Adventures in India ...cont'd from page 10 Boudhnath Stupa At one temple I fell into a conversation with a priest. He liked the fact that I looked Nepali, in my red salwar suit. He showed me around the temple and explained things-the Uma Maheswar carving Parvati and Shiva and Shakti Kali, with 9 cobras over her head, who was being worshipped. When we got to the 9 planets shrine, embedded in the floor of the temple platform, he asked about my astrological sign. I explained I was a Capricorn, born the last day of the year. His birthday was the same. He told me a few characteristics: big hearted, outspoken and frank, not understood, and having many enemies. All of that certainly fits. He marked my forehead and sprinkled me with holy water from a well that contained water all the way from Sri Lanka. He offered to show me another of Ashoka's stupas, but I explained I was wandering and would run across it on my own. I set out wandering again, finding other wonderful places and taking pictures of them. Eventually, because I was getting foot-sore, I found a restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall in Durbar Square, and ordered momos. There I found myself engaged in conversation with a young man named Krishna. Like the priest, he seemed to have a favorable opinion of America. The momos were good.

That evening I wandered into one of the handicraft shops in my hotel. It was full of wonderful sculptures of Nepali deities. I was fascinated by the figures, and Prem, the proprietor, could see my interest and was willing to educate me. He told me about White Tara and Green Tara, the snake goddess, and all the shakti figures. He had a factory that manufactured these statues. He pulled out a disheveled book that explained all of the Nepali gods and symbols. We talked until I left for my room, although he was willing to talk much longer. Just as I was leaving, he handed me the book and said, A gift. I was really moved. Nepalis are proving to be kind and special people.

One Himalayan mountain viewed from Nagarkot

The next day was wonderful as well. Shambhu came at 9 and introduced me to the driver and tour guide, and so my adventure began. My guide spoke English and proceeded to educate me about Nepal. Here are a few of the facts that I learned: Education is not yet compulsory but some free education is available, and both free and compulsory education are advancing in steps. Currently, highly educated people have no future in Nepal; there are no jobs for them. The economy is based on agriculture and cottage industry. Nepal still has a caste system, although it has been outlawed. It still has arranged marriages. We drove to Nagarkot, where we were at about 7,200 feet above sea level. From there on a clear day, you can see the Himalayas, sometimes even Everest. I was lucky; one mountain was visible. I wanted to be in those mountains, among all that ice and splendor.

From there we returned to Bhaktapur, one of the cities in the Kathmandu Valley. As we climbed to Durbar Square, there was a trickle of red liquid running down the rocks paving the pathway. Beside the path, across from a small temple at the top, something was burning on a pyre. At the small temple, I saw a water buffalo head.

My guide explained that an animal had just been sacrificed and the hair was being burned. Animal sacrifice is common in Nepal but I hadn't anticipated seeing any. I took it in stride better than I would have predicted. The occasion for this sacrifice was a boy's hair cutting ceremony, an event that takes place where the boy is somewhere between 6 and 12 years old. For girls, there is a corresponding childhood ceremony, a childhood marriage to a fruit something like an apple.

The animals that are sacrificed their throats are slit are eaten. Most of the sacrifices are to Kali and Bhairab, the angry aspect of Shiva. Twice a week, at a Kali temple outside Kathmandu, a fairly large slaughter takes place, when people bring in animals for the priests to sacrifice. This event is apparently popular with tourists. I decided to skip it. During lunch in Bhaktapur, however, an animal sacrifice took place at the Bhairab temple across the square from my restaurant. My guide encouraged me to get close enough to see and photograph it, but I declined. It wasn't totally squeamishness; I'm not quite sure what the attraction is in watching animals dying.

Pottery square in Bhaktapur

Bhaktapur is known as a medieval city. It has not only a Durbar palace Square but also several other significant squares. In pottery square, you can watch the potter work and see all the pots lined up. He asked if I wanted to try I attempted it, many years ago, without any real success, but I had visions of splattering clay all over myself, so I declined. I explored the museum in Durbar Square, which had a fine collection of old sculpture and Thanka paintings. I took a photo of a holy man who expected some rupiahs in return. My guide explained that a real holy man wouldn't expect anything, this was a commercial "holy" man. I found this interesting, given the way all the priests in India had apparently not found it a violation of their "holy" duties to pressure me for money.

"Commercial" holy man in Bhaktapur

We returned to Kathmandu city to visit the Hindu temple Pashupatinath, on the Bagmati river, which flows into the Ganges. This "Little Varanasi", as its known, has a number of similarities with India's Varanasi: it has ghats so people can bathe in the river to wash away their sins; people come here to die, thus guaranteeing themselves rebirth into a better life not, however, escape from the cycle of rebirth; and it is the cremation site for Kathmandu. Seven of the nine cremation platforms, on one side of the bridge that crosses the river to the temple, are available to all; on the other side of the bridge are two special ones. One of these is for VIPs; when the royal family of Nepal was slaughtered two years ago by the then-Crown Prince, it was here that the bodies were burned.

