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Date:     Mon, 3 Dec 2000 22:52:36 -0800 (PST)

From:   Jay Schneider

Subject:   Beware the monkeys…

A few things before we get started:

In my last update, I told you Nepal is 5 hours 15 minutes ahead of GMT.  This was, of course, a mistake. The correct time difference is 5 hours FORTY-FIVE minutes ahead of GMT. I apologize for the confusion.

And while on the topic of confusion (no, this isn’t about the US presidential election I ended up not missing after all), some of you have been asking when I’m coming home. Others are under the impression I’ll be home before Xmas. I think I understand why you may be confused. Your mistake was in believing me when I said, “I’ll be home for Xmas.” You should have known better than to trust my young and naive words. The fact is I won’t be home for Xmas (Thailand, again), but you can expect me after about 4 or 5 countries (don’t worry, one of them’s really tiny).

And now, on with the show…

After finally getting my visa for India, I left Kathmandu, and after a long, uncomfortable bus ride (they don’t let you sit on the roof at night), and a brief side trip to the birthplace of Buddha, I left Nepal. It was a spectacular 2 months, I hope to make it back someday.

Walking into India is a bit chaotic, and it’s quite easy to miss the immigration check post, wedged in between shops, food stalls and street vendors. Fortunately, when I tried to get my passport stamped by a woman selling eggplant, she pointed me in the right direction.

I had finally arrived in India, and all the bad things meant to happen did.  At the end of a long, cramped bus ride (half my butt had a seat!), before I could get off the bus, some man was kind enough to take possession of my backpack (I was able to grab it back through the window), and the travel agent from whom I was to pick up my already-paid-too-much-for train ticket, held said ticket for ransom using a most ridiculous and absurd scam.  Finally, at the train station, I spent several hours waiting for a train which seemed not to exist, and nobody seemed to know anything about. It finally arrived, and I slept hard and well, only being woken by hungry mosquitos, and thoughts of malaria, which I have yet to contract.

At last I arrived in Varanasi, India’s holiest city, on the holiest river in the world, and stayed for a week. The touts, pushers, and ‘friends’ weren’t nearly as bad as I’d prepared for, but it took a day or two to realize this, and finally I relaxed, let my guard down and simply enjoyed myself. I hung out on the Ganges, sunrise, sunset, and under a full moon, and watched the bodies burn and corpses float down the river. aaah…so relaxing.

Next was Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, and a number of other, until quite recently very affordable sites and monuments. I spent a huge amount of money in one day, and enjoyed bitching about the India-wide price hikes with other travelers and people in the tourist industry. To be fair, perhaps tourists should share more of the burden of protecting world heritage sites and other points of interest. But when you’re low on funds, and only weeks ago could have paid pennies instead of dollars (Taj Mahal, 40 rupees —> 960 rs./ Red Fort, 2 rs –> 235 rs., for example), bitching and whining seems like the right thing to do. And it’s a lot of fun, too!

My next stop was Khajuraho, and if you’ve never heard of it, I hadn’t either until my guidebook flipped open by chance to that section. It’s a little bit out of the way (“on the road from nowhere to nowhere” — Lonely Planet), I had to do some backtracking (“…but most travelers fit it in between Varanasi and Agra” — LP “D’oh!” J.S.), and a bit costly (UNESCO World Heritage Site = $$$), but while reading my guidebook on the train to Agra, something captured my attention. Three words: Erotic Temple Carvings.  Okay, actually, just one of these words motivated me to ride a crammed train, two rickshaws, and so, so full bus for 8 hours (half-butt on seat!).  Man, oh, man, it was worth it. I’ll refrain from saying more about the carvings as mixed-company and minors may read this list.

