Like Thailand, Nepal is an intensely religious country but Hinduism rather than Buddhism, predominates. It came from India where its tenets had taken root. Asoka the Great introduced Buddhism not long before he is said to have brought it to Thailand. Rivers are important to both religions. In Nepal the Bagmati river which flows through the Kathmandu valley is as sacred to the Nepalese as is the Ganges to their Indian neighbors. With its firm belief in peaceful coexistence, