Two Glorious Cups of Tea

I think today was perhaps the second best day of my entire trip to Nepal so far. I know, it begs the question... what was the BEST day in Nepal? I still have to go with the Annapurna Base Camp day, but today was a close second.

After a hair-raising day yesterday (which ended with a ride in the tourist police car BACK to the restaurant in question, with the lights flashing, in a Kathmandu traffic jam - a 30 minute, very slow, very embarrassing ride), Gerdien stays at my hotel with me and we decide to get out into nature today to unplug from the previous day's chaos.

We head to a national park that is just at the outskirts of the Kathmandu Valley called Shivapuri. We are really looking forward to some much needed peace and quiet, and about 10 minutes into our hike we run into the largest all girl's school in Kathmandu, who's brought their entire student body to the park. Oh well, so much for peace and quiet. We walk as fast as we can (though Gerdien is in her skirt and Birkenstocks) to get past all the giggling girls. I must add that I am still feeling fit from my trek, and keep up with my tall Dutch friend just fine...

We arrive at Nagigumba, a small Buddhist monastery in the middle of the forest which is just beautiful. It's on a hill (in Seattle, we would call it a mountain as it's at about 5,000 ft.) overlooking all of the Kathmandu Valley as you can see in the photo above. We beat the kids to the top, and spend a few minutes getting hugged by the monks and taking photos. Then the girls, and two carloads of tourists from Hong Kong arrive at once. We have to leave too quickly to really enjoy this place.

I read in our tour book that there is an "alternative" route to get down that you "follow the ridgeline about three hours south to Kopan". Sounds delightful, and off the beaten path which is exactly what we are looking for. We walk for about a mile before we stop at a gate wondering where it goes. Thankfully, a local walked by and I asked and pointed, "Kopan?" He pointed just to the side of the gate where there was a very small path. OK, we're off. The trail is really steep, and there really isn't a defined path at all. Not too mention Gerdien is in her Birkenstocks, which makes it extra tricky.

We walk for about an hour in really strange territory, definitely what you would call OFF the beaten path. We're not sure we're going where we are supposed to be going (or, you could say we were EXACTLY where we were supposed to be) but we keep walking though the path has split about 20 times. We see two local village women carrying heavy loads and heading down the mountain. I do my best Nepali, and point down the mountain, "Kopan?" They agree that they are heading in the same direction (though the communication style was HILARIOUS as she kept pointing backwards, and indicating some path we were supposed to be on behind us, but then scolded us when we turned around.) We continue to follow them down. They are both wearing thin rubber flip flops, which inspires Gerdien to forget about her footwear situation!

They sit down at one point, and then we sit. I offer them water (which Hindu's usually decline because they don't like to share germs for some reason I don't quite get) and they both gratefully accept. Gerdien has an apple that we offer to them, and they ask if we can share it (in sign language, of course). I break out the Swiss Army Knife - definitely a good reason to carry one - and we all share a wonderful moment. We determine that Mama is 66 years old, and Didi (term of respect for an older sister) is 50-something.

After our break, we get up and continue walking. Again, Mama points backwards and kind of yells something, but when we turn around she shakes her head and indicates that we should continue walking with them. They sing and laugh all the way down the mountain, certainly amused by the unusual Westerners that they've stumbled upon and saved. Eventually, we arrive at a small town and the shop owner invites us in for tea. We sit, have no real conversation, but really share another wonderful moment in time. After the first glorious cup of tea, a young girl walks us to the trail where we are to head to Kopan, and we say goodbye to Mama and Didi.

About thirty minutes later, we arrive at what we think is Kopan (hint: there are about a million prayer flags) but there is no sign, and only a small path to where we believe it should be. We decide to take it, though the day is getting late and we only have about two hours of daylight left. The first building we come upon is definitely not the stupa, but the door is cracked and we hear some drumming and chanting coming from the building. Curious, we walk to the door and listen. A very young (8 years old?) Buddhist boy dressed in his dark red robes walks up the stairs, greets us, and invites us in.

Here's where the magic began, and unfortunately it just wasn't appropriate to break out my camera. Words will have to do...

As we enter, the music is getting louder and louder. We are led into a beautiful room downstairs that is filled with young Buddhist lamas. We kneel on the floor inside (after taking off our shoes, of course) and watch the ritual that I imagine has been going on for several hours at least, maybe all day. There are 20 boys in the room all sitting around the edges of the rectangular and beautifully, ornately painted room (think of a Buddhist Sistine Chapel, if you can), with tables in front of them. They sit in lotus position and they are all chanting from traditional texts. Each boy has a special instrument and they seem to be grouped by what instrument they are playing. Two boys get up and move, and they make room for Gerdien and I to sit at one of the tables. We gratefully oblige, though in all of the fuss they make for us, the chanting and music continue. It is almost like this is the most powerful dream I've ever had. Time stood still, and we just watched. Tears began to stream down my face and I just couldn't help it. This was a life moment that I would never forget, but yet I can hardly find the words to describe it.

The instruments included (in very un-technical terms) two 8' long trumpet-ish horns (that sounded a bit like a tuba with only one note), two other shorter one-note horns with something that resembled a clamshell on the end, two heavy pewter bells with beautiful sound, a pair of cymbals, a large hanging taiko drum, some Tibetan hanging cymbals, and a few other unidentified noise makers. The lama who seemed to be in charge was about 10 years old. The devotion and faith were absolutely stunning to watch. I made eye contact with a few of them, and they would smile and act a little shy, but never skip a beat in the ongoing chanting and ritual. After what seemed to be every page of the ancient texts that they were chanting from, a different boy would go to the front of the room before the alter of Buddha and perform a ritual that I couldn't quite see though I know it involved pouring water into a heavy pewter cup. The boy would then walk backwards through the room and as he did the other boys would cease playing their instruments and chanting, and they would all simultaneously through rice into the air, as if in celebration, and simultaneously shout in celebration.

Just as I was getting into the groove of recognizing what would be coming next, a young boy came before us and presented us with two cups of hot tea and a smile, as if to say, "You are welcome here." It was magic, as I had almost forgotten that I WAS really there since it was so mysteriously dream-like. It brought me back to life, and made me realize that this was all really happening.

We stayed in the magical room, both transfixed by the devotion and beauty of the ceremony, for about an hour. Realizing that daylight was running out, and that this ritual could go on for days, we showed our respect by offering them the most heartfelt "namaste" that I have motioned on this trip, bowed to the alter of Buddha, and quietly slipped out the door.

What a perfect, spontaneous, magical day! I'm looking forward to having a world of these kinds of moments during the next nine months away.

With love,

Pam