Bhaktapur

Our guide, Rajendra

License plates

Buying a car in Nepal, let alone, securing license plates, takes great patience. Here’s a synopsis of our ordeal—the tip of the iceberg compared to what USAID and the embassy went through to make sure our purchase was duty free.

Prior to getting a license plate, the US Embassy kindly interceded on our behalf to help secure a letter—eventually approved by several ministries from the Government of Nepal—indicating that in fact, because of my affiliation with USAID, our purchase was duty free. That, of course, required a bill of sale, a blue book (a written record of who owns the car), a letter from the UN (the employer of the previous owner) and many stamps and photographs. It took more than a month to secure the approval letter.

With the approval letter in hand, we dutifully approached the Zonal Department of Transportation. Fortunately, Betsy had the foresight to secure the translation services of a young man in our church who facilitated the whole process. In the end, I think he was as dumbfounded as we were about how inefficient the whole process truly was. The Department of Transportation consists of several dilapidated buildings on Ring Road, one of the busiest thoroughfares in Kathmandu. Cars and motorcycles are everywhere. Outside the buildings, one can find sundry seemingly impromptu stands selling everything from trinkets to samosas (a deep-fried turnover) plus offering the obligatory photocopying and plasticizing.

Once in the building, we had to ask where to go first. We passed the room for renewal of drivers’ licenses. I saw the eye chart on the wall and wondered how Betsy—whose license soon expires—will be able to explain the letters on each line. Each is written in Sanskrit and there are 46 letters in the Nepali alphabet. “The first letter is the one with the straight line on top, a straight line going down and a squiggly line next to it. The next line has one of those funny looking letters that starts off with a sideways triangle.” It will be a very long vision test indeed!

Back to the license plates: we paid 5 rupees to purchase the application form—all of it in Nepali—and took it to what appeared to be the main office. No one was there except for a man who, like us, was waiting to renew his license. He’d been waiting an hour for someone to show up. We were then sent upstairs to secure a stamp imprinted with the face of a moustachioed man I didn’t recognize.

We returned to the main office and were informed we needed 3 passport photos. Fortunately, we had them on hand. We then needed photocopies of the blue book, the bill of sale, the UNFPA letter indicating we’d purchased the car and the letter of duty free status from USAID. Back out to the street vendors with photocopiers hooked up to car batteries to get photocopies of all the documents.

We were then informed that we couldn’t get the license without the car. We’d taken a taxi to the Department of Transportation thinking we wouldn’t be able to drive without license plates. I took a taxi home, hopped in the car and navigated the small alleys as well as the traffic on Ring Road…not an easy task considering the steering wheel is on the right and people drive to the left.

Once back at the Department of Transportation, we were informed that we needed to get an emissions inspection. Fortunately, garages were across Ring Road. We were then told that we needed to see a gentleman who could pull the original paperwork needed to get the plates. We knew this part of securing the plates would be particularly trying. We watched as the man went to a room filled with books and folders with papers spilling out of them. No apparent organization. He then took the first book and one by one thumbed through each page, hoping to find the original documents for the car. We knew it could take some time to sift through all the books so we stepped outside to enjoy the sunshine. Remarkably, an hour and a half later, the man produced the originals.

We were then informed that we needed to get insurance. We found the nearest insurance office—also across Ring Road—and signed up for insurance. The agent never told us what was included in the policy. We weren’t told about deductibles. In fact, we were only given a receipt. But for $100 a year, we figured it was worth it, if for no other reason than to secure the license plates.

At this point, we knew we were close. Back we ventured across Ring Road, then to the main office. Now the application was complete—bill of sale, letters from the embassy and UNFPA, pictures, stamps, insurance forms, validation of clean emissions and certifications from several ministries that indeed we were entitled to a license plate.

But that was not all! We then took the paperwork to one of many mom and pop joints that manufacture license plates. This approach to securing a license plate seems an open invitation to corruption. We handed over the paperwork and were told to come back in 3 days when our plates would be stamped and painted. At long last we can drive! Now it’s just a matter of battling the narrow alleys, traffic, pedestrians, cows and monkeys…

Chitwan National Park, Nepal

Inside the park

Elephant Breeding Center. An elephant's mammary glands are surprisingly small!

This chap is only 8 days old.

At the Elephant Breeding Center. The elephants are BEHIND us!

Water buffalo crossing the river at sunset.

Betsy and Eli watching others giving the elephants a bath.

Elephants eat EVERYTHING associated with bananas.

Camels...NOT indigenous to Nepal.

Detail of woodwork inside the jungle.

An elephant at rest.

Bird's eye view of an elephant's bottom. With all 4 of us on top of the elephant, it was uncomfortable.

Elephants are sweet, sweet creatures unless they are adult males living in the wild.

Ubiquitous Japanese tourists.

We saw two rhinos...very dangerous unless surrounded by 10 elephants and 40 people.

A picture is worth a thousand words

...and since I haven't updated the blog in awhile, I thought I'd post a few.

