In Pokhara

I should write this entry before I forget everything from before the trek. Yesterday was full of jazz and history. In the morning we had a walking tour of Kathmandu with Anil Chitrakar, and it was fantastic to see him again. The tour was a very different experience. Walking the streets of the city near where the old palace and he king's residence were, seeing the remains of the buildings owned by great families of high caste (Ranas, Tamas, etc.) made for a definitively non-tourist tour. We learned about the bloody history of dynasty change, and the legacy of political ineptitude that tends to continue when "power" comes before "politics". Then we had a very pleasant cup of tea with Anil and decided to make plans to go over some books and paintings, to get a deeper view of the history that so clearly explains the present and even in a way predicts the future.

After that we headed to the monthly Kathmandu Jazz Conservatory (KJC) concert, which was amazing. A trio called Soulution played, made up of the incredibly talented German pianist and singer Beate, and two Nepali musicians, a monster sitar player and a tabalas player. They did some of the most awesome fusion wok I've ever heard, totally fresh, keeping the best of both classical Eastern music and bluesy jazz. I'm determined to find a way to bring them to New York. Later, Yanik and I went to Upstairs, where we ran into Beate again (which is nice--she's leaving Nepal in a week). The group at Upstairs is definitely at a level where they should be touring in Europe or playing in NY as well. A few of the group members have such similar characteristics and mannerisms to people I've met or known before...it's a trip to see how true it is that there are "types" of people. At least physically! Nobody can convince me otherwise.

The bus to Pokhara left early this morning (I'm currently here), almost empty; of the few other passengers, two were friendly young Christian missionaries on their way to teach Bible studies at the (tiny) churches in Pokhara and the mountains. They're based in Taiwan, though they're from the Midwest in the States. One of the guys, Russ, told me his whole story of being "born again" out of a terribly messed up situation, having a meth habit that cost $800 a day to being clean overnight by God's will. I found it a fascinating opportunity to speak the language of religion, but with the intention of discussing ideas that are beyond the form in which they're spoken. Religious belief is a volatile thing, as is any idea that people seize and make rigid. This guy, probably because of his own shadowy past, seemed a lot more laid back than many people full of the zeal for God. Still, there's a certain defensiveness religious people tend to have--a warning that I sensed if we got too close to breaking through the mental formations that familiar words represent.

Most of the 6-hour ride was taken up with staring at the breathtaking views as we wound our way through the farms and into the foothills. It inspired the kind of wonder that we all tend to forget is possible. By the fifth hour, though, I wasn't romanticizing the views anymore--they were still awe-inspiring (since actually everything is if you look at it properly) but the puppyish eagerness had worn off. I could strangle myself for not bringing the good camera! Upon arrival I was feeling addled from the contrast of my noisy brain and the quiet of the mountains, so the bustle of Pokhara was a welcome opportunity to (attempt to) prepare for the intensity of two weeks spent climbing towards the sky.

Anytime I am around hills or mountains of such magnitude, something in my psychology shifts. Time spent in wilderness or solitude changes people...if we can bear it past the limit of comfort, or even sanity. I didn't prepare myself for these couple of weeks much, and the result must be that relative solitude makes a strengthened impression...an uncomfortable one.

Meanwhile, I spent my last night in "civilization" watching a Hindi movie called Kal Ho Naa Ho (means something along the lines of "tomorrow may or may not be"...a seize-the-day message). Bollywood has captured my heart...these movies are so awesome, full of tragic scenes of tears between mothers and daughters, and fabulous song and dance sequences. I love the melodrama like it's unfolding in my own head! I'm completely, girlishly enchanted by Sharukh Khan.

Note from 3/16/08: In the following blog posts, rather than over-editing what I wrote during the trek, I'm just going to post fragments without turning them into a coherent and continuous narrative. Maybe eventually I will, but now is not the time to be concerned with writing a memoir.