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| Today's computer room... |
My last update was just after my arrival in Kathmandu, however when three Australian friends catch up in a foreign country, there is bound to be excitement along the way! I think I will start with our time in Delhi, and see where I end up.
With our 12 nights of tour behind us, it was time for the Ali’s, Carol, Sarah (our new found Aussie friend) and I to take on some Delhi sightseeing. Making our way to the Delhi Metro early, we enjoyed yet another frisk search – these are way too creepily common in India – before heading to the beautiful Humayun’s Tomb, built by one of Mughal Emperor Humayun’s wives (the ‘senior’ wife) in 1562, and no doubt incredibly impressive, had one not been to the Taj Mahal a matter of days earlier. The tomb is beautiful, and is surrounded by gardens, set well back from the hustle and bustle of Delhi’s roads – the perfect place to relax, admire the beauty of the tomb, and participate in cult-like practices, leading to the tallest, and therefore obviously the ‘leader’ of the cult to get us kicked out of the tomb, and accused of unruly, alternative worship behavior. Before you make assumptions, let me at least plead my case, and profess my innocence…
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| Ali and Sarah at Humayun's Tomb |
Upon entering the tomb complex, we (now including Dan, who gravitated to the group naturally after seeing my ridiculous outburst at the ticket salesman, who not only ripped us off as tourists, but then had the nerve to claim he had no change…) took a leisurely stroll through the gardens of the tomb, stopping briefly for photos, to admire buildings, and to participate in other mundane, seemingly atheist behaviours. Making our way up the steps to the tomb, we chatted about various non-religious matters, showed no sign of Rosary bead, cult tattoo, or sorority pendant/ring, and as far as I could see, made no attempt to gather followers or supporters for our sinister intentions.
Stepping inside the tomb, we – the innocent Aussie backpackers – were greeted with the most beautiful singing, from a woman who could only possibly be described as the human form of Marianne Thornberry (for those of you who watched Nickelodeon as kids), and who we assumed was employed by the tomb in a last-ditch attempt to create some magnificence over the famed Taj Mahal. In awe of her voice and blown away by the moment, the six of us stood back and listened, quickly coming to the realisation the woman was in fact a tourist making the most of the tomb’s acoustics, her captive audience, and our obvious looks of amazement. Finishing her first song, Mrs Thornberry then invited the 25 or so people watching to join hands around Humayun’s cenotaph, teaching us a chant, complete with three-part harmonies and a basic dance (which I must say Ali F mastered within a matter of seconds!!!) Completely unaware of what we were singing, uncertain of the intentions of the woman leading us, but willing and eager to make the most of our unusual experience, we all gained confidence in our singing and dancing, enthusiastically participating in the spectacle at hand. However, just as I was braving up to take on a falsetto harmony (well, I would like to think I would be brave/talented enough!), our singing was brought to a sudden halt, as a group of security guards broke the circle up, and approached ME… accusing me of leading a cult, and demanding I tell them what we were singing about. Shocked at their accusations, and claiming to have no knowledge of the translation of our lyrics, I was quick to point the finger at Mrs Thornberry, only to be ignored – for she was female, and I was the tallest male, and therefore I was OBVIOUSLY the leader of the group!!! With no luck convincing the security that I was in fact an innocent, easily influenced, fragile and kind-hearted individual, and I had never done anything wrong in life, we were asked to take our cult behavior outside, and leave the tomb immediately!!! What an end to our India adventure!
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| The beautiful banks of one of Kathmandu's main rivers. |
Leaving my cult-criminal-record in Delhi behind, I flew to the pollution, chaos, uncertain electricity, and cold nights of Kathmandu, Nepal. As a yuppy brand-name consumerist fool in Australia, I was certain I already knew all about Kathmandu. It was going to be clean, environmentally friendly, organized, well laid out, and easy to navigate – just like the Kathmandu brand which has so kindly taken it’s name back in Australia. However, as the taxi ride to my hostel taught me quite quickly, the city is far from the organized, clean brand I know and wear, and was berserk to say the least! With a population of over five million people, no obvious rubbish disposal system, waterways choked with trash and stray animals, 10+ hours of electricity load-shedding every day, limited sewerage and running water, and public transport rivaled only by the AdelaideMetro Noarlunga line before 6am on a Sunday, Kathmandu caught me well off guard.
I spent my three days in Kathmandu subconsciously preparing for my upcoming trek, walking the 18km return trip to Thamel twice in two days (I was too scared to catch the local bus!), stopping along the way to admire the various temples, town squares, museums and architecture the city has to offer. ‘Metropolitan’ Kathmandu is made up of three small cities, which over the years have rather awkwardly joined together, to create one big, busy, disorganized place of total mayhem and excitement.
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| Paten Durbar Square, Kathmandu |
However, through all the chaos and confusion, the strikes and rallies, the shemozzle of a public transport system, and the hoards of street vendors, beggars, and money hungry tourism operators, I found Sarita, and suddenly everything made a bit more sense!
Sarita is an angel in a yellow picnic rug/yak wool scarf disguise, and I was lucky enough to book accommodation at her guesthouse – Sanu’s House – on the outskirts of Kathmandu, about 9km from the main action of the city. Sanu’s is nothing fancy, with four floors, 16 rooms, two open-plan bathrooms (this is not ideal for privacy!!!), no heating, a dilapidated bright green façade, no reception area, and the usual 14 hours or less of electricity the people of Kathmandu survive on each and every day. However, with this said, there is one special place in Sanus house, one place that brought people from all over the world together, encouraged some of the most interesting conversations of my trip, and provided some of the BEST food to date… the kitchen! The kitchen is a dim, bare, brick-floored room at the bottom of the building. One corner is taken up with a traditional Nepalese oven/fireplace, while the rest of the room is quite bare, with a bench along one wall, and a small table with the portable gas stove along another. The remaining space is stacked with a plethora of well-loved cushions and rugs, providing seating for the hoards of people Sarita cooks for every day.
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| Sarita haggling with the taxi driver for me... What a champ!!! |
On top of cleaning the hostel, making up rooms, delivering hot-water-bottles to every guest when they are tucked up in bed, wearing a dashing yellow picnic rug as a scarf, and providing the BEST local travel advice to anyone who asks, from her one portable gas stove, Sarita creates magic! The stove seems to burn non-stop, with guests treated to a complimentary cooked breakfast every day (different every morning), a hot vegetarian meal for lunch, and an all-you-can-eat banquet and unlimited Chai Masala every evening for dinner (100 Rupees/$1.25). The ingredients are basic – many home grown – yet the food is phenomenal, the chapatti’s individually hand rolled and cooked as you enter the kitchen, and the food served with a beaming, caring and proud smile. In a city of chaos, a world of confusion, hate, greed and intolerance, and a time when we are all way too busy with our own lives to make an effort to impact the lives of those around us, Sarita is a rare gem. In her kitchen there is no consideration of skin-colour, religion, beliefs, language, lifestyle, financial standing or family history. Everyone is welcome, and everyone is made to feel at home. While I don’t want to make this sound like a blatant plug for the business… I really do wish everyone could have the opportunity to stay at Sanu's house, even if just for one night. There is no way Sarita makes a profit from the food she supplies, and by no stretch of the imagination do the measly accommodation and food prices cover the value of the effort and energy she puts in to making her guests welcome, however, as I sat on the floor of the kitchen, my already-over-padded backside given the luxury of a 'Free Tibet' cushion, and I listened to stories from all over the world, I was completely blown away by how much one woman, through peace and love, and a desire to help others, has managed to change the lives of so many people - no doubt when they expected it least. Thanks Sarita!
I love The Wild Thornberrys, well said James, glad you didnt get arrested.
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