The dangerously handsome man sitting at an adjacent table in the Pokhara coffee shop nodded as I wrapped up my interview with two young girls who’s had an abhorrent experience with a local volunteer operator. A jumble of dreadlocks peeked from beneath Hugo Caminero’s rainbow knitted skullcap as he leaned across the aisle and admitted that he’d been eavesdropping. Hugo was also working with children in Nepal, but he’d created his own program rather than pay a firm to arrange a volunteer opportunity. He flashed a seductive smile through his two-day stubble. Would I like to accompany him the following day to see for myself?

Hugo, drummer for the popular Spanish cover band RETO 999, was inspired by the philanthropic works of Carlinhos Brown, a Brazilian percussionist who was born in Candeal Pequeno, a small neighborhood in the Brotas area of Salvador de Bahia, Brazil. As a child, Brown played in dirt streets where human waste flowed; when it rained, excrement and mud washed into the homes. Yet it was the rhythm and percussion sounds from these same rough streets that brought him fame. Hoping to give back, Brown opened a music school in Candeal and formed the musical group Timbalada, recruiting more than 100 percussionists and singers called “timbaleiros,” the majority of them young kids from the streets of Candeal. Timbalada eventually recorded eight albums and toured various countries around the world. Today, largely through the efforts of Brown and Pracatum Social Action Association community action organization also set up by the drummer, the streets of Candeal are paved and free from sewage.

Can’t view the above video of teaching drumming to street children in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.

Taking his cue from Brown, Hugo bought a dozen drums, flew to Pokhara, and began looking for an orphanage where he could put his skills to use. One day he knocked on the door of the Protection and Rehabilitation Centre for Street Children and soon he was tutoring kids for an hour or so each afternoon in simple rhythms they were sure to master. At a jam session in a local bar one night he met Kim Jinuk, a Korean guitarist, and Pablo Etayo, an amateur musician from Basque Spain who had studied music therapy. And then there were three.

The next afternoon, Hugo led me through a maze of Pokhara’s dirt back streets on a shortcut to the highway, where the inconspicuous centre concealed itself behind a low concrete wall. A door cracked open we were ushered inside, where raggedy urchins immediately latched onto our legs, our clothes, whatever they could grasp. They bickered and pummeled one another; one young boy performed backflips from a nearby bench hoping to win our attention. Utter chaos reigned until Hugo broke out the drums.

Forming an orderly circle in the center of the courtyard, the children focused on Hugo as he drilled them on their respective parts.

“Ick, dui, tin, char!” One, two three, four.

Within minutes the undisciplined mob was transformed into a cohesive unit, automatically working together for the good of the group. It was quite remarkable to witness and it wouldn’t surprise me to see these kids performing in a major parade someday, featured as one of the world’s great rags to riches stories.

You might also like:

My life changed for the better when I deserted corporate America to pursue my true passions of travel, writing and photography but over the past few years I’ve often felt there was still a piece of the puzzle missing. There was something more I was meant to do; I just wasn’t sure what it was. And then I arrived in Nepal.

As my three week visit stretched to three months, I became acutely aware that behind the veneer of beauty lay excruciating poverty. Here was a place where I could do some good, I thought. I began researching NGO’s (non-governmental organizations) and learned it was quite simple to create and register one in Nepal. Combining an NGO with a 501(c)3 non-profit organization in the U.S., which would allow people to make tax deductible donations, seemed the perfect way to help Nepal and satisfy my desire to give back.

As I toured the country I broached the subject of NGO’s and volunteering with everyone I met. My first inkling that all was not as it seemed came from a guide in Chitwan National Park. Morally opposed to riding elephants, I instead opted for a walk through a nearby village to learn more about the local Tharu people. My guide, who lived in the village, warned, “Maybe 75% of orphanages are not real.”

He told me about a group of Polish tourists that had established an online relationship with an orphanage prior to traveling to Nepal. Upon arrival, they hired my guide to help purchase bulk food and supplies, in addition to a cash donation they planned to make. Although he warned of potential fraud, the Poles insisted that this particular orphanage was legitimate. Several weeks later, long after the donors had returned home, my guide stuffed his pockets with chocolates and returned to the orphanage. As the children clamored around him, fighting for candy, he quizzed them. What had they been given to eat over the past few weeks? Had they received new clothes? School supplies? None of the children had new clothes or supplies and they had been fed only dahl bhat (rice and lentil bean stew), as usual. He later learned that all the fresh foodstuffs and a good deal of the bulk non-perishables had been sold off, with the cash distributed among the orphanage owners.

My guide explained that many orphanages solicit funds through websites that feature photos of destitute children and inspiring stories of rescues made possible by donations. Yet in truth, many of these same orphanages are non-existent. In the rare instance that donors travel to Nepal to meet their sponsor children, the owners of the “orphanage” collect children and put them on display for a night or two in a local home.

At this point in our walking tour he pointed to a decrepit house next to a brand new three-story concrete building painted in a trio of turquoise hues. The sign on the chain link fence surrounding the two structures declared that a new orphanage would soon open.

“I assume that’s one of the good ones?” I asked.

“No, the owner built the orphanage with money from donations but now that it is finished, he is turning it into a hotel.”

Two days later I boarded a bus with a slew of Brits who had come to Nepal to volunteer. After a weekend tour of Chitwan, they were headed back to Pokhara, where they were helping out at local orphanages and teaching English in government schools. After extensive research on the Internet, each of them had booked their trip through Personal Overseas Development (POD), a UK firm that facilitates volunteering opportunities around the world. Valerie Jamiason of Newcastle paid 750 British Pounds ($1087 U.S. dollars at the time) for an eight-week stint. Her package included pick-up at the Kathmandu airport ( I was picked up for free by my hotel), one night’s stay at a Kathmandu budget hotel (~$10), her bus ticket to Pokhara (~$6), and eight weeks stay at the Castle Guest House in Pokhara at what Val was told was POD’s special rate of $6 per night, for a total of $352.

Val reinforcing prepositions with the students

Volunteer Michael Anfield reviews homework

POD does not require volunteers to have any prior teaching experience and they are given no orientation upon arrival. With no formal turnover process, fresh arrivals have no idea what the children have been taught previously and each new group is left to decide for themselves what to teach their classes. Tom, who had opted for a summer of volunteering prior to entering university as a pre-med student, focused on teaching his students how to tell time.

Kids study English manual at Annapurna School

Can’t view the YouTube video of volunteers teaching English at the Annapurna Primary School in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.

Annapurna Primary School in Pokhara

Two of my volunteer friends invited me to visit Annapurna Primary School with them one day. As I wedged into a miniature desk at the rear of the classroom, Val established a modicum of order among the raucous pack and began drilling the students. She placed a chalkboard eraser on the floor and in her thick Newcastle brogue instructed:

“Repeat after me. The duster (DOH stah) is next to the desk.”
“The duster is on the desk.”
“The duster is in the desk.”
“The duster is under the desk.”

Meanwhile, Michael reviewed homework assignments, explaining errors in his very proper Londoner accent.

Volunteer Val Jamiason drills English prepositions

Though the raggedly clad kids had level one English workbooks, the school administrator told me in broken English that they were lacking even the most essential supplies: pencils, erasers, and lined pads were all in short supply and since there were no funds for lunches, the students went hungry. As for assistance from POD, I was told that only the teachers were provided. With no supplies, scant oversight, no training and rapid turnover in teachers who speak in varying accents and don’t even use the same words, it is questionable whether the children are receiving any true benefit from the program.

Erin Elliott of Alberta, Canada (left) and Rebeca Limmer of Tanzania, Australia (right)

Yet POD may be the best of the bunch. Erin Elliott of Alberta, Canada and Rebeca Limmer of Tanzania, Australia both signed on with Global Visions International (GVI). The girls discovered GVI while searching the Internet for volunteering opportunities. Erin paid $3,200 in Canadian dollars (about $3,250 USD) for a six-week program billed as an “adventure/volunteering” program that guaranteed four weeks of volunteering activity. She searched the Internet for a tour company because, as an inexperienced solo female traveler, she felt incapable of making arrangements on her own. “My main goal was to volunteer, but when I saw that GVI combined volunteering with a visit to Everest Base Camp it was very attractive.”

To her dismay, she found the program focused more on adventure than philanthropic efforts. Worse, upon arrival in Kathmandu she learned that GVI had turned over the operation of her tour to Himalayan Encounters, a company previously unknown to her; they began by failing to pick her up at the airport as promised. Later in the trip, after trekking in Bandipur, she was dumped on the roadside by her jeep driver, who told her to wait while he transported other participants to Chitwan National Park. Knowing no one and not sure where she was, Erin spent the next three hours in the home of a villager kind enough to take her in.

Although Rebecca was picked up at the airport after only an hour’s wait, she also found the program to be incredibly disorganized. “I got here and really wanted to do volunteer work but the adventure part of the trip kept being extended. My contact was supposed to be a river rafting leader but I could never find him.” Rebecca was ultimately placed at the Trisuli Center in Bandare, a small village halfway between Kathmandu and Pokhara, where she taught in two schools. At one, the wall of a temporary structure collapsed when a student leaned against it. Ten feet away, piles of feces surrounded a “rank, revolting squat toilet that was filled to the brim.” She was given no teaching instructions or lesson plan and took her only cue from departing volunteers who shared what they had been teaching.

Erin taught English to grades three and five at a government school in Bandipur. Initially, she was put up at the Old Inn, which she learned was owned by Himalayan Encounters, for $55 per night. Later she moved to a home stay and paid a more modest 300 Nepali Rupees per night (slightly more than $3 USD). On her first day of school the principal handed her a piece of chalk and commanded, “OK, now teach.” He also issued her a cane for corporal punishment. “One day a man came into my class and gave the most violent pop quiz I’ve ever seen. If a student answered wrong, or too slowly, he got a chop on the head.” Himalayan Encounter’s website states: “We can also truthfully speak of real commitment to carbon-neutral policies within Nepal, to real evidence of ‘responsible tourism,’ sustainable practices and what we describe as ‘Tourism in the Community and the Community in Tourism;’” however if Erin and Rebecca’s experiences are representative, the agencies with which they arrange volunteer opportunities are neither ethical nor responsible.

Neither of the girls saw evidence that any of the money they paid GVI had been funneled back into the schools. Textbooks were so old that the currency of France was still shown as Francs and the grammar throughout the books was consistently incorrect. Students did not even have pencils and volunteers were regularly asked to pay for supplies out of their own pockets. Other Himalayan Encounters volunteers told Rebecca they had been encouraged to contact their families and press them to make donations. Yet, Erin pointed out that a good deal of construction was underway at the Old Inn, including installation of a new fireplace.

When Erin pressed Himalayan Encounters to divulge the extent of their charitable donations, she was told that a portion of all fees were donated to Prisoner Assistance Nepal, an organization that helps children whose parents are in jail, but when she contacted PAN they denied having received any such support. Rebecca was told that Himalayan Encounters supports ten disabled people at a time, each for nine months, by providing housing and food while they are taught English and trained in computer skills at their in-house training center in Pokhara.

I popped into Himalayan Encounters’ offices unanounced one afternoon, ostensibly to inquire about volunteering opportunities. I was offered placement as an English teacher at several schools or the opportunity to help out at an orphanage, and for much less money that the typical volunteer was charged, since I would be dealing with them directly rather than booking through GVI. I explained that I had no formal training as a teacher and wasn’t particularly good with children, but had extensive computer skills; could I perhaps teach at their computer training center? The half-dozen PC’s near the entrance were dark and had been so for some time; the program was shut down due to lack of teachers who were willing to make long-term commitments.

Two weeks later I met Anton and Johnny at a Pokhara coffee shop. The two young Frenchmen had volunteered through Service Volunteer International (SVI) and paid a fee to help build facilities for an orphanage in Sarangkot, near Pokhara, but found no organized program when they arrived. Rather than deserting the orphanage, which was desperately in need of assistance, they slept on the floor by night and dug an organic garden by day; they were also convinced that none of the money they paid ever reached the orphanage.

