Just another day in Kathmandu

On Wednesday, we met Shovina’s family at their house around 7:30 am after her brother Shuman caught our wandering taxi on his motor bike. We had coffee and snacks with her mother, three brothers, sister-in-law, and adorable, camera-shy niece. We had a nice conversation despite the fact that only her brothers speak English. They are a very sweet family, and they miss Shovina very much.

We got back to the apartment around 10:00 am, and immediately Ben received a phone call. It was Manika’s nephew, and he was eager and ready to meet us. Bibek, her nephew, is a college graduate who is waiting on test scores so that he can get a job; he doesn’t have much to do these days. We took a taxi to his house across from the airport. Upon entering, his first question was, “Have you eaten a meal?” which we are told is a typical greeting. We had not eaten, so Bibek’s mother (and Manika’s sister-in-law) was soon busy preparing lunch for us.

We sat down in the living room and began talking with Bibek, and after a few moments, his mom brought in banana lassis. The one warning we’ve seen in many guidebooks and websites is DO NOT DRINK THE LASSIS! We could not refuse it though; refusing anything you are offered is a major insult to your host. I drank it as fast as I could, but it still took me about 45 minutes to get it down. Sure enough, as soon as I had finished it my body rejected it, luckily into the toilet in the bathroom.

After about an hour of haphazard conversation with Bibek in between his trying to get the TV to work and reach his friends on his cell phone, lunch was ready. Our 18-inch diameter plates were piled high and wide with traditional Nepali dhal baat (rice, bean soop, curries, and something pickled). This particular variety included two of my least favorite foods: greens and cucumber. I finished most of my food—enough to satisfy my host, I hope—despite her efforts to pile on more portions. At the time it was a very significant accomplishment for me.

After lunch, Bibek and his friend took us to Bhaktapur, despite my suggestion that the Hindu cremation temple would be more convenient trip. On our way out, his mother asked us to stay the night, which we gracefully declined. Nepalis are definitely famous for their hospitality. We took motorcycles to Bhaktapur, and now I know why my mom always said she would kill Ben if he ever put me on one. I was terrified knowing that the only thing securing me to the vehicle was my death-grip on whatever protruding part I could find. At Bhaktapur, we paid an exorbitant amount to get into Durbar square, and then we paid even more to enter the art museum. While we were in the art museum, it started raining, so after viewing all of the art we waited out the rain. By the time the rain stopped, it was time to head back into town. I was a bit less than thrilled that we had wasted so much time and money, but I did learn one thing—you can’t say no to a Nepali (and often Ben Brenner).