Dear friends and all,

Some of you have followed my travel blog in past years and you probably know that the blog went through a horrible crash…

A new blog is starting this year:  ET’s Travel Blog 2.0

You can find it under:  https://et-travel-blog.squarespace.com

I hope some of you will look in.  There are still glitches: my contact list got lost and I am currently unable to notify you when new blogs will appear.  But for the next month, you can count on a daily post from Turkey starting today (7/15)

It’s a fascinating country and I will be going to some far-fetched locations.  Please look in when you can and leave me a comment if you feel like it.

Greetings and good wishes for a great summer, ET


Adventure 2019

I will be posting again, I hope!

In a couple of weeks I will depart for Turkey.  It is my second time in that amazing country.  This time, I will be heading towards five special-interest areas:  Troy (the site of the mythological Trojan War), Ani (an ancient Armenian capital; now a ghost town), Gobekli Tepe (the oldest man-made structures in the world), Mount Nemrut (a mountain with mysterious gigantic figures/heads), and Goreme (the heart of the underground cities of Byzantine times).

Will you join me?

For the time being, I still am without a subscription option.  But that may change.  I will be in touch!  ET



Dear friend, blog subscriber, casual visitor.  Welcome back!

This blog almost got wiped out by GoDaddy…  You have no idea, what I have been through.  500 traveling days, 1000 pages, 2000 hours of writing and photo editing…  For what seemed an eternity, all was gone.  I guess I was in thorough denial about it.  At this state, I am ecstatic.  So much got saved after all.

The blog is still is not what it used to be and perhaps, it never will be again.  But all of my entries are back, and your comments made it back, too.  However, all the pictures I posted are gone (almost all).

Over the next few months (or might it take years?), we will be working on restoring whatever possible.  Thanks for looking in!  Thank you for your continuing support.



On Wednesday, October 11 and 18 from 6-8 PM, I will present a lecture on Cuba at Washtenaw Community College – Morris Lawrence Building #105.

This lecture will be a cocktail of country, people, politics, food, and the arts, mixed with travel tips.  It is intended for an audience that either has been to Cuba, wants to travel to Cuba some day, or is just interested in the current world.  Perhaps, you can come?  Please help me spread the word.

Registration Online:  https://washtenaw.augusoft.net/

Registration via Phone:  734.677.5060

Fee:  $30  Students, faculty, and seniors 65 and over are free.


SYNOPSIS:  Final thoughts on Nepal, China, Tibet, living goddesses, and women in particular.  A thanks to my readers! A thanks to my editor and my “linker”!

After nearly three months of travel (not counting the month in Cuba), I am about to go home.  If you are still here reading, you are the most amazing, loyal blog reader I could imagine, one I never could be!  Thank you for being here with me for the whole trip!  An extra special thanks goes to those among you who left comments.  Thanks to you, I never felt alone and I was motivated to keep writing.  You have no idea how much your presence means to me.  At times I admit that it is not easy to keep this blog going.  At this point, I have to mention the two people who have helped me all along:  David Goldberg, the daily editor, fixing commas and “Germanisms” and Emily Freeland, the humanities department assistant who has been linking key words to the web.  I could not have done it without you!  Thank you!!

Just in case some of my readers are still willing to poke their heads out at the very last moment, please leave a comment now, and let me know who you are.   I hope to hear from you.

I am looking forward to my family, my home, my work, and my lake.  As always, I come home with a new appreciation for what I have at home, and a new sense of wonderment about people and cultures elsewhere. 

Wherever I travel, I ask myself:  Could I live here?  It’s just one of several measures I have in determining if I like a country or not.  This, of course, is completely subjective.  Other measures I consider are history, artistic achievements, architecture, food, climate, natural beauty, people in general, and always, the treatment of women in particular.  This sabbatical has taken me from Cuba to China to Tibet (which China considers as Chinese as the rest of it), and finally Nepal.  Aside from the more objective measures, there is a deep gut feeling I have about each country I visit, similar perhaps to the feelings one has when meeting a new person.  Is there some chemistry or not?

