By Michael McCarthy
Boudinath Square bustles with pilgrims, mostly Tibetan refugees circumnavigating the world’s largest stupa, where prayer flags and pigeons fly gaily in the mild breeze. A handful of western tourists sip mint teas in neighborhood cafes in this northern neighborhood of Kathmandu. After many years of civil war, peace has finally returned to Nepal, and slowly tourists are trickling back to what was once of the world’s hottest travel destinations.
I am traveling with a Tibetan lama on a trek that will take us to the highest inhabited villages on the planet, but obtaining official trekking permits to our obscure region takes time. Meanwhile, lama Tenzin and I live as Tibetans do, rising at the crack of dawn to circle the stupa, a Buddhist structure hundreds of feet high. We eat in Tibetan restaurants, stay at a lovely Tibetan guesthouse and visit other Tibetans shrines and temples. Unlike the downtown Thamel tourist area, full of hard rock cafes and t-shops, the Boudinath neighborhood is the true heart of Kathmandu, a rapidly-growing city quickly losing the medieval charm that drew enchanted western visitors decades ago.
But much of the original Kathmandu still remains, and with an unsteady peace between the government and Maoist rebels still holding, now is the time to see it. Like Durbar Square, a complex of palaces and courtyards built between the 12th and 18th centuries, the seat of kings. Like Pashupatinath, the burning ghats situated along the Bagmati River, where we somberly observe cremations taking place.
“Rich or poor, this is how we all end up,” says lama.
In Thamel, we gather trekking gear; expedition outfitters are eager to welcome any westerners they see. After 13 years of civil strife, the trekking business is still slow. The Everest and Annapurna routes have always been open, but now trekkers are returning to Mustang and Manang and more distant destinations.
Lama Tenzin and I are heading so far off the beaten track that government officials are perplexed as to our reasons. To reach the Upper Dolpo region of western Nepal, over the Himalayan Mountains to the Tibetan plateau, we must cross several 18,000-foot passes, walking over 400 miles at altitudes averaging 15,000 feet. Even for Nepalese expeditions, which constitute some of the hardest hiking in the world, this is absurd, but when lama Tenzin explains that we plan to rescue destitute children, officials relent and issue us permits to trek though Phoksumdo National Park. At an astounding $70 U.S. per person per day, plus other expedition costs, tourists to this remote region are very few and far between.
We trek for 25 days, over the Himalayan massif to the last refuge of pure Tibetan culture left in the world. If Kathmandu is medieval, then Upper Dolpo is biblical. Nothing has changed in a thousand years. If there is a lost land of Shangri-La hidden in the Himalayas, this is it. There are no roads, no schools, no electricity, no phones, no shops, and no tourists in Upper Dolpo. People live in stone huts in tiny villages at incredible elevations. This is the land time forgot.
We cross vast mountains in raging blizzards, are tracked and captured by Maoist bandits who liberate our excess money, we escape sure death from avalanches, but we persevere. After a month of heavy trekking we emerge back in the 21st century with six tiny children in tow, whom lama Tenzin will
shelter and educate at his orphanage. These are children who have never seen a spoon or fork, certainly not a bicycle or car. The teeming streets of bustling Kathmandu are a dazzling wonder; the kids spend a week peering out the hotel window at the phenomena below.
We take the children out into streets where motorbikes vie with cows for space, past fruit stalls and cyber shops. The TV in their guest room enchants; the children peer around at the back of the box, questioning where the little people live. We play in the spotless guesthouse hallways, checking out strange inventions like showers and flush toilets. In the lobby I encounter the head abbot, who gives me a tour of the adjoining monastery, one of 40 in the Boudinath district.
“Would you like to meet our founder?” he politely inquires.
“I’m sorry,” I reply, imagining mummified remains in an old box, “but did you not say that he had passed away several years ago?”
“Oh yes,” replies the abbot, “but now he has returned.”
It’s not every day that you get to meet someone who has gone to heaven and come back to chat about it, so we retreat to a small room where I am introduced to a lively 5-year old boy, whose ears stand out like bat wings and whose eyes bug out at my camera.
“Digital?” he asks, pointing to my Panasonic.
We spend an amusing few minutes taking photos of each other, but my opportunity to discretely inquire about methods of returning back to life after the expiry date has passed are stifled by translation issues. I remove myself to the monastery roof, where I note the satellite dishes and microwave towers now piercing the skyline of the ancient city. A supersonic airliner drowns out the cacophony of the streets below, where pariah dogs wander down lanes blocked by cyber technicians wiring ATM machines to the Internet.
I wander back to Boudinath Square, putting some rupees into the palm of a young pilgrim begging by the stupa. He adjusts the earplugs of his Walkman and nods gratefully. I sit in a cyber cafe and type an email via flickering candlelight, informing friends back home that everything is the same as in the hippie days, but now would be a good time to come see Kathmandu, before anything changes.
If you go:
PRK Guest House
Boudha, Kathmandu, Nepal
E-mail: prkguesthouse@yahoo.com
Web: www.sakyatharig.org.np
Clean, simple rooms with bath from $10 U.S.
Dolpo trekking c/o
Mountain Travel Sobek
1266 66th Street, Emeryville, CA, 94608
1-888-MTSOBEK (687-6235) or 1-510-594-6000
Email: info@mtsobek.com
Treks to Upper Dolpo starting at $11,000 U.S.