The Dasain Festival in Besisahar

Anja with her Dasain festival tikka

Anja with her Dasain festival tikka

Day 53 – Location: Pokhara; Nepal.

22/10/12

I went off in the morning to find the Visa office in Pokhara, which was quite a long walk in the heat. I eventually found it and it wasn’t too much hassle getting the visa extended by 2 weeks, costing me around thirty pounds and an hour of time. I walked back to Lakeside and stopped on the way for a freshly pressed sugar cane drink, which Anja had recommended to me. The woman passed the sugar cane through an engine press a number of times, the sugary juice pouring out into a glass. It was tasty and very refreshing. I’m sure my teeth protested but who listens to those moaners?

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I spent the afternoon working on the blog, shopping and planning, deciding to go paragliding the next day. Unfortunately after dinner I went to book it only to discover I was too late and the places had already been filled. Damn you happy hour beer! I emailed Jet Airways asking them if I could change my return flight date to Thailand. I contacted Anja to let her know I could visit her in a few days now I had the visa. I spent a chilled out evening in the restaurants.

Day 54 – Location: Pokhara; Nepal.

23/10/12 

A day of nothingness, just buying presents for Anja’s host family and working on the internet and my diary. Although the photo blog is far behind, the written part I keep separately and is much more up to date. I ran into Nick and Balthi (Anja’s Swiss friends) in the street, who were about to go to Bardia national park, in the jungle far in the west. I wanted to go but with two days travel just to get there I couldn’t justify the time, I’d have to settle for much more touristy Chitwan national park instead. I tried to book a bus to Besisahar, where Anja lives, but was told tomorrow is the biggest festival day of Dasain and so most buses were not running. Any that were would be on a first come, first served basis. In the evening I noticed my rat buddy from the other night run out of my bedroom, squeezing through the narrow gap under the door. To stop him returning I blocked it with an awesome barrier of drinks bottles. Knaw your way through that, Roland!

Nick and Balthi

Nick and Balthi

Day 55  – Location: Pokhara > Besisahar; Nepal.

24/10/12

I woke up at 4am, I think disturbed by my awesome rat barrier being moved. Roland was trying my patience. I couldn’t get back to sleep, and at about 6am I took a taxi to the bus park. The price was higher because it was the big festival day. At the station tourists and locals milled around in a zombie state, and a guy with one leg hobbled around begging. I asked at the counter for a Besisahar bus and luckily there was one going soon. I got in and there were only about ten of us on the bus, mostly trekkers; the big Annapurna trek begins in Besisahar. I hauled my big bag to the roof and locked it to the rack. We set off about half an hour late. As we passed through Pokhara we stopped at some big bus stations lined with food stalls. At each one, more and more locals piled onto the bus, and I had to put my other bags on my lap, there was no space under the seats. My legs were sandwiched behind the seat in front.

At each bus station dirty beggar boys rapped on the sides of the windows with begging bowls. The locals and conductor would shoo them away. I saw one boy sucking and blowing on a plastic bag: breathing glue. A lot of street kids abuse substances like this and get sucked into a circle of begging and drugs. According to the guide books, giving money to kids doesn’t help and just encourages more to do it, instead it’s better to help organizations which take kids off the street or encourage them into more productive lifestyles. Most of the locals certainly don’t give to beggars and I’ve seen signs about tourist respect, one of the points being “do like the Nepali, don’t give to beggars”.

One of the bamboo festival swings, as we whizz past on the bus

One of the bamboo festival swings, as we whizz past on the bus

Pokhara was dead for 7am in the morning, nearly all the shops were shuttered up. The big holiday was for everyone. As we drove out of town we’d pass homemade swings, one of the festival’s trademarks. Some were just rope and a plank of wood hung in a porch but the real eye catchers were the huge bamboo or wooden ones which stand taller than a house and have a very long rope swing in the middle. People can get some real height from these. Their construction must be pretty difficult and Anja told me she’d seen a guy at the top of one tying the swing on – a fall from there would definitely be a broken body.

 

It was quite cold and foggy today, unlike the past few weeks. The wind billowing through the window was chilly, though I didn’t have enough space to put on a jacket with all my heavy stuff on my lap and a father with son in his lap to the side. More and more people crammed onto the bus until there were two or three guys hanging off the door ledge holding onto the outside rail. My bum started to go numb on the hard seat. We occasionally passed guys with bikes carrying trailers filled with small statues for sale in the markets. Every guy seemed to have the same load, I’d seen similar stuff at the sheep market. We stopped up a hill for a rest stop to use the toilet where you could buy freshly roasted peanuts and boiled eggs.

