Update: American D.V. Victims

So I emailed Bishakha for clarification, once I realized that the "American D.V. Victims" didn't actually pay money to participate in the lottery, and in response, she sent this article:

Visa Blues

Basically, it seems there's confusion over the rules, so people applied who didn't meet the qualifications, and thus even when their name was drawn in the lottery, no visa was granted. Others assumed that they would receive the visa if they applied, not understanding the lottery side of things. These people spent hundreds of thousands of rupees making travel arrangements, sold their properties, quit their jobs, etc., and now want recompense.

It's an unfortunate situation, but it seems more like a miscommunication than anything else. That, of course, doesn't make these "victims" any better off ...

Day 5: Mehendi

One of the staples of Nepalese weddings is the henna designs painted on the hands of the bride and other female wedding participants (close family and friends). I've had experience with mehendi before - in Egypt, a toothless old woman decorated my hand with thick black henna, and in Mumbai Aziza and Neema drew designs with a cone of brown henna we bought at a tiny store - but never like this. It was a whole production, with a mehendi artist and a bunch of women coming to the house, food prepared for all the visitors, and hours of sitting in the lounge with our hands in the air, not touching anything.

The mehendi was the highlight of the day, after a quest for bangles for me and one card delivery for a friend of Bishakha's brother. This delivery was itself an adventure, since streets lack names and buildings lack numbers - we had to turn around in the narrow, wall-lined streets and call for help more than once, but finally the house was found and Bishakha made the drop. Errand finished, we returned to the house to prepare for the henna artist.

Tour books often warn about skeezy henna artists in tourist destinations - 30+ men who use the opportunity to see some tourist flesh. Of course, Bishakha didn't find this man in a tourist area, so I was expecting something different. I was not, however, expecting what we got - a kid who claimed to be 16 but who probably wasn't more than 14, who applied henna with the speed and skill of someone with years of experience. The poor boy was teased throughout the afternoon about his age, and about the fact that he should be in school rather than developing a career as a mehendi artist. I must admit, though, he's good at what he does.

Bishakha went first, of course, and her hands were painted on both sides and about halfway up the arms. Our boy was especially fond of peacock designs, and we found a number of them hidden in her design. It's traditional that the groom's initials are hidden somewhere in the mehendi, for the bride to find, but she refused (echoing Bishakha's insistence that when Sandeep decorated his car in flowers for the wedding, he didn't put S + P in big marigold letters on the rear window).

I was next - they asked what I wanted, and then explained that he couldn't do what I picked from the design card anyway. I was told to just give him my hand, and did just that, and he was done with both in around 10 minutes. I only got one peacock (named him Bob), but thought the designs were awesome.

But, of course, then came the agonizing hours of not touching anything. Henna darkens the longer it remains in contact with the skin, so we applied a lemon juice and sugar mixture to keep the henna moist longer, and when we finally got to rub off the excess, we still couldn't wash our hands - that had to wait for the morning. All-important activities like washing my face were done with surgical gloves covering the mehendi (courtesy of Sandeep), and by the time I went to bed, the designs had darkened to a rich orange. The price we pay for beauty! Bishakha explained that mehendi is done for a number of occasions, but I can't imagine going through this on a regular basis. However, for a wedding, it was well worth the effort.

*******

Shopping tally: 4 boxes of glass bangles

Day 4: The Monkey Temple

We slept in, to make up for our agonizing 5:30 AM morning the day before. However, our sleeping in was far from perfect, as Sandeep called at 6:30 because he missed Biskakha too much. He told me later that he's used to her calling every 20-30 minutes to see what he's up to, but she hadn't been doing that with me in town, and it made him lonely. Despite the fact that I still felt they talked all the time, it was cute - clearly, this boy is in love. Of course, the cuteness is mainly in retrospect, since at the time I was just grouchy to have a phone ringing in my ear, disrupting my sleep.

Our morning was spent getting in one last bit of tourism at Swayambanuth Temple, a Buddhist Stupa in the middle of town filled with monkeys. Buddhism has evolved into a unique Hindu/Buddhist hybrid in Nepal, and this temple is evidence of that. Aside from the obvious - e.g. shrines to Hindu gods - the Buddha eye symbol painted on every building is found only in Nepal, and has adopted the Hindu myth of Shiva's third eye (in the middle of his forehead, it's foretold that when the god of destruction opens this always-closed eye, the world will end). My first experience with this picture was in the form of our Albertson College senior shirts, designed by Rohan (another Nepalese student), but I didn't realize until I arrived in Kathmandu that it's so popular there, and doesn't exist anywhere else.

