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
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