Leaving Cuba aside, China always puts me in a state of awe.  Whether it is the vastness of its territory, the industriousness of its people, the past and present achievements, the variety of its landscapes, or the truly amazing depth of history it can boast.  But somehow, I cannot warm up to China.  This time more than ever, I had contact with wonderful Chinese people, but there simply is no chemistry between me and the country at large, which does not mean I would not go back to visit.  I am almost sure that I will.  There is just that much more to see.

Tibet was a one-of-a-kind experience.  The Tibetans I met were wonderful.  The land is vast and varied, but overall, life is harsh.  The nomads who live in the West go through daily challenges, which in remote ways remind me of my upbringing in East Germany.  There was no heat in the house or warm water running out of the faucet for a hot bath where I come from. I had to carry the coal from the cellar up to the 5th floor and fire up the tile stove every morning in the winter, or for every bath.  There was a limited variety of food and it was hard to come by.  Even though I can relate in so many ways to the hardships of the Tibetans, their lives are harder than mine ever was, by a huge margin.  Their surroundings are sparser; their lives more spartan, not to mention the climatic challenges in these high altitudes.  My hat is off to them!   

People in Tibetan cities have more amenities, but they are under much closer surveillance, scrutiny, and harassment by the Chinese.  I don’t think I would ever like to trade places with them, or subject myself to anything like this.  It would take me too far back into my own East-German past.

Nepal on the other hand now ranks high on my list.  It has its hot spots, like Lumbini in June, but overall, the climate is livable year round and the country has it all:  glaciers, mountains, valleys, dry lands, rivers and lakes, and amazing flora and fauna.  There is a rich historic and artistic tradition, both ancient and current.  Most of all, Nepal is a free country.  The contrast to Tibet was startling.  There is an arguably corrupt government in place that leaves much to be desired, but the effects of it are not nearly as severe for the population as in other parts of the world.  There are no foreign overlords, and so far, there is no terrorism.  With almost 50% of the population unemployed, there is wide-spread poverty, but it does not appear to be as devastating as I remember it from neighboring India, which I visited in 1988.  There, people lived in large slums, in subhuman conditions, worse off than animals.  Nepal seems to offer more opportunities, growth and potential.  There are many who are doing well for themselves even though there is room for much improvement. 

Most impressive to me is how people emerge from huts and cracked homes into the dust of the roads, in pristine colorful saris and freshly pressed school uniforms, with a big smile and a genuinely and consistent kind nature.  I have not experienced any public displays of anger, fights, or rudeness; and believe me, in other parts of the world those are daily occurrences that are expected, public, and are deeply rooted in the cultural fabric.

As absent as religion is in the daily life of mainland China, Tibet and Nepal are filled with religious devotion and daily rituals of religious activities that are as much cultural upbringing as they are actual beliefs.  Religious abstinence, other religions, and even sacrilegious behavior by ignorant visitors are tolerated.  I was touched by the willingness to include me, the outsider, into the fold for example, by offering blessings or body ornamentations at the temples, or to invite me into a stranger’s home.

Women, as I learned in Patan, used to be second-class citizens in Nepal.  By law, they are equal now.  What that seems to mean is that they are now allowed to do double duties.  Women always have to raise the children and do household chores.  But especially poor women are now seen all over Nepal doing hard, hard labor — too hard, for my taste.  Road construction or porting of heavy goods such as bricks, was a daily sight.  I could not even imagine carrying one of those loads; not to mention hundreds of them in a day, for slave wages.  Overall, wages are pitiful and hard to put into perspective.  Even with the much cheaper local prices for food and services, a grade-school teacher’s salary of $65/month for 10-hour days, is simply outrageous.  It makes a salary of $110 for a hotel receptionist seem handsome, and the potential for a guide to earn $200 per month almost lucrative!  But living costs after the earthquake have been on a steady rise and salaries like these only allow subsidiary living.  Many young people cannot support a family, and so they depend on parental or extended family financial support way into their middle age.

Nepal is full of what to an outsider like me look like irreconcilable contradictions.  Surprisingly, they don’t seem to lead to conflict, but are somehow absorbed into the overall mix of tradition and the acceptance of modernity.   