After our time at the temple, we joined Sandeep on his deliveries - in Nepal, wedding cards (e.g. invitations) are delivered in person, rather than mailed or even sent with courier, as a matter of courtesy. Poor Sandeep spent a significant amount of my visit delivering these cards - Bishakha was mainly done before I arrived - but after hours in his car alone, we took pity on him and rode along for a delivery and then went for lunch. Bishakha had promised me pane puri - another delicacy recommended by Neema but never eaten - so we went to the new food court in the mall, which serves "street food" that's actually sanitary enough for tourists to eat (the big problem with pane puri in India was sanitation; as "pane" means water, it was not something we could eat off the street, even though we passed a dozen stands daily).

So for lunch we had momos (like steamed dumplings), pane puri, masala dosa and the elusive papdi chaat (Neema's favorite food, which we found once but deemed unsatisfactory), and I had a "Nepalese beer" that was actually a Belgian brand, brewed in Nepal. Sandeep claimed that Nepalese beer tastes better than Indian beer because the water in Nepal is better than in India - while I can't affirm this statement, I can verify that it wasn't half-bad. All in all, it was a delicious meal and a safe way to experience the more "local" side of Nepalese cuisine.

That night, we went on a quest to the Night Market. I was expecting narrow, windy streets and tiny shops like in Khan al Khallili (in Cairo), but instead it was a shopping district (wide streets and normal shops) with additional stalls lining the blocked-off roads. However, the shopping was still great, plus we needed to visit a shop from which Bishakha had ordered embroidered slippers to wear on her wedding day. That was the highlight of our visit, as we had to trek through an unlit alleyway (power outage) to find the shop, only to find that the owner's father was there and had no idea what was going on with her order. Back through the alley we went, and into the car and home.

Thus did the vacation portion of my visit end; Friday would be the start of the preparations and exhaustive bhujas (prayer) that surround a Nepalese Hindu wedding.

*******

Shopping tally: bag, batik, 2 candle holders, 11 pairs earrings, 2 necklaces, 3 shirts, 1000 grams of tea for me; 2 floor cushions, 9 place mats, 4 coasters, 300 grams tea for Bishakha

Day 3: The Majestic Himalayas

Wednesday dawned bright and early for Bishakha and me; we had a scheduled 7:00 AM flight to see Mt. Everest, which meant awake at 5:30 and out the door at 6:30 (and, to be extra helpful, Bishakha's mother actually sent someone up around 5:20 to make sure we didn't sleep in). A God-forsaken hour, to be sure, but we were more than willing. A mountain flight over the Himalayas is a standard experience for visitors to Nepal who don't have the time, money or stamina to do a mountain trek, but for locals, it's a rare experience. The tickets are hundreds of dollars, so even Bishakha had never had the opportunity. However, Sandeep's uncle was a pilot for Buddha Air (I think he's now in upper management), an airline that puts on about a dozen of these flights daily, and he got us two free tickets for my visit. Thus, Bishakha was even more excited than I was about the experience!

Of course, as all airline-related adventures are (at least mine), this was plagued by delays. For some reason, our flight didn't take off until after 8:00, which meant we had all sorts of time to hang out at the domestic terminal of the airport (one room, lots of chairs, and over-priced gift and snack shops). It seems I can't avoid arriving way too early for my flights, even when I'm in another country and at someone else's whim!!

The wait was worth it, however, once we got into the air. The plane probably held around 20 people, and everyone of course had a window seat (actually, the back row had a center seat as well as two window seats - I hope that guy got a discount on his ticket!). We were given maps of the mountain range, and as well as watching out the window, we each got to go up to the cockpit and get a panorama view, with Mt. Everest smack-dab in the middle.

I have to say, Mt. Everest was kind of disappointing - it certainly didn't look that tall! Of course, that's probably because it's surrounded by other very very very tall mountains - but I didn't mind. After all, it's not everyone who can say they've seen the tallest mountain on Earth!

The flight was only an hour, so we were back to the house well in time for a delicious, home-cooked meal. (Bishakha had asked my first day what my favorite Nepalese/Indian foods were, and the cooks were awesome about giving me everything I liked every day). Afterwards, we spent the afternoon on a quest for area rugs for Bishakha's new place. We met up with a couple of women in a predominately Buddhist area of town, with lots of Tibetan rug shops, and wandered from store to store looking for the perfect carpet. In the end, we wound up with two great rugs, one for the bedroom and another for the living room, and one very bored driver (I have to admit, I felt pretty bad for the guy - I doubt he thought this was the duty he'd be getting when he enlisted in the Royal Nepalese Army!).

Finally, for dinner, I got my naan - Bishakha sent Bhothu to a restaurant nearby that's known for its great breads, and I definitely enjoyed every bite. Afterwards, we went to a club called Jazz Upstairs, which has live jazz performances every Wednesday night. The place was jam-packed - from the diversity of patrons, I'm guessing it's listed in at least one guide book - but the jazz was awesome and everyone was friendly. We left between sets, as the waiters were setting out candles to prepare for the pending power outage, thus ending another great day in lovely Kathmandu.

*******

Shopping tally: 2 skirts, 2 dresses, jacket, 2 pairs of shoes for me; pair of shoes, Ganesh statue, 2 carpets for Bishakha

Day 2: A Taste of Tourism

Although time constraints prevented me from leaving the Valley, Bishakha was very eager to give me the opportunity to see some of the tourist-y sites that bring people back to Kathmandu. Thus, my second day was spent experiencing the Valley from a hill station called Naragkot, visiting Bhaktapur ("old Kathmandu"), and enjoying a nice dinner at a restaurant in Thamel, the tourist district.

The drive up to Naragkot was a bit disconcerting; while in Nepal, I often found myself on roads I considered too narrow for even one car, and this was no exception - and like those other roads, we defied all odds by passing buses and trucks going the other direction. I tried not to think too hard about the possibility of driving right off the mountain, and soon (but not soon enough) we made it to the restaurant in Naragkot. Bishakha works in the tourism industry, and this is a favorite destination of visitors to Kathmandu - she said she wanted to treat me, although I was a bit confused by that, as I felt I was being pretty well-treated already!

At any rate, the view from the roof of the restaurant was awesome! Nepalese farmers, because the area is so hilly, employ the method of terrace-farming, so the hills were terraced as far as I could see. It wasn't a clear day, so we could only see faint outlines of the nearby Himalayas, but the view of the near Valley was more than enough to make up for it. And the food wasn't bad, either, although the restaurant oddly had different menus for "Continental," "Chinese," and "Indian" cuisine (for the ultra-picky tourist, I suppose). This was also the first of many times I was denied naan (a simple South Asian bread that is on my list of Top 5 Favorite Foods) - it turns out that, in South Asia, naan is only a dinner food because it's cooked in a tandoori oven, which is only fired up in the evening. Fortunately, Cambridge isn't quite that authentic ...

After enjoying our lunch and the view, we got back in the car to head back down the mountain. This time, however, my fears of the narrow road turned out to be well-founded, as we cruised around a corner to see a bus screaming towards us. We - and, I'm assuming, the bus - slammed on our brakes, but the inevitable took place, and we collided.

Remembering my first night in Mumbai, when our taxi driver was beat up by a man who claimed (falsely) that we'd rear-ended him in traffic, I was incredibly stressed by this incident. Fortunately, it didn't escalate to violence. However, the bus driver repeatedly refused to accept responsibility for cutting the corner too close, even though we were about 2 inches away from driving right into a ditch. The damage was minimal - a shattered headlight cover and some paint transfer - and the bus driver likely couldn't have paid for it anyway, so I wasn't entirely clear what the point of ongoing conversation even was. After all, on our trip back from Alexandria last summer, Mona and I were hit twice on the freeway and didn't even bother to stop either time - the apathy that springs from a population without car insurance, I suppose. However, when the bus driver kept insisting he wasn't at fault (and, as I learned later, when bus-riders started suggesting they light our car on fire), Bishakha pulled out her phone and called her brother, requesting he get someone from the army to come help resolve the dispute (there's a base near to Naragkot, that we passed by on the way up).

I learned later that there have been some troubles between the army and Naragkot citizens, so instead the police were sent up the mountain. They arrived quickly, and after a quick discussion with the bus driver, with our driver, and with Bishakha, they got us all off the road so that traffic could pass. The police followed the bus to Naragkot and we continued down the mountain with a promise from the police that the driver's license would be revoked.

