River Ganges boatride and Flight to Kathmandu

January 23, 2010

Nam, Dayo and “As you will”

Up at 4:15 AM for a 6 o’clock departure for a boat cruise down the Ganges River. Seems like a short night. We took the bus through the city and stopped about 10 minutes from the river. We walked the same route as last night, but whereas last night the street was full of dancing boys, statues of Saraswati and loud boom boxes, it was quiet with people just arising, starting their fires on their cement porches, and generally starting their day. We arrived at the Ghat and descended to the waterfront where all 29 of us embarked on a large rowboat - Dennis, you should see the woodwork; quite the craftsmanship. I had met a young boy last night and I told him that I would see him early this morning and buy postcards from him. Amazingly, here he was with his postcards. I asked him his name in Hindi, and he said, “Nam” and then he asked me my name in Hindi and I told him. He tried to sell me other things but I told him that all I wanted was postcards and I appreciated his getting up early to meet me. He was about 14 and for the rest of the time at the Ghats, he and I would look for each other and wave.
Off we went in our vessel, first upriver to see the people immersing themselves, the men in their boxer shorts and the women in their saris. The river is filthy but since the river is the holy river, it is supposed to be cleansing. According to Shanker who will not bathe in the Ganges here, but will in other areas, it is very invigorating and you feel great for about 6 days. Then we turned and proceeded downriver, past the funeral pyres where the dead are being burned so their ashes may be deposited in the sacred Ganges. No pictures are allowed of that unless more than 150 yards away. We are not safe from the hawkers and vendors even out here as several boats approached with a vendor in each and they latched themselves to each side. Several bought items from the vendors charging “morning prices,” i.e. cheaper prices.
We returned to shore after about two hours on the river and started our long trek through a different route of very narrow streets (maybe 10 feet wide) to the bus. Here the hawkers had a field day and were very persistent. I told one that Gandhi would have said to him, “Don’t disrespect yourself and don’t disrespect your guest.” He fell away but the other on the other side of me continued on unabated, “Four for 400 rupees. No, 5 for 400 rupees. Or 6 for 500 rupees. And I’ll through in an extra.” And on and on. I finally decided to change the dynamics and started asking him questions in HIndi and then in English, asking him his name (Dayo), how old he was (20), where he lived (in Varanasi, nearby), how many brothers and sisters he had (4 younger brothers and 1 younger sister), did he have a mother and father (mother deceased and father surviving but not employed), whether he went to school (yes, he was going today at 2), what class he was in (12th), and wishing him good luck with his upcoming exams in March or April. I then asked him a bunch of questions about the Hindi language, having him correct my pronunciation, learning new words, etc. By this time, after about 10 minutes of this, we were nearing our bus. A mother with a sick looking child came by and kept asking me for money so I gave her 100 rupees (about $2.50); then another came by a few minutes later and I thought it was the same as the first mother, but Dayo corrected me pointing out the other mother, so I asked him if I should give her money, and he replied, “As you will.” So I gave her 100 rupees. Then I asked to buy a bead necklace from him for 200 rupees (since he had spent so much time with me and had lost the opportunity to ask others). He gave me the necklace and I gave him the money. He shook my hand and wished me a good trip. I thanked him for his help and wished him good luck in school. I got on the bus and looked back at both Nam and Dayo waving at me. I waved back and smiled. What a nice way to leave India. I finally had found a way to get through so that both of us, the vendor and me, would have some dignity and we could feel good about our encounter. It took me awhile.

Flight to Kathmandu

Traveling in India is an all-day affair. We left the hotel at 10:00 for the Varanasi airport. It was still misty but we thought it might burn off. We waited at the airport for hours until finally boarding the plane at 2:15. The flight was very short, about 45 minutes, and we landed at Kathmandu airport at 3:45 local time (15 minutes ahead of India time). And by the time we got through customs, immigration, retrieved our bags, it was 5 or so, and then another 30 minute bus ride to Soaltee Crowne Plaza Hotel, a beautiful hotel in downtown Kathmandu, a city of 700,000 having an elevation of about 4000 feet with beautiful mountains surrounding the valley in which Kathmandu is situated. We have a free night and spent it having a few beers in the bar with Pat and Kathy, and John and Dawn, and then adjourning to the Italian restaurant with them for dinner.

Pat

As you remember this Vietnam War vet, you should know him in other ways. He has the sweetest wife, Kathy, who is pretty, loving and kind to all, a Florence Nightingale type. But two stories will tell you about Pat, and these are stories he tells about himself.
First, he was asked by a crazy friend of his if he would like to climb Kilimanjaro with him. He thought about it briefly, and then agreed to go along. He say that Kilimanjaro is on the equator, so he packed accordingly. The night before the trek up this 20,000 foot mountain was to begin, everyone had to lay out their clothes and supplies so that the guide could make sure they had everything each one would need. All Pat brought were shorts. So they made him rent some pants from their expedition company. The expedition leader told him he was the third most unprepared hiker he had ever encountered. The first was a woman who was hiking in high heels.
Second, he had gone skiing with Kathy and some others but he didn’t know how to ski. But they stayed on the bunny slope with him awhile as he tried valiantly to learn how to ski. The more he fell, the more tired he got. Finally he told them to go off as he didn’t want to ruin their day. He continued on with his efforts but changing to the rope tow thinking that would be easier than the T- bar. While making one of his ascents on the rope tow, the Special Olympics showed up on the same hill. So when he came down and kept falling, by the time he reached the bottom, one of the Special Olympics chaperones came up and gave him a big hug, telling him how well he had done. Although that was years ago, he recently told the Special Olympics telephone solicitor that he would donate $100 if he could get a gold medal. He sent the money in. The gold medal arrived a couple of weeks before their departure on this trip. Kathy didn’t even know what that was all about. It is even more remarkable when you see this large, 250 pound, shaved 50-year old bald man and think of them mistaking him for a Special Olympian. He’s got a great sense of humor.

Janet

So did you know that Dawn thinks that Bay is 25-28 years old? I think she may become quite insufferable again, until I realize that that must make me about 48.

Thrilled

We’re thrilled to be in Kathmandu and out of the Gangetic plain with all its mist. Tomorrow we do some sightseeing and then on Monday do our Everest flight and then an excursion into the countryside. Bay and I are both excited about all that after all the books we have read about this place. She asked me to leave the curtains open so we can wake up to the sight of the mountains surrounding us.

Good night. Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB