Res-Erection Part 2

I returned to Kathmandu feeling revived and with a recharged wanderlust. As the taxi drove me through the crowded, noisy polluted streets I realized that I do much better in calm quite and serene places like the beaches of Mozambique and Bhutan . So I decided not to hang around Kathmandu for too long and headed for Pokhara. Pokhara is a small town nestled in a valley on the shores of a mountain lake at the footsteps of the Annapurna range of the Himalaya.

As I climbed down from the bus I was greeted by a mob of touts who are paid by guesthouses to bring tourists from the bus park. I having arranged my accommodations prior to my arrival was looking for someone from the Shanti Guesthouse. As I looked around I was getting hassled on every side, touts were telling me Shanti was booked or the driver won't be coming, anything to lure me into their car to collect the commission on my head. Through the crowd I saw a Nepali shaking his head and looking at me with an expression that communicated, "I'm sorry for the behavior of my countrymen. These guys are clowns"

I glanced back shrugging my shoulders with an expression that communicated,"What can ya do?"

He walked over and introduced himself, "I'm Deep"
"Is that short for Deepak Chopra"
He laughed, "No, Deependra"
"Hey Deep, I'm Chris"

I sat at a table drinking a coke and shooting the shit with Deep as I waited for someone from Shanti Guesthouse. The tout before was right, nobody was coming to get me. I knew Deep was touting for someone and I asked about his guesthouse. From what he explained it was worth checking out so I hopped on the back of his motorbike and we headed for Pushpa Guesthouse.

Interested in continuing our conversation, I invited Deep for a beer on the lake. He accepted and we spent the next hour talking. I asked him questions about his culture and lifestyle. Deep explained that an Australian benefactor he met as a child sent him to school for 8 years where he learned English. But the guy died before Deep could finish his final 4 years. Now at 28 years old, he has a wife, Agina (rhymes with you know what. The smile on my face during our introduction was not due to my pleasure for meeting her) a 6-year old boy, Ashish and a 9-year old daughter, Anu. They are subsistence farmers who grow almost all of their meals. Deep works for Pushpa touting potential guests for about 50 US Dollars a month, his family lives paycheck to paycheck and is unable to save money. He also told me that he is a year and a half behind in tuition payments for his kids' school.

To me his situation sounds dire, I don't know how I would be able to cope. But to Deep it's life and he takes it in stride, with patience and grace and he remains honest. I admire him for it.

That evening we wound up going for dinner and then to his friends' club and continued our discussions. I asked, "So the Desain festival ends on Thursday right? Isn't that the big day, everything in Nepal will be closed?"

Deep went on to explain that Desain is the most important festival of the year where they celebrate the goddess Durga's triumph over evil. On the last day families get together and start the day with a goat sacrifice to Durga, then they prepare the meat for a feast. The whole family comes together and can feed from the goat for 4-5 days. Desain is like Christmas, Thanksgiving and the Super Bowl all in one. I asked how he and his family would be celebrating and he told me that they wouldn't be, they couldn't afford a goat. I felt such sympathy for the guy, I considered buying him a goat. But I decided not to intervene.

Deep offered to show me around town the next day so I took him up on his offer. At 8 o'clock the following morning I hopped on the back of the motorcycle to cruise the streets of Pokhara. We stopped in the center of town where hundreds of locals were congregated, shopping for the festival. In a sectioned off area there were pens of goats where people were negotiating with herders over price. Looking over at Deep I could see the sadness in his face.

"How much is a goat?", I asked.
Deep asked a herder, it was 8,000 rupees.
(My internal dialogue) "8,000 rupees! Back in the day the big shield in The Legend of Zelda only cost 90 rupees, inflation is a bitch." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyrule

Then thoughts started percolating:

• OK, it's like $100, I can afford it.
• Deep is a victim of circumstance. If he lived where I live and had my fortune he wouldn't be in this situation. It's not fair.
  