Delhi, for a couple days, mostly to do errands (train/plane tix, laundry, e-mail…), and then up to the Pakistani border to Amritsar, home of the Sikh’s Golden Temple. I spent the night in the pilgrim’s lodging and ate in the temple kitchen. In spite of my being sick (not to be confused with Sikh), of the fever, ache, and cough variety, I really enjoyed my time there. The temple is open to all, and many people were very helpful and friendly to me, and here’s the kicker, didn’t once ask me for money. Even the room and food are free. Of course I gave a donation, but after weeks of feeling nobody will even tell you the time for free, it was a refreshing change of pace. Also, the Sikh’s are bad-ass, and quite proud of their assassination of Indira Gandhi. Lesson learned, the Sikh will help and serve all–but don’t fuck with ’em. (sorry, ‘f-ck’. mixed company and minors…)

And finally on to Dharamsala, which apart from being home to His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Tibet’s Government-in-exile, is also rather cold. I was further North than even Nepal, though the altitude was not as high. In spite of the cold, I was happy to be back in the Himalaya, and realized I really love the mountains.

In addition to experiencing a slice of living Tibetan culture (something nearly impossible to do in Tibet), I enjoyed many fine walks and hikes, and came to a better understanding of the Buddhist Philosophy of the impermanence and suffering of life, when a monkey stole my donut. (I think the same thing happened to Homer Simpson once…)

There are many opportunities to take classes in Tibetan Buddhism/Philosophy, yoga, and meditation retreats where you don’t talk for 10 days, but I needed something a little more practical and down-to-earth. I chose a 6-day hand healing course taught by Lama Lobsang Thamcho Nyimna, a recognized thulku (reincarnation, though of whom, I never found out). My health insurance had just expired, so I figured being able to heal myself was the most practical thing I could do.

Naturally, with my study of Japan and Asian cultures, I’d learned quite a bit about Buddhism, though mostly second-hand, as a means to better understand literature and culture. In Dharamsala, I decided the time was right to more directly and deliberately study Buddhist philosophy, and had some difficult questions. For instance, does love and compassion for all living creatures include cockroaches? Because, Buddhism makes a lot of sense, and I’d be tempted to sign on, but I’ve got a thing against cockroaches, and a firm belief that if I see one in my home, it must die at all costs. So I went to the Security Office and asked when the Dalai Lama would have his next public audience, but no dates have yet been fixed. I decided to address my issues in my own private meditation, though I began with a simpler question: Will my path to enlightenment be hindered by swiftly kicking donut-stealing monkeys?

But D-sala wasn’t all monks and meditation. My guidebook told me that it was a good place for chocolate cake, and always wanting to experience local culture and foods, I experienced as often as possible. I never questioned why this Tibetan community in Northern India would have chocolate cake as a local specialty. Ours is not to ask why, only ‘where?’ and ‘how much?’

And to show that old habits die hard, I spent the evenings volunteering, teaching English to Tibetan refugees.

Finally, healing certificate in hand, chocolate cake in stomach, no hair on head (I had it shaved again), it was time to bid farewell to Dharamsala. I did discover, however, that the following week, there would be a festival celebrating the 60th anniversary of the god-king’s installment as Dalai Lama. He would make speeches and prayers, and perhaps I could have the chance to meet him. I struggled with this decision for days. Even without the festival (and chocolate cake), Dharamsala is the kind of place where one can easily spend a month. But I realized it was time for me to move on.  Even the Dalai Lama could not fill the void inside me. The emptiness I feel is a result of missing the Pushkar Camel Fair, and I knew it could only be satisfied by heading south to Rajasthan, and finding an adequate substitute.

I’ve got a camel safari in my future. Jay “Camels, Ho!” Schneider

Date:     Mon, 6 Nov 2000 07:52:08 -0800 (PST)

From:   Jay Schneider

Subject:   TAIMINGU! (Timing)

タイミング!

It’s time to talk about time. First of all, Nepal is 5 hours and FIFTEEN  minutes off of GMT, so let’s just get that out of the way. S, I’ve been hangin’ out in Kathmandu for over a week now and passing the time, rather well, I must say. But I admit the last day or two, I’ve started to get a  little restless, and a little antsy, and apart from reading books, writing in my journal, and reading what the people next to me are typing in their e-mails (see, it’s Japanese, so I figure I’m just doing my duty to keep up my proficiency), I’ve had a lot of time to think and reflect.    

I’ve told you about my luck and good timing (festivals, living goddesses, and goat sacrificing), but there’s a flip side to that, the bad-timing (arriving in Kathmandu after the India visa office closed on Friday, having to wait until Monday to begin the process).    

I missed the Olympics. Completely. My volunteer project was the same two weeks as the Olympics.    

I went into the mountains for 3 weeks, and when I came back, Milosevic was out, and that Mideast Peace process which was just about all settled and done, had totally blown up (unfortunately, quite literally). And now, it looks as though from the moment the polls open in the States until the votes are tallied and a winner declared, I’ll be sitting on a bus to India.    

But these little bits don’t bother me. Heck, I can read about them after the fact, it really doesn’t make too much difference. (Upon returning to the  States, it’ll be easy enough to ask, “Say, who’s president these days?”)  The poor timing comes into play regarding my trip to India.    

I was sitting in front of a computer with nothing to do (the Japanese person next to me had left), I started “surfing,” as the kids call it these days,  and discovered that the entrance fees for all of India’s major and world heritage sites had gone up. Now, I don’t mean just a slight nudge.  Admission fees which were previously anywhere from $1-$6 have all gone up to  (brace yourselves) $21. And they also got rid of the ‘Free  for Foreigner Fridays’ (perhaps because it’s so hard to say. Go ahead, try  saying it 3 times real fast.) As steep as that may sound, one could argue seeing the Taj Mahal could be worth ten times that. But India is more than the Taj Mahal. And apparently more than my budget.    

So, perhaps my trip will by-pass the world-heritage sites and wonders of the world, and turn into the infinitely cheaper finding-myself/spiritual journey. Maybe I’ll check out the Hare Krishna’s. After all, I already got the haircut.    

Well, I gotta go reset my watch. India is 5 hours and THIRTY minutes off  GMT.      

Jay “the times, they are a changin'” Schneider 

Date:     Wed, 1 Nov 2000 05:39:10 -0800 (PST)

From:   Jay Schneider

Subject:   Letters from Nepal

To: Pushkar Camel Fair Committee

Dear Sirs,

It is with a heavy heart and deep regrets that I must inform you I will be unable to attend this year’s Camel Festival in Pushkar, India. Time constraints and other factors have resulted in this unfortunate situation.

When I began my broad-stroked planning of this journey, I had originally intended to put most of my emphasis on India, after spending a couple of weeks in Nepal. As it stands now, I am nearing the end of my second month here, and not a bit of this time has been ill-spent (though, admittedly, some of the time has been spent ill). After my two weeks of volunteering, I spent three weeks trekking around the Annapurna mountain range, followed by a 3-day white-water rafting trip. In my remaining time, I still have much to explore in the Kathmandu valley, and I should also hope to visit the birthplace of Buddha on my way out. Deciding to give this beautiful country the time it deserves has made for an overall experience that is not only unforgettable but also true to the spirit and purpose of my travels. As they say, you get out what you put in. (Though what came out in my frequent and urgent trips to the toilet looked nothing like what I put in…)

I’ve not given up on your country entirely, though my sub-continent budget of time and money has definitely favored Nepal. To tell the truth, at times I have been so overwhelmed by the the possibilities of things I want to see and do, I’ve nearly cancelled the whole thing entirely, in order to save India for a future trip. I would fall asleep convinced India would have to wait, then awake the next morning, determined to go at all costs.  Unfortunately, my funds have been depleted considerably, and this fact would invariably result in my decision to finish out my visa here, then head back to SE Asia. But when I heard word of your magnificent festival, drawing over 200,000 traders and 50,000 camels each year, I was sold. I’d go to India, even if only for the camel festival (as that’d probably be all I could afford to do).