Kumaris are a case in point, the Living Goddesses of Nepal who may be chosen as young as less than a year old.  They serve until puberty, or until any unforeseen incidents such as loss of teeth, injury, or blood loss cuts their career short.  There are three royal Kumaris in Nepal, and about a dozen more local ones.  For the royal Kumaris, life is strictly regulated.  She cannot leave the temple other than to attend festivals or ceremonies.  That’s where she appears in her official function and is worshiped by all.  She is carried everywhere as her feet cannot touch the ground (yes, she may only learn to walk when she is no longer a goddess!).   She cannot communicate with anyone outside her immediate family and the list goes on…   


Kumaris are chosen according to ancient rules.  In the case of the royal ones, she may be subjected to tests that can only be called horrific, e.g. being left in dark rooms for extended periods, or being subjected to watching the slaughter of numerous animals.  If she as much as expresses any emotions or god forbid, fear, she fails.  Rural Kumaris may live almost ordinary lives in between their appearances.  They are only considered goddesses when makeup is applied and the wearing of her divine costume transforms her.  After serving in this function for however many years, Kumaris are transitioned back into normal lives which they may never have experienced, without much regard to mental or physical damage.  At times, former Kumaris are shunned and feared by local men and may never marry. 

The Kumari of Bhaktapur “collapsed” as a local man put it, after she traveled to the US unauthorized.  Outside of her public appearance, the one in Kathmandu can only be seen from a courtyard during designated hours, for about 20 seconds, if her guardian priestess with whom she lives, approves.  Of the royal kumaris, the one in Patan seems the most approachable.  Once you have bowed to her and received her blessing, she even allows to be photographed.  She is cared for by her own family.  Mother, father and sister are there to assist her daily.  Their lives changed as much as hers and have been dedicated exclusively to her as a goddess, for several years by now. 

I was fortunate enough to see the Kathmandu Kumari for the customary 20 seconds, to visit and bow to the Patan Kumari, and most fortunate to meet Ganga, a successful, former Kumari from Bungamati.  She works at the World Heritage Museum, where I met her.  As a Kumari has to be chosen from the Newari Shakya Clan, it happened in this small village, that both of Ganga’s sisters have served as Kumaris as well.  She and her twin sister each for a year, her younger sister since the age of 9 months.  She is now 6 and still “in office”. 

How this tradition coexists with the secular laws of women’s equality, or projects of women’s empowerment as I experienced in Patan, I don’t know.  But overall, women are fully integrated into society.   They are respected and have opportunities equal to their male counterparts.  They run business, are educated, and last but not least, they are beautiful! 

To the women, and the people of Nepal!



SYNOPSIS:  Status report and comparison between the three ancient capitals.  Daily life in Bhaktapur’s old town.  There are two sections of images; please scroll down.

Bhaktapur was my final stop.  It is the last of the ancient kingdoms in the valley and I am glad I visited these three UNESCO sites in that order.  I took a real dive in accommodations, but as I went down to the basics inside, the view from Shiva Guesthouse across Bhaktapur’s Durbar Square beat both the views I had in Kathmandu and Patan.  I was smack in the middle of it all.

Shiva Guesthouse has none of the charm of my previous AirBnB places, but it brings together people from all over the world coming here with a variety of interests, NGO-workers, backpackers, “flesh packers” as the more affluent middle-generation is known, trekkers, and more.  A young American girl named Casey and I spent some time together.  If I understood her right, she had come with a team of future medical students and brought equipment to some rural hospitals.  The spectrum of interesting people certainly made up for the lack of comfort.


If Kathmandu does not get its act together, it will be history as a magnet for tourists.  Its historic square is too small of an oasis, too damaged, and surrounded by too much dust and dirt.  If it were not for Thamel, the hip, posh and popular shopping and dining district north of Hanuman Dhoka, I would already say:  2 hours, and you should move on and out.