• It must be terrible to have to tell your children, "Sorry kids, maybe next year."
• What will I really be buying for my $100? What kind of experience will follow?
• Screw it, let's find out.

"Hey Deep!" I said, "Let's buy a goat!"

I can't describe the look on the guy's face, it reminded me of how lottery winners look upon being delivered the news. Deep grabbed me and started hugging me as he went off on nonsequiturs trying to express his happiness, gratitude, relief and disbelief all at the same time. He called his father, yelling in Nepalese into his cellphone.

"My dad is coming, he is so happy, thank you, thank you so much from my heart. You don't understand, thank you."

Five minutes later I met his father, Babaram. The man was weeping as he greeted me. He grabbed my hands and put them together between his then he bowed touching his forehead to my hands. I returned the gesture with a man-hug and the man nearly squeezed the life out of me.

Deep and I sent Babaram to negotiate the purchase of a good goat. Sold! for 7,500 rupees. As I lead my newest acquisition down the street by the horns I thought, "How are we going to get him home?"

Ten minutes later I was riding on the back of Deep's motorcycle with goat ass in my left hand, goat horns in my right and goat torso in my lap.

As we buzzed through the streets all of the locals were looking at me smiling and waving or giving a thumbs up. I arrived at Deep's 10 minutes later with a sore right forearm and a goat piss covered left leg. As we made our way to the front door I asked Deep if the family was aware of our purchase. He said they had no idea we had a goat. So... I decided to get Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes on their ass, toting a goat rather than a giant check. I whipped out my camera and shot this video.


The whole family showed up. Deep's mother, father, son, daughter, his sisters their husbands and their kids. We tied up the goat and as the children teased it I enjoyed a cup of tea with the family. I was invited back for a traditional dinner of dhal bhat (rice and lentils, the stuff is awesome) that night, and to celebrate the last day of Desain with the family the following day.

Deep picked me up at 6 o'clock the following morning and we showed up at Babaram's home in the near by village where I met Deep's grandmothers and some of the local village people (no need for obvious joke here). His sisters made tea and we sat on the clay floor outside sipping it as Baburam brought out the goat.

Fifteen minutes later a man walked up carrying a large curved blade. I knew right away who he was and what he was there to do. I looked over and watched the goat chewing on grass knowing what was about to happen. I felt nervous, nauseous and a bit guilty. But then I thought, "I eat meat, this is where my food comes from." I almost felt as if it were imperative for me to witness the slaughter as a means to teach me a healthy respect for my food, and not to take it for granted. Secondly, this is a centuries old Nepali tradition, isn't experiencing something like this one of the reasons I came in the first place?

They lead the goat to the center of the yard, Deep held the rope connected to the horns and Baburam held the back legs. Knifeman said a prayer and showered the goat with rice and spices and then took his stance on the goat's side. He sized up the neck a few times and then with two hands on the handle he hoisted the blade high over his head and with one swift downward motion, the deed was done.

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING VIDEO IS REALLY GRAPHIC SHOWING THE BEHEADING OF THE GOAT. I DID NOT POST IT FOR SHOCK VALUE OR AS A GROSS OUT. I AM POSTING IT TO ENABLE YOU THE VIEWER TO SEE THE EVENT THROUGH MY EYES. PLEASE PROCEED AT YOUR OWN CAUTION. IF YOU PUKE ON YOUR KEYBOARD I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY AND I AM NOT PAYING FOR THERAPY IF YOU ARE HAUNTED BY NIGHTMARES.

Yeah...imagine seeing this live and from 5 feet away.

"HOLY SHIT! I screamed in my head, then they started collecting the goat's blood in a shiney metal bowl.

WARNING THIS VIDEO IS PRETTY GRAPHIC TOO, LOOKS LIKE A SNUFF FILM

It took me all of my restraint to keep my composure and to hold down the rising chunks. The kids on the other hand were laughing and enjoying. Did you notice that at the end of the video you see 6-year old Ashish playing with the severed goat's head? What the F? Any kid I know would be crying in hysterics right now. It goes to show how our upbringing shapes our social mores.