At the next big town, Dumri, a dusty and bustling place, we stopped to let passengers on and off. The guy who sat next to me started to chat to me in English. We crossed a big river and started climbing up the valley to the north. The guy worked in Pokhara and was heading to visit his family for Dasain. We chatted for the next hour as we wound up through villages. To one side a big river wound through a forested gorge below. In some places big rocks were lodged in the drains at the side of the road where landslides had happened. We crossed small rivers which flowed over the road, splashing through them on banked, ruptured tarmac. They must have to repair those all the time. We went past a bizarre quarry wall featuring huge paintings apparently with something to do with Germany judging from the flag, and zigzagged down near the big, turquoise river. Along the roads at every settlement loads of families waited with luggage bags, and every bus we passed was jam-packed; every one had people hanging out the doors and sometimes sitting on the roofs.

Me and Rezham

Me and Rezham

I got off a few km before Besisahar and a man waved at me from a house at the main road. The driver had dropped me in the perfect spot, right opposite Anja’s house! Anja came out to meet me and introduced her very friendly host father Rezham, and his wife Chita. They both speak limited English but enough to get by. As we passed through the building the locals we ran into greeted us. Rezham and Chita live alone on the first floor of a modern Nepali building and although basic by western standards, for Nepal their home is quite luxurious; with carpeted floors in the bedroom, a living room with comfy seats and a TV, with a homely bedroom for volunteers. Rezham and Chita have hosted volunteers for a number of years now; they get rent from them and a payment from the volunteer agency too. This year the only volunteer is Anja. There was a basic squat toilet room with a shower, open to the elements through the glass-less window. A little balcony overlooked a nice view of rice fields and hills beyond.

Rezham, Anja and Chita on the balcony

Rezham, Anja and Chita on the balcony. Rezham and Chita are happy people but they never smile for photos!

We were immediately taken into the kitchen to receive a tikka, the red spot on the forehead which is a Hindu blessing. Chita had a tray with all the tikka ingredients, red dye, rice, yellow dye and bits of plants. As Dasain is a special occasion, the tikkas are very big, covering a big chunk of the forehead compared to a normal tikka. We sat as Rezham murmured a chant and stuck the rice and red dye on our foreheads, finishing with plant leaves stuck into our hair. We were given a small banana, apple and sweets to eat as part of the ceremony.

Anja

Anja

Rezham told his “sister” (his name for Anja) and me, “brother”, to come with him downstairs. We went to the next building to meet the elders. This day of the festival everyone goes from house to house visiting relatives and respected people to receive tikkas from them. We were going to meet Rezham’s mother. A queue of people were outside her door and they were getting tikkas from her, whilst we said “Namaste” (greetings). His mother had a yellow tikka, rather than red, meaning she is widowed. Widowed women also aren’t allowed to wear red clothes. She added to our tikkas, doing a similar chant, and gave us more hair plants and food. We gave her some small money which is customary when you are getting a blessing from the elders. We left to let other people in the queue get their turn. Rezham was very eager for us to experience the culture and was encouraging us to take photos throughout, which was great. He had his own digital camera and was taking plenty himself.

Rezham's mother

Rezham’s mother

We popped to an adjacent room, a kitchen, to meet Rezham’s brother and his aunt, another old lady who I photographed.

Rezham's aunt

Rezham’s aunt

His brother spoke some English and showed us inside his fridge, which looked like a butcher’s shop. The meat inside was part sheep, part goat. A few days before Rezham had had a goat sacrificed for his family, which Anja had told me about, and shown me some grisly photos. The goat had been placed in a drawn circle, and then prayers were made. An executioner man had come along with a big kukiri (Nepali curved sword) and then lopped off its head in one. Anja said the body and head had freakily continued to bounce around for a little while after its death! The goat was then butchered on the house roof, the low quality bits like organs and the head being given to lower caste families, and the good bits kept for Rezham’s family.

Sacrificial meat

Sacrificial meat

We went back to their house and after chilling on the balcony for a bit we were served dahl baht, the Nepali staple of rice, lentil soup, curried vegetables and this time, curried goat, from the sacrifice. It was pretty tasty. Anja sneaked me her goat as she didn’t like it much, but didn’t want Rezham to see and be offended! Rezham tried to fill me up with constant offers of more food and I had to refuse after a few extra helpings before I exploded!

