As the Mind Flies ... a poem by Alun Buffry, Pokhara, Nepal 1985

 

As the Mind flies So the Bird walks to the mountain, OR Zen and the Art of Being Lazy

 

As the Mind flies So the Bird walks to the mountain, OR Zen and the Art of Being Lazy

(a postcard from Pokhara, 1985)

by Alun Buffry

Today, outside, the weather is hazy.

Stayed in all day, feeling quite lazy.

Where to go now, we often talk,

Then decide it's too far to walk.

Two hours there and two hours back,

"Let's stay here, and have a snack".

Just fifteen minutes to Cafe Babar.

And we know that there, food's better by far,

but here we eat, for our stomachs sake,

whatever's available as it's no effort to make.

"Well", I say, "I guess that's what

A holiday's for on a day that's hot."

"We're free, we don't have to do anything.

We can fly like a bird with a broken wing."

"How can that be, such a bird can't fly?"

"We can't do much either and here is why-

'Cos - cor it's hot outside today,

And wherever we go we have to pay",

Or "My leg's aching, stiff and weak,

And there's nothing in the bazaar we seek."

"Stomach queasy, or head aching?

Let's be another chillum a-making."

Then, "Let's go in a boat!"

"No, don't want to row!"

Or, "Let's climb that mountain, look at the snow!"

Oh, if only we could get up there and back,

Without having to walk on that mountain track.

If you close your eyes and lay on your bed,

You can go anywhere inside your head.

If you know how to master the Traveller's Trick,

You'll be there in an instant and come back so quick.

 

 

Video India, Nepal, Kashmir

 

From Nepal to India, Indian Customs, 1985

 Taken from my book "Back to the East, India, Nepal and Kashmir" 1985

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23rdApril

Wewere up at 5 AM ready for the bus back to Delhi, but a problem getting breakfast or a taxi from the Hotel Eden after we ordered both last night. Eventually we got to the Hotel Withies to board the bus.

This time we had good front seats.

The journey down the valley was smooth with some good scenery, although the driver seemed to think he was on a race track. Nobody on the road seemed to want to get out of anyone else’s way. The rule here was simple: “Might is Right”.

It now seemed that many Nepalese and Indians like playing head games, so when when we said chai, char, tea, we were met with blank stares. Then, if you shouted, like barking an order, they suddenly understood. Maybe they were all just stoned.

We reached the border with no problem and the customs came and took all our passports to inspect whilst we sat on the bus outside the customs shed. They did not inspect any luggage.

But whilst we sat there a young boy outside spotted Lesley through the window. He obviously recognised her from when we passed through before. He was knocking on and waving through the window. Lesley waved back. He ran off and soon returned with some other boys and motioned us to open the window. They started throwing newspaper packages through the window. I opened one. It was weed. We are right outside the customs office. I through it back out shaking my head. More came in. I through them back shouting no. A couple of minutes later a guy came from further back on the bus and gave me two wraps, saying that the boys had asked him to give them to me. I threw them out too.

After a while the boys waved goodbye and left and soon we were on our way. The last thing I wanted was to get busted for weed at the border.

Across from us were two guys, one looked like David Soul from the Miami Vice TV series.They were smoking small joints and passed one to me. There was just enough for Lesley and I to have two puffs each. It was wonderful and strong Nepalese hash. They said they had trekked into the mountains to a village to get it. They made another small joint and we had another puff.

The bus took off and we were flying several feet high.

Into the darknesswe went.

A few hours down the road, the bus suddenly stopped. It was the Indian customs officers.

They came on the bus and immediatelytold me to get off the bus. Strangely, as I was holding my shoulder bag on my lap, I passed it to Lesley. They ignored that. They also ignored Starksy and Hutch. They got some people from the back of the bus too, Nepalese I think.

It was dark outside so they all had torches, about six cops. They took me to the back boot and got me to show them my rucksack, which I opened and they emptied. They took my camera, a torch (the bulb no longer worked) and a tin a sardines. I told them the camera was cheap and so I did not need to declare it, the torch bulb was no good and the tin was fish. One guy said that if the fish were inside, they would be dead. Then another guy, presumably their boss, came and said “OK, mister, what you have?” I told him camera, torch and fish. He said “Is that all?” I said yes and he said “OK, get back on bus.”

That was the end of that. They searched some other bags and off we went again, to Delhi.

24thApril:Back in Delhi Yet Again

By 9 AM it was very very hot on the bus. We were both aching, queasy and probably dehydrated.

We passed through a place called Bareilly. There was a modern looking place with some nice architecture. Suddenly, a little further on, we realised this was the dump of place where our other bus had broken down, on our way to Kathmandu. So that time we had sat there for many hours in the heat with just a tiny chai shack and our prayers and mosquitoes, whilst five minutes walk away was that lovely looking new place that probably had a restaurant.

Later we passed though Rampur, which was mentioned in the book ‘Staying On’.When we reached Delhiat about 6.30 PM. As we were getting off the coach, I looked under the seat to make sure we had not dropped anything. I found two newspaper wraps of weed, about ten grams or so. A nice surprise.

We took a rickshaw back to our regular hotel, Ashok Yatri Newas.

Back To The East, India, Nepal, Kashmir by Alun Buffry

New Book: Heads, Hats and Tall Tales, Travels in India, Nepal and Egypt: 3 Books in 1

On Amazon 

 Memoirs of my travels in India 1972, India, Nepal and Kashmir in 1981 and 1985, and Egypt in 1989, 1990 and 2010, along with a murder mystery and poems - includes the nitty-gritty from my previous books "All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972", "Back to the East, India, Nepal and Kashmir", and "Myhat in Egypt Through the Eyes of a God" - all in one book.

It's a very different world today.

Alun Buffry was born in Wales in 1950 and studied Chemistry at UEA. In 1972, he travelled overland to India, with little money or support, becoming ill in India and spending time in hospitals in Delhi, Kabul and Tehran. After returning to the UK later that year, he became a follower of Prem Rawat, then also known as Guru Maharaji, whom he still follows today. In 1991 he spent time in HMP for cannabis offences. After his release he started writing his books which contain personal accounts of his life experiences and travels, as well as poetry and science fiction..

In 1999 he co-founded the <a href="http://www.ccguide.org/lca/lca.php"Legalise Cannabis Alliance (LCA)</a> with Jack Girling, He stood for Parliament in 2001and local council elections in Norwich As well as many published letters, interviews and speeches, he spoke in a debate on cannabis legalisation at the Oxford Union and testified before A Select Committee in Parliament.

His other books are
"From Dot to Cleopatra", a concise history of Ancient Egypt, "The Effie Enigma, The Motherless Mothers" (Sci-fi), "Out of Joint, 20 Years of Campaigning for Cannabis 1991 - 2010", "My Piece of Peace£, "Time for Cannabis, The Prison Years", Inside my Hat and other Heads" (poetry with others), "Words of Weed and Wisdom" (poetry with others), "An Alliance-of Eyes" (poetry with others), "Damage and Humanity in Custody" with William D Hutchinson, "If Only Suomi" time-travelling romance", "Legalise and Utilise Commemorative Edition", "Cannabis: Challenging the Criminal Justice System" with Don Barnard.

<a href="http:/www.buffry.org.uk/abefreepublishing.html">SEE HERE</a>

As the Mind flies so the Bird walks to the mountain, OR Zen and the Art of Being Lazy

 

As the Mind flies so the Bird walks to the mountain, 

OR 

Zen and the Art of Being Lazy

(a postcard from Pokhara)

by Alun Buffry

Today, outside, the weather is hazy.

Stayed in all day, feeling quite lazy.

Where to go now, we often talk,

Then decide it's too far to walk.

Two hours there and two hours back,

"Let's stay here, and have a snack".

Just fifteen minutes up to Baba's.

and we know that there, food's better by far,

but here we eat, for our stomachs sake,

whatever's available as it's no effort to make.

"Well", I say, "I guess that's what

a holiday's for on a day that's hot."

"We're free, we don't have to do anything.

We can fly like a bird with a broken wing."

"How can that be, such a bird can't fly?"

"We can't do much either and here is why-

Cos - cor it's hot outside today,

and wherever we go we have to pay",

or "My leg's aching, stiff and weak,

and there's nothing in the bazaar we seek."

"Stomach queasy, or head aching?

Let's be another chillum a-making."

Then, "Let's go in a boat!"

"No, don't want to row!"

Or, "Let's climb that mountain, look at the snow!"

Oh, if only we could get up there and back,

Without having to walk on that mountain track.

If you close your eyes and lay on your bed,

you can go anywhere inside your head.

If you know how to master the Traveller's Trick,

You'll be there in an instant and come back so quick.

Conclusion: Taken from Back to the EAST: INDIA, NEPAL, KASHMIR by ALUN BUFFRY

 TAKEN FROM BACK TO THE EAST: INDIA, NEPAL, KASHMIR - Alun Buffry

 https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1916310796/ref=nosim?tag=webbooks05

CONCLUSION

I have made three trips to India. The first, pretty much out of the blue because when we left the UK we had intended to travel only as far a Turkey, in a van. There were four of us. None of us had very much money. I had left UK with just about £60, three weeks wages in those days. By the time we reached Antalya, in Turkey on the southern coast, I had just £20 left. We slept either in the van or in a tent until we reached Istanbul, where we rented cheap rooms. After that, we slept in Turkey in the open. From Turkey Keith and I took a boat eastwards, intending to travel to Beirut then back to Istanbul to meet up again with the others. On the boat, however, we were advised not to go to Beirut, so instead hitch-hiked across Syria into Iraq and on the Baghdad, then on by bus to Tehran. Then we headed east across Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and into India. The main problem for me was lack of money, so not being able to eat the food I should have been eating and staying in cheap and often dirty hotels. I ran out of money in Kabul, a dirty city but cheap and friendly. I sold a few items such as shirts and a compass and met a wealthy German guy called Helmutt, who helped us get to India, by plane from Lahore to Amritsar, one of the first passenger planes after the end of the Pakistan-India war. In Amritsar, we stayed for free at The golden Temple and I hitched a truck ride to Delhi.

I struggled on very little money, receiving just a few pounds in mail from the UK. Keith went on alone to Nepal. I became ill and spend a week in hospital (free) in Delhi, suffering from dysentery and hepatitis. I tried to travel back overland to the UK but became ill again and again, being hospitalised in Kabul and Tehran, from where I had to take a flight back to London, which my parents paid for. I was 22-years-old. Looking back, it’s easy to say I should have had more sense.

Yet looking back, it was a pretty dumb thing to do, although very educational and an experience that I valued. But it was hard work in the east, with such different people, customs, lifestyles, religions, languages, foodstuff, politics and the divisions of wealth and poverty.

That was a disastrous trip, not only did I and Keith became ill, but after we left Turkey my good friend John Sullivan was killed when the van crashed in Antalya; the other passenger, Mike, was seriously hurt, broken leg, broken ribs and bang on the head. I did not even find out what had happened until I was back in Kabul, months later, and by chance met somebody that I knew from Norwich, Pete Roscoe, who was on his way to India.

From the moment we had left the UK, everywhere we went, we managed to buy hash, in every country we passed through with the exceptions of Iraq and Iran. In Iran, we actually stayed on an opium farm run by a licensed farmer who also supplied it illegally. He was also the village policeman.

That tail is told in my book “All About My Hat The Hippy Trail, 1972”

What did I learn?

The variety of people in our world.
The generosity and care we received from people with so little.
That I had people that I could call on to help when all else failed.
To travel with enough money to get one through and get one home safely.
To take more care of health regarding hygiene and diet.

So my next trips to India, both by plane, recorded in this book, were 1981 and 1985.

By this time many places had already changed in respect of politics and freedom, and it was not so possible to travel overland.

1981 was a two week holiday. 1985 was a two month journey.

At both times I had more money, enough as I thought, being older and wiser, as I thought. Yet in both cases we spent our money faster than we had anticipated and had to write home for more.

Of course another problem that was easy to have forgotten, was that contact with family and friends back in the UK was not instant and easy. A phone call had to be booked a week in advance and one had to hope that the call would be answered. Otherwise, it meant booking another call. Also in those days not everyone in the UK had a phone in their house and nobody had a mobile (cell) phone.

We were lucky to have booked the holidays through travel companies that were able to help us out.

So I reiterate my advice, make sure one has enough funds and remember, cash and bankers cards can be lost or stolen (as can possessions and passports).

Delhi and Agra, had changed noticeably since 1972 since I had visited those cities.

They were more populated with more traffic, more noise, more dirt and more beggars and hasslers on the streets. Also more “richer” tourists. Kashmir was attracting people with money, staying on houseboats, often isolated and even protected from the people and poverty on the streets. Corruption, baksheesh, favouritism and bureaucracy were all more common – you will have read about our problems getting seated on planes that had been overbooked.

One of the favourite sayings of many people was “no problem”. Either they did not see a problem, did not see it as important or simply did not care. Yet paying baksheesh in advance would often avoid those problems. ‘Jimmy’, on the houseboat in Kashmir in 1985 never did post the letter that he had promised to post; that cost me a sitar.

Many Indians won’t say that they don’t know; instead they tell one what they think. An example was when we were told that our funds were at abank when they were not and had not even been sent.

I certainly would not advise anyone to drive a vehicle in India. The rule of the road everywhere was “Might is Right”. Walkers and people with carts pulled by animals got out of the way of cars, which got out of the way of buses, which got out of the way of trucks. Everyone was listening out for the loudest horns approaching them. Everyone in the cities seemed to drive using their horns more than indicators. Of course walkers and those with animal-pulled carts had no horns.

At one point in this book, you will see a photo taken from a rickshaw on a road in Delhi; you can see pedestrians, bicycles, rickshaws, cars, buses, trucks and even an elephant.

Of course food is another problem: you may have heard of “Delhi belly”.

The difference between western and India food and water, the way in which so much ghee is used, often the lack of hygiene, that does not cause serious problems for locals, almost inevitably causes some problems for westerners on short holidays. Often these problems are short-lived, being simply a matter of adjusting, but one does not want or need to spend a few days feeling ill especially on a short trip.

At all times, one needs to be aware of thieves and conmen on the streets. People, bot men and women, that will simply want to take advantage of you.

There are those that will simply try to pick your pocket or steal your bag; there are those that ask for money and won’t take no for an answer; there are those that will tell lies and try to mislead you for their own advantage; there are those that say they just want to practice their English and end up taking you to a shop where, albeit they are friendly and often the craftsmanship is fine. That includes foreigners as well as locals.

Of course those people are in the minority, thankfully, and the majority will be friendly and helpful or simply stand and stare. One certainly has to become used to people staring. Also some people don’t want their photographs taken and will ask for money or become very angry, whilst others will ask you to take a photograph of them with or without you.

The gap between wealth and poverty is sometimes atrocious and sickening. One can do nothing about it. In Delhi we made a quick visit to a five star hotel. Inside was spotless and elegant and a cup of tea cost about £5. Right outside the guarded gates that led to the garden from the street, was a tiny chai stall where a cup cost pennies and the street was littered with rubbish and rubble. One sees street food stalls selling hot and cold dished whilst donkey-pulled carts trundle by in the dust, dropping their crap as they go. Many people are unaware of hygiene or unable to do anything about it. Certainly it is essential to ensure that even bottled water ins restaurants is actually bottled water and not just from the tap, or to use purification tablets.

But all that in India. That is part of the experience. But just as it is wise to wear a safety helmet on a building site anywhere, one needs to take care and precautions.

April 17, 18th 1985: Pokhara, Nepal

 Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir   

 

17^th April

We decided to going to laze around that day. When we went into the garden we saw that the cloudy haze had cleared and behind the mountains we had seen were massive snow- packed peaks, the Fishtail Mountain, Machapuchare.

But we were both feeling short of energy and did not want to do much but we had some good grass to help us relax.

As the Mind flies so the Bird walks to the mountain, OR Zen and the Art of Being Lazy

(a postcard from Kathmandu)

by Alun Buffry

Today, outside, the weather is hazy.

Stayed in all day, feeling quite lazy.

Where to go now, we often talk,

Then decide it's too far to walk.

Two hours there and two hours back,

"Let's stay here, and have a snack".

Just fifteen minutes up to Baba's.

And we know that there, food's better by far,

But here we eat, for our stomachs sake,

Whatever's available as it's no effort to make.

"Well", I say, "I guess that's what

A holiday's for on a day that's hot."

"We're free, we don't have to do anything.

We can fly like a bird with a broken wing."

"How can that be, such a bird can't fly?"

"We can't do much either and here is why-

Cos - cor it's hot outside today,

And wherever we go we have to pay",

Or "My leg's aching, stiff and weak,

And there's nothing in the bazaar we seek."

"Stomach queasy, or head aching?

Let's be another chillum a-making."

Then, "Let's go in a boat!"

"No, don't want to row!"

Or, "Let's climb that mountain, look at the snow!"

Oh, if only we could get up there and back,

Without having to walk on that mountain track.

If you close your eyes and lay on your bed,

You can go anywhere inside your head.

If you know how to master the Traveller's Trick,

You'll be there in an instant and come back so quick.

But later we did go to see the “Cultural After Sunset Dancing” at the Hotel Fishtail Lodge near the lake, original Nepalese dancing troupe. We went across the lake on a wooden raft pulled by a yellow rope. An hour of dancing plus transport cost us £6 each but beers were £8. It was fun anyway and afterwards we went to Baba’s eating house for grilled fish and chips.

Annapurna For Sale

The calm serenity of Annapurna
Sweeps lazily over the town Pokhara;
People here have more time to smile,
Occasionally to come chat a while.
"Namaste, hello, good morning" they say
Then to business or change money.
Still, at least themselves they try to keep,
Yet their starting price is steep
"American, French, where you from?"
Like the opening line of a Nepalese song,
Which they teach in their local schools,
To say to tourists who like fools,
Are parted from their cash to soon,
As "Better prices before afternoon,
Or "First business I make today with you,
"So if you like one, why not buy two?"
Whether beggars or hasslers or honest men,
Want dollars, pounds or even yen.
As much as mountains beautiful
We all need a living our stomachs to fill.
"Here we are, no problem way of life,
"Is she your friend or is she wife?
"You want charas or marid-u-are-na,
"Opium, mushroom or brown sugar?"
"What you want buy?", so often heard,
As if just looking is absurd.
It would be good to walk one day,
Without these offers filling our way,
To absorb life's energy so obviously close,
But then that's part of it, I suppose. 

 

18^th April

We did nothing that day but eat, smoke and relax.

April 15 1985: Pokhara

  Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir  

15^th April: POKHARA

We got up at 5 AM to catch the 6.30 bus to Pokhara. It was a pleasant journey with beautiful scenery and often children on the side of the road. We passed four rivers, the Trishuli, the Marshyangdi and the Seti Gandaki, then a bridge over the Madi.

We passed many paddy fields. At Mugling, a small town, we saw the longest suspension bridge in Nepal over the Trishuli river. It looked like a lovely little town.

Pokhara itself seemed a quiet peaceful place. We stayed at the Ashok Guest House, with a great small garden, restaurant and beautiful view of the mountains. It cost us £2 a night for a double.

 

The lake was called Phewa.

In the afternoon we walked to the end of the village, along several roads, both tarmac and rubble, to rows of supply shops for trekkers, restaurants, cheap lodges and souvenir shops. We passed the Royal Palace but it did not look like there was much to see. We passed a small temple with a walled garden full of marijuana plants, more rows of stalls, passed the Guru Restaurant and the Anand Restaurant, then sat by the lake under a tree.

The only unpleasant things here were the flies and the young hasslers; the latter, at least, seemed to be doing well out of tourists, all shouting Namaste and trying to put a distance between us and what little money we have to spare.

April 6 - 11th, 1985: Kathmandu and Patan

  Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir 

6^th April

So we booked out of the Ashok Yatri Newas hotel. We had to get a special slip from reception to present to the security guard on the door. This took ten minutes. When we got to the door, the guard wasn’t there.

Next we took a rickshaw down to the Tourist Camp to board the “Deluxe India super coach” which looks like a wreck, to Kathmandu. The 4 PM departure time became 4.45, not too bad for India. At about 11 PM that night, the coach broke down.

7^th April

Very little sleep. It was now 8 AM and the coach had not moved.

PRAYING FOR A BUS

by

Alun Buffry

We left Delhi 4 P.M. today

To Kathmandu by bus

But midnight whilst still on the way

We stopped without a fuss.

It had been quite a bumpy ride

Through places without names

The seating wasn't very wide

No sleep, it was a shame.

Half day upon this bus we are

Frying in the heat,

This is no deluxe bus by far

It is a lying cheat.

Another bus soon coming here,

Well that is what we're told,

Exactly when is not made clear,

No Indian is that bold.

Then still we're waiting on the bus,

Later on that day,

A Foreign girl invited us

To come along and pray.

"We'll do some prayers and puja chants

And maybe sing a song,

If that don't work we'll maybe dance

And bus will come along."

The bus to Kathmandu we think

Will much improve our mood,

And on the way, perhaps a drink,

And then a plate of food.

"Oh bus! Oh bus! Show us your magic!

Come and save this day,

For this trip we're on is become quite tragic..."

Oh! Now we're on our way!

7^th April

I felt as if we’d worked out some bad Karma after such a bumpy ride, being at the back of the bus and constantly being tossed into the air, often hitting my head on the inside bus roof and hardly sleeping at all.

We reached the border with Nepal about 10 AM. We were still here at 5.30.

The Nepalese customs officers seemed to be looking through every Nepalese and Indians cases and bags, but now ours.

This place was called Sunauli. It was very dry and dusty. We had a good Thali meal for lunch; that’s a metal plate with small amounts of vegetable, rice, potatoes, yoghurt, chapati. It cost next to nothing.

We had now been approached by a group of boys and young teenagers; they were very friendly and seemed to think that Lesley was a film star. They provided us with information and directed us to a bank. One boy, named Sankara, just wanted his photo taken with Lesley.

There were a number of younger kids about, trying get us to change money or to sell us cold drinks or spicy cucumber slices; cucumber was one of the few fruits or vegetables that I detest.

The journey from the border was again very bumpy. In the future I will offer baksheesh if necessary for a seat up front. We stopped along the road at a couple of nameless places for chai. In one place there were jugs of water on the tables. They had bits floating in. I saw an old guy remove his scarf and use it as a filter.

Eventually we arrived in Kathmandu and were taken by bicycle rickshaw to our hotel. It’s about £5 a night for a double.

But there’s plenty of lovely bird song to lift the mood. As we looked down from our window we saw a small courtyard with what looks like a shrine with a small lingam, opposite the hotel. I had not noticed that before. But it’s no big surprise as there are shrines everywhere, many seemingly abandoned and uncared for.

The eyes we saw that are painted on some temples and other places are the all-seeing eyes of Lord Buddha, often incorporated into statues of Hindu gods in Nepal and seen as an incarnation of Vishnu, as were Rama and Krishna. There are quite a few temples and statues of Ganeesh, the elephant-headed god.

Ganeesh was not actually an elephant, but an elephant-headed humanoid, also known as Ganesha Ganapati and Vinayaka, was one of the best-known and most worshipped deities in the Hindu Pantheon. He was widely revered, more specifically, as the remover of obstacles; the patron of arts and sciences; and the deva of intellect and wisdom. As the god of beginnings, he was honoured at the start of rites and ceremonies. Ganesha was also invoked as patron of letters and learning during writing sessions.

Ganesha was the son of Shiva and Parvati and he was the brother of Karthikeya (or Subrahmanya), the god of war. He was created by his mother using earth which she moulded into the shape of a boy. As Shiva was away on his meditative wanderings, Parvati set her new son as guard while she bathed. Unexpectedly, Shiva returned home and, on finding the boy, and outraged at his impudence in claiming he was Parvati's son, Shiva called for his gang of demons, the bhutaganas, who fought ferociously with the boy. However, the youngster easily held his own against such fearsome adversaries and Vishnu was forced to intervene in the form of Maya and, whilst the boy was distracted by her beauty, the demons, or Shiva himself, lopped off his head. At the commotion, Parvati ran from her bath and remonstrated with Shiva for so summarily killing their son. Repentant, Shiva ordered a new head to be found for the boy and, as the first animal available was an elephant, so Ganesha gained a new head and became the most distinctive of the Hindu gods.

PATAN

Today we took a three-wheeler tempo to Patan, which cost us about 50 pence.

Patan, sometimes called Lalitpur, was on the other side of the Bagmati river; the name means City of Beauty. It was the second city in the Kathmandu valley, but nowadays it’s really just part of Kathmandu itself. It’s a Buddhist place. We get out of the tempo just outside the city gate, where we find the Royal cafe and stop for a samosa. Then we walk down some very smelly streets with open sewage and rubbish, to reach another square. On the way we visit a Buddhist monastery called Hiranya Varna Mahabihar, built in the twelfth century with its gold-plated roofs. Inside we see many prayer wheels and paintings of Buddha. It was a three-storey structure with Buddha images in the courtyard.

Nearby was the five-storey Shiva Temple called Kumbeshwar; the water in the courtyard was supposed to come from Gosain Kunda, a lake in Nepal’s national park at over 14,000 feet. It was considered as the abode of the Hindu deities Shiva and Gauri.

Patan’s Durbar Square was crowded with temples. The first seen in Bimsen Temple with a pillar at the front and a lion on top. Bhimsen was a character from the scripture called the Mahabharata and one of the strongest people that ever lived.

Next to the shiva temple are two stone elephants that guard the door.

Also in the Square are two statues, one of King Malla on the other of Narasimha, and another Shiva temple.

Down one side of the square was the Sundari Chow or beautiful yard.

 

Here we saw the royal bath and a small replica of the Krishna Temple. Inside the courtyard there were three statues of the gods Ganga and Jumna, standing or dancing on a crocodile and turtle.

Back outside in the street, we saw statues of Ganeesh, Narsimha and Hanuman.

 8^th April

The hotel and room are clean and we have a hot shower and room service. At 7 AM the room from the window facing westerly was magic, with several pagodas and stretching over the city to the distant mountains, with a very magical palace-looking building on the hill. The light was perfect.

At dawn the city wakes to the sounds of chanting and singing, bells and musical instruments, car horns and beeps.

Later though, it became hazy.

WAKING IN NEPAL

by

Alun Buffry

Outside

Is a cloudy sky, bright sun between, a slight breeze,

The sound of one man chanting.

And all elsewhere a few notes on some type of magic flute -

A strange cacophony of bells and horns and clattering.

No two horns seem to sound the same.

A mother engine? Sounds like a tractor - probably a bus!

Beep, beep, beep.

If I look out of the window I see tin rooftops,

Blimsen Tower, a glorious white standing before the blue;

And there - a temple, a pagoda, a woman sitting with washing lay out to dry,

Pigeons coo-ing, crows a-crowing, gardens growing,

Potted plants that people tend,

A bicycle rickshaw, a cow, a man with a bundle of wood on his head!

A cockerel crows as another motorbike passes 3 men trying to move a fridge,

Young girl, proud, staring into space,

Three boys rolling rubber wheels of glee amidst the rubble,

Whilst more look on admiringly.

Yet another dog - a tempo (three-wheeler) barking as two boys, hand-in-hand,

Laugh at a goat.

Cock crows, horns, far away mountainous silences

Surround the Monkey Temple,

Like a golden palace on the hill.

Behind - another hill.

Shame about the dusty haze.

We spent most of the day resting up, sitting on a hotel balcony recovering from that dreadful journey, but it’s feeling very good here. I reckoned we’d try to get some Nepalese hash tomorrow. We had spaghetti, rice pudding and a sad looking scone for dinner followed by an early night.

9^th April

Slept to the sound of barking dogs and awoke feeling exhausted and not too well.

Again we heard devotional songs, chanting and bells. We had to sort out tickets back to Delhi for a couple of weeks time and get a city map, then go exploring.

It was not at all like I had imagined it, not really like India at all. There was a lot of British stuff in the shops; cigarettes and rolling tobacco and skins, chocolates and sweets and alcohol, all cheap.

Nepal was a religiously tolerant country, with Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, Christians and other all living together seemingly in mutual respect and tolerance. Restaurants sell meat and fish meals as well as plenty of vegetarian.

We strolled about the Square and found Freak Street, where all the westerners, Americans and Australians go, famous for its hash shops. Ganga Road and the Post Office. I bought some cheap headphones, then we went back to Durbar Square.

 

Here there was a collection of many temples. As we walked, we saw the Shiva-Pavati Temple and from a window there people watching the street below. Some temples have erotic carvings of Tantric yoga, in particular the Jagnarth Temple. Some people believe that the carvings were done in praise of the goddess of lightning, whom, being a chaste virgin, would not strike a temple with such shocking carvings.

Behind that temple we saw the Kalo Bhairab, a massive stone image of the said-to-be terrifying Black Bharab. This was once used as a lie detector; suspected wrongdoers were forced to touch the feet of the god and swear innocence and anyone that told untruths would die. 

 The Palace was near here. Along the outside there are inscriptions in eighteen languages including English and French. It was established by King Malla in the seventeenth century. Legend says that milk will flow from the spout in the middle if anyone can read all the languages.

At the gate to the palace was a statue of Hanuman, the monkey-headed devotee of Rama. His face was obscured by red paint put on it by the faithful.

There was a police station on one side of the square and near here there are giant drums built in the eighteenth century.

Also near here lies the Kumari Devi Temple. This was three storeys high.

There was also another temple here, the Taleju Temple, dedicated to a family deity and built in the sixteenth century. At 115 feet in height, it was Durbar Square’s most magnificent temple stands at its north-eastern extremity but was not open to the public. Even for Hindus, admission was restricted; they can only visit it briefly during the annual Dasain festival. The 35m-high temple was built in 1564 by Mahendra Malla. Taleju Bhawani was originally a goddess from the south of India, but she became the titular deity, or royal goddess, of the Malla kings in the 14th century. The temple stands on a 12-stage plinth, dominating the Durbar Sq area. The eighth stage of the plinth forms a wall around the temple, in front of which are 12 miniature temples. Four more miniature temples stand inside the wall, which had four beautifully carved wide gates.

When we left the Square, we bought some reasonable but not excellent quality hash near the Swiss Travellers Restaurant and ate an excellent fish tandoori just down the road in the Other Room and Bar. Lesley had paratha and salad and we washed it down with brandy coffee – all for about six UK pounds.

It seemed like there are a few interesting places worth seeing not far from Kathmandu. A bus ride to Bhaktapur and a short trek to be considered.

10^th April

It rained during the night. That had freshened the air.

We walked to the Post Office again and then went to Bhimsem Tower also called Dharahara. This was a nine-storey, 203.0 foot tower at the centre of Sundhara. It was built in 1832 by Mukhtiyar, equivalent to a prime minister, under the commission of Gueen Lalit Tripurasundari. The tower had a spiral staircase containing 213 steps. The eighth floor had a circular balcony for observers that provided a panoramic view of the valley.

Then we went to near the park to see where the buses to Patan leave from.

So then we went to Tina Travel to confirm the bus back to Delhi on the 23^rd. Nothing being as simple as we thought, we were told that he would need to contact Ali to change the dates for our trip to Kashmir, so we could have a few more days here. We also booked bus tickets to Pokhara. The money we have was going fast but that cannot be helped. I would write back to Norwich for more money and get it sent to Delhi or Kashmir.

KATMANDONEIN
by

Alun Buffry

Now we've been in Kathmandu a while.
Is it just the highness makes us smile?
Is it the atmosphere makes us light?
Or the mountains within our sight?

Lesley reckons people here take bigger steps!
Maybe they are all secret tantric cult adepts?
Anyway you look at it, they're harpy
Even if their ways are sometimes crappy!

How come everything here seems so cheap?
Yet money seems so hard to keep?
Don't seem to spend a lot in any place
Just drifting round the city in a space.

Decided to stay here a few more days,
Smoking trying not to get out-hazed.
In the morning here if there is no sun,
Read a local Tantric yoga book, it could be fun.

11^th April

We went to bed early last night, before 10, and woke up at 6.30 feeling tired. I don’t think I have fully recovered from the bus ride from Delhi and maybe a bit dehydrated. Also I am becoming more irritated by flies.