Truth in Advertising

Despite the impression of India as a major economic threat to the developed world, the Indian economy is a house of cards built on a mound of sand. Taught by the business savvy Soviets in the 1970s, Indians have structured their large companies so poorly that I think it even amazes them that they are still functioning. Everything from automotive, to petro-chemical to manufacturing revolves around profit taking, corruption and short-term gain. The products and services they offer are about convenience to the corporate heads rather than consumer desire. It is a “you’ll take want we offer you” market!



Last year when we arrived, we signed up for internet service. They had several plans ranging from the ridiculously low speed to 1 Mbps (which has not been seen in the US for 10+ years) to the blazing speed of 4 Mbps (I believe in Minneapolis the lowest speed you can get is around 25 Mbps). In addition, they offered two types of plans at all their speeds: One was called the unlimited plan and the other, the limited plan. The Limited Unlimited Plan, as the name implied allowed you to download a limited amount after which you would need to buy additional capacity or your internet ceases to run until the next billing cycle. The Unlimited Plan allows you to download an unlimited amount of data. But in India, not all is what it seems and if there is an angle to be played, they will play it.


Last year, as I was saying, we signed up for internet service. We choose the 4 Mbps, unlimited plan and shortly after were hooked up and surfing merrily. It, though, seemed my merry surfing was a bit slow, so I checked the speed and discover we were actually surfing a much smaller wave. Rather than 4 Mbps we had purchased, we were at 2. I called the representative who sold us the contract, set up our system and subsequently collected the commission and told him the issue. He, without skipping a beat, told me that 4 Mps was simply not available in my area and the fastest I could get would be 2. I, then, asked the obvious question – “Why, then, would you sell me 4, if you knew it was not available?” After a few seconds of silence, we moved on. He corrected the bill and I put the incident behind me as a one-off incident. I was very, very naive.


This month, we downloaded a lot of stuff and found out what unlimited really means. You see, at AirTel, one of India’s largest telecommunication companies, they have a clause in each contract called the “Fair Usage Policy.” Under this policy, the unlimited plan becomes the Unlimited to a certain point plan. When you read the fine print, the Unlimited Plan actually limits the amount you can download at the agreed upon speed, but allows you to keep downloading (that would be the unlimited part) but at a ridiculously slow speed of 256Kbps. To put this in perspective, there were dial-up, phone modems that were faster than that in the early 90s, so in essence, the unlimited Plan is, in fact, limited, unless the only thing you want to do is watch the Google search page load for 30 seconds.


To rectify this, I called the AirTel customer service line last night. The first amazing thing is that even to change your plan and give them more money per month, they charge you for the call. They own the phone lines and are paying the customer service reps, but they still charge to a few bucks just for the privilege. Already pissed about the aforementioned two issues, this one really put me over the edge.


When the rep finally answered, I explained the situation and asked to have my internet speed and capacity expanded to rectify the situation. She said that this could not be done until the next billing cycle, but I could buy additional capacity at 2Mbps on an hourly rate for roughly the same price as I would pay for a week. Ah, the scam is exposed. Even though there is plenty of capacity, they have set up the plans to sell you more. Now, I was outraged! I asked a few rhetorical questions like “does anyone actually fall for the scam?” and “are you paid on commission?” She was less enthusiastic about answering these than the questions about the plan! It is pretty amazing when you think about it. The idea is that you create a scarcity of a product that is in no way, shape or form scarce.


I eventually calmed down (read, stopped using my outside voice) and told her to upgrade the plan, but before she did it, I requested she check to make sure the speed was available in my area based on my past experience. “Fool me once” and all! She said that she could not actually check to see if the speed was available, but she would put in for the plan change to 4Mbps and someone would do a check. I assume the same someone that did it the last time, so I asked to be transferred to someone who could answer my question. Over the next 30 minutes, I talked to colleagues and supervisors at AirTel, but not a single person could tell me if the plan for which I was going to be charged existed. Again, genius! Sell a product you have no intention of providing and can only be verified by someone with the correct knowledge. Add a little artificial rationing and you have yourself a license to print money. Caveat Emptor!


Now many of you are saying, well India is a market economy and completion would keep this under control. Well, you’d be wrong. Every telecommunications company has the exact same deal for the exact same price. They also do not have anti-trust laws. Hum?


