Dear Elizabeth,
Back to Nepal--our first night there we could hear music playing from an
open area nearby. We followed the sound and
found an outdoor restaurant that sold “wedding supper,” whatever that was. We went into the open yard, sat down at the
table, and a man offered April a tiny glass of something that looked like tea. It wasn’t tea. It was rice wine! I declined.
That week I also got to eat yak
cheese, which tasted hard and heavy, but most of the rest of our food there was
delightfully “normal.”
People told us about a street named
“freak street,” which formerly had a more commonplace name, but was renamed
such after the 70s hippie rush.
Apparently during those years, multitudes flocked to places like Nepal
to “find themselves.” For some reason
they thought they could find themselves by losing themselves in drugs and
mysticism.
One thing that was disconcerting
there was the “eye,” the religious symbol of one eye staring. There were pictures of it and souvenirs with
it in nearly every store. Wherever we
went, it felt like that eye was watching us.
The eye wasn’t the only
disconcerting thing. We went on a tour, and
the guide seemed to think all of us wanted to visit different religious sites,
and see a host of statues of different gods and goddesses. He even showed us a spot once used for human
sacrifices. The guide seemed very proud
to show us the blood stains that still remained.
In one spot, he pointed out that the
Nepalese worship many gods, like the Christians, he said, who worship God,
Jesus and Mary.
I was so stunned I didn’t even
reply.
Later, April and I climbed hundreds
of steps to get a famous temple at the top.
Once there, we found monks in the usual orange wraparound outfit, but
wearing socks with their sandals because of the cold. We also saw lots of monkeys, who apparently
are sacred to this religion. (I never realized the monkeys in the movie Jungle
Book are there for cultural reasons, not just an addition to the story.)
We were instructed to go around the
temple clockwise. That’s the way it had
to be done, but I don’t remember why. I
do remember being very burdened, seeing the faith and devotion of so many
people and knowing they were following a lie.
It was easy to see that lives revolved around superstitions and trying
to appease or manipulate any of the thousands of gods and goddesses.
One cool day we went trekking in the
mountains with a couple from Croatia and a guy from Germany. We hiked through fields and I personally
found it rather difficult to breathe the cold air the longer we walked. (Found out later that I have asthma, but at
the time I thought it just showed how out of shape I was, which probably was
really the main cause of my trouble.)
We saw Nepalese women climbing
incredibly steep mountainside trails, carrying heavy loads in large
baskets. The baskets were balanced on
their backs, with a rope connected to each side of the basket, curving upward
and around the women’s foreheads. These
tiny women put me to shame, scurrying up the mountainside faster than I could,
while carrying heavy weights with their foreheads.
I got to ride an elephant, which was
really cool but not really comfortable.
I even have a picture of it. I
asked a stranger to take a picture for me and he did—of the elephant. So I have a photo of an elephant and my leg.
After a day or two, believe it or
not, we got so used to those rickshaw drivers following us around and asking us
if we wanted a ride or drugs, that by the last couple of days we’d just say no
thank you and move on.
Finally our short trip was
over. That last morning, as April was
checking around the hotel room to make sure we hadn’t left anything, she looked
under a bed and found—a space heater! It
had been there the entire time. I
laughed so hard.
Life Lesson: Assumptions can make for some really cold
nights. If you need something, ask!
So we returned to beloved
Bangladesh, where our flight to the capital city was delayed two hours. Not a big surprise. Then we got to the capital just as our flight
to our city was leaving. Without us, that is.
So we got bus tickets for the next
morning, but the next morning the buses would not run because of a 72-hour
strike. We went to the train station,
but it looked like Casablanca, with people packed in every space possible,
trying to leave. There was no room left
for us.
Back to the airport, where we did
actually find a flight that we could get if we rushed. We rushed, but I had forgotten to pack the
knife I’d bought in Nepal in my luggage.
It was in my carry-on. (Yes, this
was the knife I took around with me to poke robbers.) That was a fiasco. They unpacked it and wanted to keep it, but
then had mercy on the dumb white girl and a nice man personally ran to the
airplane to give it to a stewardess or the captain or someone who seemed safer
than myself.
Thus our trip ended. I have mixed feelings about Nepal. I’d love to go back again someday.
But I was glad to leave after 4
days. The spiritual darkness there was
palatable, and I was ready to leave it behind.
How I have rejoiced since then to hear of missionaries serving in Nepal,
making a difference in that hard, lost land.
Perhaps in the future, Nepal will be known not for its drugs and
mysticism, but for the Light that can penetrate both and set people free.
My one regret about our Nepal visit
was not flying to the top of Mt. Everest.
It was advertised that for one hundred dollars, a tiny plane would fly
tourists up to circle the top of that famous mountain. I really wanted to do that, but living in a country
where one hundred dollars would feed an entire family for three months, I just
couldn’t get myself to do it.
Now I wish I had, though I try to
tell myself that the top of that particular mountain would probably look the
same as the top of any other mountain.
And I get motion sick anyway, so perhaps I spared myself a miserable
waste of money.
I mean, I like adventures, but who
wants to be known as “the American who threw up on Mt. Everest”?
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