A weird result, to be sure - especially since it happened because the police asked Bishakha, "What do you want us to do?" and she said, "You should take his license." - and one that I'm not entirely comfortable with. After all, in the U.S., that man would have just lost his livelihood, a fact I pointed out with some concern. Bishakha reassured me that he would continue driving anyway, and explained that there have been a number of deaths on that and similar roads due to reckless buses. Maybe it's just my law school training, but I still find it strange that there can be legal consequences - revocation of a license - without a legal basis. If there are procedures the police are supposed to follow in those situations, they should follow them. If there aren't, then technically, no violation was committed and no one should be punished. Either way, I'm a bit uneasy with the idea that a man's punishment can be determined based on the request of the daughter of an army Major. However, in a society suffering from a total lack of the rule of law, maybe it's better to punish a man for reckless driving, even if there's no real procedure followed, than to allow such transgressions to go unpunished? Hard call to make, but certainly one in which I would rather have not been involved.

That, however, was our major excitement for the day. The remainder of our trip down the hill was uneventful, and despite a slight detour - our driver got lost - we made it to Bhaktapur pretty quickly. This area is something like the heart of old Kathmandu - where the city originally sprung up - so it's filled with windy cobblestone roads, old buildings, and magnificent temples. However, unlike a lot of historical areas in other countries, Bhaktapur also has a school, a police station, and a constant population. As we sat in a tea house, staring out over a famous 5-story temple in the center of Taumadhi Square, we watched kids in school uniforms scampering up and down the stairs of temples, and women hanging laundry past the intricately carved wooden window-screens. After spending a summer in Egypt, looking at pyramids and temples covered with "Do not climb" signs, there was something very refreshing to see that Nepal, whatever its deficiencies, refuses to preserve tourist destinations at the price of its own people. In fact, Bhaktapur is working to restore and preserve its city, re-paving roads and banning heavy vehicles, but there doesn't seem to be any consideration of closing the area to residents.

Finally, we returned to city center - specifically Thamel - where we did a bit more shopping, and then met Sandeep for dinner at a cute restaurant that serves nachos to which Bishakha is apparently addicted. (Reminded me of my Yuppie Nacho addiction, of which anyone who's eaten with me in Cambridge is well aware.) I tried mutton, which I'd never had before - not bad at all, once I figured out it was only goat (I expected bone marrow, for some reason).

And then we headed home just in time for our scheduled 9:30 power outage. Nepal's infrastructure isn't able to support the growing need for electricity (as I understand, Nepal gets a lot of power from India, but either that supply isn't sufficient, or for some reason it's been reduced or cut off), so there are scheduled outages in different zones of the Valley almost every day. Bishakha's family is lucky enough to have a generator (which was rather convenient when the power went out during the wedding), but instead we lit some candles, had some tea, and relaxed after our long day.

*******

Shopping tally: 5 handbags, sweater, belt, 2 calendars, 5 paper lanterns, 2 pillow cases, note card set, stationary set, shirt, skirt, 5 sets prayer flags, duffel bag (and 3 embroidered pashminas and 4 yak wool shawls waiting at home) for me; jacket for Bishakha

Day 1: Arrival and Acclimation

I forwarded my itinerary to Bishakha as soon as it was confirmed, but she'd never explicitly stated "I will meet you at the airport." After 30 hours of travel and only 2 of sleep, my mind could think of nothing more than that fact, worrying that I wouldn't have anyone to meet me, and strategizing next steps. (In fact, I even solicited a hotel recommendation from the guy sitting behind me, just in case.)

As it turns out, there was no need for concern.

There are certain benefits to being friends with the daughter of a Major General of the Nepalese Army, and the first of them was being met in the secure area of the terminal by Bishakha, the Major, and six army personnel. As my plane-mates filed by, looking curious (and exhausted), I was ushered into a VIP lounge to have a cup of tea while the Major sent someone to get my visa and watch for my luggage. (Bhothu later told me that there's a Nepalese saying: "Treat your guests like Gods." I definitely feel like the Khadka family did its best to uphold that obligation.)

As great as the VIP treatment was, however, it was a million times greater to see Bishakha. She was just as lovely as I remembered, and looking especially glowing at the prospect of her upcoming wedding. We gabbed in the lounge for quite awhile, and kept it up for the entire car-ride home. The only in-hospitable treatment I received the entire trip was the denial of a chance to nap, Bishakha claiming I had too little time in Nepal to spend it sleeping. (I agreed, and since she did let me shower, I had little to complain about.) Instead, we had a delicious home-cooked meal, relaxed for a short time, and then went out to Thamel, a tourist district. For shopping.