So, I guess we will have to wait for the next billing cycle and see what happens! In the mean time, I will spend the next 45 minutes uploading this blog.

Grass

Any homeowner in the US knows about grass.  This is an essential social skill of living in a neighborhood, be it the country, suburbia or the city.  We believe one can tell a lot about a person by their lawn and hold people accountable accordingly.  A poorly maintained, browning, overgrown lawn would bring not only the scorn of neighbors, but in some parts, a fine from the city or homeowners association.  When you buy a house, you need to know your grass. 

I have had a long and tenuous relationship with my lawns starting with my first house in Florida almost 20 years ago.  I had no clue about grass and paid a terrible price for it.  Who knew that when they lay sod, you had to water it or it would die and be replaced by an indestructible army of weeds.  Who knew?  There is no class on this; no instructions on the sod – only the scornful looks of neighbors and the occasional nasty, anonymous note.  But even the notes do not have any words of guidance, they just say, “quit embarrassing us and get your shit in order.” Eventually, over the next two decades, I learned techniques and tricks in the art of maintaining a lawn and, over that time upgraded my status from scorned to scorner.  Also, as I have moved from home to home (4 in all), I have reduced my grass footprint significantly and this, I can tell you is the best technique of all.  I mean, what moron cannot keep a 10 x 10 plot of grass green and mowed.

In moving to India, I noticed that they neither had the same passion around nor need for the green ground covering.  Firstly, for such a green city (and by green I mean many trees, not environmentally conscious), Delhi has a surprising dearth of grass.  Paths in the Delhi parks wind through beautiful trees and bushes surrounded by wide-open areas of mud.  Even in the office complexes, where there has been a clear effort to plant and maintain grass, there are expansive swaths of mud.  I say mud, as they have no topsoil here, but heavy clay & sand soil on which they dump copious amounts of water in an effort to make things grow in it. 

The reason I am on about grass is that the geniuses that built our office building have finally decided to take care of the trash heap that abuts our building and create a green-space. The building has been completed for 3 years, but apparently this was not a priority (we also do not have a paved road, bit more on that another time).  The space, or as I call it, the trash heap, for my first year was a mixture of construction debris, garbage and the occasional family dwelling.  I had become used to the morning routine of the trash heap and when the cadre of guards came out to pee, I knew my day had truly started. Now, though, they have decided to “improve” the land and I have a new form of entertainment – grass planting. 

The process began over two months ago when the weather was hovering around the mid-70s and rain was occasional, albeit not frequent.  A good time to plant grass.  One day, a bulldozer was unloaded on the edge of the heap and after the usual smoke break, pee break and nap, the Delhi workers began to push all the debris into the neighboring building’s abutment.  In India, we would never actually clean up anything, when there is a perfectly good lot next door in which to dump your crap.  It just makes good sense!  This Process took roughly a week to accomplish as the area is large, the trash was deep and there was a lot of napping and peeing that needed to happen by the workforce. 

Once the area was cleared and flattened, a group of women arrived to remove the rocks and stones from the area.   Yep, four women crouched on the ground, picked through the dirt of an area the size of a football field and removed each rock and stone by hand.  Very impressive!  It took them roughly two weeks to complete their task and the only break they took was lunch.  Union workers could learn a thing or two from the women of Bihar!

With the land rock-free, I was sure that the sod would arrive soon.  I was wrong.  A week went by and then another with no activity in the void.  Each day, I held my excitement for the next stage!  Finally, just when I could take it no more, trucks began to arrive with dirt.  As I mentioned, the soil here is hard clay, so this was a promising sign.  Maybe someone really did know how to grow grass.  The soil-men jumped on the backs of the trucks and shoveled the soil into large piles around the pitch.  As they did, another group spread it out.  This was actually very effective and within the week the ground was ready.  Again, though, weeks went by before the next group arrived. 

Finally, a few men arrived with large sacks of fertilizer and began throwing it around the area.  A big clump here, none there.  This went on for a few days until they felt satisfied that the bags were empty.  A tractor then churned the mixture and made for a nice fertile planting area.  “OK,” I thought, “now we are getting somewhere.”  But, alas, we were not.  The field fell idle for several more weeks as the foot traffic pounded the churned, loose soil back into hardpack.

