Sari Fest in Bhaktapur
Trip Start
Jul 19, 2009
1
21
50
Trip End
Nov 11, 2009
Bhaktapur, Nepal
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Before he left, Arne asked me if I would take some pictures to a Nepalese family he met there and who did a photo shoot with him and his friend Susanne. I said sure.
On the street I finally flagged down the right bus and was crammed in. Then they crammed even more people in. Then just as my left arm was already straining to keep me upright on this metal transporter of human cargo, they decided that there was a square centimeter left which could still be occupied by yet another person. And of course, a few more hung off outside the open door. Off we go! Lol.
If you have claustrophobia or a fear of slightly too intimate contact with someone you've just met, splurge and pay for a taxi. To Bhaktapur (an hour ride), it costs $10 CDN but if you want the adventure and the full experience, nothing beats the .22 cents you pay for the micro-bus. Anywhere else around town the cab fare is only about $2.20 CDN but $150 r sounds so much more expensive than $2.20. And hey the bus is .22 cents!
I show up in Bhaktapur after shuffling around, being bent in odd ways, exercising each arm while hanging on to the small railing above my head, and trying not to shove my backpack into the face and lap of the guy reading just below me at knee level.
At the entrance gate, I ask the guard if he knows where this house is (I had the address for the family I was to find). He told me to just call them and they will come. After he called, the guard and I looked at the pictures together. Within minutes the lady and a boy from the pictures showed up and were so excited. She invited me to come to her house and we walked down winding narrow paths through lush vegetation surrounded by the now familiar brick walls that line the sides of many of these tiny back streets.
As you enter these dark stone houses, you see water running off into the mud below, and an old toilet room with nothing but a hole in the ground, some appropriately placed foot-treads, and a bucket of water with a cup hanging off its side. Helpful tip: If you're going out for the day, and you like the soft comfort of toilet paper, bring it. You will not find it in bathrooms here.
Going up the stairs I pass a wicker basket full of live chickens, chirping quietly as if in a muted protest against their unexpected incarceration. I enter the small living room/bedroom. I am given biscuits and a vitamin drink that basically tastes like sugar water plus something yummy.
Then the sari-fest begins! She changes and then carefully wraps a red and gold sari around me. It was amazing to watch how intricate the process is, and that there is more than one way to wrap a sari. Once complete, I could now pose for pictures but it turns out that even after repeated step-by-step instruction, they just couldn't master how to use a camera. Our heads were cut off like some type of macabre mannequins or only our heads floated dismembered, at the bottom of a frame. Sometimes the pictures were completely crooked or off to one side and not in a cool "rule of thirds" kind of way. Thank heavens for photo editing software...but I'm not sure even that can help. Hehe.
Then the daughters showed up and jumped around the room, so excited by the gift from Arne and the opportunity for another photo shoot. Then her husband showed up and by their brief and somewhat amusing conversation, I caught that he was just returning from his girlfriend's house after a few day absence. A fact that was not taken well by his wife.
By this time I was getting antsy as I had arrived late and still had not even seen Bhaktapur yet. After more than 2 hours and no end in sight, I had to go. They almost didn't let me leave and after sari #2 I had to say no to sari outfitting #3. She poured more drinks and biscuits as stalling tactics but I had to run!
Once out, I realized I still had the necklace on and the red dot on my forehead which drew attention and more than one person commented that I looked very Nepali. I will send the necklace back with the pictures before I leave Nepal. (Update: I sent all the pictures, and the necklace back right before I left Thailand).
I walked around the rest of the day talking to a lot of people and at the end as the sun was starting to dim, I got some chicken mo-mo, after an unnecessarily difficult conversation with the waiter. And then I waited.
I needed it fast but I should know by now that if you look in a Nepali dictionary, the definitions for fast, speedy, in-a-hurry, or late, have a picture of someone with a look of confusion on their face and a question mark, just to bring the point home.
Half an hour later, no phone to call Kp's family to say I will not make it back for dinner, no land line in sight, and counting the minutes to the departure of the last bus back to Kathmandu, Joanna is starting to stress.
I inhale the mo-mos, and run out looking lost (common for me here), and a little boy helps me talk to the taxis and/or find the bus. Taxis are way too expensive so he assures me I can still make it to the last bus if we hurry. We sprint through winding roads and masses of people and cars, and there it is! But of course I need to go before I embark on an hour long journey.
The boy finds me a bathroom... or the closest thing. It's a dark, dingy, horrible smelling, don't-touch-the-walls or anything in this room kind of bathroom. If I close the door, it's pitch black but if I leave it open, it swings out for the world to see. I'm tempted but opt for pitch black but private and I carefully map out the location of my feet because I swear if I fall into this thing, I will seriously contemplate suicide.
Mission accomplished with no casualties. I thank the little guy, and I fly out just in time to join the rest of the throngs of people getting onto the bus. Two seconds in and my brain senses a different kind of understanding, and another second later it translates and I realize that I am hearing Polish! I immediately turn to the two girls who speak both English and Polish and freak them out by saying, so you are from Poland?
Turns out they are from Warsaw too and here we meet on a bus in Nepal. They are doing their medical school practicum here and of course traveling around on their time off as well.
A great one hour of Polish practice for me and a much shorter seeming bus ride. A guy sits beside us and listens intently and soon joins the English parts of our conversation. At the end, email addresses are exchanged, and the guy helps me find the next bus to Ratopul.
The bus to Ratopul was pretty funny. As usual someone else gets on despite max max capacity and a young guy (his name is Ram) squishes into an impossibly small place beside me then laughs probably because of the surprised look on my face. "That is Nepal," he says with a sheepish grin and shrug of his shoulders.
One stop later, and a baby girl gets passed to Ram, and before the parents can even get on, the bus starts to move forward. Someone pounds hard on the metal frame to alert the driver not to go yet. The parents get on but can't sit anywhere near their baby so we entertain the little girl as she sits on Ram's lap and I think how cool it is that it is completely normal for someone getting on a bus to simply pass their baby to a complete stranger who also doesn't think it weird, and the child does not cry or worry, and naturally the strange man and some foreigner talk to her and try to entertain her while the parents have not even an ounce of stress. I've seen this a lot here. People seem to trust and operate more on a system of "what needs to be done under the circumstances" instead of what can happen or what possible dangers there are. The concept of risk is perceived differently here, but then the kids seem to grow up with more or rather different street smarts. Then again, they have to.
Having said that, I should mention another practice that would never fly in our world. The madness of motorcycles. Never mind that you can buy, yes buy a motorcycle license and not only does everyone seem to have one, the ads seem to target the young guys who will 'get the ladies' with their hot new bike. Helmets are also just a suggestion, not a requirement.
But the craziest thing is that anyone can ride as a passenger. In fact, I've seen many a toddler on the front of a bike right in front of an adult driver. I think the motto is that if you are old enough to hold your own head up, you're old enough to ride baby!
Since I already missed dinner, I went off to the Internet cafe to meet my friend, who is the owner. The power was out (naturally) so him and his buddy were eating and drinking some kind of home made fruit alcohol. They asked me to join and 2 or 3 glasses of fruity wine later, some great Nepali food and good conversation, and I was invited to his families' place (he is married with 3 kids) some time before I leave Nepal, for a real Nepali feast!!! Woohoo. Bring it on and since his wife loves French wine, well I will just have to bring that when I come over. It also turns out that he is our next door neighbour. Lol.