Bhaktapur not only has lovely winding streets full of shops, markets, workshops and interesting architecture; step-down wells, ghats, and temple courtyards, it also has much of its historic temple architecture preserved.  Yes, there is substantial damage from the earthquake, but two things stand out:

Renovations following the devastating 1934 earthquake sponsored in large part by German funds I will proudly say, has stood the test of the 2015 earthquake.   And Bhaktapur does not only have one square worth visiting but three if not four, connected by those lovely alleys.  That makes for a much more complex and coherent ancient city, rather than just an ancient square. 

Tragically, most of the earthquake damage is found in the domestic sector.  Traditional Newari architecture crumbled and if it was not fully damaged by the earthquake itself; it was declared uninhabitable and now funds to rebuild are lacking so… these homes are fully destroyed to make room for new ones.  This will noticeably destroy the coherent fabric of this town.  But there seems to be no easy way out.

For two days I walked through town, observing and photographing life in the streets.  Once again, I will take you on a photo-essay tour. 

And sad as it is, the end of my trip is now in sight.   


Girl bored with the Ceremony…

SYNOPSIS:  About a Saturday morning at the Kumbeshwar Vishnu temple and an afternoon at the Changunarayan Vishnu temple; my last excursion with Birendra.  Two sets of images.  Keep scrolling.

Even though Patan is mainly a Buddhist community, two Hindu temples caught my attention.  One was the Kumbeshwar Temple in Patan, dedicated to Vishnu.  It was just around the corner from Cosy Nepal and I decided to visit it several times during a Saturday, the only day off work in Nepal.  The other was a mountain temple, a few miles away which Birendra and I visited the following day.

The best time to visit any temple if you like to experience the living Hindu religion as it is practiced, is between 6 and 8 AM.  Then, temples are buzzing with puja activities, particularly on Saturdays.  Hindus are pretty generous letting non-Hindus visit and photograph their activities, even though the main images inside the shrines and the temple are typically off limits.  Old and young, men and women, people dressed in their jeans or in their weekend finery, flock to the temples with small gifts for the deities.  They prepare plates full of rice and flowers which they distribute at the various shrines.  They also come with a variety of yellow and red powders which they sprinkle over the deities, mixed with some liquids, and then apply to their own forehead.

Just like in Buddhism, circumambulation around the shrines and trees is a common form of worship.  People proceed from one shrine to the next and at times, given particularly popular shrines, have to stand in line for their turn.  Contrary to what we are used to in the Western traditions, there are no sermons, and there is no communal activity unless there is a festival  Everyone proceeds at the their own pace.  Some people circle a shrine just once, others multiple times; some don’t leave even the smallest shrines unattended; others may just proceed right to the main shrine to receive their blessing.  Each of the shrines has an attending priest or priestess who administers the blessings and puts the colorful tikli on people’s foreheads. These priests are not necessarily trained professionals like a rabbi or a pastor.  But some of these services are rotated through the community and performed by lay people.  Cell phones are not prohibited, and it struck me as particularly odd when even one of the priests picked up the phone and talked to… who knows who instead of focusing at the tasks at hand. 

Shrine areas are sizable complexes typically with a major shrine, various subsidiary shrines, holy trees, niches with images, and areas for prayer and blessings by various men and women who make themselves available.  Shrines are also used for various ceremonies and festivals.  Today, a private wedding ceremony was in progress in one corner of the temple, however the ceremony was screened off from outsiders’ views.   But  because of the wedding, the temple buzzed with extra activities.  Several groups of people affiliated with the wedding party had hired some of the holy men to conduct special blessing ceremonies using rangoli.  Rangoli are mystical diagrams drawn on the ground in various colors using perishable materials.  Once the diagrams have been created by the priests, the patrons gather, sing and pray together and donate money and goods to the temple and the wedding couple. 

In the afternoon, activities die down a bit, but there is always somebody around to pay homage to the gods, even if it is just a nod, or a rubbing of some of the images at the entrance door on the way home from work.  Temples are considered the abode of the god.  And just as you would say hello to a neighbor when you pass their house, gods here are greeted like good old friends.

The Changunarayan Temple, also dedicated to Vishnu, was high on my list.  When I mentioned it to Birandra, he was up for a visit.  He had never gone to the temple, but his favorite guru, Sri Shivapuri Baba had chosen this area as his home right after he had visited this temple and recognized its importance. 

A scenic road took us past a brick producing area, rice paddies, and up a mountain rim overlooking the lush Kathmandu Valley.  This mountain temple is located at the far end of a small community which was visibly hit by the earthquake.  The main street of Changu Village leading to the temple is a conglomerate of souvenir stalls filled with everything from metal works to tangkha paintings.  What is missing this time of the year are the customers, as you can see on the weary looks of the store owners who sit all day, likely without making a single sale.  A lone visitor like me can’t make up for the hundreds of tourists that will flock here during the tourist season and buy stuff.  I tried to avoid eye contact or even looking at any of the things on display in order not to raise false hopes.

Seeing the devastation of the village, I feared the worst for the temple.  Indeed, it had been hit.  But the main shrine of the main temple as well as much of its two-tiered superstructure had survived, or perhaps by now been rebuilt.  Many of the smaller shrines had taken a hit but some of the most famous images were there.  I lost track of Birendra as I started to walk around in amazement.  Why was I here?  This temple is the oldest in Nepal and among art historians considered the peak of the artistic achievement in the Kathmandu Valley.  I was not sure if I could tell the difference, since I am not familiar with the subtleties of Nepalese art, but the superb quality of the art was plain obvious.  The struts, the cornices, the wood carvings, the stone reliefs, the metal embossings were simply superb. 

As I made the rounds, I eventually stumbled on Birendra again, who sat in meditation.  I knew that meant an hour or more, and so I kept strolling.  When he “woke up” he asked what I had been up to.  I looked, I replied.  Do you know that these are the best carvings you have anywhere?  Birendra seemed somewhat baffled by this concept.  I come here to worship, he said.  I don’t look very much.  I invited him to come and see.  I took him around, showing him some of the images, and explaining some of the iconography.  He was familiar with the stories.  But as busy as he was getting to the shrine to receive his blessings, he had not even noticed the carvings, or the two small gilded royal figures of Bhupalendra Malla, King of Kantipur and his queen Bhuwan Lakshmi, now protected by a metal cage.  They are among the finest metal figures anywhere. 

When Birendra and I parted that evening, I thanked him for all the excursions we had done together, and the many things I had seen, thanks to him.  And he made my day when he said that I had taught him how to look and that from here on out he would approach temples in a different way.  I am leaving a little bit of myself behind.  That made me happy.

My time in Patan has come to an end.  But there was one more town… 

I will see you there.





ET at Palace Museum

SYNOPSIS:  About the residential communities in Patan, a community organizer, a few local traditions, and an internationally funded women’s project.  Keep scrolling down.  Lots of images are embedded.

Lalitpur, city of art, as contemporary Patan is known in the Newari language, won me over within minutes!  Of course, it is a city of art and artisans; how could I not love it?!  It is quieter here, cleaner, slower.  Or perhaps, it just feels like that to me because of the very noisy and dirty street I came from.  But I think there is more to it. 

Patan is the name of one of the ancient royal capitals of this valley and it is the third-largest city in Nepal.  Today, you hardly notice when you pass from Kathmandu over into Patan as you cross the Bagmati River, since urban sprawl has created a seamless transition.  Yet, if you look carefully, you see architectural changes indicating a distinct historical development and you see evidence of this long-standing artistic community at every corner:  carved doors, windows, and tympani (arches above the doors) abound; courtyard stone carvings are of first-rate quality; side-street metal ornaments on temples will take your breath away!

One of the most noticeable features of Patan’s urban layout are its numerous courtyards, connecting blocks and blocks of houses via tiny and narrow alleys into a unit that often evolves around a monastery.  You may cross through 5 or 6 courtyards and emerge at the other end … who knows where?  And along the way you pass metal-smith’s workshops, wood carvers, schools of tangkha painters, abandoned woodblock printing presses and many little shrines, beautiful doorways, and lovely people who don’t mind one bit that you are strolling around in their backyard.  An interesting feature to notice at the doors is the U-shaped decoration that is put on when a resident turns 77 years, 7 months and 7 days.  Main entrances to a set of courtyards also indicated the number of people who died in this community, by inserting nails into the lintel.

If you look carefully, you see that now Buddhist monasteries and Buddhist courtyard shrines dominate.  Kathmandu is representative for all of Nepal with her predominantly Hindu population.  But Patan’s residents clearly form a Buddhist majority.   Beautiful small stupas adorn almost every one of these residential courtyards.  Some of them feature carvings of Buddhist deities that would be on par with any museum piece anywhere.  Some ill-intending people have figured that out, too…  Now some of the more accessible sculptures have to be protected from theft by metal cages. 

Patan’s Durbar Square is much smaller than Kathmandu’s and more compact.  Yes, there is earthquake damage, but it is more clearly defined and does not ruin the entire area.  People stroll, sit, and enjoy the nearly intact palace that houses Nepal’s most worthwhile Museum.  And as everywhere else where tourists can be found, you will be harassed by street vendors who are trying to sell you just one more necklace, one more flute, or one more knickknack; and wannabe guides pop out of nowhere in desperate need of customers.  It is low season now, hot and very humid.  Almost every day is interrupted by a thunderstorm or a quick shower.  That does the humidity no good, but it brings some relief nonetheless.  But people around here depend on tourists, and there aren’t many of us coming between now and October.  While I was there, a Bollywood crew was filming a TV series taking place in the 8th C.  As one of the brief thunderstorms interrupted their work, I found myself with the three lead actors seeking shelter and lunch in the museum restaurant.  We had a good hour and 1/2 chatting.  I should have gotten their autographs…  Who knows how famous they are!?

Patan’s rebuilding efforts are either more successful than Kathmandu’s or they are just lucky that they are a city that is broken up into more highly-functioning local communities that get their act together.  Meet Pakash!  He is the vice-president of Nagbahal, one of the models of a functioning community that unites about 1200 residents in two large courtyard backing the Golden Temple; arguably the most beautiful in town.  His community has a community house with a UN-funded project teaching women to become tailors; ultimately heading for a store that will sustain the project.  They have a library and a clinic where a variety of doctor’s serve on different days, treating the residents of this unit at community subsidized prizes.  They have a playground and have sponsored new artworks, notably a large Buddha figure.  And most importantly, they  organize a regular and reliable water supply for the entire community by filling two large tanks every day from which residents can fetch their water. 

Pakash is one of the home owners of the Cosy Nepal project.  His father’s home was renovated with CN investor funds, and he now rents four of the floors of his home to local residents.  He added an interesting point to the delay of some of the rebuilding efforts:  family disputes.  Once a house is owned by more than one family member, competition, disputes, and varying ideas over the future of a property lead to delays, decay, and even destruction.  He pointed to a few homes where different curtains on the windows indicate the walls that have been erected inside — signs of trouble. In the image below, a traditional house has literally been chopped into half (note the window and the remains of a fraction of a wooden window frame).  One brother went concrete, the other remained traditional…  

When Brothers become Enemies

Pakash is as active as any community organizers you can imagine, and infectiously enthusiastic about his community.  He is but one example of a model that seems to ensure transparency in the use of funds and progress visible and tangible for all.  I was impressed!

Give me Patan over Kathmandu any day!


Ganga and ET at the Farewell Ceremony

SYNOPSIS:  About a special farewell and a special welcome.  About Cosy Nepal, a unique housing and restoration project.

Never before have I been sent off with such love and kindness as today, when I left the World Heritage Hotel in Kathmandu.  When I was ready to part, Ganga, the beautiful and ever helpful receptionist of the hotel, told me to sit down.  She was going to perform a farewell ceremony Newari Style.  Newaris are the original inhabitants of this valley and rulers until the 18th Century.  Their culture has influenced if not shaped Nepal’s culture in every respect:  architecture, festivals, rituals, language, food.   Ganga is a Newari woman and the owners of the WHH are Newari, too.