Insisting that charity had become “big business” in Nepal, my Nepali friends repeatedly told me that the majority of orphanages and NGO’s were scams designed to line the pockets of greedy businessmen, however some do seem to be supporting a large number of orphans, including three orphanages in Pokhara: SOS Bahini, Rainbow House, and Namaste Children’s House. In the case of Namaste, which is owned and operated by a local restaurateur, I was told by a trustworthy Nepali that 150 orphans are bussed each day to a private school where they are receiving a quality education. I was also told that the owner has grown rich through donations and drives a brand new SUV, something that is rare in Pokhara.

To some degree, expenditures are necessary. Buses are needed to transport the children back and forth to school, to pick up and deliver supplies; and the end result, helping orphans, is laudable. Having never lived in abject poverty, I am hesitant to judge but it does seem that volunteering, voluntouring, NGO’s and charity organizations are the fast track to wealth for any Nepali who has the resources to set one up.

Underground Guide to International Volunteering

As a result, my initial plan to start an NGO is on hold. I will undoubtedly do something to help in Nepal, but not until I can identify truly worthwhile causes.

Note: The Internet is rife with companies offering volunteering and voluntouring packages, priced from hundreds to thousands of dollars per week. While it is difficult to know which firms are trustworthy, those that disclose specifics about the funds they donate and provide contact information to confirm their charitable works are more likely to be legitimate. Additionally, Kirsty Henderson, who writes the travel blog Nerdy Nomad, another travel blogger who has been volunteering for many years, recently published an eBook, The Underground Guide to International Volunteering that includes lists and rankings for various firms, as well as links to websites devoted to oversight of the industry. It is well worth the purchase price of $ 14; I have read and highly recommend it to anyone considering booking a paid volunteering or voluntouring holiday (I receive no compensation for this recommendation).

To be continued…next, one man who created his own volunteer opportunity without paying a penny.

You might also like:

This handbook is designed to help anyone who wants to visit the place on this planet that has most captured my heart, Pokhara, Nepal. Having spent three months in Nepal in late 2010, much of the time in Pokhara, and returning for another few months early in 2011, I came to know the town quite well and wanted to share with other Nepal-bound travelers my tips for everything from the best hotels and restaurants, to the not-to-be missed sights, right down to the best place to get a haircut:

CELL/MOBILE PHONE SERVICE:

If you have an unlocked smart phone you can purchase a Nepal sim card for 300 Nepali Rupees (NRS), which is about $4 USD. This price includes 50 NRS of “talk time,” which is charged at 2 NRS per minute. When you need more credit, simply buy a recharge card at any store that displays the purple NCell sign, scratch off the strip on the back of the card and follow the directions. A local number is invaluable, among other things, for calling an honest taxi driver with whom you’ve established a relationship or getting in touch with other travelers who also have local numbers to  team up for tours or trekking. I never travel for any length in a country without a local phone number, especially considering the cheap price. For three months in Nepal, my total cost will be about $5. If you have an iPhone, you may want to refer to my previous article: Traveling Internationally with an iPhone without Incurring High Cell Phone Bills. Nepal’s international country code is 977.

WALKING AROUND:

There is no such thing as a pedestrian right-of-way in Nepal; be alert at all times when walking in or crossing streets, however walking around Pokhara is much more pleasant than Kathmandu, as sidewalks are available in much of Lakeside and the traffic is much less. Additionally, the main street in Lakeside has recently been turned into a pedestrian mall every Saturday from 5 to 11 p.m.

TOILETS:

There are no public toilets in the Lakeside area of Pokhara, so you will have to rely on restaurants and hotels/guest houses. Many places now have western toilets, though in many places you will still find squat toilets. Hoard napkins, you will need them as toilet paper, but as in most places throughout Asia, if there is a trash bin in the stall it generally means you should deposit used paper in the bin rather than the toilet.

WATER:

Many hotels are now buying five-gallon bottles of purified water and allowing guests to refill their bottles either for free or for a price that is much less than buying a new bottle. This water is perfectly safe to drink and travelers should not hesitate to refill their bottles from it. You will also be doing your part to help save Pokhara’s lovely lake, which is becoming overloaded with plastic trash.

MUST SEE SIGHTS:

Hike to the top of Sarangkot pre-dawn to see sun come up over the Annapurna Himalayas

Hike or take taxi to the World Peace Pagoda for a spectacular view of Phewa Lake and Pokhara, framed by the distant Himalayas

Take a boat to Barahi Temple in the middle of Lake Phewa

Attend a Puja ceremony at Jangchub Choeling Buddhist Monastery, held at 3:30 every afternoon

View from atop Sarangkot at dawn

World Peace Pagoda

Barahi Temple on a small island in Phewa Lake

Jangchub Choeling Monastery

OTHER INTERESTING THINGS TO DO:

Gurkha Memorial Museum

International Mountaineering Museum

Shopping in the Old Bazaar

Visit one of the Tibetan refugee camps and spend time with the locals, perhaps a storyteller who can tell what it was like to come to Nepal during the years when China invaded Tibet, arrange for a healing ceremony with a Tibetan Shaman, attend Tibetan folk dancing performances, or learn about Tibetan Thangka painting.

Walk to the head of or entirely around Phewa Lake

Go paragliding from the top of Sarangkot, landing at the edge of Phewa Lake

Take the bus to Naudanda and hike back down to Phewa Lake

Whitewater rafting through the Upper or Lower Seti Gorges

Trekking possibilities abound, ranging from 2-3 days to the longer 14-21 day Annapurna Circuit Trek

Devi’s Waterfall, but only in the summer during the monsoon season, when the water is high

Gurkha Museum

Haming it up with Tibetan ethnic dancers at Jampaling Tibetan Refugee Settlement

Paragliders take off from top of Sarangkot and land on the shores of Phewa Lake

BEST HOTELS:

Hotel Mandala, owner Surya Pahari. On Lakeside Marg in Hallan Chowk, turn onto the small road between Be Happy Restaurant and Sweet Memories Restaurant. The hotel is a short distance down the road on the left. Very nice rooms for 700 Rupees per night ($10 USD). All have private bathroom with 24-hour hot water, comfortable beds and TV with remote. The 14 rooms surround a lovely enclosed garden with tables and chairs. The hotel offers a one-day laundry service, can arrange for tours (but are not pushy about them), and free wi-fi is included in the cost of the room, but the signal is usually only strong enough to pick up in the lobby. The side street on which the hotel is located is very quiet, is near some of the best restaurants in Lakeside, and is a short walk (one block) to the lake. Bars on the windows ensure safety. PO Box 185, Lakeside, Pokhara-6, Telephone 061-464690, Fax: 061-462889, Website: http://www.hotelmandala.com.np, email: mandala@fewanet.com.np

Hotel Temple Villa is a short walk down the first side street south of Standard Chartered Bank, on the north end of Lakeside, in a quiet, safe location just a block from the lake. Set back from the road and surrounded by manicured gardens, this combination private home/hotel offer rooms ranging from dorm-type accommodations with shared toilet to spacious private rooms with ensuite bathrooms. Unlike many of the standard Nepali hotels that are furnished with beds that are hard as a rock, Temple Villa has comfortable beds and upscale linens. Guests have access to a rooftop deck as well as several balconies tucked between the rooms, and a lounge area offers TV with remote control. Free wi-fi is included, prices begin at 700 Rupees. Contact Bikash: Lakeside-6; Telephone 061-462203; cell 98462-94602; email templevilla_hotel@hotmail.com

Karma Guest House, located on a side street in Gaurighat, on the south end of Lakeside. Family run, nice folks. Really high speed Internet included in the nightly price of 350-400 Rupees ($5-6 USD) per night and if you ask nice the owner will bring an Ethernet cable right into your room. The rooms are spacious and clean, with private baths and 24-hour hot water, but no TV, and the first floor rooms tend to be musty smelling. If you really need the Internet, opt for a first floor room, otherwise take the second floor room. Nice quiet location on a side street, across from the lake and surrounded by good restaurants, sturdy bars on the windows. Owner Chandra Pun; telephone 61-462850; cell 98460-49867; email shrishchuda@hotmail.com.

Hotel Mandala

Temple Villa Hotel is surrounded by lovely gardens

Karma Guest House

BEST RESTAURANTS:

Zinnia Fans: The best in town, both in quality of food and price. On the north end of Lakeside in Hallan Chowk. Delicious food, best lemon/ginger/honey tea in town, and excellent prices. Open for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Try the Eggplant Moussaka. Owner Minraj will take good care of you and always has a smile on his face.

Olive Cafe: Near the center of town on the main road in Lakeside. Not only do they have great food, they have the best Internet in town and they will let you veg for hours and work online if you eat there. The prices are a bit on the pricey side, but the quality of the food is excellent (best hummus wrap in town). Open for breakfast, lunch and dinner, with fresh baked pastries every morning and homemade desserts every day including heavenly chocolate croissants.

Ooh La La: A bit further north from Zinnia Fans. Also great food at an affordable price. Open for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Pema Tibetan Restaurant: On Barahi Path near the Barahi Hotel in the center of Lakeside. Tiny restaurant with excellent traditional Tibetan food for budget prices.

Asian Tea Room: Located down a narrow alley just south Thic Thak Restaurant, in the center of Lakeside. Great food at amazingly cheap prices. Try the chowmein for 70 Rupees ($1) or the Rosti (boiled potatoes, chopped up with vegetables, spices, and cheese, and fried into a thick potato pancake) for slightly more. Delicious! And the owners are really lovely people.

Pokhara Kitchen & Restaurant: On the north end of Lakeside near Hallan Chowk. Look for a narrow walkway between buildings just south of Standard Chartered Bank. The family run restaurant serves mostly locals but welcomes tourists. They serve only the traditional Nepali set (dahl bhat, curd, curry, pickle, and papad) or an Indian set. Your plate will be refilled as many times as you wish for the 170 Rupee price (about $2.50 USD). Wash your hands at the outdoor sink before sitting down. Although they will bring you a spoon if you wish, they will be delighted if you try eating with your hands in true Nepali/Indian fashion.

Busy Bee: Lakefront In the center of Lakeside on the main road, this restaurant has good food at an affordable price, plus live music every night of the week until 11 p.m. Free wifi.

Zinnia Fans Restaurant - the best in town!

Pokhara Kitchen and Restaurant; not fancy but good Nepali and Indian food and plenty of it!

BEST COFFEE SHOP/CAFE:

AM/PM Cafe in Gaurighat, on a side street next to Glacier Hotel on the south end of Lakeside. The coffee is indisputably the best in town; the French press pot, which pours about two cups, is the best deal for 120 Rupees. In addition to select breakfast and lunch items the cafe offers the best variety of sweets and pastries in Lakeside. Manager Sabina Singh, who studied with an Australian pastry chef, makes all the pastries herself, using top quality products including imported chocolate. For breakfast, the big bowl of fresh fruit with muesli and curd is heavenly and they serve thick slabs of fresh baked brown bread toast with butter and jam. Their hummus (when available) is quite delicious. The prices tend to be a bit higher than in other places (although the coffee is well priced), but it is definitely worth paying a little more for the quality and taste of their products.

TRANSPORTATION PRICES:

With taxi drivers, negotiate hard, as you will be quoted the tourist price that is often twice that charged to locals. Agree on a price before you get in the taxi.

Taxi to the tourist bus park should cost 150 Rupees.

Prices to go to Sarangkot at dawn are all over the board, but if you keep asking and negotiate you can find a driver to take you, wait for you to climb to the top and watch the sunrise, and then deliver you back to town for between 800-1,000 Rupees ($11.50-14 USD). When the taxi driver stops in the dark at Sarangkot (as far as they can drive on the road), a young boy will hop in the back and insist on being your guide for 300 Rupees. Tell him you don’t need or want a guide. Walk 100 or so meters straight ahead and look for the stone steps leading up the mountain. Just follow them and when the steps end, continue straight on the dirt path to the mountaintop; you can’t get lost.

Same goes for the trip to the International Peace Pagoda on the other side of the lake. Ask around for a driver who will take you for 800-1,000 Rupees. They will take you as far as he road goes and you must do the final 15-20 minutes on foot.

INTERNET:

The Internet connections around town mostly come through Nepal Telecom, which has lousy service and slow speeds (all their traffic is routed through a server in Dhaka, Bangladesh). If traveling with a laptop and you plan to be in Nepal for any length of time, consider purchasing an NCell USB card that connects through the cellular network. The speed is relatively fast and the connection is available in most places around the country. One time charge of 2,850 Rupees ( about $40 USD) for the device, and then you buy a package of 500, 1,000, or 1,500 Mb, which must be used within a month. Price for the 1,000 Mb package id 1,050 Rupees ($15 USD). If used up before a month, the card can be recharged at stores all around town. Be advised that in the fall and winter months, power outages can occur up to 16 hours per day, and Internet may not be available during those hours unless you find a hotel, restaurant, or Internet cafe that has hooked up the Internet to their generator (most businesses have generators).

MASSAGE:

For Ayurvedic Massage in Pokhara, Annapurna Yoga Ashram can’t be beat. Located on Barahi Path, across the street from the Barahi Hotel, in Barahi Chowk in the center of Lakeside. An hour-long Ayurvedic massage with Shiatsu Accupressure is 1,000 Rupees, or about $14 USD. Tip at your discretion, but 100 Rupees is sufficient. A wonderful combination is the Ashram’s Ayurvedic Massage, followed by a one-hour steam bath infused with local herbs in their brand new facility.

For other types of massage, I liked the spa at Glacier Hotel, which is affiliated with Ojai School of Massage in California, USA, and has excellent therapists who offer a full selection of modalities, including deep tissue, Swedish, Ayurvedic, sports, and hot rock massage, as well as wraps, facials and more. A 90-minute deep tissue massage is 1,500 Rupees, or about $21 USD. Tip at your discretion, but 200 Rupees is sufficient. Located on the south end of Lakeside in Gaurighat. Telephone 061-463722 or 061-206964; cell 98510-71792; email glacierht@mail.com; website http://www/glaciernepal.com.

Massage Room at Annapurna Yoga Ashram, specializing in Ayurvedic massage

YOGA:

The best Yoga in Nepal, in my opinion, is offered by Yoga Master Narayan Prasad Dhakal, owner of Annapurna Yoga Ashram. Located on Barahi Path, across the street from the Barahi Hotel, in Barahi Chowk in the center of Lakeside, Pokhara. Offering 1.5 hour Hatha Yoga classes each day at 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. for 500 Nepali Rupees ($7 USD). Private instruction available for 1,000 NRS. Specializing in therapeutic Yoga. Also offers Yoga treks, Reiki, Ayurvedic Massage,  Steam baths in a brand new steam room and much more. One of the best Yoga teachers I have ever worked with.

Annapurna Yoga Ashram

SWIMMING:

Although it is possible to swim in Fewa Lake, I do not recommend it. There are no beaches and the shoreline is full of litter, so the only way to do so is to rent a boat for a half day or full day and paddle out into the center. Alternatively, Hotel Barahi offers a day fee for non-guests who wish to use their swimming pool. Officially 340 Rupees per day, it is possible to negotiate a discount rate if you will be staying in Pokhara for a length of time and will be using the pool regularly. I was able to arrange to use it for 250 Rupees per day, which included use of a beach towel and access to their toilet and changing facilities. Hotel Barahi is on a side street just down from Barahi Chowk, on the south side of Pokhara. The hotel is famous; anyone in town can tell you where to find it.

TIBETAN TOURS:

Tibetan Encounter arranges for groups as small as two people to visit one of the more remote Tibetan refugee camps to meet elders who fled Tibet during the 1959 war with the Chinese. Hear their stories, share a meal with a Tibetan family, and enjoy a performance of traditional Tibetan songs and dances. Owner Thupten Gyatso, who grew up in one of the refugee camps near Pokhara, can arrange half day, one and two day trips. The office located on the main road in the center of Lakeside, inside Avia Club Nepal; telephone +977 061-464586; cell +977 98066-48485; email: tibetanencounter2010@gmail.com

LAUNDRY SERVICE:

Two-Hour Laundry Service, on the main road (lakeside Marg) that runs parallel to the lake in Lakeside. Look for the shop that has washing machines sitting out front, near the north end of Lakeside Marg. All clothes washed and dried by Machine. Owners Mamata and Ekrahm (?).  TeL; 98460-43980;  98461-52866; 061-463155. One load about $350 Nepali Rupee (about $5 USD). You can find it much cheaper, but it probably will not be washed as well and will be delivered in wrinkled condition, as few others take the time to fold properly.

BEST HAIRCUT:

Laxmi Barber Shop. At Barahi Chowk on the southern end of Lakeside, turn down the side street Barahi Path. The shop is a short way down the street on the left hand side, next to Annapurna Yoga Ashram. Owner Parma gives an excellent haircut that includes a head massage. He will tell you to pay “as you like.” I paid him 250 Rupees (about $3.50 USD), which is the going rate around town, and he seemed quite happy with that.

MUSIC:

There are numerous places around town to enjoy live music or DJ’s and they’re not hard to find (just follow the booming beat), but I particularly liked Busy Bee (see above), Silk Road (on the north end of Lakeside past Hallan Chowk), and the Blues Club.

BANKING:

There are ATM’s all over town but some charge more fees than others, so make sure you are using your card in an ATM machine that is connected with your network (Cirrus, Plus, etc.), ATM’s give a much better exchange rate than using the banks or currency exchanger shops, and there are no foreign exchange fees levied by most institutions when using the ATM’s. Since the exchange rate at this writing was approximately 70 Nepali Rupees (NRS) for one U.S. dollar, the maximum amount that can be drawn out via ATM in any one transaction is 10,000 NRS, since the slots through which the bills are dispensed cannot handle a stack greater than this, however at some ATM machines it it is possible to make up to five withdrawals of 10,000 NRS in a single day. Standard Charter Bank at the Hallan Chowk crossroads is the most prominent bank in Lakeside but I found that they charged the highest fees.

You might also like:

The bus stopped at a dusty crossroad and the driver shouted “Lumbini, Lumbini, Lumbini.” Indeed, I was Lumbini bound, but I had been told this bus would carry me all the way; suddenly it seemed I would have to change buses. I unfolded my aching legs from the cramped space between seat rows, stood and stretched to get the blood flowing after seven hours of sitting. Slinging the backpack containing all my electronic equipment over my shoulder, I remembered a time when this situation would have alarmed me. Though I carried a map of Nepal and could guestimate my location, in truth I was in a small town in remote southern Nepal where I knew no one, was unable to read Nepali, and was hopelessly incapable of figuring out which of the dozen or so tin-cans lining the dirt shoulder would take me to my final destination.

Smiling, I invoked my secret travel mantra, “What’s the worst that can happen?” and put myself in the hands of the adolescent boy who’d hung out the open door of my bus for the past few hours, hawking tickets. He grabbed my second bag and led me from bus to bus until he found the one going to Lumbini. This is my second secret: I turn myself over and just do what I’m told, with faith that whoever is leading me knows the way. As a strong-willed, fiercely independent woman, these techniques would have been inconceivable in the corporate world, yet in the world of long-term travel they are the secrets to success. Staying present, being mindful, not stressing out. Enjoying the experience, whatever it brings.

The mini-bus groaned and leaned precariously to the left as I stepped up. Inside, every seat was taken except for one spot on a front row bench next to a Buddhist monk. Respectful of his vows, I stood in the center aisle, but he motioned for me to sit.

“Thank you,” I said, surprised. I was even more surprised when he struck up a conversation in perfect English.

“Are you traveling to Lumbini for the Sakya Monlam Prayer Festival?” he asked. I told him I’d come to see the Sacred Gardens and the birthplace of Buddha, but knew nothing about the festival. He explained that prayers for world peace are held once each year at the four major Buddhist pilgrimage sites: the birthplace of Buddha; the site where he attained enlightenment in Bodh Gaya, India; where he first preached at Benaras, India; and where he died and achieved nirvana at Kusinagara, India. Luckily, I was arriving a day before the Sakya Monlam festival would begin in Lumbini and he invited me to attend, with an assurance that everyone was welcome.

“You are Buddhist, then?” he probed. I replied that I had been Buddhist for many years.

“And what tradition do you follow?”

“Well, that is an interesting question. I’ve long been confused by the many different sects and traditions of Buddhism. I have investigated Chinese, Theravadan, and Zen Buddhism, and briefly attended classes at a temple in the U.S. that was associated with the New Kadampa tradition, until I discovered they did not follow the Dalai Lama. But I’d never quite found my place until I was introduced to Tibetan Buddhism. Here in Nepal, in just a few short weeks, I’ve learned more about Buddhism than in the previous ten years, and have finally found my spiritual home.”

He smiled knowingly. “It was the same for me. You have made a good choice. And have you found a guru yet?”

“Not yet. I am not looking but I am waiting.”

He adjusted his orange robes and pushed gold wire-rimmed glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. “Just wait, he is coming.”

I finally asked the question that had been bothering me for the last half-hour as I tried to keep from sliding into him every time the bus bounced over a pothole. “I always thought that monks are not allowed to touch women. I’ve even been told that women must not hand anything directly to a monk; instead items must be put on the ground for the monk to pick up so that he is not contaminated by the touch of a woman.”

He laughed. “That is the old way. There are some sects that still follow those rules, but most do not. Our main purpose is to help and we cannot do this if we are unable to touch others.”

True to his purpose, as we disembarked from the bus in Lumbini he pulled a cell phone from the folds of his robe and offered to call my hotel for directions. When he learned he had instructed me to get off one stop too early, he accompanied me the mile to the hotel and deposited me at the front door, with a reminder that breakfast would be served at the monastery at 7 a.m. the following day.

Anxious not to miss the beginning of the festival, I set out for town before dawn the following day. Muted green plains stretched to infinity on both sides of the highway, the vast flatness relieved only by an occasional tree and a sleepy stream meandering between sinuous red dirt embankments. Smoke from burning rice stubble gnawed its way up and mingled with morning mist,  creating a gauzy curtain that turned the rising sun into a crimson candy apple. Slowly the town came to life. Rustic wooden carts loaded to overflowing with rice stalks rambled down the highway behind teams of white oxen. Buses spewing black smoke from long tailpipes groaned to life with the day’s first load of passengers. Focused on dodging cows and buffalo meandering along the road, I was caught off guard when a wild monkey passed me. Turning a menacing gaze upon me, he bared his teeth in a “what are you staring at” challenge. I looked away, telegraphing my acceptance that he was the alpha, and he continued on his way. As I neared the town, monks began emerging from tents set up alongside the road, rapidly becoming a tidal wave of saffron, crimson, and orange that surrounded and swept me into the front gates of the monastery.

Can’t see the above YouTube video of the Monlam Prayer Festival in Lumbini, Nepal? Click here.

Picking a spot at the rear of the courtyard, I sat cross-legged on a patch of grass, one of only three foreigners in a sea of Tibetan faces. Women in ankle-length gray dresses with golden nose ornaments and thick braids hanging down to their waist twirled prayer wheels while monks circulated with plastic bowls. The low drone of chanting was joined by guttural throat singing as prayers began. A procession of monks carrying enormous steel teapots with rainbow fans tucked into their spouts was followed by another group that delivered giant pots mounded high with sweet rice. They climbed to the top of the monastery staircase where the high lamas blessed the food, then passed through the crowd pouring Tibetan tea made with yak butter and rock salt and spooning out rice. Mesmerized by the chanting, four hours passed in a nanosecond. As suddenly as they had begun, the monks ended on a collective note and wrapped up their prayer parchments until the afternoon session. As one, they poured out onto the street, some heading for restaurant tents lining the highway while others crossed the road and turned their backs, relieving themselves against a low brick wall surrounding the Sacred Gardens.

Eventually, I carved one day out of my visit to tour the Sacred Gardens, said to be the birthplace of Buddha. As legend has it, in 623 BC Maya Devi, queen of the Sakya king Suddhodna, was passing through Lumbini on the way to her maternal hometown in India. She stopped to walk in the gardens and take a bath in the pool. After bathing, she took 25 paces to the north and felt labor pains; supporting herself with a tree branch, she gave birth to the holy prince who later became the Buddha. Today devotees from all over the world make the pilgrimage to Lumbini, but the first to bear witness was the famous Maurya Emperor Asoka, who made a pilgrimage in 249 BC and erected a stone pillar at the site that bore the inscription, “here Sakyamuni Buddha was born.”

Can’t see the above slide show of Lumbini, Nepal? Click here.

Over the ensuing decades, the association of Lumbini with Buddha was forgotten until 1895, when a prominent archeological surveyor rediscovered the Asoka Pillar, however it wasn’t until the site was visited by then United Nations Secretary General, U Thant, that it began reaching prominence. Deeply affected by the sanctity of Lumbini, U. Thant suggested to the Nepal government that the site be developed as an international pilgrimage and tourist center. He helped form an international committee consisting of 15 member nations which support Lumbini through United Nations involvement; Lumbini was subsequently inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1997.

Member nations with strong Buddhist traditions have built monasteries within the three square-mile Sacred Gardens. Too large to walk, especially under the brutal sun of the Tarai plains, I opted to see as many temples as possible by hiring a rickshaw for the day. Even so, I barely made a dent, seeing only the monasteries and temples of China, India, Nepal, Tibet, Myanmar, Thailand, and Vietnam. Had I wished, I could have gone back for a second day, but instead I opted for prayer and meditation at the Monlam Festival. Sometimes, the things we don’t plan turn out to be the best experiences.

You might also like:

As I waited to fill my plate during the International Human Rights Day celebration at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara, kids darted back and forth through the dinner line, playing tag. When one of them unexpectedly scooted in front of me, I reflexively took a step back and bumped into Tseten Chomphel. He laughed, diffusing my embarrassment, and introduced himself. By the time we made it to the head of the buffet line we were chatting like old friends. For the next hour I sat cross-legged on the concrete floor of the community center with Tseten, his wife, niece and mother-in-law as he related how he came to be an artist and art teacher in Nepal.

Tseten came to Nepal from Tibet at the age of six. Like his older brother and sister before him, Tseten’s parents sent him out of the country to receive a better education than he could hope for in Tibet, especially since he’d shown great artistic promise from the time he could pick up a pencil. At the Tibet-Nepal border his parents handed Tseten over to his older brother who, with help from the Tibetan Assistance Agency in Kathmandu, arranged for him to attend school in India. After graduation, Tseten returned to Nepal, where he reunited with his brother and began focusing on his art.

Tseten Chomphel, artist and art teacher at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement

Tseten's niece and mother-in-law

Although he is happy living in Nepal, the forced separation from his family is a difficult burden to bear. Since the day he left Tibet, Tseten has seen his parents only once and they have never even met his wife. In 2007 the Chinese government finally granted permission for his parents to travel to the Nepal-Tibet border to reunite with their son, but only for six hours. They huddled together in the bleak landscape that marks the border between the two countries, enduring the scrutiny of Chinese soldiers as they shed tears of joy and despair.

Fascinated by his story, I could hardly believe my good fortune when he asked if I would like to see his paintings. At the elementary school he pulled aside a floor-length tapestry covering the front door of his tiny apartment in the teachers’ residence area and stepped aside for me to enter. A huge oil painting of a leopard chasing prey dominated one wall of the front room and smaller paintings covered much of the remaining wall space. He served up tea and offered me Yak cheese and dried sheep yank that his mother-in-law had carried all the way from Tibet, then pulled out a large portfolio and began spreading piece after piece in front of me on the sofa table, most of which were produced in watercolor on art paper that Tseten makes by hand, since canvas and oil paints are expensive and rarely available.

Tseten and his wife share tiny teacher's quarters

Leopard mural dominates Tseten's small living room

Though he is a talented painter, there is little opportunity to sell his work in the small camp that is tucked into a backroad off the main highway. An occasional tour bus arrives and disgorges passengers; most make the rounds of a couple dozen shops that sell Tibetan handicrafts and buy a trinket or two, but Tseten has no resources to open a shop and therefore no way to display his art. However, when he explained that it is possible to purchase his paintings by sending funds though Western Union, I offered to feature his work on my blog:

Portrait of Tibetan Utsang woman, watercolor on handmade paper, 20" high x 14" wide, 4000 Rupees (NRS)

Evening scene, Stupa with Monastery, watercolor, 20" high x 14" wide, 3500 Nepali Rupees (NRS)

Gandruk Trekking Region with Fishtail Peak in background, watercolor, 14" high x 20" wide, 3500 Nepali Rupees (NRS)

Fishtail Peak over Rice Field, watercolor, 14" high x 20" wide, 3000 Nepali Rupees (NRS)

Fishtail Peak at Sunset, watercolor, 14" high x 20" wide, 3000 Nepali Rupees (NRS)

Traditional Gurung House beneath Fishtail, watercolor, 14" high x 20"wide, 3000 Nepali Rupees (NRS)

Dhauligiri Trekking side of Fishtail Peak with couple in traditional Gurung dress, oil on canvas, 18" high x 25.5" wide, 6000 Nepail Rupees (NRS)

Yaks in Tingri area of Tibet, oil on canvas, 26" high x 35.5" wide, 6000 Nepali Rupees (NRS)

Sunset over Water, oil on canvas, 13.5" high x 18" wide, 3000 Nepali Rupees (NRS)

Boudhanath Stupa in Kathmandu, watercolor, 11" high x 15.5" wide, 1500 Nepali Rupees (NRS)

Potala Palace mural in process

Intricate lines of Potala Palace mural

Prices are quoted in Nepali Rupees (NRS), which exchange at a rate of 70 Rupees for every U.S. dollar at the time of this writing, thus a 3000 NRS painting would be approximately $43 USD. Buyers will also be responsible for the cost of shipping, which is available through FedEx or DHL. However, exchange rates fluctuate, so if you are interested in purchasing one of Tseten’s paintings, be sure to check the current exchange rates with a service such as XE.com. Contact Tseten Chomphel directly to arrange for a purchase. His email is ztennartist@yahoo.com, his mobile phone is +977 98039 04577, his Skype user name is tsetentsering, and his website is www.bluecanvas.com/tsetenartist.

You might also like:

Jampa Chodok is 83 years old but he remembers his days as freedom fighter in Tibet as if they happened last week. He joined our small tour group just as we were finishing lunch at the Jampaling Tibetan refugee settlement, located about 12 miles east of Pokhara, Nepal. He sat in the sun, as old men often do to warm their bones, and, squinting in the bright light, began telling us about a life sacrificed to years of war.

Hostilities began in 1949, when Mao Zedong proclaimed the People’s Republic of China and made it a top priority to incorporate Tibet into the PRC. The government of Tibet sent letters to the U.S. State Department, Great Britain and Chairman Mao, declaring its intent to defend itself against occupation “by all possible means.” China sought negotiations with Tibetan government officials but they refused to talk, instead stationing more than 8,000 ill-trained and nominally equipped Tibetan soldiers on their eastern border with China. Chinese troops invaded on October 7, 1950; 12 days later 5,000 Tibetan soldiers were dead and the army had surrendered.

Jampa Chodok, Tibetan freedom fighter now living in a refugee settlement near Pokhara, Nepal

Jampa was only 22 years old at the time and not involved in the fighting. Like other Tibetans, he watched helplessly as China amassed 20.000 forces on their eastern border, advanced to within 120 miles of the capital, Lhasa, and then stopped. Surprisingly, the Chinese government demanded Tibet send a delegation to Beijing to negotiate an agreement. Although they were given no authority to sign any such agreement, representatives put their seal to the Seventeen Point Agreement for the Peaceful Liberation of Tibet, giving China sovereignty over Tibet. It was signed and sealed in Beijing on May 23, 1951 and confirmed by the government in Tibet, which later repudiated the agreement, claiming it had been signed under duress and threat of attack.

China immediately began implementing land redistribution in the far eastern part of Tibet, where the indigenous Khampas and nomads of Amdo traditionally owned their own land. By 1956, fighting had broken out in both Amdo and eastern Kham and in 1958, when the Chinese ratcheted up their efforts to fully incorporate the still semi-autonomous area around Lhasa into the PRC, Jampa, now 33 years old, joined the resistance forces forming in the capital.

In March  of 1959, Chinese officials invited the Dalai Lama to attend a theatrical performance at the Chinese military headquarters outside Lhasa and insisted that he not be accompanied by his traditional armed escort. Thousands of citizens of Lhasa, alarmed by rumors that the Chinese army was mounting an attempt to kidnap the Dalai Lama, surrounded Norbulingka Palace, where the Dalai Lama was in residence, preventing him from attending the event. Within days, protesters were marching in the streets of Lhasa, proclaiming Tibet’s independence and infuriating the Chinese. As the Dalai Lama was preparing to flee the city, the Chinese army surrounded Norbulingka and began shelling the palace.

Miraculously, the Dalai Lama, accompanied by a lone security guard, made his way through the Chinese lines and escaped. Jampa and his fellow resistance fighters accompanied the Dalai Lama and his small group of followers for nearly a month as they trekked across the Himalayas on foot and on horseback, bound for northern India. When they had safely delivered their spiritual leader, Jampa and his fellow soldiers headed back to Tibet to fight, however the Chinese forces in Lhasa were so overwhelming that they soon had no choice but to return to India.

Can’t view this YouTube video of Tibetan refugees telling their stories of escaping from Tibet during the 1959 Chinese invasion? Click here.

For a year the guerrillas lived in Sikkim, building a road for the Indian government, but their hearts still burned with a desire to liberate their homeland. When the road was completed in 1960 they decided to return to Tibet via the mountainous Mustang area of northern Nepal and once again combat the Chinese. While the rugged terrain allowed them to stay relatively safe from Chinese forces, it also was an area virtually devoid of food. Sometimes Jampa went five days without eating, as they had only half a kilo (1.1 pound) of rice per person per month. During this time, the United States had been secretly training Tibetan guerrilla fighters and by 1961 the CIA began dropping shipments of guns into the Mustang area and deploying the newly trained forces. Although the guns were of older make, the guerrilla forces were now adept at map reading and hide and seek tactics; using Nepal as a base they would strike out into Tibet, engage Chinese forces and blow up tanks and security vehicles before retreating back into Nepal.

Jampa fought the Chinese for the next 13 years. He had escaped to India alone, leaving all his loved ones behind. Occasionally he received news of his family from travelers on the road; in this way he learned that his parents, two daughters, and five brothers had all perished in the war. An older brother and a younger had both joined resistance forces, but only the youngest survived. By 1974, it was obvious that the Chinese would prevail and the Dalai Lama instructed all forces to stop fighting. Jampa’s group surrendered their weapons to the Nepal government and served a prison term of 3-4 months while the Tibetan Government in Exile negotiated terms for their release and arranged for Nepal to donate land where Tibetan refugees could build permanent settlements.

Today, Jampa Chodok lives at Jampaling with a surviving daughter who recently traveled back to Tibet to meet a few cousins who survived. Jampa’s younger brother also lives nearby. Through our interpreter, I asked the storyteller if he’d been happy in Nepal. Without hesitation, he expressed gratitude that Nepal had provided Tibetans with sanctuary and land but quickly added: “I really love Tibet but there is no choice. The only way for you to understand is to become a refugee.”

Tsewang Choedon lives the Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara with her daughter Sinon, who manages the book and gift stores at the Monastery, and her son-in-law, who is the manager of the community’s carpet factory. At 79 she no longer works, but she’s rarely inactive. During one of my visits, she spied me at the small Buddhist temple in the grassy field behind her home and hobbled on over to join me as I circumnavigated the small stupa, spinning the brass prayer wheels and chanting “Om Mani Padme Hum.” Even when she relaxed in the midday sun, her hands worried the polished wooden beads of her prayer necklace, perhaps giving thanks for the relative comfort in which she lives these days.

Tsewang Choedon rests after circumnavigating the Buddhist temple at Tashiling Tibetann refugee settlement

Tsewang fled Tibet in 1959, just ahead of a Chinese army that was destroying monasteries and slaughtering thousands of monks. With her husband and son she crossed the Himalayas, carrying a few personal items and herding their cattle. Twenty days later they arrived in Nar, a tiny town in the remote Mustang area of Nepal. Winter came on with a fury that year and an early October storm raged for two days, killing all their cattle. With no food, money, or livestock to trade, finding work became imperative but since she didn’t speak a word of Nepali, jobs were limited. Finally, Tsewang found employment as a porter; for a year she carried backbreaking bags of fertilizer up and down mountainous trails to area farms. The following year the family moved to nearby Nechung and for the next seven years she continued to work as a porter until her daughter, Sinon, was born. Things were easier for the family in Nechung; more plentiful work meant they had enough food to survive.

Yet another move to Kombakar proved ill fated when her husband died, leaving her as sole provider. Seeking a better life for her family, Tsewang began looking for a place that would offer more opportunity. A passing traveler told her that the Lama who had built the Dhargay Ling Monastery in Pokhara was the reincarnation of her grandfather, who had built a monastery in Tibet near her ancestral home. She took this as a sign and immediately headed for Pokhara. It was a wise move; not only did a house await her, but both she and her eight-year old daughter were immediately able to work in the carpet factory. For the first time in years, she had a sound roof over her head, a good job, and ample food.

Now, years later, I wonder if she is happy in Nepal. “I would be happier in Tibet because this is not my place, but this is the only place I can be. His Holiness the Dalai Lama chose to leave and all the monasteries were destroyed. We had nothing left but the Dalai Lama, so we must also come to Nepal.”

The philosopher George Santayana said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Like the generation that fought in World War II, I worry that these courageous Tibetans will take their stories to the grave with them, so I am grateful for having an opportunity to document even two such stories, especially since Tibetans living in Tibet are not able to speak freely about the political situation in their country.

My trip to Jampaling Tibetan refugee settlement was arranged through Tibetan Encounter in Pokhara. The Tibetan owner, Thupten Gyatso, was raised at Jampaling and has designed a number of tours to the refugee settlements in this area of Nepal. My two day, one night tour included an ethnic dance presentation, stop at a Tibetan carpet factory, three typical Tibetan meals with a local family, a tour of the schools and other community facilities, a visit to the monastery, the ability to consult with a Tibetan doctor who deals in natural medicines, and a visit to an old folks home, in addition to the fascinating storytelling session. To arrange a half-day, full day or multiple day cultural tour to a Tibetan village, contact Thupten at gthupten11@hotmail.com, or phone 061-464586 or 980-66-48485. Tibetan Encounter’s offices can be found on the main street in the Lakeside district of Pokhara, inside Avia Club and next door to Thic Thak Restaurant.

You might also like:

On my first full day in Pokhara, Nepal, a petite woman strolled down the sidewalk and stopped in front of my table at the open-air restaurant where I was enjoying lunch. Her muted, horizontal striped apron was cinched around an ankle-length gray dress and long, glistening black braids wound around her head. A wide smile split her ruddy cheeks as she greeted me in Nepali fashion.

“Namaste. How are you?” My polite reply was enough encouragement; she sat down at my table.

“I am Tibetan,” she announced as she pulled pouches and bags out of her backpack. Soon, every spare inch of tabletop was covered with handmade earrings, necklaces, rings, and bracelets. She was the first Tibetan person I had ever met, but she would not be the last.

Typical modest home at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara

In 1959, thousands of Tibetans crossed the rugged Himalayas on foot, fleeing a brutal occupying Chinese army that destroyed monasteries and massacred thousands of monks as they advanced. Those who made it to Nepal were granted refugee status and allowed to settle on land donated by the Nepali government. Although many Tibetans have since emigrated to other countries, about 20,000 still reside in these original refugee camps, many of which are located in and around Pokhara.

Eventually, realizing I wasn’t interested in buying anything, my new Tibetan acquaintance stuffed the jewelry back in her bag but made no move to get up. Instead, she pulled off her thick black shoes and began rubbing her swollen feet. “All day walk, up and down, but no customers. Business very, very bad,” she sighed.

Tibetan chidren play during International Human Rights Day Celebration

Men play dominos during International Human Rights Day Celebration at Tashilng Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara, Nepal

Shoving my plate into the center of the table, I encouraged her to share my lunch as she told me about her life. The jewelry she sells is handcrafted by her disabled husband in their home in the Tarshi Palkhiel Tibetan refugee settlement, located on the outskirts of Pokhara. Each day, though her doctor has advised her not to carry heavy weights, she slings the overloaded pack on her back, takes the bus to town and peddles her wares to tourists, hoping to earn enough money for daily living expenses and save a bit for her children’s college education. Too soon, she pushed back her chair, flashed me a beaming smile, and was on her way, leaving me to ponder how someone who lived with such hardship could seem so content and joyful.

In the weeks that followed this initial encounter I befriended many more Tibetans, who eagerly shared their stories with me. Those who arrived in Nepal prior to 1990 are recognized as refugees and have legal residence and religious freedom, however, their civil, political and economic rights are limited and many have no identity documents. Even Tibetans who have been born and raised in Nepal are denied citizenship due to political pressure from China, which insists that all Tibetans should be arrested, charged as criminals and repatriated to Tibet. Sandwiched between two superpowers – China and India – tiny little Nepal bows to pressure from both the north and south.

Ceremony and contests in the community hall during International Human Rights Day Celebration at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara, Nepal

The approximately 1,000 new Tibetan refugees who arrive each year are not allowed to stay permanently in Nepal but they are officially allowed to transit Nepal on their way to India, although a recent wikileaks document revealed that China has been paying Nepali police officers to capture and return Tibetans who attempt to cross the border. For the 20,000 refugees who legally reside in settlement camps around the country, life is somewhat of a dichotomy. Supported by subsidies from Dharamsala, India, the seat of the Tibetan government in exile, they live in homes that are comfortable and relatively modern, by Nepali standards, and the cost of each child’s education is largely subsidized. But the attention being paid to Tibetans in Nepal by the Chinese government is causing a new level of discomfort for the refugee community.

Last year, as Tibetans in Kathmandu celebrated the 51st anniversary of their failed struggle for independence from China, police rounded up and jailed dozens of undocumented Tibetans. Scores of videos showing police brutality toward Tibetan who participate in Free Tibet protests have been uploaded to the Internet. Yet in many cases jailed Tibetans are quickly released, indicating that Nepal may be taking halfhearted measures designed to appease a Chinese government that provides an ever increasing amount of foreign aid to Nepal.

Tibetan women exchange news at International Human Rights Day Celebration at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara, Nepal

Tibetan woman at International Human Rights Day Celebration at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara, Nepal

Tibetan man at International Human Rights Day Celebration at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara, Nepal

Spinning prayer wheel at International Human Rights Day Celebration at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara, Nepal

Tibetan woman enjoys meal at International Human Rights Day Celebration at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara, Nepal

Fortunately, most, if not all, of the protests against the Chinese government occur in Kathmandu, thus this type of violence is rarely seen in idyllic Pokhara. Tibetans come and go without harassment, sell their wares on the sidewalks, and even own businesses. As a regular visitor to Tashiling, I was welcomed into the refugee community. Monks at the monastery automatically unlocked the door when I arrived to meditate; my friend Sinon, who runs the book and gift stores at the monastery fed me more than one meal in her home; and one of the village elders invited me to stay in the community guest quarters. On December 10th, International Human Rights Day, my Tibetan friends insisted I join them for an annual celebration that marks the anniversary of the Dalai Lama being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1989.

Can’t view the above YouTube video of The International Human Rights Day Celebration at Tashiling Tibetan refugee settlement in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.

When the games were over and the last morsel of food had been devoured, I sat in the shade beneath a giant tree in front of the community center, watching energetic children play tag and men with crafty grins slap dominoes on plastic patio tables. Gazing out at a sea of smiling faces, I was suddenly in awe of these inspiring people, who have endured almost insurmountable difficulties without becoming bitter. Without exception, every Tibetan I interviewed expressed gratitude to Nepal for allowing them to stay in the country and for donating land on which they settled. And I realized that this is their greatest strength. The Sleeping Dragon – China – may be stoking its furnace, but it is no match for the resilience of Tibetans. Despite everything, they endure.

You might also like:

Chime led me down a narrow grass pathway at Tarshi Palkhiel, the Tibetan refugee settlement on the outskirts of Pokhara, Nepal where he’d grown up. Midway down the lane he stopped before a diminutive man with a long gray ponytail and gleaming onyx eyes. The elder Tibetan grasped my translator’s hands between his own as they bowed and touched foreheads in a respectful greeting. Pau Nyima Dhondup, the village shaman, or Lhapa, flashed a broad smile and considered me for a long moment, his eyes broadcasting delight and laughter, along with a  healthy dose of mischief. Shepherding us to his modest home, the shaman swept aside a floor-length cloth covering the front door and gestured for me to sit on a daybed pushed up against the near wall of his front room.

Pau Nyima, who practices a shamanic tradition passed down through his maternal bloodline, is one of only two known living Tibetan shamans remaining in the world today, according to the Foundation for Shamanic Studies in Mill Valley, California. He was chosen to continue his family’s healing tradition when he entered puberty and started having spiritual experiences that indicated his fate was to be a Lhapa. In addition to sucking illnesses out of a body, with actual objects being spit out to show the patient the source of their illness, shamanic treatments can also include a soul retrieval ceremony, a ceremony to release a deceased soul who is stuck into the afterlife, or a ritual to end misfortune that causes child after child in a family to die. The shaman drew up a chair in front of me and gave instructions to Chime.

“He wants you to support right elbow in palm of left hand and bend arm up in air.”

He felt the pulse at my wrist and motioned for me to switch arms in order to repeat the process on the other arm. Scooting back his chair to the middle of the room, he listened attentively as Chime described the pain in my left hip and knee and chortled when he demonstrated how I have to open my mouth wide to relieve the muscular tightness in my jaw, then asked questions.

“How old you are?” Chime inquired.

“Fifty-eight.”

“Ahhh!” the shaman exclaimed, as if learning my age had given him a major clue to my health.

“What country?”

“USA. But I don’t live there any more.”

Chime explained that I am a perpetual traveler with no permanent home, that I move from place to place around the world in search of travel stories. Satisfied that he had all the necessary information, Pau Nyima sat cross-legged on a second daybed on the other side of the small room. While donning a gold silk brocade apron and cape, he warned that we could take photos during part of the ceremony, but strongly recommended that we not use the camera once his body was taken over by the spirit because the deity often breaks things. He finished off his attire with an ornate green, blue and red headdress while his mediator, who runs the ceremony once the shaman is possessed, set up rice offerings, lit candles, and positioned photos of the shaman’s various deities on the altar.

Mediator prepares the altar prior to shamanic ceremony

“You must believe,” he warned gravely before beginning. His right hand held an hourglass-shaped, double-sided hand drum that represented two inverted skulls and symbolized the joining of female and male energies. Two clappers attached to strings hanging from the drum’s handle flew through the air as he rotated his wrist back and forth, striking the animal-hide drum in a four-beat rhythm, interspersed with chiming from a bell held in his left hand.

“You have two white stars in the east, a yellow one in the south, blue in the north and red in the west. You must pray only to Buddha – no other gods,” Chime translated for me. The shaman stopped briefly to add a second headdress that spread out behind him like rainbow angel wings and draped it with multi-colored silk scarves. Seconds later, while chanting intensely, a shudder passed through his body and a grimacing, contorted visage appeared superimposed on his face. He uttered a sharp yelp and threw a handful of silk scarves at me. Jumping off the daybed, he spread his arms wide and balanced on one foot, holding the other foot high in the air as if preparing to throw a karate kick. Nyenchen Thanglha, one of the strongest Tibetan deities, had taken control of his body.

Following a brief dance around the center of the room, Pau Nyima resumed his seat and motioned for me to sit directly in front of him on a low wicker stool. Almost immediately, he sprang forward from his sitting position and chomped the air above my upper left arm. The mediator poured a small amount of water into a tin dish and held it as the shaman spit out an inch-long slug that looked like a dark gray caterpillar; it squirmed around in the water, turned black and eventually stopped moving. Unexpectedly, the shaman lunged at me again, this time grazing my left left arm just above the elbow, and spit out a second, blacker slug. As I returned to my seat on the daybed, my arm turned ice cold and tingly.

Can’t view the above YouTube video of a Shamanic Healing Ceremony in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.

Shaman removed two black slugs - negative spirits - from my left arm and shoulder

The deity departed as suddenly as it had arrived. Unaware of what had happened during the time his body was possessed, the shaman turned to his mediator for a briefing. Nyima held out the two unmoving slugs for photos, then raised the plate to his mouth and swallowed them with a gulp and shudder before delivering my diagnosis and instructions for recovery:

• I must believe
• I must pray only to Buddha
• I must not eat meat
• I am coming into my 59th year, which is not auspicious for a woman, thus I must have a lama chant a puja on my behalf
• I must take the Tibetan natural medicine Ratna Samphal (also known as Sambe) – once now and one in six months
• I must not go into cemeteries as I am susceptible to picking up negative energies, such as the ones he removed from my body
• I must regularly chant Om Mani Padme Hum
• I should not travel so much; it would be better to stay in one place much of the time and it would be positive for me to settle in Nepal

In the weeks that followed, I had little trouble following the shaman’s prescription. I am a Buddhist, I’m a vegetarian, I regularly chant Om Mani Padme Hum when I meditate, and staying longer in Nepal is hardly a hardship. But just to be safe, I asked Chime to arrange for a lama at the community’s Jangchub Choeling Monastery to chant a puja and later hunted down the recommended natural medicine.

Lama at Jangchub Choeling Monasery chants a puja on my behalf as protection against my 59th "inauspicious" year

Lama gives me two tiny Vajra Aayu seeds, another Tibetan medicine, to eat as a further protection

So do I believe? I know what I saw and my arm was ice cold the rest of the day, so yes, I definitely believe. And I am not alone. Recently, the Foundation for Shamanic Studies named Pau Nyima a “Living Treasure of Shamanism” and provided him with a lifetime annual stipend, assuring that he will be able to pass on shamanic knowledge that is rapidly disappearing from the face of the earth.

If you plan to visit Pokhara and would like to experience a shamanic healing with Pau Nyima Dhondup, contact Chime Palden at Kijimuna Tibetan Shop, located on the main street of Lakeside next to Standard Chartered Bank, phone 061-525908, email kijimunashop@yahoo.com, or send him a message on Facebook.

You might also like:

Very few things in life frighten me, but by the time I arrived in Pokhara, I was scared. My left hip and knee had never fully healed from an injury sustained in Mexico earlier in the year and as a result even an easy trek to Nagarkot and day hikes around the mountain village of Puma had aggravated my knee so badly that I was in pain for days afterward. Panicked that my hiking days were over, my imagination went into overdrive with visions of wheelchairs and four-legged walkers.

Part of the problem was that I had stopped practicing Yoga. I love being a digital nomad but staying in hostels, especially when I am in dorms, has its drawbacks, the greatest of which is the lack of enough room to do Yoga. I could count on one hand the number of times I had attended a class over the past year and I knew it was time to get back to a dedicated practice.

Fortunately, Pokhara is rife with Yoga studios. After two lame classes with poorly trained teachers, I finally found the Annapurna Yoga Ashram and Guru Narayan Prasad Dhakal who custom designed a Yoga practice for me that completely realigned my hip and knee and restored my structural integrity. Over the next six weeks I became such a fixture in his home that, to my delight, Guru and his family invited me to be a part of Bhai Tika, the brother/sister tika ceremony held on the final day of the five-day long Nepali festival of Tihar.

Candles burn on the stoops of stores and homes during Tihar, also known as the Festival of Lights

One of the most dazzling of all Hindu festivals, Tihar is also known as the Festival of Lights. As the dates for the celebration approached I began noticing changes around town. Flickering candles and oil lamps began appearing on the stoops or were hung from the walls and ceilings of homes, stores and businesses. This custom reenacts the ancient Hindu legend about a king whose astrologer told him that a serpent would come to take his life away. When the king asked if there was any way to escape death, the astrologer advised him to sleep with lit oil lamps all around his bed and decorate the palace with oil lamps on the day when the goddess Laxmi was to be worshiped. In return for being so honored, Laxmi persuaded the serpent to spare the king’s life but Yama Raj, the god of the underworld, still had to be convinced that it was not yet the king’s time to die. Yama opened his ledger to where the king’s remaining age was written as zero but the serpent cleverly put a seven before the zero and the king lived for seventy more years. As a result, during Tihar Nepalis worship both the underworld and the goddess Laxmi.

Early in the morning on the first day of the festival, known as crow’s day or Kag Tihar, the Dhakal family placed birdseed and dahl bhat (rice and lentils) on the roof of their house for crows, believed to be the messenger of Yama Raj, the lord of death. On day two, dog’s day or Kukur Tihar, prayers were offered to the dog that guarded the gate to the underworld, as this is thought to divert destruction away from worshiper’s homes. Following these prayers, every family honors a dog by placing a tika (a mark, usually red, made by applying powdered pigment) on its forehead, hanging a floral garland around its neck and feeding it a meal of dahl bhat. Like most Nepalis, the Dhakals have no pets, so they hunted down one of the hundreds of skeletal strays that roam the streets of Pokhara and temporarily adopted it. On this one day of the year, all the strays in town wandered about in a daze, sporting bright red tikas, flower leis, and bloated bellies.

On the morning of the third, most important day of the festival, cows were worshiped. As the national animal of Nepal and the most sacred animal for Hindus, a cow symbolizes wealth and is considered to be the mother of the universe due to its milk producing ability. As with the dog, one of the cows that meander through the streets of town unmolested for most of the year was captured long enough to apply a tika to its forehead, place a garland around its neck and feed it a meal. Those performing a cow puja (a religious ritual) may also place her manure in different parts of the home, drink a drop of the cow’s urine and even dip a blade of grass into the urine and sprinkle it on each others body.

That same evening, pictures and icons of Laxmi, the goddess of wealth, were displayed in an area of the house dedicated to worshiping gods and a puja was performed at dusk using flowers, incense, fruit, and silver coins. Outside, the initial trickle of candles and oil lamps had swelled to thousands, turning Pokhara into a flickering, glittering jewel. Troupes of girls wandered from home-to-home and business-to-business long into the night, chanting and singing a special song known as Bhailo or Bhailini, played only on this one day during the year. They performed traditional dances in the dusty street, forcing traffic to wind around them and the crowds that gathered to watch the shows, passing a tray for donations after each performance.

Dancers perform in the streets of Pokhara for donations on the third evening of the Tihar Festival

Can’t view the YouTube video of the Bhailo Song and Dance during Nepal’s Tihar Festival? Click here.

Nepali girl with red tika on her forehead enjoys Bhailo dancers in the streets of Pokhara on day three of the Tihar festival

Ceremonies on the fourth day differed according to the particular deity worshiped by each family. My Yoga family reenacted the ancient legend of a village that refused to pray to Indra, god of rain. Angered by the villagers refusal and set on their destruction, Indra brought heavy rains that flooded the village, but one of the three most important Hindu gods, Lord Krishna, liftied a hill named Govardan, allowing villagers to escape the flood waters. On the fourth day of Tihar the Dhakals, in honor of Krishna, made a model of Govardan from cow dung inside their home.

With each passing day of Tihar I had grown more excited by my invitation to join my Yoga family for Bhai Tika, the brother/sister tika ceremony on the final day of the festival. On the morning of the fifth day, soon after I arrived the two daughters, Himrekha and Annapurna, began stringing garlands of fresh picked marigolds and small purple flowers. The finished leis were placed on a hand-woven tray, along with cracked walnuts, fruits, water, oil, and a collection of multi-colored pigment powders and glitter that would be used to produce tikas. Each family has its own particular tika design; my Yoga family’s signature was a rainbow colored vertical stripe that began at the top of the forehead and stretched to between the eyebrows.

Himrekha (left) and Annapurna (center) help their aunt Laxmi prepare the powdered pigments used to make tikas

Tika tray, loaded with goodies, just prior to the beginning of the Bhai Tika ceremony

Finally, with preparations complete, the official ceremony began with the application of a rainbow tika above the door leading into the kitchen. Pranab, the older brother, sat cross-legged on a carpet while his two sisters, Himrekha and Annapurna, walked around him three times in a clockwise direction, dripping oil and water on the floor. After they anointed his head with a few drops of oil, Guru Narayan created a pattern for the tika by tearing a horizontal strip in a green banana leaf. Guru held the pattern on his son’s forehead while his sisters carefully applied a base of rice paste through the cutout, then dabbed dots of colored powder on top. When they were satisfied with their work, Guru peeled off the banana leaf, leaving a perfect rainbow tika on Pranab’s forehead. While offering a prayer that the enemies of their brother get lost, the girls placed a flower lei over his head and gifts in his lap. The siblings then switched places and Pranab applied rainbow tikas on his sisters’ foreheads.

Can’t view the above YouTube video of the Brother/Sister Tika ceremony during the Hindu religious holiday of Tihar? Click here.

Pranab and Annapurna show off their rainbow tikas

I was happily filming away when Guru motioned for me to put down the camera; it was my turn to sit cross-leggged on the floor while bhai (younger brother) painted a rainbow tika on my forehead. As Guru applied the rice paste paste, the girls pointed to my forehead, giggling and chattering in Nepali.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded from behind the banana leaf plastered to my head.

“Your skin is the same color as the rice paste!” declared Annapurna.

“It is like strawberry ice cream,” added Himrekha.

With my tika completed, I exchanged places with Guru and helped create one on his forehead, after which we spent the rest of the day stuffing ourselves with fruit, candy, nuts, Selroti rice rings that resemble giant pretzels, and a traditional Nepali meal of pickles, dahl bhat, spinach and curried vegetables.

Tea and Selroti, fried rings made of rice flour

Without fail, meeting people and learning about the local culture has always created the most memorable travel experiences for me, so it was with enormous gratitude that I thanked my hosts for inviting me to be their older sister – didi – for a day. Guru gently corrected me:

“You are not didi for a day; you are part of our family. You are didi to us forever now.”

I was touched to the core and had to fight back tears as I left. Not only have I been restored to health by my fabulous Guru, I have gained an adopted family. The gods have truly blessed me.

You might also like:

Traditional Folk Instrument of Nepal, the Sarangi

Standing on street corners amidst clamorous horns and revving engines in Kathmandu and Pokhara, young musicians play sarangis, a traditional handmade wooden Nepali folk instrument that resembles a small fiddle. Although the sarangi is today used by many, it was traditionally played only by people of Gandarva, or Gaine caste, as they are commonly known. The most famous of sarangi musicians, Jhalakman Gandarva, in 1962 produced the song, “Amale Sodlin, Khoi, Chhora Bhanlin (My Mother Will Ask Where Her Boy Is),” a narrative folk song about a Gurkha soldier’s final words of remembrance to his family as he lies dying of a wound to his head in World War II. Jhalakman is the first singer to record Gaine song and bring the voice of his indigenous people to the masses.

Today, Gaine caste members like brothers-in-law Sandu Kancha Gandarva and Bukun Gandarva are are working to preserve the culture of the sarangi. Hailing from Tanahun, the two were born and raised in a family where the sarangi was a way of life. Sanu Kancha, who is a founding member of the Gandarva Culture and Art Organization, left his village at the age of 12 and came to Kathmandu to seek his fortune. He made and played sarangi on the streets in those early days, selling the instruments to tourists for three and four times what it cost to make them. Fifteen years ago, Bukun came to Kathmandu to begin working with his brother-in-law ; today he performs nightly at Bhojan Griha Restaurant in Thamel, the backpacker area of the city, and gives sarangi lessons during the day.

Although Bukun has recorded two albums with other folk artists and toured Asia and Europe, the brothers-in-law are worried about the future. During the annual Sarangi Day Celebration this past October, Sanu Kancha ws interviewed by the Kathmandu Times about the fate of his beloved sarangi:

“The younger generation is no longer interested in learning their ancestral craft. I wanted to teach my two sons what has been in our family for generations but not one of them showed any interest in learning. It’s difficult to imagine how many will play this instrument 50 years from now. We, the older generation, will be dead and I wonder how many Gandarvas who actually play the sarangi will be around.”

