The Political Scene

About  the political scene:

For the past three years, I have followed the events as they have unfolded.  Watching a country, with seven political parties,  try to become a democracy is like throwing seven bright colors into my washing machine and asking them to get along.  Some manage to stay true to their color, others simply fade on each other, but a few try to destroy the others.   In the pictures, you can see one of the daily demonstrations that manages to hold up traffic for hours  or days.  Everyone is protesting something and no one seems to know who is in charge.  The new Maoist government and newly elected congress are organizing and writing a constitution; meanwhile, Kathandu is embroiled in a free for all.  The Maoist Army is trying to merge with the Nepali Royal Army and that is extremely difficult for all concerned.  Some people are just so happy that the Maoist Army is no longer burning villages and blowing up bridges that they are willing to forgive and move on.  Others are still furious at the damage, terror, homelessness and killings that the Maoist caused during the  ten years of civil war.  The picture that shows one of the Maoist signs at the entrance to a small village is met with animosity, but no one is brave enough to dismantle it.  There are strong  concerns that the Chinese will eventually take over Nepal with the same viciousness that they took over Tibet.  So, the answer to those that ask is:  time will tell.  As I told several Sherpas during our discussions, our country can't seem to get along with a two party system; if we had seven parties to deal with, I wouldn't give us a chance.  However, the resilience, tenacity and religion of the Nepali people will hopefully prevail.  In my heart of hearts, I hope the impoverished city of Kathmandu can find the serene peacefulness that the breathtaking mountains contain.  I know that the gods and goddesses are watching over them and the spirituality of the country has a engaging hold across the land.

Life on the Trail

Life on the trail took us past spectacular views, spiritual settings, children waiting for school to start, sherpas carrying heavy loads, glacier rivers providing fresh water, locals traveling up and down the steep paths, trekkers stopping for tea or lunch and endless yak and pony trains.  Namestes are exchanged, minds ponder each others reason for such travel and people move on under the mountain gods careful watch.

The Bridges

While blog comments were hard to come by, when I returned, I had dozens of emails from family and friends who followed along and had questions; therefore, I'll spend the next few days responding. First, the bridges!  Many of you saw last years dangerous bridges and wondered about those in the Kumbu Region.  The bridges in this area are newer suspension bridges built as hydro-electric plants were going in.  The new construction is designed to catch you 15 or 20 ft below if a bridge does give way.  It would be quite a ride and then a real jolt, but people said that "if you hang on you'll make it."  Your pants might not be dry, but "oh well!"   These bridges all felt safe and secure as opposed to those in the Annapurna Circuit.  Fortunately, I didn't' have a chance to test out the "drop!"

One Last Look at the Himalayan Giants

Tomorrow, as I fly out above this confusing city and over the pure mountain slopes, I'll get one last look at the Himalayan giants that have intrigued and entertained me for a lifetime.  Once again, I'll ponder the blatant inability of society to weave a cloak that blends into a pattern of purpose and inclusiveness versus random threads without connection.  In 1953,  when Europeans and westerners were allowed to enter, the people of this country, once a kingdom, were thought to hold the key to happiness.   In reaching out to "help," without listening to the rhythm of the land and it's people, the results produced problems as well as solutions. Fortunately, Nepali people have held on to their friendly, happy nature so worthy of emulation and admiration without dissection or question.  We should adhere to the eighteenth-century scholar, Jigme Lingpa's words in Treasury of Precious Qualities: 

"When the eagle soars up, high above the earth,

Its shadow for the while is nowhere to be seen;

Yet bird and shadow still are linked.  So too our actions;

When conditions come together, their effects are clearly seen."

The Himalyas, like the Nepali people, reach high in solidarity with a beauty and mystique that  can be visited but not divided, questioned but not answered, and treasured but not taken.  I hope you have enjoyed their view from this window.

 Nameste

Leaving Friends; Holding on to memories

My Sherpas and their wonderful friends up and down the trail, the Dutch, the Australians, the Israelis, my 18 hour overseas seat partner in crime John, the Germans, Deepak, Indira, the Australians, the New Yorkers, and last but most importantly, the Oregon boys.

Thanks to all of you for enhancing my experience in the Himalayas.  The stunning mountain displays, the diverse disparate cultures and the questions of the incongruent worlds were   meant to be shared regardless of the pace, distance or direction of the travelers.  

The Flight back from Lukla

Finally, after waiting in Lukla for two days, the skies opened and everyone rushed to the tiny terminal as planes from Kathmandu began landing.  After we were shuffled out to the Angi Air plane, there seemed to be some question about the weight.  Suddenly, a worker came running up with a scale; instantly, the process of weighing apples, potatoes, etc. began.  A heated discussion took place, we were shoved on the plane and away we went.  Flying over the Himalayas is not for the feint of heart; several people got sick, but I found the ride wonderful.    The views were breathtaking; moreover, I cherished the last moments, taking in my surroundings.

The Tibetan Village of Khunjung

This modern Tibetan kitchen produced the best old fashion Tibetan bread; however, I almost missed the opportunity to taste it  My Sherpa guide got into a heated political discussion with this "strong" Sherpa woman.  He lives much further down the mountains, below Lukla.  After the Maoist promised his village many improvements, they got his vote.  In contrast, the Sherpa woman, living very close to the Tibetan border with even closer ties to her Tibetan relatives, hated the Maoist.  Words flew and it was easy for me to see that he was getting ripped and I was losing my Tibetan bread.  I finally intervened, pushed him out the door, and started talking to her about her beautiful kitchen, village and monastery.  Also, I told her I had spun all of the prayer wheels.  At last, my Tibetan bread!

Children on the Trail

Along the trail, I saw children playing together and taking care of each other.  They squealed with delight at  "Hide and Seek," "Kick the Can," and "You're it."  I watched them climb trees, swim in freezing glacier water, make their own bow and arrows and chase each other up and down the mountain sides.  Moreover, they were eager to respond when I talked to them in Nepali.  How refreshing to encounter children who's lives are not defined by technology; how difficult to reconcile that pleasure while seeing the lack of education in this impoverished country.  

We have more to learn than we have to give.