Now seems a good time to clarify: Bishakha and I were on the same Southeast Asia trip, but we didn't really become close until we bonded over our mutual love of excessive and impulsive purchasing. Therefore, we were both aware of the fact that this trip would involve a day or two of whirlwind shopping. I won't regale you with these exploits, as shopping is really only interesting to, well, us. But it's fair to assume that, if there seems to be a gap in the story, that time was spent at the market. However, this first shopping trip was notable because Bishakha quickly made clear that I wasn't allowed to spend any money at all - anything I liked, she bought. Likely a response to the knowledge that I spent a lot of money for my plane ticket - I learned later that her entire family was hugely flattered that I cared so much for their daughter I'd drop that kind of cash (er, credit) just for her wedding - I didn't even get to change any money while there. And lest you think this means I didn't bring much back, I'd like to be clear: my luggage was 16 kilos when I left Boston, and 31 when I returned. Like I said, one of the most generous, most hospitable people I've ever met!

I briefly met Sandeep that afternoon, at the electronics store (to pick up the new entertainment system for their new apartment), and actually got to see Bishakha's new place. Traditionally, after marriage a couple lives with the husband's family. However, Bishakha wanted to live on her own. As a compromise, they're living on the third and fourth floors of a building owned by Sandeep's parents, who live on the second floor. They won't be moving in for a few weeks yet - Sandeep pre-wedding lived in his grandmother's house, and they're staying there until they get their feet under them - but the place is mostly decorated and adorable. Bishakha picked out everything herself, and has done a great job, and they have a terrace with a great view of the city.

Of course, lest I get too engrossed in the luxurious life I'd been drawn into, I saw that first day too echoes of the tumultuous, transitional state in which Nepal finds itself. We hit a traffic jam as driving down the street, and Bishakha explained to me that there are pretty much daily protests, for any number of reasons. Since the protest method worked so strikingly in getting rid of the monarchy, it seems that Nepalese now consider it a good way to get whatever they want. Sure enough, we were soon passed by a marching band of young Nepalese, carrying a banner labeled "American D.V. Victims."

Bishakha explained that this group has set up a permanent protest center outside the American Embassy, going so far as to hold hunger strikes for their cause. However, what that cause is remains ambiguous. Bishakha explained to me that they had participated in a visa lottery, had not been selected, and they were protesting because they wanted their money back. This seemed a little odd to me. On one hand, this seems awfully exploitative of America - don't we have enough money, without stealing from impoverished developing country citizens? But on the other, didn't these people understand the lottery concept before handing over their hard-earned money?

But now that I've learned a bit more about the D.V. ("Diversity Visa") lottery, I find myself even more confused. It turns out that America issues 50,000 visas annually through this lottery, to citizens of countries selected because they sent a low number of immigrants the previous year. (Co-workers in Cairo discussed it with me last summer, so Egypt's apparently also on the list.) However, there's no fee for entry - people only have to pay money if they win, and then only the standard visa fee. So what, exactly, is being protested?? Unclear, although it seems that the only possibility is a protest of the simple fact that these people lost. If that's the case, I'm not sure what they hope to accomplish, but it's a good symbol of the atmosphere that currently reigns in Kathmandu. These D.V. Victims aren't the only ones utilizing the newly learned tool of organized protest.

The only other noteworthy event of the day - and one at least as important as mass protests of U.S. immigration policy - was my sampling of jalabis, a bright orange, funnelcake-like delight of fried rice dough. All through our time in Mumbai, Neema kept telling me we needed to try freshly-made jalabis, and while we did finally try some lukewarm ones (still good), we never got them fresh and delicious. When I said this to Bishakha, she had her driver stop at a sweets store near her home and got them to cook them fresh while she waited. Fried before her eyes, they were even more delicious than Neema had promised, and became my standard answer to "What's your favorite thing about Nepal?" (Bishakha assured people I was kidding.)

*******

Shopping tally: 2 skirts; shirt; pants; 5 purses

Cast of Characters

Because I spent my ten days in Nepal living in the Khadka household, it's important for you to understand something about these people, who will play such a huge role in the story.

First, and obviously most important, is Bishakha. Bishakha and I met my final year of college, but didn't become friends until one night in Hanoi (on our month-long Southeast Asia trip over winter term). When we returned to Idaho, we started spending increasing amounts of time together, until by the end of the semester, I would stop by her house every morning for tea after class. Some of her friends actually thought we lived together, because most of the stories she told involved me spending the night - I averaged 3-4 nights sleeping on an air mattress in her bedroom for the last couple months of school. When she returned home to Nepal, we promised to stay in touch, and have been exchanging emails on a semi-regular basis, but we were both anxious to see each other again. I thought in college, and I maintain now, that Bishakha is one of the most generous, most hospitable people I've ever known.

This hospitality is either a cultural thing or a Khadka thing, for Bishakha's mother was equally as caring as Bishakha ever had been. I'd met Bishakha's parents at graduation, but her mother had been ill, and so we didn't get an opportunity to talk. But when I arrived in Kathmandu, she was healthy (albeit highly stressed from the wedding preparations) and happy to see me. Throughout my visit, she made sure I had everything I wanted to eat, to wear, to watch, to do, and when Bishakha left for Sandeep's house (more on that later), she decided that I was her new daughter. Before I left, she made me promise I'd return next year. (Mom, you don't want me to break my word, do you?)

Bishakha's father was equally as kind. A super-high ranking official in the Nepalese military, he did kind things like sending someone to check me in for my flight, so that I didn't have to sit at the airport for three hours (and put the fear of God in airport employees when we realized my baggage had been erroneously checked to New York). However, his hospitality extended far beyond his military power - he even sent someone to the store before my arrival to buy me a back-scrubber for the shower, because he was afraid I wouldn't have brought anything like that with me.

Her brother and his wife were also lovely people, although I didn't get to spend much time talking with them. Her brother is also in the military, so is often at work, and his wife is in her 7th or 8th month of pregnancy. This means they'd be preoccupied in the best of situations, but as this is the third pregnancy, after two miscarriages, they both had much more important things on their mind than a visitor from America. However, they still went out of their way to present me with a lovely gift the night before I left.

Since the trip was for a wedding, another key player is Sandeep, Bishakha's new husband. Sandeep is a doctor, 27, and quite a fun guy. He has a wonderful sense of humor and treats Bishakha very well, which is obviously the most important thing. However, we got along well enough that I consider him a friend regardless of his wife. He's convinced I'll never return to Nepal (I'm not sure he fully comprehends my travel bug), and I have every intention of proving him wrong.

Bhothu is Bishakha's "brother" - he may be related somehow, although I'm not entirely clear. Right now, Bhothu is taking a year off of school and tutoring, while he decides where he wants to study. I learned my first evening there that Bhothu is pretty much always around - he drops by every evening, sometimes for dinner, sometimes for TV, sometimes just for a chat. Even after Bishakha was at Sandeep's house, he dropped by to say hello to me. It took him awhile to get used to me, I think, but by the end of the trip, we were on rather good terms.

Finally is Bonu, a gorgeous 16-year-old girl and little sister of one of Bishakha's school friends. While the friend is away for her studies, Bishakha and Bonu have taken on a sister relationship of their own. There are tons of amazing things to say about Bonu, but most importantly, she was awesome to have around for all of the wedding festivities, as Bishakha was often a bit too busy to explain to me what was going on.

In addition to all of these people are the tons of family members always at the house, the dozen household "helpers" and drivers, including Inda Dai ("dai" means "brother" in the respectful, not really related sense), who doesn't speak a word of English but always made sure I was very well taken care of, and Bishakha's other friends, who helped steer me through the wedding festivities. This is my first experience staying with a family when I travel, and it was an incredible experience to be with people who weren't just passing through, but even more incredible to be with these people. I've heard often that the Nepalese are the nicest people in the world, and my experiences over these two weeks suggest those rumors are simple, unadulterated truth.

It seemed like a good idea at the time ...

My trip to Nepal was at least hypothetically in the works for a number of years. After all, I promised Bishakha, my best friend in college, that I'd fly to Kathmandu for her wedding, and it was a promise I intended to follow through on. Of course, I hadn't expected the wedding to come so soon, in the middle of the term, or at such short notice, but a real traveller doesn't let such tiny details stand in the way! So I booked my ticket while in India, and on March 3rd hopped on a plane to start my travels.