Walking along the irrigation ditches

Walking along the irrigation ditches

We chilled out on the balcony chatting and reading and then Anja took me for a walk through the rice fields to a little temple. We passed locals, Anja having simple Nepali conversations with them, and followed an irrigation ditch where Anja found a crab, delighting in trying to get him to grab a piece of grass so she could lift him up. There were some really big yellow and black spiders in huge webs in the trees, some were almost hand-sized. Wherever there were trees and bushes you’d see them. Sometimes their threads crossed impossibly long distances. The webs can be really hard to see at some angles and Anja walked face first into one, just missing the big spider above. Thankfully for her she’s not scared of them, but like most people she doesn’t really want them crawling all over her face!

Mr Big Spider

Mr Big Spider

At the end of the fields was a tree supporting a long Dasain swing, where kids were messing around and men played cards. We greeted them and Anja had a go on the swing.

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We were at the edge of a steep slope into the jungle below, at the bottom was the wide river. We skirted around the edges of the fields to the little temple, walking past colourful flowers and some traditional houses. A little girl followed us from one house and her parents asked me to take her photo. Unfortunately she wouldn’t stop moving so I didn’t get a good one.

The terraced fields leading up to Rezham's house.

The terraced fields leading up to Rezham’s house.

After negotiating our way through the fields we reached the temple which seemed disused. Inside were a row of phallic holy stones with withered offerings. Rezham later told me the temple is mainly used by one caste very infrequently, though                                                                                                               he occasionally goes there himself to make an offering. We sat here for a while, it was nice and peaceful away from everything, all you could hear was the river and the jungle.

View down the valley from the temple.

View down the valley from the temple.

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The little temple

Back at the house we drank tea supplied faithfully by Rezham, and some families came around to receive tikkas from Rezham and Chita. Many of the fathers spoke English and were curious to find out about us westerners. Rezham showed me a photo album containing pictures of his past volunteers, all Germans. One guy was massive and me and Anja laughed at the thought of him trying to survive in Nepal’s local buses and doorways.

Rezham gives a tikka to a relative

Rezham gives a tikka to a relative

One of the wives dressed in her best for the festival

One of the wives dressed in her best for the festival

After dark Rezham took us to a house down the road, much more basic than theirs, where me met a big family. Along with other visiting families, we were led inside to a bedroom where an old, sick man was lying in bed, giving people tikkas. An old lady came along and gave us tikkas and more snacks. Anja had showered earlier thinking the tikka-giving was over, but there is no refusing a tikka! The red dyed rice from the tikkas falls off your head throughout the day and gets everywhere – Rezhams living room floor was red by the end of the day!

The sick elder gives a tikka.

The sick elder gives a tikka.

Afterwards we waited outside for Rezham, receiving another tikka and some small change from a local mother. I’d seen Rezham giving money to some of his tikka receivers so it seems to be a two-way process, sometimes you give elders money, sometimes they give you money. We went home, stopping at a shop where one of the staff was quite strange and clearly high or drunk. Rezham told us the man is an alcoholic and he doesn’t approve of him!

The neighbours

The neighbours

We had dahl baht for dinner and in the evening we all chatted and more families came to get tikkas from Rezham and Chita. I took a brisk shower – they don’t have hot water but it wasn’t as cold as some places I’ve been. Anja is dreading the next season – winter – as the bathroom’s completely exposed and the water will be freezing! We turned in for the night after some reading on the balcony.

Pokhara’s Dasain Sheep Market

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Day 51 – Location: Pokhara, Nepal.

20/10/12

My night was rudely disturbed by the sound of cracking plastic in my room. I looked around in the dark wondering if there was an intruder. After turning my torch on I couldn’t see anything, so I went back to bed. Soon after I heard the noise again, it had to be coming from in here! My bin had plastic bottles inside but there was nothing else. I assumed it had to be out the window and again tried to get to sleep. The third time I was disturbed I scoured around and then saw the bin moving. A thin rat was trying to scrabble up out of the bin, he was trapped inside! He must have been playing dead when I was hunting around. I felt a bit sorry for him but also a bit revolted to have had a rat running around in my bedroom. I wrapped my hand in some clothes in case he bit, and put the bin outside my room door. Either he’d eventually escape or the staff would get him in the morning. I didn’t find out which, the bin was emptied when I got up.

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I spent the day researching my next plans and working on the diary, sitting in Lakeside’s restaurants. I fell asleep in my hotel room around 5pm and woke up in the late evening for dinner. I was still knackered after the trekking and my legs were aching. I’d been waiting to hear from Anja, who had invited me to stay at her host family’s place in Besisahar tomorrow, but she got in touch to say that over the next few days they couldn’t because of the Dasain festivities, but I could come after that. I was left wondering what to do, I’d already done most of the Pokhara sights and my visa was going to run out soon. I decided to sleep on it.