By now, the temperature was climbing into the high 80s and, although still pleasant, the rains were noticeably absent and the ground was starting to dry out.  There was speculation in the office that this was as far as they would go and the trash, pee and families would be back in a few weeks.  Others were more optimistic.  I was simply curious. 

Then, one morning, a group of men and women appeared on the field and dumped sacks of grass cuttings, albeit not fresh looking grass cuttings, into large piles at the edge. I watched in amazement, as the group used a small tool to make a hole and then jammed the tuff of brown and gray grass into the divot.  They methodically started at one end and over the coarse of the next two weeks, planted tuffs every ½ foot or so over the entire area.  As they completed each section, a person would come out with a hose and completely drown the grass against the heat and unrelenting sun.  Day by day, this continued until finally, last week, the entire area had been “planted.”  Little tuffs of dead grass stuck into a muddy field in 100-degree heat and no chance of rain for 5 months.

 

Planting the tuffs

The finished product

Watering 

Hosing the entire area late in the day
Temp 97 degrees

Around the office, we had much discussion concerning what I felt was the folly of the grass planted, but no one else seemed worried.  There is a general optimism that this is how grass is planted and in a few months, we will have a lush lawn out our window.   I have decided that if lush green grass emerges, I am sending a bag of these magic grass cutting to my sister in Arizona to plant during the summer, because clearly the Indians have found a way to make grass grow without seed or sod in the blazing heat.

We shall see!

Holi

Today is one of the biggest holidays of the year in India – Holi.  Officially, Holi is celebrated on the last full moon of the lunar month, Phalguna, and bids adieu to the winter season and welcomes the spring.   There is a lot wrong with this holiday, though.

Firstly, it is celebrated by people running in the streets throwing colored powder or balloons filled with colored water at each other and indiscriminately at passers–by.  This means that if you are on the street, odds are you are going to get nailed with something and that something is virtually impossible to get out of your clothes, hair and skin.   Even passing cars are not above the occasional ambush in the name of bringing good luck to the spring.

The other issue I have with this is the timing.  When you read the description, you would image that we have emerged from the cold and wet months into a beautiful, blossoming spring.  The reality is that Feb and March typically has excellent weather with temperatures in the high 70s.  What we are actually welcoming is the blisteringly uncomfortable heat of the Delhi dry season.  In the week leading up to Holi the temperature has steadily risen from 78 last Saturday to 100 yesterday.  This is not Spring – this is summer in Hell!

So while the rest of Delhi celebrates Holi, Olga and I are barricaded in our apartment trying not to get splattered with the dye or stroking from heat exhaustion as the temperatures head north of 100. 

Happy Holi!

Coming Down with Something

“Coming down with something” in India is a bit different than getting sick in the United States.  In the US, for instance, when your stomach starts to feel upset, you dismiss it as “something that did not agree with you” or if it is extreme, then it must be food poisoning.  You take a few over-the-counter elixirs to settle the discomfort and you go to bed happy in the thought that by tomorrow, it will all be gone.

In India, the thought process it slightly different.  You hope that it is “something that did not agree with you,” but you pray this is not a long-term argument.  You hope it is food poisoning, but you pray that it is not the kind that eats away at your organs and leaves you to die in your own bile.  You do not go to bed happy with any thoughts, but you stay awake combing your mind for what you possibly got on your hands or ate and struggle to feel the first signs of your lungs shutting down.

The reaction by those around you is also different.  In the US, people say,  “go home and rest.”  In India, everyone orders you to go to the doctor.  They do not, though, do it in the “well, if you don’t feel better, you should go to the doctor” way, but they say it in a “you should urgently make a beeline for a hospital before it is too late” way.  Now, in all fairness, in India, they do go to the doctor every time they feel even the slightest bit off, but for an American, this is very disconcerting – as if they know something that you don’t.

Lastly, there is the journey to the hospital if, in fact, the worse case scenario happens.  In the US, your local 911 operator dispatches an ambulance to your home and a few well-trained, people jump out, hook you to whatever needs-a-hooking and you are whisked away on a speedy journey in which all traffic parts for you like the Red Sea.  In India, an ambulance, or rather a smallish van that says “Abmlance” will show up… eventually.  When it does, the driver and co-pilot will hop out and, well ring your doorbell.  You make your own way to the ambulance and then you join the other 13 million people trying to get to wherever it is all of you need to go.  Although they have a siren, absolutely no one pays any attention to it.  Travel time to the hospital can be well over an hour. 