When I arrange these flights, I am of course aware of the agonizing length of travels required - after all, my itinerary clearly said "Travel time: 30 hours" below the flight details - but it never really bothers me. And this time, I was even responsible enough to request window seats when booking my tickets, so the trip was already looking to be more comfortable than what I'm used to. But it didn't really sink in until I settled into my first cramped, economy-class seat what I had to look forward to.

The first leg of my trip, from Boston to London, wasn't too bad. It was my first trip on Virgin Atlantic, and I was pleasantly surprised by the food, the extra couple inches of legroom, and the complimentary toothbrush. Unfortunately, I was seated next to a man better suited for business class, and my already small seat was even further restricted by the inevitable armrest encroachment. Of course, I felt confident that, whatever my discomfort, his was likely ten times worse!

I landed in London at around 7:00 in the morning, and didn't fly out until 2:00 in the afternoon. I'm a horrible airport sleeper - always afraid I'll miss my flight, I generally just add to my exhaustion - and certainly didn't want to do any of the schoolwork I'd brought with me! I'd overheard someone in the row ahead of me talking about a long layover before his flight to South Africa, so struck up a friendship and proposed a trip into the city. The customs official advised me to return around 11:00 to check in for my 2:00 flight, so there wasn't much time to spend in town, but anything is better than an airport! So Adam (a software engineer from Boston) and I bought our "Tube" tickets and hopped on the next train.

Forty-five minutes later, we arrived in the heart of London, at the Parliament building, the home of Big Ben. Twenty minutes, a couple dozen pictures, and a bad cup of chai later, we headed right back down to catch the subway back to the airport. I'm not sure over 90 minutes of travel is justified by 20 minutes of sight-seeing, but knowing how long I had until I reached my final destination, I was grateful for a few minutes in the fresh air.

The rest of my travel would be done on Qatar Airways, an airline I hadn't heard much about. My cursory Internet searches turned up some positive comments, so I was optimistic, but my experience was decidedly mixed. From London to Doha, I had a window seat as requested, and settled in for a nice long nap before we even took off. But it turns out Qatar had, for some reason, seated my seatmate 10 aisles away from his wife, even though they checked in together. As she also was assigned a window seat, I agreed to switch with her - why not?

Because his wife happened to be seated by a crying 8-year-old girl, as it turns out. She was crying because she wasn't allowed to sit next to her cousin, who was seated the next row back, even though this was the first time both of them had flown. Certain I wouldn't get any sleep regardless, I switched seats with the girl, sacrificing my window seat for the aisle one row back. Unfortunately, across the aisle from me was the girl's 6-year-old sister. She was very smart, very cute, and very talkative - not only didn't I get a wink of sleep on the flight, it actually took me from London to Doha to watch one movie (I am intensely grateful to the new interactive in-seat entertainment systems, which allowed me to pause the movie every time she said, "Can I tell you a story?").

Upon arrival in Doha, I was looking forward to a much more manageable layover, so I spent some time browsing the duty-free shop (lest you think I'm a shop-a-holic, I needed to by Bishakha's wedding gift) and then sat down to do a bit of reading. Sadly, our scheduled 2:50 departure time changed to 5:30 on the departures screen without an ounce of explanation, stretching out the wait significantly and making me wish I wasn't afraid of sleeping through my flight, but finally we boarded.

At which point I found that my "window" seat (as requested by my travel agent, and affirmed by ground staff in London) was actually a center. The flight attendants, while sympathetic, could do nothing about the situation, and I was at around 24 hours without sleep of any kind - not in the mood to deal with this sort of glitch. Fortunately, the (apparently inept) Qatar ground staff came to my rescue, by again splitting up family members travelling together. This time, I was seated next to a young boy and his brother, while their father was seated some dozen seats back. The trade was a win-win: the man got to travel with his kids (although really, that should have been a given), and I got an aisle seat with no seat next to it, where I got in a two-hour nap.

I woke up just in time to see the first of the Himalayas breaking through the tops of the clouds. I'd read a newspaper article that described the breath-taking moment when the Kathmandu Valley appears among the mountains, and it was even better than I had anticipated. When my plane finally landed, I looked out the window and thought to myself, I'm in Nepal! And all of the travel was suddenly worth it.

For anyone behind the times ...

In case anyone hasn't read about my Egypt or India trips, feel free to check out those sagas:

http://tealeincairo.blogspot.com

http://tealeinmumbai.blogspot.com