As things go, however, my India visa will not be approved for another week, and even if I get lucky with train connections and push straight through to Rajasthan, I’d only catch the final day. And that’s assuming all went smoothly, and nothing is smooth about Indian travel. I think it’s best I make this difficult decision now, rather than fuel my hopes, and end up broken-hearted later. I hope you can understand.

So, the camels must go on without me. I wish you the best of success and hope your beasts fetch fair prices, and your acquisitions have humps of the highest grade!

Sincerely,

Jay “No camel, No cry” Schneider

TO: Indian Embassy, Kathmandu, Nepal

Hello, again!

Remember me? I was the one applying for a tourist visa to your country.  Yeah, that’s right, there were about 80 of us there this morning.

Anyhow, I wanted to thank you for your hospitality and kindness during my 3 hour stay with you this morning (and the hour sitting outside, I must say your curbs rank right up there with the best of them!) I appreciate how each of the lines moved progressively slower, as I moved from the unmarked line, then to “line B” and finally, my favorite, “line 3”. The fact that for a 45 minute stretch there was absolutely no movement, gave me the time to catch up on some reading and re-do that form because, silly me, I used blue ink, not black.

I know you said I only have to repeat this once more in 7 days, before returning a third time to get the actual visa, but I was encouraged my the many ‘returnees’ who found they still had not been approved after 7 days, and would get to try again the next day. I’m sure we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.

Since we’re becoming so close, why not call me Jack, as the many Nepali do, despite my repeated corrections and explaining that “Jay” is my real name. Or “Jake,” if you prefer, as the German girl in my volunteer program did for two weeks, without my being aware of it. Perhaps I thought it was her accent or the coincidence that when she said my name, the next word began with a ‘k’ sound. (“Jay, could you…?” and “Jake, could you…?” sound very similar.) When saying our good-bye, she apologized for her mistake (we had exchanged e-mails, so she’d seen it in writing), and I, this being the first I’d known of it, apologized for not noticing her mistake.

Call me what you want, call me what you will, just call me as soon as my visa’s ready!

See you soon!

Jay “If I were from Uruguay, I wouldn’t need a visa” Schneider

P.S. — would it speed things along if I told you I have a camel fair to get to?

TO: Mom

Hi, Mom!

Sorry I haven’t written in a while, but, you know…(and I promise to clean my room as soon as I get back).

Can I ask you a favor? See, I’m applying for a visa to India. In the first stage, a form is faxed to the States to make sure I’m not a criminal or other unruly character. For some reason, this process takes about a week. I was thinking maybe a note from you, telling them I’m a good boy and a nice guy would speed things up a bit. I mean, why bother to contact the authorities and officials back home when they can just get the goods direct from a boy’s mother?  So, just drop a line, or give a call. Tell them good things, and don’t’ mention my bedwetting phase or that time I broke your favorite vase because I was playing ball in the house, but glued it back together before you ever knew about…(wait, forget that).

Thanks!

Jay “Not a hooligan” Schneider

P.S. – I shaved my head and became a monk. Ha-ha-ha, I didn’t really become a monk.

TO: Drift Nepal River Rafting Expeditions

Hey, guys! I really enjoyed my last trip with you down the Kali Gandaki river. The rapids were exciting, the scenery was beautiful and the people were great. You run a safe and professional operation, and I had total confidence in our guide. I’m sure that time he fell out with over half our members was just a test to see if we remember how to pulled people back into the raft.

Anyway, as it turns out, I’ve got some time left in Nepal while I await my Indian visa, and I was thinking about doing another trip. But I have some doubts about whether it’s the best thing for me.

With one rafting trip under my belt, do I really need to be spending more time (money) on a second one? After 3 weeks of walking over 350 kilometers, followed by 3 days of physically demanding rapids, do I have the strength (money) and endurance (money) to raft again so soon? Even though I’ve been on one trip, do I really have the skills (money) and experience (money) required for your more advanced (expensive) trips? It’s not about the money (it’s about the money).

I’ll do some thinking, but maybe I’ll sign up for your 2-day Bhote Kosi trip. Though a shorter (cheaper) trip, it’s a technically difficult run, with near-continuous rapids from put-in to take-out. Of course, 2 days is a short period of time, but I’m sure the “team” will be able to rapidly (“rapid”-ly, get it?) develop deep and close bonds that will last a lifetime. (Screw the people, just give me the action!)

We’ll be in touch.

Jay “2nd timers discount?” Schneider

Date:     Sat, 28 Oct 2000 08:50:49 -0700 (PDT)

From:   Jay Schneider

Subject:   Jack is Back!

And so, dear readers, let us move right along as I summarize my time faster than a speeding yak, and leap 2 weeks in a single bound…

Namely, my two-week volunteer work camp. 7 volunteers, 2 German, 2 French (again with the French!), 2 Canadians (one English, one French) and I our Nepali camp leader left Kathmandu aboard one of the many fine metallic buses painted with various slogans in various colors (or colours, if your prefer). I noticed while on ours was painted “Happy Journey,” a neighboring vehicle read “Good Luck”. At the time I wondered which was better.

Barreling along the very narrow, and very winding roads, next to very steep and very high drops into nothing, the bus carrying my very precious body seemed determined to give us our money’s worth. The act of passing on blind corners (again, next to those very steep and very high drops into nothing) was certainly not just a bad habit of our driver, but apparently the custom of the land (along with honking the musical horn as often as possible and for no discernable good reason), as on several occasions we came around those already mentioned blind corners and came face to face with two on-coming buses (one the passer, the other the passee). Don’t worry, on each instance, plenty of horns were blown, so it all seemed to be on the up and up.

At one major junction, the bus picked up a large number of passengers, and the bus filled so newcomers had to stand. As many of the people boarding the bus seemed more in need of seats than us, we all had thoughts of offering our seats. Our camp leader, half a step ahead of the game turned to me and asked, “Do you want to go on the roof?” I knew he wasn’t joking because I had seen other busses filled to the brim, and on top sat happy Nepali (and a few goats). Before anyone could answer, I think I was already half-way up the side of the bus an securing a good spot on the luggage above.

MAN, OH MAN, WHAT A RIDE! It’s the only way to go! The sky was clear, the views were spectacular, and as long as someone was on branch and low-hanging wire duty (yelling “duck!”), life was never better. I realized how nice it is to ride in the open, and thought back to my choice to ride on top of the boat in Cambodia. Thinking of boats, I remembered my summers sailing in Southern California. In the races, we often had to dangle our legs over the edge of the boat. I remembered this and advised my co-passengers to do the same, hopefully keeping the bus upright at every hair-pin corner.

Suddenly, the bus stopped (some hours had passed) in the middle the road, and seemingly, in the middle of nowhere. There being nothing distinguishing about this stretch of road from any other bit ahead or behind, I assumed in must be a pee break. Then our guide informed us, “this is the bus stop. We get off here.” Well, of course…  And so after a 20 minute hike up (and I mean UP) the mountain, we arrived at our home for the next two weeks. We lived with a family of 13 (four generations represented). There was a separate loft next to the house, large enough for 7 of us, plus 2 Nepali leaders to sleep. Below, we would cook our own meals (more of that to come). On the other side below us, the goats spend their days. By the way, October hosts one of the largest and most important festivals in Nepal, the Dasain festival. The whole of Nepal celebrates, and at the height of the celebration, one of the brothers of the family told me while I admired my new flea-covered neighbors, they would sacrifice a goat. I’m going to say that again. They would sacrifice a goat. As fate would have it, the camp would be well over, and we’d miss the event. “Don’t worry,” the brother consoled us,” goats all over Nepal will be sacrificed. I’m sure you won’t miss it.”