 

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Samyak festival

Once every five years Samyak takes place in Patan. This festival was only a 10 minute walk from our house. The festival was on Friday evening and Saturday. Betsy and I went Friday night and enjoyed it so much, we returned Saturday with Lucie, Eli and a colleague of mine (Maryanne). The festival includes dozens of larger-than-life statues of Buddhist gods and goddesses that are brought from various parts. In addition to an interesting festival, we got to see a corner of our neighborhood we didn't know existed. We loved the little alleys that suddenly opened onto a big plaza.

This is my favorite picture!

Long shutter speed of a ceremonial umbrella behind a statue of the Buddha

Me experimenting with a long shutter speed

This is a painter of Buddhist Thangkas. This one will take about 7 months to complete

Word to the Wise: Don't Mountain Bike on Lord Shiva's Birthday

Today is Maha Shiva Ratri--Lord Shiva's birthday. Shiva is the Hindu lord of cosmic destruction and dance. Many Shiva devotees fast and offer special prayers the night preceding this holiday. People also offer flowers and incense. According to some sources, the celebration originates from samudra manthan or churning of the ocean of milk. When the gods and demons churned the ocean of milk to obtain the drink of immorality, they discovered many unusual substances, including a deadly poison. The gods were terrified and approached Shiva for help. Operating out of compassion for all living beings, Shiva swallowed the poison. The poison was so potent that it turned his neck blue.

What more appropriate day for mountain biking? I had the day off work and figured it would be quiet outside of Kathmandu. I was surprised when just a few feet from my house, children blocked my progress by stretching a rope across the alley. They all had smirks on their faces and some chuckled under their breath. I was not allowed to pass unless I gave the children paisa (a small amount of money). I gave them a 5 rupee note which I'm sure was far more than they expected--but it was the smallest change I had. A few blocks away, another blockade. Different kids demanding the same thing. Fortunately, there were only half a dozen road blocks in the city. But unfortunately, there were many, many more once we left the confines of Kathmandu. I'm not sure what the connection is to the festival but the "ritual" reminded me of a cross between kids selling lemonade and trick-or-treaters being too coercive. Over the course of the next two hours, we encountered barrier after barrier--even small clusters of houses had children who set up such blockades. My 100 rupees didn't last long. Fortunately, my day guard (Roncit) who went biking with me successfully negotiated every subsequent roadblock. Usually the exchange was predictable. Roncit would explain to the children that we didn't have any money left, that we'd given it all to the children at the many, many roadblocks before theirs. With my limited Nepali, I'd chime in: paisa chai na (no money). At first, the children would throw us a doubting glance, knowing that we were just joking. It was only after 3 or 4 minutes of explanation on our part that the kids would finally recognize we truly had no money. Had I had any more money, I would have given it to each child. The look of disappointment on every child's face was enough to make one cry.

The bike ride itself is quite spectacular. Once I feel a bit more solid in my bike riding skills, I'll take my camera and share pictures on this blog. On clear days, I can see the Himalayas--not just the peaks but a substantial part of the base of each mountain. Even when the views aren't clear, it's great fun climbing up each hill, swerving around each bend and surveying the lush paddies, filled this time of year with yellow mustard plants. After climbing for some time, we descend to a very bumpy dirt road that follows a rather large river. Today everyone is out washing clothes (even men and boys wash clothes here), bathing and (once we got closer to Kathmandu), washing their cars. The little kids are exempted from work and allowed to swim. I am impressed by the unintentional but seamless integration of work and play. For the Nepalis by the river, they are no different.

A few years ago, I read a book by a couple who abandoned their material trappings to live among the Amish and last a full year without using electricity. They mostly succeeded. Of course, the Amish were incredibly welcoming and shared many skills needed to survive. The couple noticed, however, that the Amish didn't really take time for leisure. After several long  months of plowing fields, gathering food and building houses, this couple realized that for the Amish, work WAS play and that the way we as "Westerners" compartmentalize work and play is  a rather arbitrary division that leads to a great amount of stress: we work constantly under difficult conditions and then, for a two week period, all the stress is over. We take trips to the Bahamas to forget our work, then return to long days in the office as though we are leading two different lives. Needless to say, I'll be going back to the river to learn how Nepalis--most of whom have almost nothing to their names--are able to integrate work and play.

Caste

One cannot live in Nepal without being conscience of caste. It manifests itself in so many ways, ways that we as outsiders can't always detect. For example, I assume that people of various occupations are of roughly equivalent stations in life. But in fact, those who carry out manual labor--and especially labor involving physical contact with humans and animals--are of the lowest castes.

Today we joined the American Club (known locally as Phora). It's situated on a large compound in downtown Kathmandu and includes squash and tennis courts, a pool, a bar, restaurant and beauty salon. We especially enjoyed the commissary which is a grocery store of sorts with food exclusively from the US, Europe and Australia. Prices are high ($5.45 for a bag of Sun Chips) but it's worth it. Or is it? Outside the American Club, Nepali children beg for a few coins. Neither they nor any of their compatriots are allowed into the compound. I guess we're not so far from practicing a caste system ourselves.