E-mail #8: Call me Jack…

Date: Fri, 27 Oct 2000 06:03:03 -0700 (PDT)

From: Jay Schneider

Subject: Call me Jack…

When we last all joined together in peace and love to hear more of my continuing travel ramblings, I was landing in Kathmandu. And now as I type this, I am in Kathmandu. So what happened in the past 6 weeks? (I’m sure you all spent every moment of every day wondering just that) Well, let me tell you…

But first (it’s never straight to the point with me, is it?), I’d like to welcome two new-comers to the list. One is a mother (mine, in fact), and the other is a mother-to-be (IT’S NOT MINE!!! I swear!). I’m glad my own mother has returned to the cyber-world with a new e-mail address, and as far as the expecting mama, I’ll let your minds go to work, and the rumors mills spin as you scan the TO: and Cc: list.

ahem.

KATH-fucki (wait, now my Mom is reading this)

KATH-friggin’-MAN-friggin’-scooby-dooby-DU!!! (that’s supposed to convey my enthusiasm and excitement for the Nepali capital)

After safely, er, after landing in Nepal(thank you Bangladesh Air!) and getting my visa sorted out, I stepped out of the Airport and found myself looking at the expected sea of touts all shouting and waving at me, guaranteeing me their hotel was both the cheapest and cleanest place in all Nepal. They yelled, screamed, begged pleaded, and waved signs of their establishment’s name. “Kathmandu Guesthouse” “Himalaya Hotel” “Welcome Jay Schneider” wow! what a great name for a hotel, that’s kind of…wait a minute! See, the neat thing about doing this volunteer work is just when I’m trying to figure out what my next move should be, there’s a car and driver waiting to take me where I need to go. I grabbed my friend “Mar” (Japanese guy with whom I shared a room in Bangladesh. 35 years old, looks 20. Nicknamed “Mar” because he likes to smoke marijuana. Travels a lot, lived in New York for a while serving at UN functions, acupuncture professional.), and we were on our way to the Thamel district of Kathmandu. After checking in, settling in we headed out into the streets with no purpose and no direction, just to get out and about, and that’s when the Magic of Kathmandu took hold. (See “KATH-friggin’-MAN-friggin’-Scooby-dooby-DU!!!”)

I was instantly taken by the energy, sights and sounds (I was ignoring the smells, for the moment). Perhaps because the culture is Hindu and not Buddhist, it seemed new to me. The chaos and pollution I’d seen plenty before, but the colors and the architecture and the life of the various neighborhoods we wandered through totally absorbed me. Then we noticed every window was filled with eager faces looking out, and the corner shrines were now filled with what seemed to be an audience. They were waiting and watching for something. Then we saw in. Huge wooden floats, pulled, pushed and steered by 30-40 men were coming our way. The gigantic floats could barely squeeze through the cramped streets, and every so often, for no apparent reason, would turn of their own will and glance into the houses and storefronts before being laboriously corrected by its attendants. Point of advice: try not to be standing in front of those houses and storefronts like those two fools who just got off the plane. (Don’t worry, we’re okay). The second float came, much larger (how could that be?) and grander than before, and before we knew it (We honestly didn’t know it until later that night), we sere staring at KUMARI, a young girl who is Kathmandu’s very own living goddess.

As luck would have it, the day we arrived happened to be the heigh of a 3-day festival in which KUMARI (I think she’s about 9 years old now, but I’ll check on that) is paraded around the streets. Also during this festival, certain statues and sculptures are opened for the public to view. As all this happens only once a year, our timing was perfect. We continued to weave our way around the neighborhoods, darting in and out of alleys on a whim, at one point being handed (as in from hand to hand) some vegetables and rice flakes. Not wanting to disappoint, I downed my handful of curried potato (SPICY!) with a smile, much to the delight of the watching crowd.

As Mar and I sat on the roof of our guesthouse, looking at the full moon above, I had a warm feeling of satisfaction filled me. That, or I was well on my way to dysentery from the less-than-hygenic serving I had eaten earlier.

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Okay, though I’ve only told you about 6 hours of the past 6 weeks, I need to go and answer some individual e-mails now. I’ll start with one from Dan P. in California:

Dear Jay,

I’ve got a title suggestion for your travel updates: “How my life is infinitely better than yours, you pathetic losers!”.

Dan P.

Dear Dan,

Ha-ha-ha, that’s kind of you to say, Dan. But really I’m sure everyone on my list (with the possible exception of Jake who sells tea) is perfectly happy with their own lives. It’s just YOUR life that is pathetic compared to mine.

Thanks for the advice, Dan!

Keep those comments coming!

Jay “I swear I’m not the father” Schneider