I sat.  Ganga put a tilaka, a yellow and red mark of blessing on my forehead, wrapped a string of flowers around my neck and handed me a small plate with a boiled egg rolled in spices and a cup, into which she poured a strong, alcoholic, local rice wine.  I had to eat the egg and drink the wine as protection for the journey ahead, and for good luck.  How touching was that?!  Thanks, Ganga, and thanks to the owners of the WHH, who themselves care in a very personal way about their guests and the people around them.  It makes such a difference!

What would lay ahead?  I was heading to Patan, the second of the three ancient capitals of this valley.  I had once again chosen a place that was located in the heart of the ancient town, that looked architecturally interesting, and had an outdoor space for me to sit.  This time I had my own balcony.  But I had to scale down a bit.  The WHH had been a cut above my usual budget.  What would it be like? 

Not to worry!  Cosy Nepal – the rental agency of my AirBnB accommodation, represents a unique business model.  A group of investors, who by now have renovated more then a dozen traditional Newari-Style homes in Patan, work in cooperation with the local owners of these homes.  The renovated homes become apartment rentals, managed by the owners in conjunction with Cosy Nepal.  Only one house is rented short-term through AirBnB.  And that’s where I found them.  The head of the company, Camille, is from France.  She and her staff members are loving and caring people who are determined to make a difference in Nepal and from all I can tell, they are!

My room is small.  I have a view of several courtyard of brick homes.  I am in a truly local, residential neighborhood.  Even though this is clearly an urban environment, I also have a lot of nature around me:  there is a crows’ nest with youngsters right in front of me.  On the roof one over to the left, a pair of owls is watching over four youngsters.  They are loud!  I had no idea that owls shriek so loudly and so frequently; day and night.  But what a treat!  And on the roof to my right, a slender black cat is raising four kittens.  I have to watch out, that the little ones don’t sneak into my room.  They love my bed and the rugs, but not for the appropriate reasons.   

Along with all my animal neighbors come the real neighbors.  A few steps down in a small, but fully equipped apartment with their own balcony, lives a couple from Portugal.  Samuel is part of a multi-country university partnership in helping Nepal setting up ecologically sustainable businesses (but I have to admit, I never got into any details of this project).  Maria is a chemist, who came along for the ride.  One floor down, in a really nice apartment suited for long-term stays, a French couple took residence.  Gee is a documentary film maker who is shooting a follow-up on the 2015 earth quake.  He and his wife Karin  have been to Nepal multiple times.  I can see, why.  This is a country one can fall in love with!

Once again, I have been really lucky.  Wonderful owners, wonderful neighbors, and a wonderful, truly cozy little place.  I miss the WHH.  But I don’t miss Kathmandu. 

Patan, here I come!


Birendra and his Nephew

SYNOPSIS:  Back in Kathmandu.  About a neoclassical garden, a new friend searching for meaning in life, an excursion to a secret place, and a dinner invitation.

The report from Vladimir came in via What’s App.  What a world we live in!  The expected 6-hour bus ride from Lumbini to Kathmandu had taken an awful 11 hours on dusty, pot-hole riddled roads.  Not even the fact that he took the luxury bus, providing a bathroom and lunch along the way, did ease much of the pain.  I decided not to put myself through this agony and booked a 1/2 hour flight home with Buddha Air which, despite its bad reputation did not let me down.  The airport of course was steaming hot, the electricity was down, and bags had to be inspected by hand.  But all of that seemed minor in comparison to a hot and sweaty 11-hour bus ride.  At the World Heritage Hotel, I was welcomed like a part of the family.  My room was waiting for me, and so were all the idle guides and peddlers without customers, roaming Durbar Square…

I caught up with some work, always minding the sky — thunderstorms were predicted by the early afternoon, but failed to deliver.  I finally took off to my last destination in Kathmandu, only to find myself in a downpour, within minutes.  Not the ideal circumstance to visit the Garden of Dreams.  I hired a rickshaw, ran into the garden looking for shelter, and found myself at the rather pricy garden restaurant, filled with foreigners.  No table left.  A young Nepalese guy sitting alone at a table gestured me a welcome.  That was 32 year old Birendra.  For about 45 minutes we weathered the storm and started to talk.   

For ten years he had been a banker making more money than he knew what to do with.  Yes, there are people like that in Nepal, too.  But he found himself to be frustrated, unhappy, full of anger; in one word:  an unlikable person.  He quit his job and ultimately was led to participate in an excruciating 10-day Vipassana meditation course.  10 days of meditation, no talking, no social media, no contact with the outside world. He only recently finished and found himself in a new world of calm and content.  Home is a small town about 12 hours from Kathmandu, where he left his wife and 5 year old daughter to visit two of his three sisters.  They currently live here in Kathmandu.  This afternoon, he had already spent 6 hours at the garden, meditating and enjoying  its beauty.  Eventually, he will figure out, so he hopes, what to do with his life other than just making money.

If I count right, he is the fourth truth- or meaning- seeking young guy I have come across this trip.  How do they find me?!  First, there was Sergej from the Ukraine, then there was Rob from Grosse Point, then there was Alfredo, the American from Brazil (I did not write much about him, but we connected on a flight to Pokhara), and here is Birendra.  Well, the rain subsided and we parted. 

The garden is a total idiosyncrasy in dusty Newari-style Kathmandu.  It is a beautiful and tranquil European style, neo-classical park with ponds, statues, pavilions, and several adjacent villas which once were living quarters, and a library.  It is small, but complex.  And most amazingly, you completely forget the dusty outside world.  For that matter, you could be somewhere in France, Spain, or England.  Viewing the garden, I lost track of Birendra and most likely would have never seen him again. 

But 15 minutes later the rain started again, and we found each other seeking shelter once more.  This time, I gave him my facebook address and he messaged me.  Like all self-respecting young men, he moved around on a motor scooter.  With all that time on his hand, he offered me to go on any excursion I would like.  And so I messaged him back.  I really wanted to attend another one of those Aarti sessions at the Pashupatinath Temple.  I figured that would be right up his alley.

The next day he picked me up and to the temple we went.  But before the Aarti session started, he wanted to show me one of his favorite spots in town.  We started to hike up behind the temple on a small path into the woods.  Believe me, I am not out of my mind.  But you just could not do anything like this in our Western World.  If you would be found robbed or raped, it would be your own fault.  Here, that is different.  He would not tell me what he was up to, but I knew I could trust him. 

We ended up at a remote meditation retreat.  It was the community and the place that had introduced him to Vipassana meditation.  This community had formed around a spiritual leader named Srimat Paramhamsa Govindananda Bharati or Sri Shivapuri Baba, for short. He reportedly lived to the ripe old age of 136 (from 1826 to 1963), for which there is little historical evidence.  But he must have been a tremendously charismatic figure judging just by his picture, which was abundantly displayed at every wall of the meditation shrine.  The current manager of the community proudly declared that Sri Shivapuri attained amadhi at the age of 126 (or so).  Amadhi is the highest stage of concentration achieved in Hindu meditation, which allows the devotee union with the divine.   

Birendra asked if he could meditate “for a while”.  An hour later (!) he woke up and we were on our way to Aarti at the nearby temple.  I can’t even quite sit right for meditation; but I know how to meditate.  And thankfully, I have no problem to contemplate and reflect for an hour especially in an ambiance like this.  I guess, if you have made it through 10 days of straight meditation, 1 hour seems like nothing.  I have no doubt that it does transform both body and mind in spectacular ways and that if we all would practice meditation, the world would be a better place!

From the internal, more esoteric type of spirituality, we moved to the external, and more populous one.  Aarti, as I said in my blog before, is a one-of-a-kind infectious worship. 

I enjoyed it as much the second time as I had the first one!

The next day, Birendra invited me for dinner at his sisters’ Jamona and Namona’s home.  Their hyperactive son Nasal dominated the scene.  Since the older sister is running an internet business here, they only rent their home and I was sad not to get a better sense of yet another living situation.  But I was honored that they would invite  me as their guest.  All three of them are beautiful, kind and special people.  His younger sister even learned some German at the Goethe Institute, which she proudly tried out.

How lucky I was to have rain on the day I visited the Garden of Dreams.