If the number of wandering musicians are any indication, the sarnagi will be around for many years. Tourists can hardly walk down a street without these modern day minstrels trying to sell one of their instruments. Occasionally, however, these youngsters will oblige with an impromptu concert, such as the duo in the short video below, which was shot on the streets of Pokhara. They make different notes by touching the upper strings with the fingers of the left hand while drawing the bow across the strings at the junction between the two cavities.

Can’t view the above YouTube video of a Sarangi being played on the streets of Pokhara? Click here.

Modern sarangis are still hand-carved from a very light local wood known as Khiro. The body is carved into a hollow frame with two openings, the lower of which is covered with dried sheep-skin. Originally, the four strings were made of sheep intestine but these days steel or nylon are generally used, just as nylon has replaced the horsehair tail traditionally used for the bow string. The strings are supported by two bridges on the sarangi’s fretless neck and tuned by Kunti (tuner). With this attention to detail and commitment to maintain the historical design, few souvenirs are more representative of the Nepali culture than a sarangi.

You might also like:

Crimson and saffron robed Tibetan monks shuffled into Shree Gaden Dhargay Ling Monastery and sat cross-legged on brocade cushions stretched in a double row down the center of the hall. Adolescent monks-in-training slid giant drums down the polished parquet floor to their older counterparts, while others took up ancient-looking metal horns that telescoped out to take up half the width of the room. As the monks tuned up their instruments I sat in half-lotus position with my back against the wall, arms stretched out with wrists resting on my knees and thumbs touching forefingers, marveling at the dissonant din.

A split second later, on some silent cue, the cacophony ceased and the monks began throat-singing, a specialized form of chanting that allows them to produce multiple pitches simultaneously. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as their guttural chants, accented by synchronous drumming, ah-ooga horns, crashing cymbals and tinkling bells, swelled to fill the small room. From the tips of my toes to the crown of my head, my entire body vibrated.

Can’t see the above YouTube video of the lama puja at Shree Gaden Dhargay Ling (Dragyling) Monastery at the Tashiling Tibetan Refugee Settlement in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.

During a previous visit to the monastery I had been invited to return for this lama puja, a Tibetan Buddhist ceremony of honor, worship and devotional attention that attempts to replicate the Buddha’s experience of Enlightenment (insight into reality). Many items of a symbolic nature sat upon the altar and were scattered around the monastery, including intricate yak butter sculptures that take months to carve. As water is a necessity of life, seven brass bowls of water were placed on the shrine directly in front of the Buddha to show respect and reverence for life. Because of their short life span, flowers symbolized impermanence and Samsara (the cycle of birth, death and rebirth), candles symbolized enlightenment and the sense of sight, while incense was used to show that Buddhist teachings can be spread across the world just like the fragrance of incense. To show gratitude and the interdependence of all things, fruit was offered. Bells indicated when to begin and end puja but also demonstrated the beliefs of cause and effect and karma.

Ancient Buddha statue carried out of Tibet during the war with China in 1959 now graces the altar at Shree Gaden Dhargay Ling Monastery

Yak butter carving and seven bowls of water sit in front of Buddha on the altar

Yak butter sculptures take months to carve

Shree Gaden Dhargay Ling Monastery

Monks relax at Shree Gaden Dhargay Ling Monastery

Cymbals used in puja

Bells and ancient scripts used in puja

Drum and horns used in puja ceremony

Monk shows me one of the larger drums

Bells and other items used in a puja ceremony

Altar at Shree Gaden Dhargay Ling Monastery

Buddha sits behind glass on altar at Shree Gaden Dhargay Ling Monastery

Carpeted platforms were monks sit during puja and daily prayers

Closing my eyes, I let the sounds carry me inward to a place of pure peace. Some time later the monks stopped chanting as suddenly as they had begun. They gathered their robes about them and filed silently out the door as I checked the time; four hours had passed in a split second. Untangling my legs, I stood and wobbled for a few minutes while I came fully back into my body, then headed out for the hour-long walk back to Lakeside in Pokhara, floating all the way.

You might also like:

By the time I came down from the mountaintop in Puma, the energy of my journey around Asia had shifted. With more clarity of mind than I’d had in a long time, I realized that in large part, I had been responsible for the frustrations of my recent travel in China. Having been in the U.S. to file taxes and settle a lawsuit two months prior to departing for China, I had fallen into victim mode, but four short days of living with the Gurungs and learning about their simple, nurturing culture had restored my serenity.

At the end of my home stay in the Gurung village I clambered aboard a rattletrap bus for the five hour ride to Pokhara and crammed my too-big butt into a seat made for narrow-hipped Nepalis. The pancake-thin layer of ticking in my seat cushion was soon compressed against the underlying metal and I squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position. Finally, I stuffed my sweatshirt under my tush, but neither the uncomfortable seat nor the waves of gritty brown dust billowing through stuck-open windows could destroy my contentment. Not even when the bus stopped dead in the suburbs of Pokhara, with traffic backed up for miles by a fatal motorcycle accident, did my mood waver.

Can’t view the above YouTube video about the top three sights in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.

Initially my buttocks just ached, but when all feeling disappeared, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and hopped out the open door to the ragged street, walking a kilometer down the road to check out the extent of the snarl. Eardrum-splititng horns pierced the air as I zig-zagged through vehicles sprawled helter-skelter down the highway. I skittered out of the way of motorcycles that zipped through chinks in the clogged traffic and stepped gingerly over steaming piles of dung deposited by sacred cows that nonchalantly munched on brittle grass growing alongside an oil-slicked, garbage-strewn canal that paralleled the road. Plastic bottles, orange peels, and scraps of paper were strewn across the landscape. In the midst of the trash sat a beggar woman in tattered rags, her crinkled brown eyes telegraphing depths of despair. Holding an infant to her breast with one arm, she pleaded for small change with her other hand, holding five fingers together at her mouth in the universally understood sign for hunger.

As the buses became unbearably hot and muggy in the midday sun, more and more passengers joined me on the road. I nodded and greeted each with a “Namaste,” pressing my palms together at my heart in the traditional Nepali greeting. Twig thin men with grizzled beards and red-rimmed watery eyes looked out from beneath their topis – the traditional headwear of Nepal that resembles a soft, crushed fez – and returned my greeting with broad, gap-toothed grins. Herringbone vests and striped shirts topped loosely pleated trousers, beneath which protruded dust-clad feet. Those who had served as trekking guides were easily identified by their crunched-up toes, made so by years of gripping rough mountain trails wearing nothing more than thin rubber flip-flops. Contrasting with the muted browns and grays of the men’s garments, women were wrapped in brilliant saris that paired colors and patterns that would be incongruous in the western world, but somehow here seemed to match perfectly.

Asia is an assault on the senses for the uninitiated western visitor. Fortunately, having traveled in Asia for years, I have learned to look beyond the trash and incessant noise and appalling poverty. Instead, I saw a magical landscape bathed in crystalline light where men squatted on their haunches beneath Bodhi trees to exchange the day’s news, sleepy dogs curled in pools of sunshine, half-naked children playing gleefully in dirt patches, and families laughing together in front of clay-plastered houses, their arms thrown about one another as they soaked up late afternoon sun.

Over the next few days, the magic of Pokhara worked its spell on me. Ensconced in the Lakeside district on the shores of Phewa Lake, I walked the three-mile long lakefront road, bantering with the Nepali merchants and fending off offers of marriage from the Kashmiri shop owners. Each morning I bought fresh-picked oranges from insistent Indian boys on bicycles who hawked the sweet, juicy fruit from filled-to-the-brim circular wire baskets mounted to the rear of their bikes. Tibetan refugees, their hand-strung beads and prayer wheels spread on tarps, sat cross-legged on the sidewalk pleading, “Just take a look.” I learned their names and their stories; many of them had fled Tibet during the war in 1959 just ahead of the Chinese army, which destroyed thousands of monasteries and killed hundreds of thousands of monks as they advanced. The Buddhist Om Mani Padme Hum followed me through the streets, fading out as I moved away from one music store and picking up where it had left off as I approached the next one, as if the serene chant was piped throughout Pokhara.

One morning I took a boat across the lake to a tiny island that is home to Barahi Temple, the most important Hindu religious site in Pokhara. The temple represents the force of Shakti, the Hindu mother goddess who is the origin of universal creativity and power. Shakti assumes several forms, including a boar called Barahi that has sharp tusks designed to pierce her enemies and protect the gods from demons. Barahi is pictured with the face of a boar with a cup in one hand and a fish in the other; in deference to the goddess, no fishing is allowed in the waters surrounding the island and the fish, perhaps sensing this protected zone, swarm to the shores of the island. Hindus from around the world climb into colorful wooden boats and are paddled across the lake to receive blessings from the priest and have a “tika” – a red mark made by powdered pigment mixed with water – placed on their forehead.

Can’t view the above slide show about Phewa Lake & Barahi Temple in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.

Another day I arranged for a taxi to pick me up at 4:30 a.m. for the drive to the base of Sarangkot, a vertiginal green hill on the northern end of Phewa Lake that separates Pokhara from the Annapurna Himalaya range. The taxi driver took me as far as he was allowed to go on the rough dirt road and I picked my way up the rocky path by the dim light of my flashlight until I found a stone stairway a few hundred feet further on the right-hand side. Challenged by my poor night vision, I stared at the ground as I mounted the steep steps so as not to trip and fall down the mountain. An hour later, gasping for breath, I reached the small temple at the summit just as the first rays of sun lit up the snowy peaks in shades of orange, gold, and purple, while the river valley below glistened a rich, dewy green.

Can’t view the above slide show about trekking to the top of Sarangkot at dawn in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.

Though Sarangkot at dawn was stunning, others had insisted the view from the World Peace Pagoda was even better. I rode to the top on a motorcycle, my arms wrapped tightly around my guide as we bounced from boulder to crater, hanging on for dear life. At one point the road was so steep and rocky that I had to dismount and walk up the incline. Near the top, the road ended and we made the final ascent on foot via a well-trod dirt path; 20 minutes later we reached the crest and stepped up onto a broad manicured lawn, at the end of which a brilliant-white Buddhist stupa soared skyward. From its perch on a narrow ridge high above Phewa Lake, the World Peace Pagoda offered the same sweeping panorama of the Annapurnas found at Sarangkot, but with the added beauty of Pokhara and the sapphire blue lake cradled in the valley below.

Can’t view the above slide show about the World Peace Pagoda in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.

Despite the adrenaline rush of the motorcycle ride to the World Peace Pagoda, with the wind blowing through my hair as we glided back down the mountain with no brakes or engine running, I still preferred the early morning view at Sarangot, but this trio of sights was just the beginning of a love affair for me…Pokhara had captured my heart in a way that few other places in the world have ever been able to.

…to be continued.

This post is part of the Carnival of Cities for June 1, 2011, a roundup of stories about fascinating cities around the globe from some of the world’s best travel writers.

You might also like:

Puma’s Mother Group is normally on hand to greet the few visitors who make it to this remote mountaintop but on the day I arrived they were performing traditional songs and dances of the Gurung caste in southern Nepal. Instead, on the morning of my departure the mothers trickled into Aama’s compound and climbed over the garden walls to pick flowers. Laden with blossoms, they gathered back on Aama’s porch and began stringing together marigolds, daisies, and bright red flowers into long chains. Focused on gathering my luggage in time to catch the four-wheel drive jeep down the mountain, I paid little heed to what they were doing, as I was by this time used to neighbors coming and going throughout the day.

I was about to say my goodbyes to Aama, Didi, and Prakash when the mothers gathered around me. One-by-one they expressed gratitude that I had chosen to visit Puma, garlanded me with flower leis and silk scarves, and bowed to me with a Namaste, the word traditionally used for hello and goodbye. Instead of a formal welcome, I got a grand send-off, which touched me to the core. I saved the scarves and dried a selection of the flowers; both will always remind me of the love and caring that I experienced in this rare mountaintop Shangri-La.

Aama ties silk scarf around my neck

Another Mother Group member presents me with a flower lei

Puma's Mother Group gives me a warm sendoff

Giri Gurung, managing director of Nepal Tourism Travels & Adventures, organized a portion of my travels in and around Nepal, including my trips to Nagarkot, Changu Narayan, Chitwan National Park, and this amazing four-day home stay with his family in Puma. Nepal Tourism Travels & Adventures office is in Kathmandu, conveniently located in the Thamel backpacker district. Their website is www.nepaltourismtravels.com.np, and Giri’s email is giri99grg@yahoo.com or contact@nepaltourismtravels.com.np.

