Last Morning in Kathmandu

It’s a bit after 10 am, and Naresh called me from the lobby to say that the flight has been delayed one and a half hours. Maybe I should run over to the Internet café and send a message about the delay, although I’ve already checked out and my luggage is at the front door. I went ahead and checked out because when he called my room, I figured this time he was an hour early, like yesterday’s driver with the red car. Oh, yeah, it also turned out that his boss sent a message, saying he’s sorry about the dinner engagement. Whew, I’m glad. I said, “It’s OK—I wasn’t crazy about being out after dark. It’s fine with a tour group, but alone it’d be kind of scary.”

Before that, I had a delicious breakfast (except there was no rice, and the fried bread was overdone and crumbled), went back up to my room to brush my teeth, and set out to wander the streets and possibly do last minute shopping. I used up the last of my 1000 Nepalese rupee bills. Shameless. The Horizon Bookshop was still closed, so I went past them. I picked up a Ganesh and Sarasvati at one stand—they were both very very tiny but with lots of detail. I had told the pushy (male, of course) merchant that I was looking for a Bodhisattva statue, particularly Avalokiteshvara, and he insisted in trying to sell me a Shakyamuni Buddha, and I was refusing, when I caught sight of the two little Hindu deities and said I’d like to get them; he still tried to sell me a Buddha also (and I think he was weirded out that I’d be interested in Hindu deities), but I stuck with my choice, despite the pressure to buy something else (something more expensive).

I spotted Barnes and Noble Booksellers—of all places! It was a tiny store that looked very Kathmandu, not very Barnes and Noble; two sides were open to the narrow hectic street, no doubt with roll-up garage doors, and it was a tiny little shop with many piles of English-language coffee table books on a couple of big tables in the center, and with many books and postcards along the walls. I crossed the gutter and went in because this store had the Dalai Lama postcards I was looking for, so I got them and a couple of extras, but then—naughty me—I started browsing in the books, because a coffee table book about Nepal attracted my attention. Next thing you know, I picked out not only the Dalai Lama post cards, but also the book on Nepal and a big coffee table book on Indian embroidery. Naughty, very naughty.

After that, I headed back toward the Vaishali Hotel, turned, and headed back toward the shop where I bought the two Naga statues, because I really wanted an Avalokiteshvara statue, at least for Elaine, if not for me. After being accosted countless times by wallahs and shoe shiners and a little beggar and before this onslaught continued (I swear salespeople in Nepal are truly pushier than in India), I came to the shop, where a smaller Naga was in the place of the large one I got for Elaine. I went inside and saw two Avalokiteshvara statues with a thousand arms and eleven heads each, and they were about the same size as the big Naga. So I got one for Elaine, and one for me. I definitely have done enough shopping and don’t need to do any in Delhi!
Actually, when I get to Delhi, I won’t have time for shopping and just want to relax at the guesthouse. I get the impression that it has good ambiance and I’ll be happy to hang out there. I also have in mind using the last three or four photos in my second disposable camera.
I’ve gone to the cybercafé and sent a message to the guesthouse, and now I’m back to writing in the hotel lobby. It’s about 11 am.

I have little time to dilly dally in Delhi. Actually, I’ll just hang out in the guest house and get some sleep and a shower. I’ll need these things before experiencing many hours of flights and airports.

Incidentally, I had trouble understanding Naresh’s English (that always embarrasses me), and he was a bit…overfriendly, I thought. I realize that when guys in India or Nepal ask, “Are you married?” it doesn’t automatically mean that they’re flirting, but I was still suspicious. Such as when we were leaving the airport and he had his arm draped across the back seat behind me—little things like that. That was his typical way of sitting in the back seat with me, with his arm draped along the back, and I rather wished he’d sit in the front with the driver. In order to get me to look out the window at something, he would tap me on the shoulder; once he reached over and almost touched my hand in my lap, and I quickly moved my hand away. I think that by the time I left Kathmandu the final time, he knew I didn’t like overly familiar behavior. I hope he’s married and has kids, especially since he has my e-mail address.

Later--
Things went comparatively smoothly at the Tribhuven Airport, or whatever it’s called, in Kathmandu. One of the guys working there asked me how long was my stay in Nepal, and I made the mistake of saying, “Two days,” when really I should have said, “Four days.”
“Why so short?” he asked.

“Oh, I was here for a couple more days, before I went to Tibet,” I said, which really didn’t make it any better. That’s like saying I wouldn’t have gone to Kathmandu if I didn’t have to in order to enter Tibet. So much for my diplomacy. Another male employee asked me if I’d been to Nepal before, and I said yes, and he was happy with that and asked if I speak Newali! He probably wasn’t the one who was suspicious of my tubular rolled up thangka.