Over the next 2 hours I helped to skin and prepare the goat. Afterward the men butchered it (I've got tons of nasty photos I can show you later) while the women cooked it. That afternoon, we sat on the ground and ate goat the traditional Nepalese way, with our hands. I didn't have much of an appetite, but I wanted to experience Dasain as a participant rather than as an observer.

That night I returned to Deep's home for dhal bhat and more goat. And in the morning I came back to join the extended family to give and receive tika.

Now, I'm sitting writing this draft at a cafe in Kathmandu, biding my time until tomorrow when I'll head to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia for a few days before meeting up with my friend Andrea for a few weeks in Borneo.

As my time on the subcontinent comes to a close I'm reflecting on my experiences. It was a challenge at times but I got so much from it, I'm going to miss the places, I've grown comfortable here. I'm sure it will take me years to fully digest what I've experienced in India, Nepal and Bhutan. Well onward ho! To Southeast Asia, get me to the beach!

It may be a few weeks before you hear from me again. If you think backpacking around the world by yourself is a vacation, you are dead wrong, it is hard work. So, as odd as this may sound to you, I am taking a vacation for the next 2 weeks in Borneo and I won't be working on the blog. See you on the other side of Borneo, wherever it is I wind up next.

Res-Erection Part 1

Today is one of the holiest day's of the year. While it is Yom Kippur, I am referring to the last day Dasain a 15 day Nepali festival which celebrates the victory of the goddess Durga over the forces of evil. While the entire nation of Nepal shuts down, its citizenry are a bound. The streets of Pokhara are well trodden by Nepalese families, they are off to visit friends and extended family to "give tika" a blessing, for the upcoming year. The tika is the red mark you often see on the foreheads of Hindu's, who compose the majority of Nepal's population.

Earlier this morning I arrived at the home of Deep (short for Deependra) Pahari and his extended family, to give and receive tika. The Pahari's are my newly adopted Nepali family. The story starts a week and a half ago...

Asia had gotten to me and my enthusiasm for adventure was slowly replaced with misery. Between the challenges of India and the relentless commotion of Kathmandu, I was frazzled, road weary and in a serious need of a mental health break. The universe answered my calling in the form of a week in Bhutan.


Freed from the constant challenges of navigating the cities of sub-continental Asia and free from gravity, I again sailed through the air. As we flew past Mount Everest I thought, "Hey, it does look like the Paramount logo." I imagined stars flying in from the bottom left to form a semi-circle over the mountain. Then I took time to reflect and examine the cause of my misery. Blogosphere, I have to be honest, after 3 months of traveling the world, the romance and excitement subside and what you are left with is life. And life has not been easy as of late.

I sat at 35,000 feet contemplating, "I don't know if I can do this anymore. I think it may be time to leave and head for Thailand. What was it about Mozambique that made it so enjoyable? I want to go home, just for a day or two. I'd kill for a TGI Friday's Pecan Crusted Chicken Salad right now. I just want 40 minutes in MY car driving down the Garden State Parkway on the right side of the road and on the left side of the car. I am tired of everything."

The plane landed 30 minutes later and as I stepped out I immediately noticed, Bhutan was different. The airport was beautiful, the buildings shared a common architecture and were adorned with beautiful, intricate filigree.

I wish my house was half as nice as the bathroom at customs. I walked through the door where I was greeted by Kinley and Dshering my guide and my driver and we headed from the airport in Paro to Thimphu.

Bhutan is the last of the Himalayan Buddhist Kingdoms. Surviving over the past several hundred years in self imposed isolation, the culture remains intact and largely unchanged. It remains unspoiled and clean and emanates a primordial purity that you can feel, the experience is spiritual.

