Resisting the urge to ask for an explanation during a moment of culture shock ultimately gave me more answers.
The day started out as a pretty regular Tuesday.
I find having some sort of routine helps get me settled into somewhere new. So, on my second morning in Kathmandu, after rolling out of bed and braving a quick cold shower, I retraced my steps back to the cafe I’d stumbled upon the day before. There would be plenty of time to try out somewhere new, eventually – but for now, it was nice to have something familiar.
Sitting by a window, coffee in hand, I watched on as the city got into its usual swing. Store owners set up their goods on display, taxis tooted their way through the one-lane streets and other travellers hunted for their own cuppa.
I’d spent yesterday shaking off the travel nerves and getting familiar with the buzzing, dusty streets of Thamel – the typically chaotic tourist bubble neighbourhood. Tomorrow would be day one of my Everest Base Camp Trek. This left today as my chance to experience a bit of everyday life in Nepal’s capital city – I was free to do a little bit of whatever.
Little did I know that that little bit of whatever was about to leave a lasting impression.
An eye-opening Urban Adventure
Nepali people are a diverse bunch – over 30 different ethnic groups call the country home, and with them comes a range of religious beliefs. Hinduism has the largest following, then Buddhism, with Christianity, Islam and a variety of traditional belief systems sprinkled about as well.
To get a real sense of that variety, I needed to get out of Thamel. And so, on something of a whim, I signed up for Intrepid’s Spiritual Nepal Experience Urban Adventure, to get acquainted with a different side of the city and hear stories from local Urban Adventures guide, Yogesh (AKA Yogi).
After joining my two companions and me at our meeting point, Yogi whisked us out of Thamel and on to our first stop: Boudhanath, a Buddhist stupa. In contrast to the busy streets around it, here people calmly circled the staggering structure clockwise in an act of divine devotion. Everything felt serene. But the painters on wobbly bamboo scaffolding who were touching up the buildings encircling the stupa reminded us that, in restless Kathmandu, life still goes on – even in places of worship.
At our next stop, Pashupatinath, a Hindu temple, thousands of people wandered the sprawling temple grounds as sadhus watched quietly on. Non-Hindus aren’t permitted into the main temple courtyard, so we craned our necks from the outside before joining the masses to explore the rest of the complex.
Behind the temple lies the Bagmati River. Holy to both Hindus and Buddhists, its waters flow from the Himalayas down into the Ganges in India. It’s a source of life for millions and a place to return to at life’s end.
A matter of life and death
I smelt the flames before I saw them.
Then, my eyes followed the rising smoke back to its source. The cremations along the banks of the Bagmati are a well-known part of proceedings at Pashupatinath – but the sight of multiple funeral pyres burning out in the open, mere metres separating one group of mourners from the next, still gave me pause.
Maybe less pause than what was happening on the other side of the river, though.
Back in Melbourne, where I call home, temples aren’t usually the first port of call for a date. Nor, typically, the second. Which is why, at first, I assumed the crowds gathering across the Bagmati were there to pay their respects. The cremations were an engrossing experience for me, so it must’ve been for them too, right?
It was Yogi who leaned over, tapped my shoulder and said, ‘Do you smell that? They’re smoking weed.’
Yogi kept on pointing out the various groups – kids kicking about, troublemakers scurrying off around corners to get away from the crowd and couples cosying up in the evening cold. You couldn’t have scripted a scene plucked straight from a Hollywood high school drama any better.
Except, you know, for the cremations.
In theory, the two should clash. The youthful energy of friends catching up on a public holiday, and the sorrow of family members saying their farewells to a loved one. The first-date desire to put on a good first impression, to spark a touch of romance and avoid any awkward moments, and someone being prepared for cremation in direct eyeline.
It was confusing and something I couldn’t quite get my head around as a first-time traveller to Nepal. At the time, the term ‘culture shock’ didn’t spring to mind – it didn’t seem to do the situation justice. To use the phrase very literally, it was a matter of life and death.
But as much as I wanted to ask Yogi why the people here didn’t seem phased about what was happening on the other side of the river, the question never came out. Looking over at the others I was there with gave me some reassurance – they couldn’t take their eyes off the scene either.
Watch and learn
I knew Yogi would’ve been happy to field any and all questions, as he had throughout the day – but, in this scenario, I didn’t want to imply that there was anything to get in the first place. Sure, dealing with death is something that typically happens behind closed doors back home, in Australia – but why not have it out in the open? Why not treat it as what it is, a part of everyday life?
All while, just in front of me, the temple’s priests were conducting their nightly aarati ritual, which was part of the reason the crowd had gathered. Circling with their lanterns, they were chanting mantras and offering prayers to Hindu deities, as I went round and round in my head.
There was a valuable lesson in just watching, I think. As internally chaotic as the moment was, I didn’t want to disturb the apparent outer ordinariness of it all. Rather than making it any clearer, peppering Yogi with ‘whys’ would’ve just taken me further away from the moment. Instead of an experience being experienced, it would’ve made the whole thing something I either understood or didn’t.
A big draw of travel is learning about other ways of doing things and opening yourself up to the unfamiliar. In that moment, that’s exactly what was happening. Yes, I was intrigued by the contrast between the cremations and the chatting crowds, but why should it be up to someone else to make sense of it for me, rather than my own responsibility to wonder ‘well, why not’?
Taking a step back from my own thoughts allowed me to see the scene more clearly. I was learning that acceptance can exist without understanding – that what was playing out in front of me was simply one way to go through life in this world, as valid and ‘normal’ as any other.
Just as my day had started out as a pretty regular Tuesday, for the people at Pashupatinath, that’s how it was ending too.
For your own thought-provoking travel, check out Intrepid’s Spiritual Nepal Experience Urban Adventure.