All in all, the mere thought of getting sick is far worse the sickness itself … or at least I hope it is!

The Long Walk

The next morning, I arose to the most unbelievable view.   The sun had just cleared the mountains in the east and was casting its first light upon the Himalayas.  In the distant valley below, you could hear the roosters waking their owners to the new day.  I sat on our patio and watched as the world at my feet begin to stir and, eventually, a few hours later, Olga arose to join the living.   We had breakfast on the terrace in front of the main house and were treated to farm-fresh egg omelets with just-picked vegetables complimented by homemade bread, jams and yak cheese.   Just what you need to begin a day of trekking though Nepal!

Today we were planning on hiking to the town of Panauti. By car, Panauti is about an hour drive, but we were taking the shortcut over the mountain, so by Surendra’s estimates it should take us only about 4 hours to walk there.  Having lived in Oregon and having hiked almost every weekend we could while we lived there, we had all the right gear! We had the right footwear, the right daypack, even a hiker’s first aid kit and compass.  Lessons learned from being lost in the Oregon forests while snowshoeing.  Surendra drew us a small map on how to get there that consisted of a squiggly line to a stupa, another squiggly line through the word “forest” that said had “no left” highlighted and finally a straight line from the forest to Panauti that said “flat.”  What could possible go wrong while hiking through the Nepalese backcountry with that kind of first class orienteering?  …. And we were off!

The first part was pretty easy.  The track was wide and the footing was solid.  It was an old cow trail that took us through the untouched Nepal.  We passed through people’s farms and within spitting distance of their doorways (don’t ask how I know that).  Most did not blink or even notice us.  What a difference from Kathmandu, and Delhi for that matter, where white skin always equals a business opportunity.  Families sifted their wheat or tended to their goats, but never thought of us as anything other than travelers.  This theme continued for the entire trip.  It was very disarming and reassuring.

As we began the Long Walk

Looking back at the farm

Tiered farmland and mountains

The valley and mountains looking east

If you can stand on it, they will farm it

Wheat

A long way down

Our destination was somewhere over there.....

We passed by spectacular views of the mountains and valley below. We walk next to tiered plantings of wheat and rice and through vegetable gardens full of cabbage and peas.  We trekked passed families doing what they do everyday and children curious to see the stranger with light eyes.  It was the kind of trek, I imagine, is very common in Nepal, but it felt very unique to us

Curious Children

Local residence and barn

We eventually found the stupa which sat in a small clearing peering out at the mountains beyond.   Beyond the stupa, there was a massive pine forest as outlined on the map, but there were several paths leading into the forest and, to be honest, we hadn’t a clue which was the right one.  After some consternation, we took the first path, as it seemed the most accessible.  15 minutes going vertically up on this goat trail and we realized that maybe going up was not the right direction.  We turned back and asked a farmer in the vicinity of the stupa for directions.  He pointed to another path, grinned and disappeared.  We set out into the forest for a second time.   

The Stupa
Note the brick drying in the lower left corner
- the houses are made from these mud bricks

Trekking through the forest was a little more difficult than the first segment.  The path was much more narrow and not all that well used.  This certainly was not the well-maintained, groomed trails of Oregon.  This was the path people used to get to the next town on the rare occasion they went to the next town.  What made it more difficult was that the trail was a constant downward grade.   This, of course, is better than an upward grade, but too much of anything is not good.  About an hour into the forest, we felt like there may be no clear way out.  The path just kept snaking through the trees up a little, then down a lot.  Every now and again, you would catch a great view of the valley below, but it never seemed to be getting any closer.  Finally, we popped out of the trees onto an open path that looked like it was the start of a roadwork that never quite got the funding.  Never the less, we were out of the forest, albeit the cool, shady forest, and directly into the completely unfiltered noon sun.

