history, houseboat, nature

Manila, Puerto Galera and beyond

krodin — Fri, 2 Dec 2022 00:58:00 GMT

Manila, Puerto Galera and Beyond

I flew to Manila from Bangkok as I wanted to get to the National Museum of the Philippines to see what they had that might relate to my work on Goddess Studies. The National Museum of Archeology is in Rizal Park, a large greenspace in the center of the metropolis, across the street from Intramuros, the old walled city. The museum has a good ethnographic collection and provides a decent introduction to the various ethnic regions of the country, and even though it didn’t have what I was looking for, I found it was worth the trip, especially as I decided at the spur of the moment to head down to Puerto Galera the next day based on what I saw at the museum.

As I still had some time after visiting the galleries, I went into Intramuros to see St. Augustin’s Church, one of the oldest in the city and the Cathedral, that has been renovated a number of times since it was first built in the 1500s. There was a wedding going on while I was at St. Augustin’s, and the nave was appropriately decorated. It looked like a fabulous place to share one’s vows. The rebuilt Cathedral had a starker feel to it and was also decorated for a wedding that had not yet taken place. From the Cathedral I walked over to Fort Santiago, which was built in 1571 as a defensive fortress. There are torture chambers one can visit for an additional fee, but I chose not to do that, instead I simply walked around the park-like interior and people watched. There were a few foreign tourists, but the majority of the people on this Saturday were locals, including a school class that was re-enacting a scene from the 1896-1989 Philippine Revolution vs. the Spanish. There was also a small arts fair going on in one corner.

After visiting the main sites in Intramuros, I went back to the hotel to collect the presents that I had bought in Nepal and Thailand and wanted to ship back home as they weighed too much for the upcoming flights. This started an unexpected adventure – and not a pleasant one. Normally, when I send packages through an express service, like Fed Ex or DHL, I pay with a credit card and thought I could do so in this city of 13 million people. That was not the case. After the staff at Fed Ex packed the articles in a box, they asked for cash, which of course I did not have. So off I went to the ATM. But the ATM only gives out up to PHP 1000 per day, which is about US $17, and clearly not enough to ship a package. I tried then to find a bank, but as it was Saturday, they were all closed except for Bank D’Oro or BDO, which again only allowed PHP 1000 per day, even at the counter. After attempting to find an ATM in the perhaps largest Mall in Asia, the Mall of Asia, I came up empty handed and had to go back to the shipping place to pick up my box and carry it back to the hotel. After I returned from Puerto Galera and Batangas, I went back to the Mall and found a Western Union where I could change $ to PHP and finally got the box sent off. That wasn’t the end of the shipping/sending story, though. As I’m not going to be home in time to send Xmas cards this year, I bought postcards in Krabi to send instead. As I didn’t have time to write them while there, I did so in Manila. Then came the issue of finding stamps. I asked where I could buy some and the concierge at the hotel then spent a full hour trying to locate someplace where I could purchase postcard stamps. Low and behold it was at the Central Post Office in Intramuros, where I had thought I had to go. The Post Office wouldn’t take the package, that I hadn’t yet sent, though, as the woman at the counter said it probably wouldn’t arrive for at least three months, and she wouldn’t even guarantee that it would get there at all. It seems that people don’t send things by mail anymore. & fyi, the Post Office in the Philippines doesn’t accept credit cards either. That’s when I went back to the Mall.

Walking through the Mall of Asia during Advent is a surreal experience. It is over 90 degrees Fahrenheit and Christmas songs like “Let it Snow” and “It’s Cold Outside” are blaring from the loudspeakers. There may be a recession going on, but one wouldn’t know it by the crowds in the Mall. The place, which is humungous, was packed and the noise-level deafening. At least the stores were doing a good business, though the ones in the Mall were the typical international chains and not local Mom and Pop shops. My impression, which is only that, my impression, from my short time in Manila, is that this culture is a mix of light Asian and heavy American. The electrical cables hang in bundles from their posts in a typical Asian ragtag fashion, but the plugs are American. The food is a mix of Thai, Chinese, distinctly Filipino and North American. The stores are American with a few European highlights, Dior, Zara etc. There is a Jollibee Filipino McDonalds equivalent, that rivals its American competitor, but the streets are lined with other American fast-food chains and the ubiquitous 7-11. The Asian equivalent of Uber, Grab, is alive and well in Manila and elsewhere, yet I found them more expensive than the metered cabs. It is entirely possible that I am misinterpreting what I’m seeing, but I feel like I’m back in L.A., yet in a time warp. Everything goes slower here; patience isn’t just a virtue, it’s a necessity.

It was time to get out of the city and head back to the sea. I rented a car and drove on the toll road a little over two hours down to Batangas. Left the car at the dock as rental cars aren’t allowed on interisland ferries and took a boat over to Puerto Galera on Mindoro Island. Puerto Galera is known for its magnificent bay, which is reputed to be one of the most beautiful in the world, and for the marine life near the coastline. I stayed in a hotel outside of town right on the rocky shore. It wasn’t possible to swim in front of the hotel as the rocks and coral were too high & water level too low, but it was amazing to look down at the coral from the third-floor dining area and see the seafloor through the crystal-clear water. The following day, I took an outrigger canoe trip to an undersea cave and a couple of snorkel spots. The marine life was perhaps even more extensive than it had been in Krabi and the water almost as warm. There was more evidence of coral bleaching here than there; though, the bleached parts were surrounded by healthy organisms. Schools of fish were in abundance at both sites, as well as giant clams, and at the second stop I saw a small octopus on a rock. I got lucky!

After the water excursion, I took a tuk tuk tour of the bay area and went to White Beach, which is the most famous in the region as it has a long white sandy beach. The beaches were almost deserted, which surprised me. The only people there were locals or Western men with their local wives/girlfriends. Most of the men sounded like they were either from Australia or the U.S. From White Beach, I headed over to Virgin Beach, on the other side of the bay. It is named for the Virgin Mary, and a statue of her is on a rocky outcrop overlooking the bay. There is a much larger white statue of the Madonna on Monte Maria that is visible from the ferry during the crossing. Virgin Beach is now in private hands, and there is a PHP 50 fee to go in. It is a quiet peaceful place and well worth the few cents. The last stop of the land tour was to the Waterfalls. I had thought this would entail a hike but was mistaken as the waterfalls are right by the road. There are a series of cascades on either side of the street and a restaurant below. Swimming, i.e., wading is possible in some of the lower cascade pools.

Puerto Galera was founded by the Spanish in 1574. They established themselves on the island as an interim before heading on to Manila. Their first island capital was in Lagundian, but it was subject to Moorish raids, so they moved the capital to Puerto Galera. The name comes from the galleons that came from Spain and Mexico. The ships found safe haven in the bay. Among the ships’ cargoes were bags of rice that they unloaded in a warehouse near the wharf. At least once, and given multiple versions of the story, probably a couple of times, the warehouse caught fire and the rice turned black & ‘black rice’ is said to still be found along the shoreline. Interestingly, when I asked the hotel staff about the history of the region, I was told that the name comes from Black Rice, which is not the case, but does seem to be in local folklore. According to https://www.travelorientalmindoro.ph/Page/History/History-of-Puerto-Galera, the site has been a point of trade since Chinese merchants from Cathay traded with indigenous people for their products in the 10^th C. While the Spanish made it their island capital, people were here well before them and had an established pre-Colonial culture. The difference in culture and atmosphere between Manila and Puerto Galera is night and day. The first is modern commercialism, the second an oasis of serene natural beauty. There is also little that is reminiscent of America in Puerto Galera, but rather it seems purely Filipino.

The next day, it was time to head back to the mainland. The interisland ferry this time took an hour and a half as it wasn’t the Montenegro high speed boat. Another spur of the moment decision, had me heading toward Mabini, to get a view of the bay from the other side. I had booked a hotel through Booking.com as I normally do and set off via the Google directions. Unfortunately, the hotel was not where it was 'supposed' to be. I couldn't get in touch with them via the phone, but did find a friendly man in a hardware store who kindly informed me that the hotel was on the opposite side of the peninsula in Aniloa. Based on his directions, I finally found the place. I chose the hotel because of the location listed and because they had kayaks available. As it turned out, it was interesting to see this side of the island, and the kayak was the only way to get into the water, as again, it was so shallow that the coral was popping out. From the kayak, the water was clear enough to see what would have been possible through a snorkel mask. Even close to the shore, the fish were abundant and the coral more intact than in Puerto Galera. Aniloa is known to be a good dive spot and from the view I had on the kayak I can see why.

The following day, I needed to return the car and slowly made my way back to Manila, now on backroads rather than the highway. This added about three hours to the journey, but I figured I'd see more of the countryside this way. 'Countryside' turned out to be a bit of a misnomer, as there were commercial centers throughout the drive. I did happen across the Fantasy World Castle, though. This is an unfinished Disneyland type estate that was started in the early 2000s then the owners didn’t have the money to finish it. It’s pretty bizarre.

When I started out, I'd set Google map directions for Maria de Tierra pilgrimage site by way of Taal City, Lemery and Tagaytay. I intended to stop in Tagaytay to take a boatride on Taal Lake to the world's smallest volcano, but the trails on the volcano were closed as it is still active (it fully erupted last year) and the traffic through town so heavy that I decided to head straight to the church. Well, Google proved wrong again. Where the map said the site should be, was a mechanic's shop. By this time, I wasn’t going to hassle with any more misleading directions and headed on a backroad toward Manila. I did want to get a coffee, so stopped at a roadside cafe. This was a good thing, as the Balinsasayaw Restaurant was a treat. It has little individual mosquito netted cabanas with tables so that each group has their own space amid a lush flower-filled rainforest garden. The mango and chicken salad was also the best meal I had had since being in the Philippines. While it may seem silly and wasteful to have rented the car for such relatively little driving, it was the only way to get to Puerto Galera without spending over 24hours travel time. Using public transportation is not convenient in this region.

My short time in the Philippines was filled with contrasting impressions. I loved the marine life and the lush green hills on Mindoro and was depressed with what I saw in Manila. The noise level in Manila, as in Dhaka is deafening. In the Philippines, it is perhaps even louder than elsewhere. People talk loudly, musak from loudspeakers blare, and cell phone videos are set on loud so that everyone in the area can hear what one is watching or listening to with no regard for anyone else. It is a cacophony of noise. The good thing is that the drivers don’t use the horn as much as they do in India.

My advice for those traveling to the Philippines – head to the islands, the sea, and the marine life, and bring cash not credit cards. (& don’t forget toilet paper and soap!)

Photos: Puerto Galera, Mindoro

krodin — Fri, 2 Dec 2022 00:41:00 GMT

Krabi

krodin — Fri, 2 Dec 2022 00:32:00 GMT

Krabi

I hadn’t intended to post anything about my time in Krabi as that portion of this trip was a gift from my daughter and son-in-law, but the experience there was too good to stay silent about. My family met me in Thailand to celebrate my 70^th birthday, and I am so grateful that they did. Normally, I don’t go to beach resorts, which Ao Nang by Krabi where we were certainly is, but this wasn’t a typical resort. The town and surrounding islands live off tourism and the number of boarded up hotels, restaurants, and shops in town demonstrated the effects the Covid lockdown has had on this region’s population. Tourists are returning, though, and the boardwalk and many of the re-opened restaurants were full of people enjoying themselves as they looked out over the turquoise sea and surrounding lush green karst mountains. The water was much warmer than I had anticipated; bathtub warm isn’t an overstatement by any means, and I wondered what effects the temperature was having on the coral and marine life that is in abundance just off the shoreline. Ao Nang has a long golden shallow sandy beach with occasional small stones. It is perfect for walking barefoot along the shoreline, but there is also a nice long concrete boardwalk by the street, which is lined with clothing, knickknack, and dive shops as well as restaurants and bars, for those who don’t want to get sand in their toes and shoes. Decorated longboats that look like mini-Viking vessels, are parked near the shore and function like local taxis to the neighboring islands. On my birthday, we took a speedboat to the Phi Phi Islands, which are as magnificent as they are reputed to be EXCEPT Maya Beach, the one that was made famous from the movie “The Beach.” That one is suffering the consequences of mass tourism. The place was crawling with people, and it was difficult to even get photos without hordes of bodies obscuring the scenery. It seemed like everyone from Phuket as well as Krabi and the surrounding regions all came to the same place at the same time, but I was told that it is always this crowded. My recommendation to anyone who is going to those islands – skip that beach and stay on some of the other islands. Bamboo Island was great as were some of the smaller coves, where there was lots of marine life to delight those of us who went snorkeling. Railley Beach was also good and had the added benefit of a mangrove swamp and the “Diamond Cave,” which has its own bat population. The beach also lives up to its reputation as a party place as weed is available all over the place. Marijuana may not be legal, but it is definitely available for those who want it. (& no, I didn’t partake.)

Nearby Krabi are two other not-to-miss sites. The first is the Elephant Sanctuary, a rescue shelter for six females who worked in the logging industry for decades. This is not a place to ride the elephants, but rather to feed them bananas, hug them, give them mud baths, and finally scrub them clean in the river. They are not chained or held captive in anyway, but rather meander throughout the grounds at will. It is an amazing experience to stand next to one of these intelligent beings and hug them knowing that they are perfectly capable of trampling one at any given moment. It is only possible to get to the sanctuary by booking one of their tours, but it is well worth it. We only did the half day as none of us had any interest in making paper out of elephant poop, which was on the agenda for the afternoon portion. The other must-do experience in the region is to climb up the 1260 uneven steps to the Tiger Cave Temple. It is a bit of a workout but doesn’t take all that long, and the view from the summit is incredible. Karst mountains on one side and flat rice fields on another with the sea in front. A large golden Buddha surveys the region, while smaller Buddha figures, an Indra and a Ganesha statue, have their own shrines. There is even a place for the Buddha’s footprints, though the prints look to be almost a meter in length, so I don’t think they mean Sakyamuni’s.

Like in most beach resort towns, cocktails are de rigueur, and Ao Nang has its share of shore bars serving everything imaginable. It also has an international cuisine, with Italian, French, Swiss, Irish as well as Thai restaurants and the ubiquitous Burger King, McDonalds and KFC along with 7-11s on just about every corner, with a Starbucks thrown in for good measure. In case one doesn’t want to stumble back to the hotel, there are tuktuks available for transportation.

Thailand is justifiably known for its masseuses and Ao Nang has several massage places right along the beach. I got an energizing foot massage during a storm one night. Lightning lit up the sky and thunderclaps overrode people’s chatter while my calf muscles were being kneaded as if they were dough. It felt good afterwards.

We went in to Krabi town for a day, but got caught in a storm, so didn’t have much chance to explore. We went in search of a bookstore, and while we found one, they only had Thai books. This was something that I had noticed elsewhere on this extended trip – bookstores are hard to find, and even in the major cities, it is difficult to find ones with even a few English or international books. I was also amazed that the resort hotels don’t normally have a book exchange rack for their vacationers. They do have international channels on the t.v., though. Russian, Chinese, Korean, Taiwanese, Singaporean, British, Australian, Middle Eastern and U.S. news along with local Thai channels are available.

Krabi and Ao Nang appear to be slowly recovering from the Covid lockdown. What I especially liked about the region was its international flair. Yes, this was because of the tourists, but as they were not all from one place it was like Thamel, though here they come to dive, snorkel and party, while in Thamel they come to climb mountains, hike, and party. The world may be changing and not necessarily for the better in the short term, but I hope that interactions among young and older (even 70 doesn’t feel old!) tourists, travelers, adventurers, and locals can foster more respect for other cultures and ways of viewing the world.

To sum up, the Krabi region is definitely worth going to!

Photos: Manila

krodin — Sun, 27 Nov 2022 00:33:00 GMT

city

Photos: Ao Nang, Krabi and environs

krodin — Wed, 23 Nov 2022 22:57:00 GMT

Photos: Bangkok Excursions

krodin — Thu, 17 Nov 2022 17:38:00 GMT

Sukhothai and Si Satchanalai

krodin — Sun, 13 Nov 2022 01:30:00 GMT

Sukhothai

Sukhothai is considered the first capital of Thailand; it was established in 1238 by Si Inthrathit, who united many of the local tribes. The city’s name means “Dawn of Happiness,” and this is also the name of the entrance to the historical park.

Sukhothai flourished under its third king and son of the first, Pho Khun Ramkhamhaeng (1279-1298). He extended the kingdom’s territory to its greatest extent, reaching into modern day Laos and Myanmar. He introduced Theravadin Buddhism, which became the national religion and supplanted Mahayana Buddhism and Hinduism that had been practiced in the region prior to his rule. He is also credited with creating the first Thai alphabet. It is his legacy that defines Thainess even today as based in reverence for King, Religion, Nation (not necessarily in that order). As with many strong rulers, however, without his leadership and weak successors, the kingdom fell apart, and by 1438 Sukhothai came under the auspices of the budding Ayutthaya empire.

Today, Suktothai has two sections, the historical city ruins and the new commercial hub. As I was here for Loy Krathong, the “Festival of Lights,” I chose to stay near the ruins and am glad I did. My room was near the river and backed onto Wat Chang Lom temple with elephants surrounding the base. According to legend, sometime in the 14^th C a consort of King Ramkhamhaeng, Nang Noppamas, and other “members of the royal court were celebrating the water goddess on the night of the full moon in the 12^th lunar month. To impress the King, Noppamas created an intricate floating raft from banana leaves and flowers. She then set a candle and incense stick in the center and placed it on the water to honor Buddha and the water goddess. When the king saw this, he was so impressed by its beauty that he proclaimed the festival would be celebrated in the same way every year.” (Asiahighlights.com) Today, the Loy Krathong festival is celebrated in many cities around Thailand, the main ones are in Bangkok and Chiang Mai, but the Festival in Sukhothai is the oldest and is mostly visited by locals, not necessarily by tourists. While in Thailand the celebration on the full moon of the 12^th lunar month is called Loy Krathong, throughout southeast Asia and the subcontinent, festivals to the water goddess, Laxmi in one of her many forms, occur on this night. The idea of putting plants and incense on the water to honor her is also not just a Thai occurrence but happens at dusk almost every night in the evening pujas along the Ganges and other rivers in India. The extent of the Festival, however, with sound and light shows on the ruins, theatrical and musical performances in and around the ancient temples, the royal barge show, and the fair like atmosphere complete with fireworks, is far different from the simple daily Hindu rituals.

The Historical Park is quite large with a main rectangular area enclosed by remaining city walls and scattered temple ruins outside near each of the four directional gates. The site brochure states that the ancient city walls covered an area 1,600 m wide and 1,800 m long and was filled with alternating three-tiered structures and moats for a total area of 3.2 sq. km.. To defend Sukhothai against enemy attack, two outer ramparts and an inner wall were built with moats in between. The moats served as channels to carry away water as a means of flood prevention. Town gates and defensive towers were constructed in the middle of each side of the wall.

From the descriptions, I wasn’t able to ascertain when each of the temples was constructed, but they did seem to cover the gamut of eras from prior to Si Inthrathit through to the Ayutthaya period.

The Loy Krathong Festival lasts eleven days, but I was only there for the final night, on the full moon, which is the highlight of the event. The sound and light shows happened in various places across the park, so contrary to most of the people, who sat on a tarp or blanket on the grass and waited for the midnight fireworks display, I wandered from one show to the next, and while doing so set my own Krathong, candle lantern, afloat in the large reservoir. The layout of numerous vendor shops and food sections reminded me of the Christmas markets in the big cities in Europe. The place was jam-packed, again, like at the big Christmas events, and it was a challenge to walk around, but it was fun as everyone seemed to be having a great time. The ruins came alive with people, music, and lights.

The next day I went first to the museum, which is right near the entrance, and then back into the park. It was a very different experience than the night before. The park was basically empty. There were workers disassembling the stalls, but the entire area had already been cleared of trash by the time I got there just before noon. The staff must have worked all night cleaning up. In the daylight, the ruins were more clearly defined, but also much less mystical – although, clearly still very impressive. Some of the Wats that had descriptions in the brochure and of which there are photos in the photo gallery include:

Wat Mahathat, which is perhaps the centerpiece of the historical park as it was believed to be where Lord Buddha’s relics had been enshrined. Marauders cleaned them out so, nothing was left. The main chedi is in lotus bud shape, which is typical of Sukhothai architectural form.

The Ta Pha Daeng Shrine was built in the Khmer style during Angkor Wat period (1107-1157). In it several god and goddess images carved from stone were found; they are now in the local museum.

Wat Si Sawai has three Khmer-styled corn shaped stupas and is located south of Wat Mahathat. It is supposed to be earlier than Mahathat as fragments of images of Hindu gods were found, and a Shiva image was in the porch of the second stupa indicating that the temple complex was associated with Hinduism and Shivaism. It appears that the Hindu temple was later transformed into a Buddhist temple by adding a vihara to its front.

Wat Sa Si is in the middle of a large reservoir known as Tra Phang Tra Kuan. The round stupa indicates the presence of Sinhalese Buddhism in Sukhothai. King Ramkhamhaeng brought many Sri Lankan monks to Sukhothai, and they may have used this temple for their meditations. The ordination hall in the middle of the reservoir points to a Buddhist concept of demarcating an area where monks perform religious functions by enclosing the holy precincts with water as a symbol of purity.

Wat Saphan Hin lay in the middle of Aranyik forest, which is now part of the Historical Park. There was a large vihara in front and a Buddha image called Attharot, the Buddha in a standing posture inside. Wat Saphan Hin is supposed to be where Ramhamhaeng went on a white elephant named Ruchakhir to worship at the Buddha image every Buddhist sabbath day.

In addition to the famous ruins, Sukhothai and neighboring Si Satchanalalai are also known for their pottery. Much of which is on display in the local museum.

On my way in to Sukhothai from the airport, I made the acquaintance of two fellow travelers from Paris. Denise was visiting her son, Alex, who now lives in Bangkok. We had a very pleasant conversation in the shuttle. Given the masses of people in the park in the evening, we never expected to run into one another again, but as it turned out, two of the very few people in the park the next day were Alex and Denise. We visited a few temples together and then went our separate ways, but not before they invited me to go with them the following day to Si Satchanalalai. As I had planned on going there anyway, this was a nice opportunity. It turned out they were on the same flight I was going back to Bangkok, so we could go first to the archeological site and then back to the airport together. It worked out beautifully.

Si Satchanalalai is similar to Sukhothai in that the area grew from a rural setting to an urban one during the Sukhothai period. Here though, even older traces of pre-historic settlements have been found both in and outside the town. There are also remnants of the Dvaravati culture (6^th -10^th) and Lopburi, Thai Khmer, (11^th-12^th) in a few of the temples. Kilns from the 11^th C have also been found. After the end of the Ayutthaya era, the center was deserted, and nature re-took the site. “The site” is a bit of a misnomer, as there are multiple. We only went to the main one in the former walled city and visited four of the most prominent temple complexes. Si Satchanalalai has a very different feel to it than the more popular Sukhothai. It is quieter, more laid back – if that is possible for ruins – and somehow more in tune with nature. The first of the temples was a two-storied Wat Chang Lom, which was larger than the one behind my hotel room. The thirty-nine elephants, however, weren’t in as good shape. On the second story were remnants of twenty niches with sculptures of Buddha subduing Mara. Above that, near the base of the spire, were a number of walking Buddha figures circumambulating the spire. Wat Chang Lom looked over at Wat Chedi Chet Thaeo, which had a lotus-bud stupa, a vihara, and twenty-seven chedi along with five mandapas (covered spaces with open walls). The chedi display various architectural cultural influences including Sinalese, Khmer, Mon, and Bagan, i.e., the main Theravadin Buddhist sites in SE Asia during the 12^th-14^th C. After visiting the site, we still had some time, so we drove to Wat Phra Si Ratana Mahathat, which is right by the river and a new temple, with golden Buddha figures. The historical temple was probably founded just prior to the Sukhothai era, but also has elements from later eras up to the Ayutthaya. There was a small restaurant at the temple where we had lunch after buying water and iced tea from a small grocery store across a suspension bridge. This gave us a quick look into local village life, and I was thankful that Alex speaks Thai as otherwise we might not have been able to communicate with the friendly people helping us get around.

After lunch, pad thai and a couple of rice dishes that I don’t have a clue what they were called, we headed to the airport. It was a good day filled with new sights, sounds, and friends. The historical park(s) in Sukhothai are definitely worth visiting if you are at all interested Thai history and ancient architecture.

Photos: Sukhothai

krodin — Sun, 13 Nov 2022 00:37:00 GMT

Sonargaon

krodin — Mon, 7 Nov 2022 03:20:00 GMT

Sonargaon

After the Central Bangladesh tour mostly north and west of Dhaka, I decided to take a day trip to Sonargaon, 30 miles SE of the capital. We left at 7:30 to avoid some of the traffic. The fog in the city was so dense that the sky wasn’t really visible, but was still okay to drive in. Azim suggested that we first go on a boat ride on the Meghna River, so that I could experience the third of the country’s major waterways. We had crossed the Brahmaputra a couple of times, and walked along the shore of the Ganges, but had missed this central corridor. It was now time to correct that. As we got closer to Sonargaon and the river, however, the fog was still so thick that it didn’t make sense to go. We then headed to the Sandarbari Palace Museum, which the website and sign said was open at 9am. It turns out that they only open at 10. So we headed to an abandoned small old Hindu temple in a village nearby. This was a fascinating peak into local village history. As I mentioned in the Central Bangladesh blog, I was struck by the multi-domed mosques. Here there was only one dome, which makes the Goaldi Mosque and its more modern neighbor unique. The tattered and worn sign at the site reads:

“Bara Bhuya chiefs Isa Khan and Musa Khan, and prior to them some independent sultans of Bengal had their capital at Sonargaon. Besides the city and the miscellaneous picturesque establishments of state like royal palaces, court buildings, mint etc., Muslim rulers also erected beautiful mosques, madrasahs, masolea, khangas, bridges, wells and other edifices of diverse nature and uses. Of these stone-built structures the tomb of Sultan Ghiyashuddin Azam Shah is especially remarkable. This single domed mosque built by Mulla Hizbar Akbar Khan in 1519 is the second important erection of Sonargaon and one among innumerable mosques that came up throughout the length and breadth of the sultan’s territory. The beautiful arabesque design of Muslim traditions of bricks and stones of the mosque is comparable to ornamentation found on monuments in Gaur, Pandua, and other centers in Bengal. Some original decorations survive in the west wall…. Due to lack of proper maintenance and long neglect, or through some unknown natural cause, much of the mosque particularly the back wall collapsed, and the mosque was abandoned and was replaced by the neighboring single domed mosque, which was constructed in 1705 during the reign of the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb. Since then, the Muslims of the locality have been offering their prayers in the new mosque. This mosque of Housain Shah’s period was declared protected under the Antiquity Act of 1968 and the directorate of archaeology fully restored the original features.”

The Goaldi Mosque, the earlier one, has not be restored and there are large sections of the external walls that look like they might collapse with the next major storm. Around the back, one of the corner towers has detached and is only held together with the structure at its base. The terracotta figures on the rim look like they are original. It is too bad that the site has been abandoned as nature’s vegetation is taking over. The 1705 mosque, on the other hand, has a modern addition at the back and a set of four very large loudspeakers on the top. The dome is painted green which complements the rose color of the walls. Across the street is a Koranic school and next door is a Technology College (which is like their high school) where a teacher was reprimanding a couple of students for their haircut. School uniforms apparently include hair length and style as well. As someone who protested a school dress code in the 60s, this struck me as a throwback to times long past, and an interesting insight into students’ lives.

The fog was lifting, so we headed to the Meghna River for our boating excursion. The ferries are of a similar construction to the fishing boats, except that the latter don’t have as much shade inside. The Meghna River is huge; it is much wider than the Danube or even the Mississippi or Detroit Rivers. Its expanse makes it look like one of the Great Lakes. Perhaps it was due to the residual fog, but I couldn’t see the opposite shore, only a large island in the middle. As we made our way towards the island, we saw fishermen casting their nets and one swimming trying to free something that had apparently gotten caught. River plants were growing not just on the shorelines, but in the middle of the river as well. They can multiply so quickly that they will eventually clog whole sections of the waterway. Rivers have been the lifeblood of this region for millennia. And Bangladesh has lots of rivers! Trade occurs and cities are built near the waterways, and they are important today just as they were in ancient times. Wood from the mango and bamboo trees is shipped by the river, and fishing is one of the major industries. Fishing is also one of the major sources of employment for many people. As we floated by villages on the island, it seemed like life on the river hadn’t changed too much over the centuries. Women were washing clothes in the river, fishermen had their nets hanging out to dry on upturned boats, and cattle were grazing outside the tin houses. Ok, the tin is somewhat new. But I learned that as the island’s shoreline is constantly changing, the people make their houses out of metal sheets so that they can easily disassemble them, pack them up and move to a new location. Nomadic island life. I was asked whether I wanted to stop in to see one of the villages and immediately said that I did. We disembarked next to a young woman washing her sheep. She had shampooed the very muddy animal and was scrubbing his wool; the sheep did not look at all happy. She washed the suds off in the river and it looked like he wanted to bolt as soon as he had a chance. She was determined to get him clean, though. We walked just a few steps more into a grove of trees where the village houses were. There was a very nice, non-tin, house right on the side near where a cow was grazing. The owner, Pinkey, came out to greet us and brought two plastic chairs from inside the house into the community space for us to sit on. As we were talking to her, - through Azim I learned that she has three children, aged five, three and 11 months – and the three-year-old was quite unhappy about something – other villagers came to greet us, and the conversation became increasing more diverse. Pinkey, brought out another couple of plastic chairs for two of the probably senior members of village to sit, and they explained how the current economic crisis is affecting them on the river. I learned that the cost of electricity and food has increased by 55% over the past two months. While they don’t have to pay rent, have water from their wells, raise their own rice and have fish, they still need to purchase everything else, and the increase in cost is simply not affordable. I asked how the fishing was going and heard that it is also receding. There simply aren’t the fish in the river that there once was. One of the two senior gentlemen mentioned that he was in agriculture, which means he takes care of the cattle and harvests medicinal plants as well as rice, and that he can only survive as he doesn’t have to pay for food for the cattle as they can eat whatever grows on the island. The other gentleman, who mentioned that he was 66, but is registered as 59 because he wants to find employment in another country, asked about religion and whether Christians believe in multiple gods. He simply assumed I was Christian without asking. I explained that the Trinity, is really one God. Call the Divine Allah, call the Divine Brahman, call the Divine Ra, call the Divine Jehovah, it’s still one God. And to put his mind at rest, I mentioned that Christians are Children of Abraham too. He seemed relieved. As I reflected on his question, I remembered that the only countries where I am ever asked about my religion is in Islamic countries. People in Hindu and Buddhist countries couldn’t care less what religion I do or don’t profess. It was time to go and as I looked at all the villagers’ faces, from the three-year-old to the seniors, men, boys, women and girls, I wondered how these wonderful people are going to deal with the cultural transitions that the next decade will inevitably bring. Even life on the river will change, especially with the rising water levels and lack of fish. The boat trip turned out to be not only enjoyable but also educational.

From the river, we headed back towards Sonargaon and the abandoned Panam city outdoor museum, which unfortunately closes on Sundays. I was able to see down the street, though, and visit a few of the houses on the side of the closed off area. The sign by the guarded entrance to Panam, a section of Sonargaon, said:

“Suvamagram, a thousand years old ancient urban settlement was one of the capitals and river ports of East Bengal. From the historical point of view, the present Sonargaon was the ancient Suvarnagram. Local Hindu king, Danujmadhob Doshoroth Dev established his capital in this Suvarnagram in the 13^th century. Sonargaon was one of the capitals and administrative hubs of independent Bengal Sultanate till 1610 after it came under Mughals occupation.

Panam Nagar lies 30 miles southeast of the capital Dhaka. The rich Hindu traders laid the foundation of Panam Nagar in the early years of the 19^th century. It consists of 52 buildings standing on both sides of a road that stretches from east to south and measure 600 meters in length and 5 meters in width. Most of the buildings are rectangular, north-south stretched up and one to three storied. As for the architectural design of these buildings, European artistic skills have been blended with those of the Mughals. Moreover, the local architects applied their own artistic skills in building these structures. The buildings have been made up with bricks of various sizes and plastered with lime and brick-dust, mosaics stucco-designed beautiful buildings have trenches on two sides, ponds with ghats and many wells….”

The architecture appeared to be similar on the buildings I could see from the guard post, and from behind the ghat near the entrance. While there, I was struck once again, by a young man taking a selfie with his fully covered girlfriend/wife. Nearby the park-like setting was a pile of trash that seemed completely out of place.

From Panam, we drove back to Sandarpari Palace, which was now open. The 19^th C British-Mughal mix styled palace was renovated in 2012 with the help of South Korean restorationists. From the palace it is a short walk to the Folk Art Museum. This museum has a collection of Hindu sculptures from the 19^th C on the ground floor. The second floor has textiles and some smaller Hindu sculptures, along with pottery. The third floor has musical instruments, more pottery, jewelry, and painted ceramic animals that look very similar to those sold throughout Mexico and Central America. The museum was a nice way to end my Bangladesh adventure. It coupled past with present, Hindu and Muslim influences, and dioramas of daily rural life with those along the river. I was also glad to have had the chance to see this part of the country as the more rainforest ecosystem southeast of Dhaka is much different from the rice fields in the central part of the country.

My short stay in Bangladesh left me with competing and conflicting impressions. Time will tell how the people here will be able to handle the recession and increasing prices. On the way back to Dhaka, we tried to get natural gas for the car. All the natural gas stations south of the city were closed as they didn’t have any more. The country produces its own natural gas but given the energy crisis they can’t produce enough, and what they have goes to keep the factories functioning. Regular fuel for the cars cost three times what the natural gas does, so even though the cars are mostly hybrid and can run on either natural gas or regular fuel, the cost of driving, which means all transportation costs, including those for the trucks, is rising at an unaffordable rate. Food costs increase with transportation costs and the cycle continues to spiral. The world truly is interconnected, and the people here too feel the cost of the war in Ukraine and international politics. In today’s Salzburger Nachrichten, our local newspaper, one of the regular opinion piece authors wrote about the issues that will affect the next voting cycle. Koller mentions that inflation, energy costs, health and long-term care are the key issues for Austrians. Basically, that people are concerned about their livelihood and social wellbeing, i.e., what we consider normal life. He also mentioned that people are sick of corrupt government officials. As I read this, I thought about what I had heard in the island village, from other people across Bangladesh, and the concerns of U.S. citizens ahead of next Tuesday’s midterm elections. The issues – with the exception of long-term care for the island people as they look after their own in extended families – are the same everywhere. We are a global community.

My thanks to Azim at Dhaka Holidays and Mr. Habib for an enjoyable and insight trip.

Central Bangladesh: Full of Contrasts

krodin — Mon, 7 Nov 2022 03:15:00 GMT

Central Bangladesh – Full of Contrasts

I wasn’t sure what to expect on my tour to visit ancient Hindu and Buddhist sites through Central Bangladesh. As I made my way around, I was struck by the contrasting images confronting me. The cities and towns are overpopulated, dirty, and filled with a combination of ancient ways and new construction. Traditional habits are being forced to adapt to new roads, new technologies, and new global ways of thinking. My sense was that this transition is not easy for many of the people it’s effecting. On the other hand, it also seemed that everyone was in favor of the expanded roads and proposed new transportation system as they are currently clogged with traffic. In many of the towns, the traffic isn’t necessarily due to cars, but rather the motorized rickshaws, which are everywhere. There is even the equivalent of Uber rickshaw drivers as well as for motorcyclists. Those on the motorcycles are really taking their lives in their hands, however, as helmets are not required, and it is only by the grace of Allah that more accidents don’t occur. As I mentioned in the Dhaka blog, there are basically no rules of the road. Red lights are routinely ignored, going the opposite way on a one-way street doesn’t raise an eyebrow, stopping on the highway to back up after missing the exit is no big thing, and signs of all kinds, including for honking, are only for decoration. As in India and Nepal, I was glad I wasn’t driving and responsible for potential damage to the car. One difference from those other two countries, however, is that the paved roads are for the most part in much better condition here than there. This is not the case, however, with litter, which is everywhere. There are huge piles of plastic and assorted other litter by the sides of the roads, and Azim explained that they are using the trash as a foundation for the new roads. I am unfamiliar with this concept, but perhaps the plastic breaks down and bends enough to withstand climatic differences. A physicist and a chemist could probably explain the science behind this, but unfortunately, I can’t, and the mountains of rubbish are a health hazard as well as an eyesore. In the rural areas, the streets/paths often have cow dung drying on jute mats. The dung is used for fuel to heat the houses. I saw the same thing in India and do believe there may be something we in the West can learn from this procedure. IF we could harness all the cow manure – and Austria has more than enough cows – and convert that to energy, we wouldn’t need to rely so heavily on fossil fuels or wood from the forests. I believe a city in Norway or Sweden was powering their bus system with waste products, and this is a commodity that will never run out. We just need a few really bright people to figure out how to do it cleanly and efficiently. Traditional methods can have much to teach us, and I hope that in the push to modernize, some of them remain. One that was lost in Bangladesh was Chillum, a marijuana plant that grew well in this region, but was banned in the 1980s as the country needed money from the U.S., and the Americans insisted that production and distribution be stopped. Azim mentioned that with the end of marijuana, which was used for medicinal purposes as well as to get high, there was a tremendous increase in hard drugs. Forty years later, we have a global opioid crisis, and marijuana is being legalized in a number of states and countries.

Bangladesh, along with Pakistan, was the site of the death of millions during Partition in 1947 and the years immediately thereafter. East Pakistan was founded on the basis of religion and religion is definitely a defining factor in the country, due to its relatively recent history as well as how it is deeply engrained in the culture. The muezzins call to prayer more than five times a day, as they also include one at midnight and about 3am. Luckily, their call is mostly melodious and not like the tinny sound that comes through the bad loudspeakers throughout Turkey. I saw more women in complete burqas here than anywhere outside of Iran, including in Pakistan. It seems odd to me why men want selfies with their fully covered wives and girlfriends or just shots of their female counterparts by a temple or other archeological site. Without being able to see the faces, the person under all that cloth could be anyone. In the end, they are only taking a photo of a blob of cloth. And people here do love to take selfies – especially with a foreigner. In many places, I couldn’t walk ten steps without someone asking for a photo, and I was more than happy to oblige them even if I normally prefer not to have my photo taken. There aren’t many Westerners here, in fact, I only met one Polish couple in the Mahasthangarh Museum, and then a group of Kennedy family members appeared in the same museum. They had been invited to the country by the Prime Minister. When JFK was a senator, he spoke in favor of Bangladesh’s independence from Pakistan even though most of the administration at the time sided with Pakistan. Bangladesh remains thankful to the Kennedy family. It wasn’t until my last Central Bangladesh tour day that I came across a group of Germans at the Hindu brass sculpture workshop, who seemed to be with the embassy and not regular tourists.

Locals come to the parks by the archeological sites and seem to be actively engaged in learning about the previous religions in the region, Buddhism and Hinduism. Other than at some of the smaller sites, there were lots of locals out exploring ancient Hindu temples and Buddhist viharas. I was fortunate to be able to visit some of the major non-Muslim archeological sites in the country. When we left Dhaka, we headed straight to Puthia, where a large Shiva Temple was built in 1823 by the widow of the local ruler. It is made in the Pancha Ratna (five spires) mode and is all white with Mughal-era decorated entryways. In the large pond, that is by all temple and mosque complexes, she had a separate walled in space for her own private bathing facility built as well as her own private temple, which has ornate terracotta figures on the exterior walls that are reminiscent of the nearby 1778 constructed Dol-Mandir. The Queen converted to Vaishnavism, and there is a very nice Krishna Temple in the complex. The temples are beautifully decorated, some with replicas of the original terracotta figures that are in the museum in Rajshahi.

The Varendra Research Museum in Rajshahi is one of the best in the country and is considered the oldest as it was established in 1910. The museum has some amazing 9-12^th C black basalt sculptures including one that I begged to take a photo of even though photography wasn’t allowed. In the Myanmar blog I mentioned how I found it odd that the Buddha sculptures from the 11^th -14^th and sometimes into the 15^th C had flat digits. The fingers and toes on these sculptures are all the same length and not naturally rounded. In Myanmar I was told they got the convention from Sri Lanka, but when I was in Sri Lanka, I never saw a similar construction. Now in Bangladesh at the Varendra Museum, there is the only example of a sculpture with the flat digits that I have found outside of Myanmar. It is also from the 11^th C and was excavated near Naogaon.

The next day we headed to Gaur and the 15-16^th C mosques that replaced the earlier Buddhist and Hindu sites. I had thought there would be some remains of the earlier cultures, but according to the archeologists there weren’t. I did find one, however! A person-sized stupa that was covered in vegetation in a mango forest behind the main site. I found it on a walk through the grove on the way to an old cemetery. The cemetery was also in ruins and no one was sure who initiated it, but that was probably Muslim as there were no figures on any of the stonework remains. This excursion into the hinterlands was also my successful attempt to bring Azim somewhere that he hadn’t been. So far I’ve been able to bring my guides to at least one place in their country that they haven’t been before. Back towards the regular Gaur archeological site is the mosque and Tahkhana (cold room) that appear to have been rather recently renovated and are painted pink. They are striking in their Mughal architecture, but unfortunately, my iphone was malfunctioning and the camera wouldn’t take any photos. Not too far away is the Choto Sona Mosque which was built sometime between 1493 and 1519 in black stone, which must have been exceedingly expensive to bring to the region as it doesn’t have any stone. According to https://www.bangladesh.com/attractions/religious-sites/chhota-sona-masjid/, it was divided into fifteen units, each with a specific role. Today, the site is still used, but the earlier architectural purposes for the individual spaces has been lost. Two of the most striking features, to me at least, in these Bangladeshi medieval mosques, are the multiple domes and the lack of a minaret.

This was also the case with the mosque we found in the middle of a different mango grove, where a mid-day service had just ended. This one was in a distinctly rural area and, although the mosque was clearly of the same medieval time-period, it wasn’t under the auspices of the Archeological Department. It was obviously simply the local mosque for the villagers. The designs on the exterior walls were as extensive and well-done as the others we had just visited.

On the way to our next stop, we passed by a local weekly vegetable and rice market. The vendors sat on tarps on the sandy ground surrounded by their wares. There were only men present, both as vendors and as buyers, which I found a bit odd. I was told the women were working….

The next morning our first site was another black stone multi-domed mosque, the Kusumba Mosque. There was a festival going on and women in brightly colored clothing and burqas (yes, I’m making a distinction!) were participating. Normally, I’m used to women being allowed in mosques, and there are separate galleries set up for them. Azim mentioned that this was the only mosque in the country where women were allowed. Even so, I saw them lined up behind a curtain to get a peak inside. I didn’t see them go into the actual structure.

It was now time to head to Parharpur, originally known as Somapura Mahavihara, which was one of the largest Buddhist monasteries south of the Himalayas. The complex is huge. The current name comes from parhar meaning “hill” or “mound” and pur meaning “town,” and the local people called it that because prior to archeological excavation it looked like an unnatural hill in the middle of the wetlands. Seals found in the area testify that the large stupa was built by Dharmapala ca. 770-810 CE. It was repeatedly destroyed by invaders and then abandoned when the Hindu rulers took over the region in the 13^th C. The complex still lets one feel the presence of those who meditated and worshipped here. It is in a serene setting and remains so today, even with the addition of the interesting, but small, museum, and the kiddie park with vendors at the southern end. The terracotta tiles from here are in the museum on site as well as in Rajshahi and the National Museum.

The last place that I had planned on visiting was Mahasthangar near Bogra, which is the oldest uncovered city in Bangladesh. Coins date the habitation to around the 3^rd C BCE. It was an important trading city during the Mauryan period. It is unclear when the site was abandoned, but it was definitely in use during the 13^th C as it is mentioned in a couple of different texts. The citadel was the fortified center of the city and its walls run 4km in a rectangular shape. Outside the walls, near what used to be the mighty Karatoya river, which was similar in size to the Ganges today, and is now a small stream, were a couple of viharas (monastery complexes). Only a very small part of this site has been excavated, but what has been uncovered are not only the ruins of walls and a “magical” well, but also ancient coins, seals, ceramics, stone sculptures from the 5^th-12^th C, and a number of terracotta wall plaques. These finds are in the two-room museum on site as well as in the National Museum.

Bogra, where Mahashangarh now is, was founded by Emperor Ashoka when he conquered Bengal and made it Buddhist. Buddhism flourished with minor interruptions until the Hindu kings took over, and finally the Muslim kings made their presence known in the 13^th C. Some of the earlier stupas and temples were ruined, and others left for nature to take over. Such was the case with the Kusumba Stupa, a short drive from the citadel, which is now a perfect spot for locals to climb and watch the sunset from the top.

The next morning, we headed back to Dhaka, but not before stopping at another rather hidden Hindu temple in a small rural Hindu enclave, the Navaratna Temple. The guard allowed us to climb up to the top of the temple for great views of the surrounding area. Near Dhaka we made a slight diversion to Dhamrai Village to visit the workshop of Hindu brass and bronze sculptor. His family has been using the lost wax method to make icons and images for tourists and locals for over 200 years. After the sculptures have been cast and freed from the clay, he burns them to look like antiques. It was fascinating to see the people working on the various facets of the lost wax method, and it seems a shame that the finely sculpted wax figures around which clay is placed and then heated so that the wax leaves and the melted brass or bronze can be poured into the space left by the wax, are returned to a glob of undefined mix of paraffin and beeswax. On the other hand, there may be a spiritual lesson here….

On a more mundane note, there were a few more contrasting impressions that struck me during the tour. The garment factories in Bangladesh have been the sites of some rather horrific working conditions. In the past few years, however, modern buildings run by international firms have taken over and, at least according to Azim, the working conditions have markedly improved. It seems that when global companies demand changes, they are made, but without the outside pressure there would not be any incentive to make the changes. As we drove by the many garment factories on the outskirts of Dhaka, where they have been relocated, hundreds of young women with pieces of paper in their hands were waiting to go to work. Azim explained that this was probably their salary paper as the first of the month is payday. The minimum wage is about US $100 per month. In comparison, an average waiter in a local restaurant can figure on about $150 per month with tips, and a schoolteacher about $600. No one can live on $100 per month, and the garment workers need to pool their money together in families with 3 or 4 members of the same family working in the factory, to get by. Even with the improved conditions, this industry, which accounts for about 20% of the GNP, is still misusing its employees. They, however, don’t have any other choice at the moment, as most of the workers do not have a secondary education and have no other employment opportunities other than working in the fields. The dye workers, presumably in the same situation, are even further away from the city, but near the garment factories. Today they use both natural as well as synthetic dyes.

As it seemed like it was mostly women working in the factories, I asked about women’s representation in government. I learned that not only is the Prime Minister, who has been in power for 14 years, a woman, but also the Speaker and the head of the Opposition as well as a couple of other key cabinet positions. There are also a minimum number of women delegates in their Congress. I then asked about women in industry, and Azim explained that there are a few very influential women in business, but only a few. There seems to be a tremendous disconnect between having women in leading roles in the government – and many of these women have their positions due to family ties-, but not necessarily in industry, and what I witnessed as a woman watching other women as we crossed the country. What may seem like some kind of equality at one level, certainly has not changed the traditional gender roles that have persisted for generations in this part of the world.

This brought me back to questioning the role of government in deciding on and implementing change. Azim mentioned that the current government has been trying to modernize, hence all the major construction projects, a governmental health care system that at least pays for a hospital bed, if not for the doctor’s costs or the medication, and new laws that help improve even the garment factory workers’ salaries, as prior to the new laws there was no minimum wage. Unfortunately, the projects are fraught with corruption at all levels, and this is one of the main reasons many people do not like the current government. Additionally, they seem to have the motto “More development, less democracy” and many are also against any infringements on their democratic rights. Just before we got back to the hotel, we were caught in a political demonstration that totally blocked traffic. It was a peaceful, i.e., non-violent but very loud, demonstration with what appeared to be many hundreds of people. In a different part of town, a similar demonstration for the other party was taking place. Bangladesh will have its next election in December 2023. The current Prime Minister, who is in her late 70s, is expected to run for the now fifth time. She was Prime Minister once before this current 14-year stint. Bangladesh does not have term limits.

Bangladesh appeared to me to be a land full of contrasts. Traditional ways clash with modern laws and development. Improving the economic conditions of the people will be key to easing the government’s intended transitions. Whether they can do so, however, remains a key question.

As elsewhere, kingdoms and cities in Bangladesh have come and gone and walking around the archeological sites is a good reminder of how fragile our civilizations are.

Photos: Sonargaon

krodin — Sun, 6 Nov 2022 21:30:00 GMT

Photos: Central Bangladesh

krodin — Sat, 5 Nov 2022 01:05:00 GMT

Dhaka

krodin — Wed, 2 Nov 2022 02:23:00 GMT

Dhaka

I had wanted to come to Bangladesh for a couple of reasons: firstly, I know nothing about the country as a country, and secondly, there are a number of ancient Hindu and Buddhist sacred sites in this predominantly Muslim country, and I wanted to see if and how they were preserved. As I knew I wouldn’t have the nerves to drive in Bangladesh, I searched on the internet for a local guide with driver. After comparing and checking a couple of tour agencies, I chose Dhaka Holidays as Azim, the owner, who is also the guide, has a background in local history. This meant that I could be pretty sure he would be able to explain what I was seeing. I also believe it is better to go with the smaller local companies than the large international ones. If something happens, the local folks generally know their way around the system and can get the help needed. And with the pandemic, local tour guides have been out of work and need all the jobs they can get.

Azim met me at the airport and brought me to the hotel. On the way, I had my first introduction to Dhaka traffic. I don’t think I will ever complain about Salzburg’s or Salt Lake’s again!

We started the next day with a brief stop by the Parliament buildings, which were built by an American architect in 1969, just prior to the country’s independence from Pakistan. Originally, the buildings were for the governmental seat of East Pakistan. The buildings are impressive and still appear very modern. The area around them is filled with parks and greenery, in contrast to the rest of the concrete and exposed electrical wires elsewhere in the city. The traffic is simply not to be believed. Delhi’s is bad, but Dhaka’s is worse. Carts, bicycle rikshaws, trucks, busses, and cars all via for space to finagle their way through with horns blaring nonstop. Most of the time, things just seem to stop, and then a few minutes later, crawl a few meters. It seems like any normal rules of the road are ignored because by following them, the person/vehicle would not get anywhere. Once we were finally able to make our way from New Dhaka to the Old part of the city, which is only about 400 years old, so still fairly new by European and Indian standards, we went to the National Hindu Dhakeshwari Temple. There are a series of four rooms in one building each with a Shiva lingum. The main temple has statues of Durga and Shiva. Dhakeshwari is the oldest temple in the city and is recognized as one of the official Shaktipeeth site; a jewel from Sati’s crown is supposed to have fallen here. Some say that it is possible the name for the city came from the Temple, but this isn’t proven. The name does mean “Goddess of Dhaka,” however, and although the 800-year-old Durga statue that used to reside here was taken to West Bengal, a replica is in its place. “According to legend Dhakeshwari was built in the 12th century by King Ballal Sen of the Sena dynasty. It is said the king dreamt of a statue of the goddess Durga buried in the jungle and after finding the statue installed it in his temple as Dhakeshwari. The current architectural style of the temple cannot, however, be dated to the 12th century because of the numerous renovations, repairs and rebuildings that have taken place over time. The present temple is two hundred years old and was built by an agent of the East India Company, though quite probably the agent merely renovated the existing temple.”

(https://sacredsites.com/asia/bangladesh/dhakeshwari_temple_dhaka.html)

The complex was severely damaged during the 1971 Liberation Revolution; the Pakistan army used the main hall as an ammunition’s storage area. It was again vandalized by Muslim mobs during the 1989-1992 upheavals. The government now owns the space, and the temple complex is much smaller than it originally was, but renovations are currently going on to include adding worship space in the front. There were a few people worshipping, but mostly it was a quiet respite from the honking and noise from the outside traffic. There appear to be a few spots of calm amid the chaos all around, and Dhakeshwari is one of them.

Another, that is open to the public for a small fee is Lalabag Fort. This structure was originally intended to be for protection, but then the person given the responsibility for seeing it to completion, Subahder Shaista Khan, lost his beloved daughter and in 1688 turned the fort into a mausoleum instead. Bibi Pari’s tomb is in the middle/main building. The fort is remarkable for its Mughal architecture and especially for the extensive park surrounding the three main structures. There used to be functioning water fountains throughout, but the basins were empty, and it didn’t look like they had been used for a while. When the site was constructed the Buriganga River ran directly behind it, so there was never any problem with obtaining water and was a perfect location for a lookout tower. Since then, the river has been diverted and is no longer anywhere near the Fort. Even without the fountains, though, many of the bushes had orange flowers and purple impatiens had been planted along some of the hedges and birds were happily chirping through the vegetation. In addition to the tomb, there is a 1704 mosque, which was closed off and another structure, the Diwan-i-Aam, which was the residence of the Mughal governor in Bengal; this building also has a hammam attached to it. The structure is being completely renovated with funds from the US Embassy in Dhaka.

Bangladesh was historically Buddhist and Hindu, but since the late Middle Ages, it is Muslim. The next stop was at a small but beautifully tiled mosque, the 19^th c Star Mosque, named after the tile designs. The white background tiles also have floral motives in bright colors. Like at Dhakeshwari, the mosque was undergoing renovations to make the area in front a bit larger. Space is at a premium in Dhaka, so they are trying to be very careful not to waste any. There was only one worshipper in the mosque while we were there; he was deep in meditation repeatedly chanting “Allah.” He appeared sincerely dedicated so I hope his prayers are heard.

From the mosque we made our way to the Armenian Church, which has been tended to by the same fellow for 38 years. The church looks like a ship and is probably supposed to represent Noah’s ark. Armenian traders came to Dhaka, then called Dacca, in the 1700s, but when the capital was moved, they lost most of their business prospects. Most of the community had left by the late 1900s, and by the 1980s the church had fallen into complete disrepair. One ethnic Armenian couple took over and personally dedicated their lives, under various threats to their lives, to rebuilding the church. When they could no longer handle the work, they talked an Argentinian American into preserving the sacred site. The building today is freshly painted, the cemetery is immaculate ,and the garden of the caretaker’s house a mini park with flowering bushes and shade. It is a small oasis in the middle of the city.

Not exactly an oasis, but a bit out of the ordinary in this Muslim city, is the Shankari Bazar, otherwise known as Hindu Street. This area has the largest Hindu population in the city and the street has a number of small, but very nice, temples. They are primarily dedicated to Shiva, Durga, and Ganesha, but I did also see one to Vishnu. The shops here are renowned for their bangles, the armbands Hindu women wear, and they have been making them in the same style for centuries. Along the street are vegetable vendors that via for space with the trash on the ground. Sanitation doesn’t appear to be high on anyone’s mind.

It wasn’t on the river as well. Traffic and parking problems also seemed to be not just on the streets, but also on the river. Boats ferrying people from one side of Dhaka to the other were jamming into each other by the shore. There wasn’t a noticeable dock for the smaller boats, only for the large ones that take people on multi-day river cruises, including to the Sundarbans.

From the river we made our way through the massive traffic jams to the University of Dhaka, which was founded by the British in 1921. Curzon Hall, the administrative center, was built earlier in 1904, The University’s architecture is a mix of Colonial British and Mughal elements and is in a very large park-like enclave. It is a residential university as many of the students come from outside the city. I was told that the student population is around 35,000, but that seemed somewhat small to me as I walked around. Even though I couldn’t understand what the students were saying, I could comprehend the joy a few students had as they passed their exam papers around to their friends, and the frustrated look on a couple of young women, who appeared to be speaking not about their curriculum, but about their social lives. It doesn’t seem to matter what country one is in university student issues are the same globally.

Curzon Hall, which was being used as an exam hall, was the site where the Liberation from Pakistan movement began. It was in this Hall, that Pakistan declared Urdu to be the language of both East and West Pakistan, although, East Pakistan spoke Bangla, not Urdu. The students rose in protest and seven medical students were killed. A memorial to them is just outside the campus. A number of statues in a pseudo-Soviet style (this was in 1971 after all) show students of both genders holding hands ready to fight unitedly against oppression. The student revolt in Curzon Hall is considered the beginning of the move towards independence. The name Bangladesh comes from their language, Bangla, and desh means country. I was told that the UN made the 17^th of April, their Independence Day, the day of Mother languages.

The last stop of the day was at the National Museum. It is one of the largest in SE Asia and has four main kinds of collections: Natural History, Ethnography, Archeology, and Modern History. While the first two were interesting, the archeological exhibits were what I had come to Dhaka for. I wanted to see what ancient Buddhist and Hindu artifacts were on display and wasn’t disappointed. There were some very interesting 6^th-8^th c terracotta Buddhist heads and Hindu related reliefs. Bronze statues of both Buddhist and Hindu deities. Terracotta reliefs of episodes from the Ramayana, and large 10^th-12^th C black basalt Mahayana Buddhist and Hindu figures. The workmanship on the filigree in statues is amazing. The statues and terracotta were found in a number of locations, some of which I am hoping to get to over the next week.

It was now after 3pm, which meant that the traffic was going to get even worse, if that were even possible, as people get off of work at 3 in order to save power. It seems that there are regularly scheduled times when the power goes out in addition to the unintentional blackouts. After seeing how the power cables are strung along the sides of the streets, I am really quite amazed that it doesn’t go out more often than it does, especially, with most people needing to use air conditioners. The day was hot and humid, far hotter than I had anticipated. Azim said that the temperature was abnormal for this time of year, Nov. 1, and that he believes a new major storm must be coming. I hope we can avoid it!

Tomorrow, we head into the rural areas, with a first stop in Puthia to see an ancient Hindu site and then on to Rahshahi and the banks of the Ganges.

Photos: Dhaka

krodin — Wed, 2 Nov 2022 01:53:00 GMT

metropolis

Beginning of the Trek to Tengboche Day 1

krodin — Fri, 28 Oct 2022 15:55:00 GMT

Beginning of the Trek to Tengboche Monastery

Tengboche is perhaps the most important monastery in the Solo Khumbu region. The lama at the monastery has traditionally been the person to bless those who attempt to climb the sacred mountain Sagarmatha, known in Tibetan as Chomolunga. The worldly name for the mountain is Everest. As the Sherpas who live in this region know, however, the goddess and the mountain are one, and those who don’t respect her do so at their peril. Tengboche monks help safeguard the sacredness of the mountain region. As it is such an important site, I wanted to make the pilgrimage there and then cheat and take a helicopter into the basin below Sagarmatha to pay my respects to the mountain deities.

I needed to Ieave the hotel in Kathmandu at 3:30 am to begin the over 130 km four hour drive to Ramechhap’s Manthali, a small airport in the eastern part of the country as flights no longer fly from Kathmandu Airport to Lukla. The early morning drive was through valley villages and windy mountain roads, and the sun came up just as we could finally see some snow-covered peaks. The driver left me at the entrance to the airport amid a whole gaggle of international tourists heading to the Everest region. As I tried to wiggle my way through yellow Northface bags, red, blue and black duffels from various trekking companies and large to medium sized trekking backpacks, I heard French, Spanish, Italian, German from Germany as well as Austrian German, along with what I’m guessing was Korean as well as English, from England, Australia and the US, as well as Nepali. It seems Sagarmatha is calling the world. She is also the reason I am here.

My ticket was for Yeti Airways, but when I got through the gate, there was no check-in counter for Yeti Air. I then heard a guide tell his group that Yeti Air is the same as Tara Air, so I weaseled my way through the stacks of bags all around to that counter where I was told I had to wait. They checked in three large groups before they even looked at me, although I was the first in line. After they’d finished with the groups, the staff took a short break. When they came back, they started working on various luggage tags. Finally, one of the fellows looked up and said they’d get to me in 10 minutes. After I was finally able to check-in, there was a search area divided by gender, before coming to the waiting area, which is a covered porch by the runway. There is an outhouse like facility for a toilet and a large water dispenser in the waiting area, but nothing else.

My flight was scheduled for 8:15, but that time came and went, and there was no plane. An earlier Tara Air flight left about 7:45, so it was entirely possible that they were running behind schedule. It was fascinating to watch the various airlines flying in tandem to drop off and pick up Lukla passengers. When it seemed like every other flight had been called and there weren’t many more people in the porch area, around 9:45 a Tara flight appeared in the sky that would eventually take the rest of us to Lukla (2840m) and the beginning of the trek. While I was waiting, I began to wonder whether this leg of the trip wasn’t a mistake as hiking with this crowd wasn’t going to be particularly pleasant. But the weather was good. It was a beautiful day, and my wish to be able to see some of the high peaks came true.

The plane to Lukla is small and seats a maximum of eighteen people, and I was able to grab a window seat on the left-hand side. It was unfortunately just under the wing, but I could nonetheless see the Himalayan Range underneath the wing. They are spectacular peaks! Landing in Lukla is infamous. The runway is almost non-existent, but the pilots are phenomenal as they bring their passengers safely down without crashing into the mountain.

My porter over the next few days, Ramesh, met me in the luggage area and after a quick breakfast we started the trek along with the hordes of other tourists. Our original goal for the day was Phakding (2610m), but we made good time on the mostly downhill section, so I asked whether we could continue to the next village. I wanted to do this because the trek from Phakding to Namche Bazar was supposed to take 6-7 hours, and from Monjo it should take 4-5, and as it’s almost all uphill from Monjo, with a couple of fairly steep sections, I wanted to limit the next day’s pain. We did make a rest stop for tea in Phakding, which was nice, and then headed on. The section from Phakding to Monjo (2835m) was devoid of other tourists, but still full of yaks, that aren’t really yaks, but jopkes, a mixture of cattle and yak, and ponies. This leg of the trail was amazingly beautiful, filled with waterfalls, rushing streams and rivers, and capped with a few amazingly beautiful snow-covered peaks. We arrived in Monjo a little after 4pm to check into the guesthouse. The room was barren, it didn’t even have an electrical socket, but it did have a solar powered hot water heater for the shower, although there weren’t any towels. It was a good thing I had packed one. The internet also didn’t work well, but I hadn’t really expected it to.

I’m glad we made it to Monjo as the next day to Namche Bazar was taxing, although it only took 3 1/2 hours, with lots of stops for me to let the heart rate settle, not 4-5.

Trek to Tengboche Day 2

krodin — Fri, 28 Oct 2022 15:47:00 GMT

Day 2 Monjo to Namche Bazar and Everest Museum

We left Monjo at 7am before the German group that also stayed at the guesthouse. They were a friendly group of ca. 15 hikers, who looked to be around 50 years old. They appeared to be having a very good time with one another. I really wanted to get the hike behind me, as I knew it was going to be difficult, and I wanted to experience the sounds of the mountains and not people on the trail. The beginning of the trail from Monjo is a beautiful nature walk along the Koshi River until one comes to the fourth suspension bridge from Lukla. From here the trail goes up and up and up over uneven rocky steps. The altitude gain isn’t really the problem here, at least for me it wasn’t, but rather the unevenness of the steps. Many were much higher than most Western codes allow for and, even when I regularly take the stairs, they aren’t like the ones on this trail, and they require more leg muscle. Even the porters needed to stop occasionally, although I certainly did so more than they. The uphill slog is mostly over rocky stairways, which would be treacherous if they were slippery. Luckily, the day was perfect, not too hot, not cold, and clear skies. The views along the trail are stunning. After the rocky, uneven stairs there is a long more gradual uphill walk before one gets to lower Namche Bazar (3440m). Once in Namche, it was time for a tea break at the Stupa Café next to a stupa and the cascading large Prayer Wheels that are water powered sending Om Mani Padme Hum prayers out to the universe. After the rest, we headed to the hotel, which is in the heart of town, to deposit the backpacks. That accomplished, I asked to go to the museum, thinking it was in town. This was incorrect, it is at the top of the village. The (still uneven and over-dimensional) stairs to the museum are steep and many. It was almost as difficult to get through Namche to the Museum (3555m) as it was from the bridge to lower Namche. Ramesh suggested that before we go to the lower museum, which is the one at the top of the pass, we should go further uphill through the woods to a plateau with another museum and fabulous views. He was correct; this upper path led to the Tenzing Norgay Monument (3600 m) and spectacular views of Everest, Ama Dhablam, Lhotse etc. There is also a plaque with two stones that were brought here from the Dead Sea, from one of the lowest terrestrial points to near the highest. It was incredibly peaceful on the plateau surrounded by some of the highest mountains on the planet. I didn’t want to leave, but my stomach was grumbling. One does need to eat on these treks and drink lots of water. We intended to go into the upper museum, but it was closed for renovations, so we went down to the lower one. It consists of two small rooms on two floors that have daily living artifacts from the local Sherpa community and one room upstairs that is dedicated to Buddhist images. In another building there is a photo gallery in two small rooms with ethnographic images. From the museum, we headed back down to Namche center for lunch, a pizza, that we shared as it was very large. I’ve become somewhat addicted to the ginger-lemon-honey tea here as it is good for my throat and cold and tastes delicious. The lunch place played U.S. pop songs and was across the cobblestone road from a Walmart Shopping Center, - that had nothing to do with the shop of that name in the U.S.. In the afternoon, I wandered around the various shops and art galleries in town. It seems that everything imaginable is for sale here.

It was a good day. The next day was going to be another very difficult day for me as we were going to Khumjung (3780m) to see the Yeti skull – it is really a kind of antelope – but who’s to say the Yetis don’t exist… On the way I planned to stop at the Everest View Hotel (3880m). The path from Namche Bazar to Everest View Hotel was supposed to take a little over two hours of uphill hiking. From Everest View Hotel it was supposed to be relatively flat to Khumjung.

Helicopter flight from Tengboche to Kala Pathar to Everest View Hotel

krodin — Fri, 28 Oct 2022 15:34:00 GMT

Helicopter Flight from Tengboche to Kala Pathar and Everest View Hotel

As Tengboche was the last place on the EBC trail that had hot water, and I’m partial to a shower after a hike, I decided to treat myself to a helicopter flight from Tengboche to Kala Pathar (5550 m) and take the heli back to Kathmandu as my plan was to go on to Lumbini the next day. Kala Pathar is above the current Everest Base Camp (they are moving it further south due to the increased avalanche danger from the melting glaciers) and has the best views of the area. I woke up at 5:30 to the sounds of soft gongs that grew progressively louder from the monastery calling the monks to the 6 am service. I remembered that I’d read or heard that visitors were allowed into the service, so I got ready to head across the field to the monastery. Once there, the sign very clearly stated that it was open at 7am, not 6, although the gongs had now been overtaken by the sounds of the ritual conch shell. The monks were gathering, but there weren’t any other foreigners, so I decided it would be best to go back, grab the GoPro and take early morning photos. The sun gently coming over the peaks and the light playing off the snow-covered glaciers was fascinating to watch – even if it was literally freezing cold and had slightly snowed overnight. I went back to the room just in time to meet Ramesh, who said the helicopter would be coming at 7:30 not sometime between 8-9. We had a quick breakfast, apple porridge and lemon tea, and went to meet the flying bird. We waited, but it didn’t come. Finally, Ramesh got a call that it wouldn’t be coming until after 8:30 so we went into the neighboring Trekker’s Lodge for another tea to warm up. While there, I was again struck by the international nature of the trekking groups and by the difference in the groups in Namche vs. those in Tengboche. Namche’s appeared more laid back; it is an actual town where both foreigners and Nepalis live. While it lives off of and caters to trekkers and climbers, people really do live there, and some trekkers may be only doing day hikes from this base. The trekkers in Tengboche on the other hand were serious hikers. They were on a mission. And it was irrelevant which country they came from the goal was the same – a serious Himalayan trek, be it to Ama Dablam or Everest Base Camp. Those going to the Goyko Lakes took a different route from Namche Bazar as did those going to Thame.

The helicopter arrived, red painted with a fire-breathing dragon, and we took off only to land a few spectacular minutes later on a plateau fairly high up. There were four people on board when I joined, they had all flown in from Kathmandu for a day trip, and that was too many for the Kala Pathar portion, so we split into two groups on the plateau. While the first couple was in the air, the three of us on the ground explored the absolutely bitter glacial river that flowed through the area and the flora that was determined to live at over 4000m. A few pale blue stemless gentians, and some other tiny purplish flowers that I didn’t recognize were still in bloom. There were also a couple of eagles flying above us. When we switched groups, the three of us had a perfect flight right by the South Col and the second camp on Everest. It was simply phenomenal, as was our stop on Kala Pathar for photos. The pilot, Eric Ridengton from British Columbia, let me sit up front on the way back to pick up the others on the plateau. During the flight we followed the flow of the glacier, and I was struck by how light and sandy the debris looked in comparison to the glacial flows in Hunza, Pakistan last year, where the sediment was almost black. I will have to follow up on this to figure out why the dramatic difference. The mountains surrounded the helicopter as we flew back, and Eric was excellent with his explanations of what we were seeing. What I hadn’t realized was that there was a scheduled stop back at the Everest View Hotel, which gave me another opportunity to see the region again from a perspective that I’d only had a brief chance to before. Here a word of caution to anyone going there -they do not sell a cup of tea or coffee one has to purchase a complete meal and breakfast costs $31 which should be paid in cash. I stuck with the water I had brought with me. When Eric dropped us off, he said that an emergency rescue had been called in and that he would be back in an hour or two. After about three, we saw the helicopter land and went to board, but he waved us off saying that there was one more rescue operation before he could get to us. It seems that there are quite a few people who get stuck on the trail and can’t go on. This is similar to what our local Bergrettung, Mountain Rescue teams, find. People often underestimate the mountain and overestimate their ability. Accidents can happen to anyone at any time, but there are those that can be avoided by researching what to expect. On the other hand, many websites say that the EBC trek is easy and can be done by anyone in reasonable condition and this is simply not true. If the trek were at a lower altitude, yes, but not at the heights it is and the lack of hygienic facilities. There is no heat in the guesthouse rooms and when it is cold outside, the rooms are freezing. The lack of a warm shower at the end of a day’s sweaty hike coupled with a cold room, are not conditions that everyone can handle, regardless of their physical condition. Expectations need to be managed, as do one’s reactions to unforeseen events, for the hike to be successful and enjoyable.

The rescue operations ended around 3pm and we were back on our way to Kathmandu. In the meantime, the clouds had rolled in and the wind had picked up. It was turning a bit nasty outside, at least for trekkers. It was a good time to say good-bye to some of the most spectacular mountains on the planet. At the beginning of the trek, I wondered whether I’d made a mistake and wasted money. I couldn’t have been more wrong. It was a wonderful experience and the final helicopter flight, which brought me to views that I would not have had from the trail, and landing in Kala Pathar were simply phenomenal. The trek and flight could not have been more perfect.

Trek to Tengboche Days 3-4

krodin — Thu, 27 Oct 2022 20:18:00 GMT

Trek to Tengboche Monastery

Have been trying for days to upload the first two days of this blog, but the system doesn't accept it. I haven't a clue why. Please just see the photos.

Trek to Tengboche Days 3-4

Day 3 To Everest View Hotel, Khumjung and Ama Dahlam Lodge

We left a little before 8am and Ramesh took me on a different more gradual path up to the entrance to the Tengboche path. After a little bit of uphill, the Tengboche route continues straight ahead, while the Khumjung path turned right straight up. The path was primarily the same kind of rocky steps as before for at least ¾ of an hour. Then the path evened out and, while still uphill, was a more gradual earthen track. On the way, we came across a woman sitting on a stone wall chanting the Green Tara mantra. One of the guides with another group, was filming her chanting, so I took that as a sign it was okay for me to do so. The mantra of compassion filled the mountain air and was a real blessing to hear. At the top of the pass, there is a Yoga Retreat Center. It would be a beautiful place for a retreat even if it is a bit difficult to get to. From the top of the pass towards Everest View Hotel, there is an absolutely delightful flat path that allows for a brief real walk. When we arrived at the Everest View Hotel, Ramesh didn’t want to stop in saying that it was too expensive. I insisted that I still wanted a few photos from their terrace, which I luckily was able to get. We only stayed for a few minutes at EVH before heading straight down to Khumjung. We arrived there around 10:30am, so, amazingly, we made fairly good time, even with all my stops to catch my breath and take photos. By the time we arrived, however, I did want to sit for a while and have a cup of tea before going to the Gompa, the monastery. We found a place with a beautiful view of the valley and surrounding mountains. We saw a little girl, perhaps 3-4 years old, dragging what used to be a white dress along in the dirt having a great time playing with it. And there were a couple of five- to seven-year-old boys flying a kite. A few women were working in the fields, and one was sorting carrots outside her house. It was a little view into local Sherpa daily life. There have been a few migrations from Tibet south over the years and the Tibetan Sherpas came to the Solo Khumbu region about 600 years ago. A German book I found at the Monjo Lodge related, “According to legend as Kazi Sherpa explained: Many hundreds of years ago the renown Tibetan hunter Kyirewa Gonbo Dorje’s dog chased a musk deer over the Nangpá La. As the hunter didn’t want to lose his trusted four-legged friend, he followed him over the icy pass. Before that no one had crossed it. He then discovered the Khumbu valleys and saw that the land was uninhabited. He returned to his people and told them about his discovery. The wise ones understood that this was the land that had been prophesied in old oral transmissions as the Valley of Refuge for those who had been pushed out of their old Tibetan homeland. And so came the Sherpa, “the people from the East” into this land and made it their home.” They have maintained their Buddhist culture and heritage and love of the mountains. Without the help of Sherpas, mountaineering in this region would not be possible and without their deep sense of spirituality and reverence for nature, this region would not be as magnificent as it is. I am very grateful to be able to be here.

After the rest, it was on to see the Yeti skull. First there is the obligatory kora around the monastery and the spinning of the prayer wheels. Then one comes to the entrance, where they charge RS 300 for entry, which is quite reasonable as this is how they support the monastery. Upon entering the sacred space there is a cabinet next to the actual monastery hall, that has a large sculpture of Tara accompanied by many other Taras and Buddhist gurus. The hall itself has recently been repainted and is beautiful. The yeti skull with explanation is in the center of the room. On the surrounding walls are thangkas and paintings that are primarily tantric in nature. The leading figure at the center of the back wall deities is Guru Rinpoche. He is also on a side wall along with a sculpture of the Wind Rider. Masks for the ritual dances hang in an alcove above the main door and one with yak hair and skulls near the large drum that is used during religious rites. It is a beautiful space.

Leaving the monastery, we headed down towards the river, coming across one amazing scene after another. Ama Dablam dominates as the mother of the region, even though the title, Mother of the World, is reserved for the Goddess on Everest, Miyolangsangma. Ama Dablam, roughly translates to Mother’s Necklace, for the charm box worn by Sherpa women with images of the deities. For a short while we took a small path through the woods that was a true delight. It was clearly intended primarily for locals and had a very different, more peaceful, feel to it than the larger official trekking routes. When the path connected to the regular route, we came across the Ama Dablam Lodge and Restaurant, which was a perfect place for lunch. While we sat waiting for our tea and food, the neighboring group, mostly from Limerick, Ireland, broke into the Molly Malone song. Then one of their members was asked to sing the Leprechaun song for a French couple at a nearby table. It was a hoot! The skies were clear, song filled the air, and life was good.

After lunch, I put on my backpack to head further down to the river where I thought we were going to spend the night, but Ramesh informed me that we were stopping here as this lodge is much better than anything further down. While I would have liked to have gone further, this lodge is a delight. (It even has a real shower! – although the internet connection is beyond bad) The views are stunning, although as I was typing this the clouds came in and all the peaks that I’d been able to see were now completely covered. I hoped they would clear out for the following day and the last climb up to the most famous monastery in the Khumbu region, Tengboche.

While I was at Ama Dablam Lodge, I learned that one of the men in the Molly Malone choir was the first Irishmen to climb Mt. Everest, and he did so with the owner of the lodge, Lhakpa Dorje Sherpa. Lhakpa Sherpa also led the first Canadian group up to the summit, guided then Prince Charles in the region about thirty years ago, and has accompanied many of the most renown mountaineers, including Reinhold Messener and Peter Habeler. Lhakpa and his wife, Tashi, have two sons, Karma, who has been extremely helpful here at the lodge and another son, Neema Galden, in North Carolina, where he works in IT. Before the lodge was here, this was their ranch and winter quartier for their animals. Their permanent home is in Khumjung. As tourists started to come, they built a tea house, then later added a few rooms, and continued to build based on tourist demand. It is by far the nicest lodge I’ve stayed in during any of my Nepali treks. Tashi has even built two prayer rooms for those making a pilgrimage and for those who are asking the deities for blessings before commencing their hikes. I mentioned that Karma has been helpful; one of his tips was to avoid any yak that has red tape on its horns as that means it can be nasty. There have been a couple of recent accident with the yaks, not unlike incidents with our Alpine Almkühe (Alm cows) who do not like my black lab and have been known to attack her.

It is quite an international crowd that gathers on the terrace here. In addition to the Irish group and French couple, I’ve seen a Spanish group, a Korean group, a British group, and a couple of German groups, in addition to a few fellow Austrians and Americans. English is the common

Bhutan Impressions

krodin — Thu, 27 Oct 2022 20:15:00 GMT

Bhutan Impressions

I had wanted to get to Bhutan for a very long time, but the daily government fee of US$250 was always too expensive. I had decided that I was going to nonetheless do a 10-day trip once the country reopened after closing for the pandemic. What I hadn’t counted on was that the government raised the daily rate for a single person to almost $400 per day. My 10-day trip was down the drain, but I still wanted to experience the country, so I took a short 3-day trip from Kathmandu.

The flight goes by the edge of the snow-covered Himalayas, and I managed to get a window seat both on the way there and on the way back. It was wonderful to see Ama Dablam, Nuptse, Everest, and Lhotse again from a different vista. The airport in Paro is quite small, even though it is the only international airport in the country. Greeting visitors when they leave the terminal is a statue of one of the five sister dakinis who protect the country giving blessings. This is a very Vajrayana Buddhist kingdom. I was met by Phurba, my guide over the next few days, and his cousin who was driving a very nice new Kia Sportage.

We immediately headed to Thimphu, which is under an hour away on a good highway. This led to some of my first impressions. There is only one main east-west road in Bhutan, and this was the one we were on. There are some other local roads, but they are normally not in as good condition as the main highway, but also not at all like the very rough mountain roads in Uttarakhand or Nepal. Driving here is not like in India and Nepal, but rather more like driving in the West. People respect the rules of the road. Actually, it turned out that there are so many rules and regulations in the country that it made my head spin. The reason for the new Kia, was a law that said tourist vehicles needed to be not older than seven years and had to be of a certain quality. As we were driving, I noticed that the houses seemed to be either white, tan, or black and the roofs either green, red, or red and yellow. I found out that there are building codes and laws that restrict the color of the building and the roofs. Residential areas are marked by either green or red roofs and official buildings, temples as well as government buildings, have red roofs with a yellow top. Most of the Bhutanese houses have a lower roof, then a space underneath the upper roof for drying agricultural products. Interestingly, escaping the other color codes are the window frames, which were often quite decorative with lots of Buddhist imagery.

On the road, we drove by an old fortress by a river. It turns out that this place was built by a major historical leader, Ngawang Namgyal, otherwise known as the Bearded Lama. He was not only an accomplished Tibetan Lama but was also responsible for unifying the country in the 1630s and for bringing iron to Bhutan. He made 7 or 9 iron linked bridges (the stories differed), to help the people get around. None of these bridges is still existent, although pieces of them can still be seen, as they are by this fortress and in the National Museum in Paro. He is credited with establishing a distinct Bhutanese cultural identity separate from the Tibetan. His descendants still live in the fortress.

