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Published: January 23rd 2008
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Nepali kids
...for whoever gives them a glass of water.... After being back from Nepal, I can finally state my feelings of uneasiness about what is supposedly "the best place to go if you want a rest from India". All along, I could not really figure out the reasons why I didn't really enjoy Nepal as I was supposed to, but now that I'm back in Hindustan, I think I have pinned it down.
NEPALI SCENES (I): WHERE YOU CAN TELL WHO IS WHO
Kathmandu is a beautiful city -- the scene alone of Durbar square at sunset is worth all the trouble to get there. One little detail is that Kathmandu, one of the only two flatlands of a country where 80% of the population leaves in mountainous areas, is incredibly polluted. Literally, half of the vehicles of the city are pieces of crap, scrappy 30-years old tiny Daihatsus leaving besides them a trail of black fumes and noisy old buses previously used by Indian Transport Corporations, which after 40 years of service re-incarnated as Indian Army buses, then after another 40 years re-reincarnated in Nepal as public buses (the next and final reincarnation before Mokhsha, I am told, will be in Burma). The other 50% of the cars
are all, inexorably, brand new, shining, polished, fully accessoried and heavily motorized 4x4 pickups, inevitably belonging to one of the following:
a. Various UNITED NATIONS RELIEF AGENCIES (I've seen a beautiful UN-vessilled 4x4 Chevrolet 5000cc of my existence in Pokhara, clearly doing relief work for the swarms of poor tourists hanging out in the Switzerland of Nepal);
b. Various Nepali and International NON-GOVERNMENTAL AID ORGANIZATIONS (their Nepali drivers seemed very relieved);
c) ARMY AND POLICE: those are really cool, with heavily geared troops carrying AK47s, M16s, shiny new uniforms, and a machine gun mounted on the roof: ahhh, Shanti Nepal!. As a reminder, petrol in Nepal is often rationed, just as electricity (though Petrol stations are generally located within of around Police and Army barracks).
NEPAL SCENES (II): RIGHT TO A FAIR TRIAL
Shanti Nepal is also in general the land of meat -- all kinds of meat, including beef, can be found in Thamel (obviously, don't even mention it to the 80% of the population surviving in the mountains on millet porridge and Dal Bhat). It is also the place where Buddhism meets Hinduism, and where such melting pot generates (of all possibilities) animal sacrifices.
Vertical horizons
Annapurna, from Landruk to Gandruk So, you go to the beautiful Dashinakali temple, near Kathmandu, and find scores of chicken, pigeons, goat, sheep, buffaloes, and all sorts of animals waiting in line to be sacrificed to the Goddess -- all rigorously male animals, as tradition calls for. Before being slaughtered and offered to the Goddess in a gory splattering of blood all over, however, tradition requires the animal to give its permission to be sacrificed. Thus, before the sacrifice, the officiant will pour water on the animal: if the animal shakes the water off, it is interpreted as a sign that it has given its permission to be killed. Clean and neat. Ooooom!
NEPAL SCENES (III): ON PSYCHO-SOMATIC ILLNESSES
Nepali restaurant.
-- "Do you have fruit salad?"
-- "Fruit salad???", the waiter looks at me baffled, surprised, almost shocked. As if I asked him if I could have anal sex with his little sister on the restaurant's table.
-- "Yes, fruit salad. Do you have it?", I repeat.
-- "You want fruit salad???", he mutters in a low tone, looking around the restaurant in a circumspect manner. Clearly, I have expressed an outrageous desire. Unwillingly, I may have said some sort of code-word for the revolutionaries. Or maybe he had some bad experience with fruit salad -- sort of a 9 & 1/2 weeks situation going south, or whatever...
-- Third try: "Yes, I want fruit salad. Can you bring some?"
-- "OK", and goes away, clearly still pondering at the deep and grave implications of my request.
Then he brings the order, which I eat quickly and with some rather odd sensation going down my spine. When he comes back, the plate is completely empty, clean as if just come out of the dishwasher.
The waiter however does not spare his acumen: "have you finished?". My instinctive response would be "no, don't you see I still haven't licked it?", but I refrain from being rude.
Suddenly, it becomes clear to me why, when I go back to my hotel at night, I often feel exhausted, as if I had worked in a brick factory the entire day......
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