The forest and the never-nearing valley

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep"

"And miles to go before I sleep"

Finally we reached the valley floor

The uncompleted road led us down through a farming village that I assumed had seen more prosperous days.  Some of the houses were quite old with intricate woodwork like we saw at Dwarika’s Hotel, but all the houses looked like our little cottage, except these had livestock living on the first floor and no glass in the windows, only the shutters.  This was typically what we saw on the entire journey down the mountain, but this setting seemed more urban, so they looked more weathered and worn. 

We started down the road – which was flat as indicated on the hand-drawn map.  What was not indicated was exactly how much further we had to go.  The road ahead went up a grade and disappeared beyond it, so there was no telling.  We pushed on into the back half of hour number three.

Happily and Joyfully marching on!

The road wound across the valley and traversed several large farms.  The valley, itself, was relatively flat, but these fields still tiered with the natural contour of the valley floor.  Where western farmers would have plowed flat the earth, the Nepalese used the ebb and flow of the valley to push the water through the crops.  I am no farmer, but it looked pretty efficient.  What was really striking was the amount of farmland.  It was on the valley floor, up the sides of the mountains and across the summits.  If it could be farmed they farmed it.  And by “they”, I mean the women. 

The village we passed through
The forest on the mountain is from whence we came

More road traveled

Tiered valley floor

More farmland

The other striking feature we saw throughout the entire day was that the women did all the work while the men sat in the doorways shading themselves and smoking.  Not bad work if you can get it.  The result was that the young Nepalese girls are striking with their Indo-Asian looks, but the older women looked worn, tired and stooped over. 

Woman Farmer

We continued walking though the valley and by this time, we were tired and hungry which means we were both a little grumpy and ready to end this adventure. To the side of the road, structures started to appear more frequently, but the curvature of the road provided no clue to how much further we had to go.   Finally, we crested a bluff and spayed out before us, albeit several kilometers in the distance, was Panauti greeting us with her golden temples. With a renewed sense of purpose, we marched toward the pagodas for another hour or so and finally reached the ancient city.

Panauti

Almost there

Panauti was founded in the 1200s and is one of the oldest cities in Nepal.  It is adorned with many temples including one dating back to the 1294 in which young couples hang pots in the upper floors of the pagoda for a happy and prosperous family.  The town feels old and some of the buildings look like they have been there since the beginning of time.  Unfortunately, we were so tired that we more or less blew through the town en route to the rendezvous point with the driver who would drive us back up the mountain.   It was, to say the least, a long walk!

The ancient Temples of Panauti

More Temples

Where one would hang a pot for prosperity 

The not so modern streets of Panauti

The local laundry-mat

When we returned to our temporary home in the clouds, the place was abuzz.  Several new people had checked in and we were no longer alone.  Still, the compound felt peaceful and quiet and since I could no longer feel my legs, I was happy to sit in my piece of paradise and watch the world go by. 

Dinner that night was slightly more lively with the addition of a Frenchman who spoke no English, his translator and two American girls in their early 20s trying desperately to sound consequential.  The meal was fantastic, the conversation good and it all ended too soon.  We said our good-byes and parted for bed.  We had an early departure in the morning and needed our sleep.

6:00am came quickly and was most unwelcomed in our hut.  I got up and darted outside to see the landscape before the sun crested the mountains.  The Himalayas, being roughly 4000 meters higher than the surrounding mountains, caught the sun before it actually rose and took on a pink hue.  Finally the sun winked over the mountains in the east and filled the sky with light and warmth.

The last day arrives

We took our breakfast in front of the main building and watched the sun continue break through the morning fog that blanketed the valley beneath us. The breakfast was similar to the day before complete with all the organic, natural vegetables, but this time, it was complemented with an incredible sunrise bouncing off the Himalayas.  Not a bad way to have your coffee.   

We departed soon after and as we re-entered the crushing reality of modern society, we began to regret our decision to come down off our mountaintop. 

Namo Buddha

The van pulled out into the streets of Kathmandu about 10:45am and it was a mess.  The traffic lights were all out because, well, like in India it was a day that ended with a “Y.”   The streets were snarled with cars, vans and motorcycles while the police just made it worse by forgetting which direction they allowed to go last and letting that side go again.  Tempers were flaring and horns were blaring.  I could not wait to get out into the countryside.

We finally made it out of the city and the traffic, noise and trash dissipated with every kilometer we put behind us.  In the beginning, the road was flat and the once beautiful countryside, became filled with smokestacks from the brick-making facilities.  I would call them factories, as they were simply earthen mounds with a chimney planted on top.  No building or structure to really speak of.  Hundreds of these operations blighted the flat countryside.  It was not what you would have expected when you think of Nepal.

Finally, the road began to turn upward and the scenery changed from a flat, chimney dotted, apocalyptic eyesore to beautiful mountainous, tiered farmland.  Everywhere you looked, the Nepalese had tiered the mountainside and turned it into fertile farmland.  In the valleys and especially along the mountainsides, the entire region burst forth with wheat, vegetables and rice.  As we wound our way through the mountains, the people became less westernize, as well.  Traditional colorful Nepalese styles replaced the slipshod, western clothing of Kathmandu.  There was simply a cleaner, more grounded feeling the further Kathmandu was in the rear-view mirror.

A little more than an hour into the trip, we turned off the main road onto a poorly maintained dirt road.  Just as we made the turn, we were stopped by a serious looking boy who was collecting tolls for the maintenance of the inadequately maintained dirt road.  Basically, he had privatized the road as his own little money making scheme in the name of the Maoist local government.  Ah, the irony that true capitalism can only flourish under a communist regime.   

The pitted road snaked its way up the mountain for roughly 4 or 5 miles, but the condition of the road meant that it took us well over 30 minutes to traverse it.  There were times that we were sure we were going to slip over the edge and plummet the mile down to the valley floor, but somehow we made it to the top and I mean, the very top.  Sitting at 6000 feet, we arrived at the Namo Buddha Resort. 

To use the word “resort” is to employ a bit of hyperbole to describe this venture into the hospitality industry.  One typically associates a “resort” with a big enterprise that has huge buffet meals, large pools and children’s programs.  The Namo Buddha Resort would be the exact opposite of that.  It is a series of traditional Nepalese houses situated on a breathtaking mountaintop supplied by its own organic farm in the most peaceful, remote setting you can possibly image. 

We were greeted by Surendra, the Innkeeper and the owner’s boy Friday. He sat us in front of the main building, poured us some home made lemongrass tea and allowed us to soak up the stunning views while they put the finishing touches on our bungalow. He is a local guy who, after some time in the tourist industry, came back home and began to manage this place for the owner, a German fellow.  Surendra was a pleasant guy with a laid back demeanor and a genuine interest in providing a great experience for his guests.   I liked him immediately. 

Olga Enjoying the View 

We were shown to our cottage which was situated at the front of the property overlooking the valley below and the spectacular Himalayas in front.  It was designed in the tradition of the houses in this region both by size and architecture and the only difference being the first floor contained a living room rather than livestock.  The doors and windows were small and the second floor was accessed by a slanted ladder stairwell.  The sum total of the second floor was a queen size bed. Overall, though, the place was comfortable and clean and had just enough room for us to spread out.   Outside the cottage, we had two sitting areas.  One was a small porch on the side of the house and the other was a larger terrace that faced the valley and the mountains.  Seriously, what more do you need?

Our Cottage

The First Floor

The Second Floor

The Stairwell Down

The Wife

Same porch, looking the other way

View from the patio

We unpacked, changed into something more mountain-appropriate and took a quick look around to see what this place was all about. As I said, the property sits on top of a mountain in the middle of eastern Nepal.  It consists of about 12 cottages all built in the local style with low ceilings and even lower doorways.  Each cottage is a unique design and is situation to take advantage of the different views from the mountaintop.  There is what I would call, a main building which houses a dining room on the first floor and a library on the second.  Around it there are other buildings for the kitchen, and cold stores, but since every building looks like a cottage, you cannot tell the difference.  It just feels like a small Nepalese village.  Surrounding and intermixed to some extend with the cottages is the real piece de resistance: patches and patches of organic farming.  The entire lodge is self sufficient by its own farming including its own cows for milk and dairy products.  They also filter their own water.  Pretty cool even if you are not an enviro-nut.

More cottages

View through some of the cottages

Porch of the neighboring cottage

The valley below

One of the many paths that snake through the complex

From the front of the main building

Along main path

Same path - opposite direction
Olga in front of main building having tea

Over the roof of neighboring cottage

Looking left from our cottage

The valley rolling toward the Himalayas

People working the farm 

Some of the yummy vegetables

Not a bad place to be a vegetable

We eventually meandered up to the main house where Surendra was waiting to serve lunch.  Because of the angle of the sun, he moved some table and chairs on to the terrace of the backside of the house, so we could enjoy the warmth.  Lunch came shortly after.  We learned quickly that when you are staying at basically a working farm, you eat whatever they serve you, because they are serving you what ever is ready to eat.  Secondly, we learned that whatever they served was awesome, so no one really cared about the lack of choice.  Lunch was a paneer sandwich (Paneer is a cheese) and fresh greens – and I mean fresh as in picked 20 minute ago!  We scarfed down the excellent lunch and prepared for our first foray into the Nepalese outback – a hike to the Namo Buddha Monastery.  

Namo Buddha is an extremely holy place in Buddhism.  It is actually the 4^th most important site.  Apparently, a young prince, after coming across a starving tiger and her cubs, sacrificed himself as food thus saving the life of the tiger and her youngsters.  During Buddha’s life, he remembered that in a past life, he was this prince and set up a stupa her to honor the memory.  Obviously, the stupa is very old and very revered.  A few years ago, on the other side of the mountaintop from the stupa, a monastery was built.  With hiking boots on, we set off to see the aforementioned monastery. 

Possibly the cave in which it took place???

It was a fairly easy 30-minute walk across the ridge and the views both along the way and at the monastery were incredible.  I was a little hesitant just to charge into the monastery (nothing worse than angry monks), but no one seemed to be around, so we went in.  The monetary is a large complex of buildings perched on the edge of the mountain brightly decorated in reds, golds and whites.   There were several buildings that were clearly dorms and many others that were either halls or temples.  Emanating from several of these halls were drums and chanting, so we assumed it was prayer time, but with no one around to ask, we simply pushed on through the maze of cliff-hanging buildings. We continued to the edge of the monastery which spilled out into the small yard of a farmer.  The house buffered the monastery with the end of the ridge that was colorfully decorated in flowing prayer flags.  As the house sat precariously close to the edge of the narrow cliff, we decided to turn back.

The Namo Buddha Monastery 

Prayer Flags and en route to the Monastery above

The first building of the Monastery

The valley en route to the Monastery 

Olga entering the holy complex

The valley in front of the Monastery 

One of the temples hanging over out over the valley

Temple

Praying 

One of many collages of prayer flags

The end of the road

I haven't a clue, but I liked the colors

Stunning cloud-play on the valley

A busload (and then some) of pilgrims coming to the stupa

The valley to the east

The adjacent ridge

The sounds of the Monastery

We returned to the resort and were greeted with Surendra offering tea and water.  We gladly accepted and sat looking out over the Himalayas drinking lemongrass tea and eating freshly baked almond cookies.  I think this is what they refer to when they speak about Shangri-La.

Dinner was served promptly at 7:00pm, so we entered the main house a few minutes early not wanting to be late.  The inside of the house had two long, low tables abutted by traditional Nepalese chairs and tonight there were 4 place settings at the end of one table.  We took our respective seats and waited.  Looking around, the room was really interesting. It had a low ceiling and very dim lighting.  Everything was made of wood and was done clearly by hand.  The seating arrangement was that everyone sat together and got to know each other, rather than at separate tables.  It was cozy and friendly and reminded me of what it must have been like 300 hundred years ago.  

The dining room

A few minutes later Surendra arrived with the owner in tow.  He was in his late 60s with long white stranded hair and a disarming smile.  He sat down next to me, introduced himself and the conversation was rich right through dessert.  He was a very pleasant man who had come to Nepal many years ago in a camper and, after many years, bought a small plot of land.  Through the years, he bought more and came up with the idea of the resort.  A traveler by nature, he instantly bonds with the guests and it makes for a great evening.  Since we were the only guests that night, we were fortunate enough to be afforded his full attention. 

With our bellies stuffed with great food and lungs filled with fresh air, we returned to our abode ready for a good night’s sleep. Inside the cottages, they do not have any curtains, so to keep out light, you close the shutters.  With the shutters closed, the room is very dark and eerily quiet.  I fell asleep instantly with dreams of the big trek the next day!