Day 52

21/10/12

After a morning organizing I called Anja with questions about visiting her, and looked into buses back to Kathmandu. Because of the festival there were hardly any going. During Dasain, about 80% of Nepal’s population swarm back to their families and home towns to celebrate, meaning the transport is all fully booked and completely rammed. I decided to extend my visa and see what happened. Unfortunately the office closes by 1pm so I was too late today. Shiba called to say he was coming to Pokhara today if I wanted to meet up. After lunch I took a taxi to the north of Pokhara to meet him.

As we approached we hit a traffic jam. There were lots of people by the road too, and then we started seeing the sheep. It seemed the sheep (though they could be sheep, it’s hard to tell) had now been moved from the mountains down to the city and were herded by the roadside. Many people were tugging along sheep with rope tied around their horns, but the sheep didn’t want to go. Many were tugging, running ad generally it was chaos with people running out of the way of bucking sheep and traffic weaving between it all.

A very reluctant sheep is dragged along. In the morning he'll be dead!

A very reluctant sheep is dragged along. In the morning he’ll be dead!

We eventually reached a main junction and luckily I spotted Shiba at the side of the road, or finding him would have been nigh impossible. His family was with him. I greeted them and we went through throngs of people to an outdoor market area filled with temporary sheep pens and packed with people. People were buying sheep here and around the pens were vendors selling everything from kitchenware to clothes.

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We browsed around the area, with Shiba and his wife buying or haggling for goods from time to time. It was very colourful. At the end of the area was a small funfair with very unsafe looking rides, including a small Ferris wheel which rocked around at alarming speed with no protection, and a big bar at the top which adults had to duck under for fear of decapitation. Food trolleys were wheeled around and ice cream vendors with bicycles wandered the rows. People clustered around vendors haggling and examining wares.

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Choose your weapon. The big blades are kukuris, used for chopping the heads off the unfortunate sacrifices.

Choose your weapon. The big blades are kukuris, used for chopping the heads off the unfortunate sacrifices.

We walked around trying to find a restaurant but they were all packed. We eventually found a chow mein place and sat in the back, at a table clearly shoved into someone’s bedroom.

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A very unfortunate sheep which was loaded like this into the boot of a car. If that wasn't bad enough, another one trussed up in the same way was loaded on top of it! Really harsh!

A very unfortunate sheep which was unceremoniously loaded like this into the boot of a car. If that wasn’t bad enough, another one trussed up in the same way was loaded on top of it! Really harsh!

Next Shiba took me a short walk to show me a nearby temple, which is an old and famous one. A guy approached and started to tell me about it and pointed to blood on the floor in a building below, where earlier in the day they’d been sacrificing sheep.

The sacrifice area awash with blood.

The sacrifice area awash with blood.

He then offered me his services as a guide and then implied I should pay him for the tiny bits of information he’d already given me, which I hadn’t even asked for. I refused pointing this out and that I was already walking around with a local! The guilt trip tactics of these people annoy me. Down the temple steps Shiba gave a holy man (Baba) some money. I did the same and asked for a photo, which he agreed to. After saying how great the UK and the queen was he jokingly asked for more money, and we laughed back at him. Shiba pointed out how I seem to attract the sweet talkers who like to try and extract money from me with their friendly ways!

Cheeky baba. You can see his begging can on the left, it's normal to see them walking around carrying these.

Cheeky baba. You can see his begging can on the left, it’s normal to see them walking around carrying these.

Down the steps we found a closed basket rammed full of live pigeons. I asked Shiba if they were for sacrificing but he said no, they were just for the temple.

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We walked back through the side streets towards the market, passing some expensive looking (by Nepali standards) houses and a kid who seemed to think riding with a flat tyre was a good idea. In the distance the Fishtail was clear and looked magnificent poking up above the city. We passed a man who was holding a headless sheep body, shaving it in a bucket of hot water (which loosens the pelt). Presumably an early sacrifice.

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We returned to the market area and did some more browsing, and then I went to get a taxi back as it was dark, and said my goodbyes. It had been cool to see the markets and so many people.

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Tikka dyes

The Ferris wheel of death.

The Ferris wheel of death! Tall people have to duck to avoid the bar at the top!

Back in Lakeside the Swiss were away visiting a local family that Nick knew, so I went alone and found a restaurant called Once Upon a Time which turned out to have the fasted wi-fi connection I’d found in Nepal! I took the opportunity to do a photo blog update (which was now over 3 weeks behind thanks to the lack of internet speed), and saw bits of the film Everest, which looks quite good, I’ll have to catch it another time.

A typical Nepali barber shop

A typical Nepali barber shop