By the time we got to Thimphu it was dark, but I took a quick walk around the main street to look at the shops that sell everything that one would normally find in a big city. The next morning it was raining, which did prohibit us seeing any of the mountains from the Dochla Pass where the eldest Queen Mother built 108 chortens to commemorate the Bhutanese soldiers who had lost their lives in a battle against Indian insurgents from Assam in 2003. These chorten are squarish with a Bhutanese shaped roof and not like others in Tibet or Nepal. The clouds were sitting right on the site, so it was impossible to even get a feel for the design of the place, but on the other hand, the clouds and mist contributed to making the Pass seem like one was passing mystically from one world to another.

Next, we headed to the Great Buddha Dordenma statue, which was built to honor the fourth King’s 60^th birthday. The fourth King had already abdicated a couple of years before in favor of his son, who is the current King. This 52m high gold gilded bronze statue of the earth-touching Buddha is one of the tallest in the world and has over a hundred thousand smaller statues inside along with a prayer hall. While we were there, a service in Tibetan was going on. The entire square was packed with worshippers, and many had come for a month and were staying in tents made out of blue plastic tarps. I asked whether the people could understand the texts the lamas were reciting and was told that they probably couldn’t as the majority do not speak Tibetan. This led to a discussion on the relationship between Tibet and Bhutan. According to legend, Buddhism came to Bhutan from Tibet by way of Guru Rinpoche who flew to the country on the back of a tiger, who was an incarnation of one of his consorts, Yeshe Tsogyal. Guru Rinpoche is highly revered in all of the temples I was fortunate to visit. He is portrayed with his two consorts, Yeshe Tsogyal from Tibet and Mandarava from northeastern India, as well as in his eight differing forms. Historically, Ngawang Namgyal, who united the country’s warring fiefdoms, set about clearly defining a difference between Bhutanese and Tibetan cultures and languages. When I asked about the relationship with the Dalai Lama, I was told that he is respected as a Buddhist leader, but in the past previous Dalai Lamas had invaded Bhutan and that Tibet and Bhutan had a tenuous political relationship. This has spilled over into the relationship with China, which must be carefully managed and balanced with that of India. As a land-locked country between these two major powers, like Nepal, Bhutan has to be careful not to offend either neighbor. As a poor country in need of investment, they also have to be cautious about the long-term cost, not just monetarily, of infrastructure aid offered. They need the help, but do not want to be caught in either India’s or China’s grasp.

The Dordenma site is still partially under construction, not all of the many stairs to the plaza in front of the statue from the main parking lot are tiled, although those at the top are. Despite the rain, the tents for worshippers to sit were completely filled and many people were sitting on the wet ground under umbrellas outside the official tents listening to the lama’s recitation. Simply listening with an open and good heart leads to good merit.

After these two sites a bit outside of the capital city, we headed back into it. We briefly stopped by the main government buildings and King’s palace, both built in the former fortress style. By the palace there is a small building, where citizens can come to petition the King if they believe someone or something unjust has happened to them. Phurba assured me that this King is quite conscientious about responding to the needs and wishes of his people. The King’s photograph and that of he and his wife and children are visible throughout both Thimphu and Paro.

The royal family seems to have built many of the major attractions in the city and on the outskirts. While the elder Queen Mother built the chortens on the Pass, the mother of the third King, in 1974 built the National Memorial Chorten, for her son, who had died at the young age of 42. That he died at such a young age, is one of the reasons for the major celebration of his son’s 60^th. The National Memorial Chorten, does look like a traditional Tibetan Chorten, with eight ringed spire representing Buddha mind, the square base and toranas (gates) in the four directions. It is filled with images of wrathful deities with their consorts in Yab-Yum positions, which I found to be common among many of the temples I visited later in the trip. These deities represent the marriage of wisdom and compassion, action and thought, and warn against complacency and acts that lead to bad karma. It doesn’t hold relic remains but does have a picture of the former King. The gate leading to the Chorten has images of the three major protective Bodhisattvas, Avolokiteshavara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion, Manjushri, the Bodhisattva of Knowledge and Judgment, and Vajrapani, the Symbol of Buddhist Power. On the inside are images of Ngawang Namgyal, Gautama Buddha and Guru Rinpoche. Inside the complex is a large room housing a set of very large prayer wheels. People, especially the elderly, sit here and use it for worship, but also as a community gathering spot. In the back is a separate room/house for the butter tea lamps. The separate building is needed as otherwise fires can occur in the temple areas. While we were there, lamas were reciting a Milarepa text accompanied with Tibetan horns and drums. A crowd gathered in the rain to hear them. I was told that people of all ages come to do koras (circumambulations) around the stupa every morning as part of a daily ritual.

In Thimphu we also went to the local museum, again under the patronage of a queen. It is in a renovated 19^th c house and showcases agricultural tools from the past as well as a nice shrine room at the top of the house.

From Thimphu we drove back to Paro as I really wanted to get to the National Museum and didn’t want to be pressed for time the next day, as that was scheduled to be the hike to Tiger’s Nest Monastery. The National Museum is in an old watchtower, constructed by Ngawang Namgyal. It is a circular building on a hill above Paro, from where one can see the entire wide, supposedly the widest in the country, valley. Photography was unfortunately not allowed inside, so I don’t have any photos of the many incredible thangkas and mandalas that were on display. The exhibits are more extensive than looking at the tower from the outside would presume, as one goes in a circular fashion around the building and then into rooms in the middle and this on about five floors. While there weren’t any neolithic goddess figurines, the thangkas and the accompanying explanations, offered insight into many of the local Bhutanese deities, including a set of five protective goddesses, in addition to the goddess of the Jomolhari mountain I had previously read about. It was good that we took the extra time at this museum as I found the artifacts and the descriptions fascinating.

At the hotel, the Mandala Resort, which lies on a hill just outside of Paro, an organized group had arranged for a local dance performance. The young people performing presented five song-dances that ranged from a 17^th c classical tune sung by three young ladies to a shepherd-yak dance with two fellows in a yak costume chasing the shepherd around, to a traditional ritual mask dance to chase away evil spirits. Accompanying the singer-dancers were two musicians, one on a flute and the other on a drum. The flute player’s instrumental songs sounded very much like the Native American flute songs in the Four Corners region of the U.S.

Traditionally the major event of all tours to Bhutan is the hike to Tiger’s Nest Monastery, Taktsang Phalphug. This monastery is on a sheer cliff about 20 minutes’ drive outside of Paro. The hike goes though forests most of the way, and the government has placed logs to form steps to prevent mud slides. I was glad that the day was sunny, and we didn’t have to deal with the mud the folks who did the hike in the rain the day before had to. As it was, Phurba and I had a beautiful day and enjoyable hike. According to the website, it was supposed to take between 2-3 hours, but we made it up in about 1:45. The hardest part for me, were the uneven steps at the very end. After a delightfully flat path above the café that marks the halfway point, there are a series of about 500 steps down to a waterfall, and then about 400 more going up to the temple area where shoes, cameras and bags are to be deposited, prior to going up another set of high uneven stairs to the temple areas. There are four shrine rooms for visitors, each dedicated to a different deity, although most deal with Guru Rinpoche as this was his site. This is where, according to legend, he arrived on the back of a tiger to mediate and then subdue the local demons and Bön priests and convert them to Buddhism. There are two caves, out of eight, that are visible, one where he arrived on the back of the tiger and the other where he meditated. In rooms above them, there is an opening in the floor to look down into the sacred caves. Worshippers offer money in his honor. It is a remarkable place and the shrines, (photography not allowed) are beautifully done. The monastery suffered a fire in 1998 and had to be completely rebuilt. The stairs are newly redone and are much easier to navigate that what I heard had been a steep mud slab before the renovations. As in Tibet, I wondered how in the 17^th c, the people who originally built and lived in the site got their construction materials. Carrying all the wood and metal for the roofing, in addition to carrying the statues of the deities up to the site required monumental effort. On the way back down to the car, Phurba showed me the outline of a goddess, supposedly Yeshe Tsogyal, in the rockface below the cave and once down an image in the rock above the monastery of Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhava) in his wrathful form as protector of the valley. One can believe or not, but the people here do, and I find that refreshing. The visit to this monastery was definitely the highlight of my brief visit. The hike was good and the images in the Taktsang Palphug fascinating.

As we had made good time on the hike, we were able to visit two more temples in town. One was a new one, and I was able to keep my travel agenda on target with my plan to bring my guides to at least one place in their country that they hadn’t yet been to. Phurba had not been to the newly – and beautifully – constructed Zangdopelri Paro monastery. This complex sits on a hill not far from the airport and, like the watchtower on the diagonally opposite side of the valley, has a commanding view of the entire region. The center of the prayer room has a large golden statue of Guru Rinpoche flanked by his two major consorts and smaller statues of his eight manifestations. The walls are newly brightly painted with Yab-Yum images, images of the Buddha, and Avolokiteshavara. The artwork is breathtaking! (Naturally, no photography allowed….)

From the newest monastery in the valley to the oldest, the last official stop was at the 14^th c Dumtseg Lhakhang Stupa. This site was restored, again under the patronage of a queen, just prior to the pandemic. It still has the old feel, but the images on the interior walls are now visible, whereas I am sure that they weren’t clear prior to the renovation. This stupa is interesting in that as one makes the interior kora, there are wooden ladders with very small rungs that to the next level where there is another set of paintings telling another set of teachings, and then that kora leads to yet another wooden ladder that goes to where on the outside the spire is and on the inside a final set of teaching images. The pillar in the center and the walls are completely covered with imagery. The pillar in the middle represents the axis mundi of the world and the circumambulation the perpetual changing nature of reality. It was a fitting message for my last Bhutanese temple.

Before going back to the hotel, I wanted to get a book specifically on the Bhutanese deities, but our search for one at the three places that sold books, was unsuccessful. It’s possible that I’ll find one in Nepal.

As far as final impressions go, I found Bhutan to be a deeply religious country. This is partially due to the incredible number of laws that promote religious ritual as well as due to tradition. In one of the shops selling thangkas, I was struck by a poster that had an image I’d not seen before and asked what it would cost. I was told by the shop owner that the image wasn’t for sale as that was on her personal altar. There was no visible demarcation between her shrine and the paintings she had for sale. Then in the grocery store where we stopped to get water, there was a shrine next to the cooler with drinks and a stuffed yak on top of the cooler. These are things, I haven’t seen anywhere else in the world. The landscape from Paro to Thimphu does have a mystical quality to it and the blending of myth with history appears to be alive and well here. Phurba mentioned how the country is struggling to modernize with a young population that wants to leave as they don’t see how they can make a living in Bhutan. This problem is coupled with the migration from the villages to the urban centers, emptying the agricultural heartland of the country. Thimphu, like Kathmandu, seems to have mushroomed over the past few years while the basic population of the country, ca. 700 thousand, has stayed more or less constant. The balancing act between India and China is a constant source of worry for the government. The new policy and fee for foreigners has the tour agents very concerned, and rightly so, and most believe that it will either lead to what the government hopes is an elite foreign clientele, or to a tremendous loss of tourists. Time will tell. Tourism makes up a sizeable portion of the nation’s income, so a major deficit in this area, as has been the case during the pandemic, could lead to other issues. From what I could gather, Bhutan is facing a number of challenges, but the people are determined to master them, guided by a deep religious faith and trust in the King.

I want to thank Michal and the staff at Firefox Tours and Travel for all their help making my visit enjoyable and educational.

Photos: Bhutan

krodin — Thu, 27 Oct 2022 19:43:00 GMT

temples and hike