The citizens wear traditional tunics called Koe, and live by the same codes their ancestors have adhered to for centuries. The government is a monarchy which was recently augmented to include a democratically elected legislative branch and a third branch composed of the nations chief Buddhist monks. And, the king measures the success of Bhutan not by gross national product (GNP) but by gross national happiness (GNH) which is built on four pillars:

1) The promotion of equitable and sustainable socio-economic development
2) Preservation and promotion of Bhutan's cultural values
3) Conservation of the natural environment
4) Establishment of good governance

All of Bhutan's policies and laws are based on these precepts which results in interesting laws. For instance, the sale of tobacco is illegal in Bhutan. And in the Phobjika valley, winter home for the endangered Black Neck Crane, there is no electric wiring as it poses a hazard to the birds. Rather than stringing wire though the habitat, the King elected to provide the residents of Phobjika with solar panels. All of Bhutan's people, including Kinley and Dshering are calm and demure. They are happy, saintly with endless patience. I wouldn't think of upsetting them (if I could) or even uttering a dirty word in their presence.

As we drove on toward Thimphu we passed through the quiet desolation of the Himalayan foothills. We traversed bucolic green canyons, along side pristine crystal streams and under deep blue skies. The color blue you can only see at the highest of altitudes. Along our way we rode in silence as we crossed rivers and mountain passes where Buddhist prayer flags flapped in the wind and prayer wheels marked our way. You know like from the Golden Child when Eddie Murphy does the whole I-I-I-a-I-I-I-I want the knife...Pleeeeeeease thing.

Kinley explained that these are of Mahayana Buddhist liturgy and they function to wash away the sins and protect from evil those who pass their influence. This is why they are hung near rivers and mountains.

As the first day came to a close I was at peace, I had found Shangri-la. The next morning we drove on. A few hours into our silent voyage (I was stuck to the window like a Garfield doll watching the mountains go by) Kinley asked, "Can we put on radio?" I was in my new found calm and curious to hear Bhutanese music so I answered with an emphatic, "Yes! Please do!" As the radio squelched on, the tune became clear.

"Un-ch Un-un-ch Un-un-un-un-ch... Whatcha gonna do wit all dat junk, all dat junk inside yo trunk?
"I'm ah git git git git you drunk git you love drunk off my humps..."

Hold up! The Black Eyed Peas?!?! My jaw was on the floor . The following tracks included 50 Cent, The Pussycat Dolls and P. Diddy. I wondered did these guys, these saints, understood the lyrics they were singing (or trying to) "You can find me at the club bottle full of bub, look mommy I got the X if you into takin drugs, I'm into havin sex I ain't into making love..." Buddha is rolling in his Nirvana! It's crazy to see what parts of American culture get woven into that of Bhutan. I laughed out loud, what a curious juxtaposition.

Folks the laughs didn't stop here. As we pulled up to our first stop of the day, a traditional Bhutanese home, Kinley pointed up at the door frame. "Penis" he said. Sure enough there was a 2-foot carved wooden schlong hanging above the door.

Without skipping a beat I said, "Yeah, but why is it so small?"

Kinley looked at me, confused with his head cocked to the side, the way your dog looks at you while he ponders the secrets of the universe. And then the light bulb went on over his head and he laughed.
He then said, "Penis keep away evil spirits."
To which I replied, "Maybe in Bhutan, in my experience I've noticed the polar opposite." Kinley resumed his cocked head confused expression.

Over the next 3 days we drove along roads connecting temples, monasteries and dzongs and we passed countless homes each adorned with big paintings of penises.

I was giggling like Bevis the whole way.

At the end of my week in Bhutan, I returned to Kathmandu feeling refreshed with a renewed enthusiasm. Along with my travels, the reading of Gandhi and Ayn Rand opened my eyes to the fact that India and Nepal operate in their own reality, not mine. My misery was a product of me not accepting this and trying to mold their realities into my constructs (whoa pretty deep) I decided to surrender, to stop fighting Nepal and let it happen. I've been elated since.

"Hey! What the hell man? What about your adopted Nepali family?"


To be continued...