A major difference between this site and Varanasi is that in Varanasi the cremations are handled by outcasts; here they are handled by relatives or Brahmin priests. Another major difference is that this site and river are much cleaner. Cremations are performed soon-six or seven hours--after death. In Nepal, there are no death certificates. My guide told me calmly about his mother's cremation at this site a year before and the ceremonies that were performed during the following two weeks--gatherings of mourners and meals on the sixth, seventh, twelfth, and thirteenth day after the death. I got the feeling that here in Nepal, adversity and death are taken in stride. Several cremations were taking place while I was there; my guide urged me to take pictures but I photographed only the site, not the cremations. In Varanasi, by the way, photos of cremations are not allowed. My guide also encouraged me to bathe in the river, but I lacked a towel and change of clothes, so I contented myself with running my hand through the water.

I discussed my experience in Varanasi with my guide and learned that his experience there was similar. He had been pressured to buy things he didn't want and felt that people were constantly trying to cheat him.

We went on to Bouddhanath, a fantastically large Buddhist stupa, surrounded at its base by prayer wheels. A Nepali stupa has certain characteristics: it includes relics; has a face in four directions; the face consists of eyes, a question mark-shaped nose, and a mark for the third eye; it has 13 steps above the face and is topped with an umbrella representing the steps of wisdom and nirvana.

Many Tibetans come here to worship; my guide could identify them. He also showed me, at the adjacent Buddhist monastery, prayer wheels ten feet high.

At a thanka painting shop, I fell in love with a wonderful painting, in progress, of the 21 Taras. This painting was expensive, over $200, so I had to think about it I eventually decided against buying it, although I bought another thanka painting. I was able to see how the paintings were done-first sketched, then the background areas painted, then the colors in the figures painted, eventually the fine details painted, then the gold added, and finally the gold polished. Some painting are done with chemical colors, but these don't last; preferred are stone colors and touches of real gold. My tour began at 9 and I finally got home around 6-quite a day. I tipped the driver and guide well. They had both been patient, not rushing me but allowing me to take all the time I needed and answering all my questions. I said hello to Prem, who offered me a cup of tea, but I wanted to check out the cricket game in the bar-an important game, the one that put India in the final World Cup game against Australia. I was saddened but not surprised to learn that war had begun that morning.

The next day I saved for Kathmandu itself. I headed for Durbar Square and, after some sidetracking and getting lost, found it. By now Nepali architecture was familiar to me, so I wasn't as totally overwhelmed as I had been in Patan and Bhaktapur. The Kumari house was beautiful-if only she had appeared in the window! Several people around the square offered their services as guide, but I was happy on my own and, unlike in India, these people actually respected my wishes and left me to my own. In Freak Street, the gathering place for hippies who backpacked their way to Nepal in the '60s and '70s, I found wonderful beads. I found a prayer wheel that looked somewhat different from the others; the seller told me it was older and unusual. He wanted 1000 rupiahs but, because of the lack of tourism and resulting sales, settled for what I had on me about 680. He said he had made only 50 rupiahs on the sale That's around 60c US, but I don't know the buying power of this amount in Nepal; India has made me so cynical I didn't know whether to believe him. I saw several thanka paintings I liked and decided to think about them overnight.

On my way out, I passed a shop with knitted silk sweaters, beautiful but expensive. The young men who owned the shop hadn't had a customer all day. They were so pleasant that I ended up buying some of their beautiful multi-colored silk yarn. They patiently pulled out skein after skein for at least an hour until I finally located enough coordinated skeins to make a simple short-sleeved sweater.

In the night I awoke with fever, chills, and aching head and body, the result, I think of eating a salad at a small cafe on Durbar Square. The next day I was in bad condition. I am making an unfortunate habit of this; on my last trip I was also sick on my final day. Shambhu came to finalize my arrangements for the next day and I talked to him about my experience shopping, how hard conditions seemed to be for everyone. He was philosophical, talking about the need to accept whatever comes. His two-wheeler had been stolen and there is no insurance in Nepal. I was impressed with his equanimity.

With difficulty I made it back to Durbar Square, where I chose one of the two thanka paintings. The seller, it turned out, was the brother of the two young men who had sold me the yarn, and yet another brother handled all the credit card transactions. Apparently the whole family was in the tourism business, not a surprise considering that 70% of the people in the Kathmandu Valley are in the tourism business. I also bought a carved wooden frame that looked quite old; I told the seller, "If they stop me at the airport for smuggling Newari antiquities, I'll give you a call!" He laughed. I looked at masks, but couldn't find the Right One. I knew I would regret later not returning with a Nepali mask, but I felt too sick to shop with much enthusiasm. I staggered back to my hotel and spent most of the day in bed. When the fever and chills passed, the diarrhea began--not good, given that I was going to be on a plane early the next morning.

Morning came and with it Shambhu to take me to the airport. It was not easy saying goodbye to him. I gave him a good tip and wondered if it was enough; he said, of course, even small change was fine. He had been so kind. I also left a note for Prem, thanking him again for the book and for what he had taught me. He also had been kind, and had not been around the day before so that I could say goodbye in person. I sat in the airport, crying slightly, both because I felt sick and depleted and because I was leaving this place of kind and wonderful people.

And so I left Nepal, feeling that there was so much I hadn't seen, and would I ever be able to return.