You might also like:

The idea of sustainability, first proposed in 1854 when Henry David Thoreau published Walden, has come to mean a way of living that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs. In today’s developed countries, where the acquisition of material possessions is highly valued, achieving a sustainable lifestyle is quite impossible. But during my recent home stay in the tiny mountain community of Puma, Nepal I witnessed an example of sustainable living that is as close to pure as can be expected in a developed world.

The 60 or 70 simple homes that make up the village are constructed primarily from locally available stone, clay and timber, as are the mortarless, hand-hewn paths that cascade down the mountainside. Artesian wells bubble up through the impervious rock and flow year round, providing residents with free water that can be brought into the homes via pipe or hose. Houses are generally unheated, despite being at high altitude. Instead, people retire early and snuggle under thick quilts in bone-chilling winter temperatures, rising before dawn to sparingly stoke outdoor clay ovens with firewood gathered from the surrounding forest.

Puma is inhabited solely by members of the Gurung caste, who have traditionally served in the military or farmed. On terraced mountain fields, each Gurung family plants rice, millet, potatoes, and a variety of leafy greens. Crops provide the bulk of their annual food needs and only a few staples like spices, cooking oil, and tea must be purchased. But abundant natural resources and fertile lands aside, the real secret to Puma’s success is its tradition of helping one another and practicing an age-old barter system.

Can’t see the above YouTube video about life in Puma, Nepal? Click here.

During my four day home stay, the rice harvest was just beginning. Aama, now well into her seventies and no longer capable of farming her own land, lent out her wooden yoke and till to neighbors, who attached it to their oxen team and, after the rice had been cut, plowed her fields as well as their own. In return, Aama prepared her spacious stone patio for drying the harvested rice. A younger neighbor mixed local clay with sheep’s wool and water until it was the consistency of putty and spread it by hand over the cracks between flagstones. Aama paid the woman with a mound of dried rice and several chunks of rock salt. While the patio was being sealed, Aama’s grandson, Prakash, arrived and made Chang, an alcoholic beverage from rice paste that had been fermenting for several days, while Nani, another member of Aama’s extended family, severed millet seeds from their long stalks in preparation for making home-brewed beer.

When it was time for Aama’s buffalo to be bred, a neighbor lent out his bull as a sire, and the buffalo milk from the mother was subsequently shared. Aama’s two hens and a cock kept her well-supplied with eggs, and a dozen or so chicks provided meat for the table. Other neighbors raised goats, which also provided a ready source of meat. Nothing was wasted in this community; millet and rice stalks were used as forage for the buffalo and buffalo dung was recycled in the vegetable garden.

Though residents of Puma live a simple existence, I was constantly amazed by their level of sophistication. Unlike larger metropolitan areas, where trash is blithely tossed into street, Puma is trash free because village elders have established fines for anyone caught littering. In the same vein, the village has partnered with World Vision to develop an environmental sanitation program that established rules for building toilets and made open defecation a fineable offense. Aama’s squat toilet was, without a doubt, the cleanest I have ever seen and there was not a speck of trash to be found anywhere on her property.

Even the mountain schools were more advanced than others I visited around Nepal. Both the primary school in Puma and the secondary school in nearby Baglung Pani have well-stocked libraries, courtesy of the Room to Read program out of Great Britain. Students are taught English from the moment they start school and every youngster I spoke to could converse in English to some degree. When I questioned the school headmasters about their most pressing needs I was told that computers are a number one priority, as the children must be computer literate in order to enter the workforce. Schools I visited in Pokhara were lucky to have pencils and notebooks for the students.

Another force to be reckoned with in Puma is its Mother Group, an organization of women who perform traditional Gurung dances and songs around Nepal and throughout SE Asia. Each family in Puma is expected to participate in the group; those who cannot perform sew costumes, cook, or keep the books. Revenues from their performances have paid for a community pavilion, repaired or built rock staircases, and even constructed a modern rice mill, eliminating the need to husk rice with hand-held grinders.

Can’t see the above slide show about sustainable living in Puma, Nepal? Click here.

This tradition of looking after one another has resulted in strong community ties in Puma. Neighbors stopped by Aama’s home each morning to share a cup of tea and again in the evening as the setting sun painted orange and purple hues on the snowy mountaintops. Girls from neighboring homes gathered on the porch and sat with their arms thrown about one another, singing and gossiping, while adults sat on the patio rock wall and reviewed the day’s work. The interdependent lifestyle of these villagers has forged a sense of love and caring that I have rarely witnessed elsewhere.

Unfortunately, the outside world is increasingly impacting life in Puma. Electricity used to be generated by a cooperative owned by the village but over time they could not maintain the infrastructure, so the plant was turned over to the government and residents now must pay for their electricity. Soap, shampoo, light bulbs, mattresses, metal pots and pans, water hoses and drums, and matches must all be purchased, and many villagers own cell phones, mp3 players, and televisions. As the modern world increasingly encroaches on this idyllic mountaintop, my fervent hope is that the residents of Puma are able to adapt without losing a lifestyle that values faith, family and friends above all else.

Giri Gurung, managing director of Nepal Tourism Travels & Adventures, organized a portion of my travels in and around Nepal, including my trips to Nagarkot, Changu Narayan, Chitwan National Park, and this amazing four-day home stay with his family in Puma. Nepal Tourism Travels & Adventures office is in Kathmandu, conveniently located in the Thamel backpacker district. Their website is www.nepaltourismtravels.com.np, and Giri’s email is giri99grg@yahoo.com or contact@nepaltourismtravels.com.np.

You might also like:

It was the 6th of Karthik in the year 2067 by the Nepali calendar but despite the future-sounding date, I had been thrust back in time. I sat cross-legged on a carpet rolled out over the chilled concrete porch of Aama Gurung’s mountain home, sipping tea sweetened with milk from the buffalo, gazing out over the massive Annapurna Himalayas, still shrouded in pre-dawn darkness.

Aama – literally mother in Nepali – shares her house with Nani, an older woman who has no remaining family. As usual, seventy-something Aama and the somewhat younger Nani had begun their chores before sunrise. Nani tossed fresh hay into the buffalo paddock, then dug through day-old fodder with her bare hands, bringing up mounds of fresh dung for use as fertilizer in the garden. Aama swept the porch and courtyard with a  long whisk broom fashioned from sticks and straw, while Prakash, a 24-year old grandson stoked the morning cook fire in an outdoor clay oven. Sitting, enjoying my tea, I felt pampered and useless but they refused my repeated offers to help, explaining that in their culture, “Guest is god.”

Life in the tiny mountain village of Puma is beautiful and simple, but it is not easy. Just getting to the village was exhausting. The previous day I took a bus from Pokhara to the end of the line in Besisahar, where I was met by Prakash, my guide and translator for the duration. My host, Giri Gurung of Nepal Tourism Travels, had explained we would take a 4-wheel drive jeep from Besisahar up to Puma. I foolishly assumed this would be a private jeep and so was surprised when Prakash led me to a street corner where dozens of people were waiting for public transport jeeps. As the only means of access to these remote communities other than walking, seats were in demand; many people had been waiting since the previous day. Prakash harangued each driver that pulled up, trying in vain to get us seats. Three hours later I was still sitting with my back against the rattling tin wall of a shop with my feet stretched out into the dusty dirt street, having long since given up hope that we would reach Puma that day. Prakash, however, was not so easily discouraged. He continued to beg for a seat, offering to pay more than the 110 Rupee fare ($1.50 U.S.), and finally convinced one jeep owner to kick other passengers off to make room for us when he upped his offer to 250 Rupees.

Overloaded 4WD jeeps carry passengers from Besisahar into the high mountain villages

I climbed into the rear and plunked down on one of two facing wooden benches running down the sides of the extended cab, balancing my pack on my lap rather than relegating it to the rooftop and chancing damage to my electronic equipment. A long-legged man sitting across from me roughly shoved my legs apart and thrust one of his knees between mine, while the woman to my left poked her shoulder firmly into my breast. With my hiking boots taking up more than an equitable share of the precious little floor space that was not mounded with sacks of grain and boxes of cooking oil, we started uphill on a rock track gutted with twin trenches that masqueraded as a road.

Portion of the rough road to Puma

Within minutes we were high above Besisahar, jouncing through 18” deep ruts and skirting giant boulders. Around a long curve the city disappeared, replaced with vistas of lush gold rice fields ready for harvest and newly-planted fields of grass-green millet, terraced down mountains rising in every direction. Half an hour into the trip, suffering from bruised knees and a sore throat brought on by cold evening temperatures, the jeep ground to a crunching halt, sunk to mid-wheel in ruts made muddy by recent rains. We climbed out while the driver expertly extracted the vehicle and then pretzeled ourselves back inside for more torture. One hour later I almost kissed Prakash when he told the driver to stop, turned to me and announced, “We are here.” Gingerly, I shook my half-asleep leg, handed down my backpack, and eased my aching hip and knee down to the road, wondering why I put myself through these things.

Can’t view the above slide show of the tiny village of Puma, Nepal? Click here.

I scrambled down the pebble-strewn path to Aama’s house, dumped my luggage in the guest house (a spacious room with five beds above the stable) and headed out to get acquainted with the family that would be my home stay hosts for the next five-days. For the next couple of hours, neighbors and extended family began to dribble into Aama’s compound as they do each night, since she is one of very few villagers who own a TV. But this evening, rather than march upstairs for their favorite program they sat on the porch with me, chattering in a stream of unintelligible Nepali interspersed with an occasional English phrase. Chija, already an incredible beauty at eleven years old, sang Row, Row, Row Your Boat for me to show off the English she is learning in her local government school. My attempt to teach her Itsy, Bitsy Spider, complete with hand signals, was met with gales of laughter when Prakash translated. Chija patiently taught me the Nepali words for touch, welcome, and others, most of which I promptly forgot, except for the really important ones: water is pani and toilet is char pee. They left me finally, drawn by the lure of TV, and I gratefully climbed beneath a thick comforter for a night of delicious, deep sleep in the cold mountain air.

Aama's house, guest house, and stable

The next morning as I was enjoying my tea and the stunning views, Aama, bent over with age, slowly carried a platter full of gleaming silver urns to the low stone wall at the edge of the patio. Squatting down, she reverently rinsed the vessels, refilled them with water from the artesian well, and sprinkled fresh flower petals on top. Placing the first of these urns on the wall, she faced the sweeping valley and pressed her palms together at her heart, sprinkled water over the wall in a blessing, then repeated her prayers at various spots around the house. Devotions complete, she turned once again to her work, feeding her chickens and scrubbing out the squat toilet.

Aama carries gleaming urns to be set around the house with prayer

Annapurna Himalayas loom over the valley beneath Puma village, framing gorgeous rice terraces awaiting harvest

Didi (older sister), me and Aama on the front porch

I was embarrassed. I have no chickens to feed or buffalo stalls to muck out. When I am hungry I usually go out to a restaurant or, in the rare instance when I cook, need only turn the dial of a stove. When I am dirty I have hot water at the touch of a knob rather than a metal dipper and a steel tub filled with ice-cold water. I don’t have to grow and harvest my own food or spend a day traveling over obscenely rough roads to purchase basic items. Though incredibly difficult, Aama’s life is filled with music, laughter, love of family, and gratitude. Compared to hers, my life is easy. Yet I cannot find ten minutes each day to meditate and give thanks for all I have, and I no longer had any doubt why my path led me to Puma.

Giri Gurung, managing director of Nepal Tourism Travels & Adventures, organized a portion of my travels in and around Nepal, including my trips to Nagarkot, Changu Narayan, Chitwan National Park, and this amazing four-day home stay with his family in Puma. Nepal Tourism Travels & Adventures office is in Kathmandu, conveniently located in the Thamel backpacker district. Their website is www.nepaltourismtravels.com.np, and Giri’s email is giri99grg@yahoo.com or contact@nepaltourismtravels.com.np.

You might also like: