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
No comments:
Post a Comment