Date: Sat, 28 Oct 2000 08:50:49 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jay Schneider
Subject: You don’t know Jack!
So, I seem to have a bad habit of dropping little comments without ever getting around to explain them. For example, I never did tell you all the circumstances surrounding my “fun with firearms” in Cambodia. And in my last message (“Call me Jack…”), I failed to tell you what that was all about. ooops.
Kathmandu’s spell wasn’t broken my second day in Kathmandu, but its glimmer was slightly tarnished, as I was having difficulty tuning out all the city’s inevitable detractions. I’m accustomed to the pollution, chaos, and aggressive hawkers trying to sell their wares and services, and so I can usually tune it out, and enjoy the positive aspects of the city. In the morning, I wandered contentedly the maze of alleys, courtyards, and explored the various temples and religious monuments. But as the day wore on, so did the countless numbers of people approaching me with the hopes of parting me and my money. I don’t mean shop owners or pedicab drivers who seem convinced that my walking deliberately toward a visible and definite destination is body language for “Hey you! I need you to take me 10 meters and I’m willing to pay absurd amounts of money for it, so please, please come over here and harass me!” These don’t get on me, as a simple “No,” or my preferred method of plain ignoring them eventually solves the problem. What began to get on me (by the 20th or so person), was the one who’d walk up alongside and start asking questions as if he were interested in my friendship. “Hello. What’s your name? Where are you from? How long have you been in Nepal? I’m a student here. DO you like Nepal…” yada, yada, and ending 10 minutes later with me saying “I don’t need a guide, I’m not interested in exporting precious gems to Thailand, and no matter how many times you ask me in the next several blocks, I’m not going to buy your drugs. Namaste.”
Again, such are the ways of travel in Asia, and I generally don’t have a problem with it, but I prefer those who are more direct and to the point (“taxi?” “you need guide?” “hashish?”)and whether I ignore them or politely decline, we can both go on about our daily lives. The people who use the “friend” approach begin to annoy me because apart from wasting time for both of us, it means I have to behave counter to my human instinct which never wants to ignore another chance for human connection, or totally disregard a man’s plea of “excuse me”. It’s a little depressing.
But the day rebounded well. I headed back toward the Durbar Square to see if much would happen on this final night of the festival. While sitting in the square, a Nepali man approached me, we started a conversation, and at no time did he ask me to export gems or buy his opium. In fact, he bought me a cup of tea. He worked for the Nepali National Department of Forestry, and we chatted up about the state of Nepal’s natural parks, festivals in Nepal, and Nepali language. It was a great way to end the afternoon and restore my faith that not everyone is out to sell me something.
As our conversation ended, I was shocked to hear shouts of “Jay!” My reflexes readied me for the inevitable near-riot chase through the city streets with an angry mob at my heels (I’ve had nightmares about this), until I recognized the voices as two friends, fellow ex-English Teachers from Japan. I was surprised and amazed that we would run into each other here, but I quickly quelled the feeling and realized that things like this happen in travel and life. And that’s what makes it so cool…
more in a bit (I promise to speed things up a bit, as I’ve oozed on about 2 days out of 6 weeks)…
Jay “come to think of it, I DO want to pay $20 for that plastic bracelet you’re selling” Schneider