The house overlooked a valley, and we had fine views of terraced rice-fields behind which stood the largest mountains I had seen to date. We were just on the cusp of the Annapurna Mountain range.

Our project was to help begin construction of a water tank (future career: plumber?)which would serve 12 families. This was phase one, so our job was simply to begin the process which future work camps would continue. First we needed to make a flat area, and for those of you who don’t know, flat is something Nepal lacks. We dug for three days alongside the villagers making a large flat area in the side of a steep mountain. In the following days, because we needed many stones, we collected many stones. We walked up the hill, picked up one or two stones, and carried them down the hill. Repeat, over and over again. In the final days, we cleared the trail, and path, widening it, smoothing it, and destroying large boulders which impeded movement (future career: road builder?). Smashing large boulders is really fun, by the way. If you have the means, I highly recommend it as a stress reliever.

All in all, the work was hard, physical labor, and it was exhausting. The locals laughed at the funny foreigners who sweat constantly (the Nepali never seemed to perspire), constantly drank water (boiled or treated at that), and were so strange to take a break in the middle of the day to eat lunch (the Nepali ate in the morning, and then at night). While we felt a little silly that we were so challenged by tasks which the local children and housewives were performing with ease, I realized that this kind of work was a way of life for these people. I’m sure if our roles were reversed, and the Nepali were forced to sit on their asses, watching t.v. and eating potato chips for two weeks straight, they would perform pretty lousy at that.

But it wasn’t all hard labor (though at times I thought this was the kind of stuff prison camps do). Every 10 minutes or so, suddenly a big discussion would erupt amongst the villagers, and everybody had something to say (or yell) about everything. Even the passers-by from neighboring villages taking their buffalo to the river had to put their two-cents in.  The volunteers, not understanding a word, just stood around trying not to look too stupid, thankful for a break in the action. Sometimes, the rain, too, would give us relief. After doing a lot of digging, the showers came down creating one giant mud pit. I was tempted to entertain the crowd with my magnificent mud tricks, but as not motorcycles were present, and my flip-flops were back at home, we all just went inside and had tea.

We also had two “free days” and on both occasions I was able to (after walking long distances over very unflat land) stay with Nepali families. I also had the chance to visit some local schools.  After a lot of work, but mostly good times (oh yeah, I got sick, had a fever, and lots of other bad things happened physically), our two weeks finally came to an end. For our final night, we invited all the families over and give a show, followed by some dancing and general merriment. For reasons I still can’t comprehend, we sang “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” in French and English, a Beatles song, some Nepali folk song we learned and for our show-stopper, a little ditty I had composed (perhaps in my sick state of delirium, I don’t remember) in praise of our food.

So I’ll leave you, as we left them, with my very own “Dal Bhat Ditty”

explanation: Dhal Bat, is traditional Nepali food. It’s pretty much all there is in Nepal. It’s rice and lentils, but often vegetables and maybe pickles go with it. It’s food in a generic sense, and it’s perfect not when you want something special, but when you’re hungry and you just want…FOOD. Though we got creative on a few occasions and changed the menu, at least one meal of every day (though usually two) was Dal Bhat.

1-2, 1-2-3-4…. (I’m hearing folk-guitar, are you?)

Dal Bhat in the morning,
Dal Bhat in the evening,
Dal Bhat in the afternoon.
To eat your rice and lentils
You don’t need a knife, fork, or spoon.
Eat it with your right hand,
Never with the left hand,
This is rule number one.
‘Cause the right hand is for eatin’
And the left is for when you’re done.

(and I’m singin’ ’bout)
DAL BHAT! — don’t you know I love you
DAL BHAT! — can’t eat enough of you
DAL BHAT! — you will always be my NUM – BER – ONE!

DAL BHAT! — everybody say it!
DAL BHAT! — every meal I pray it’s
DAL BHAT! — and now this song is DONE – DONE – DONE

Thank you and good night!

Jay “future career: street performer” Schneider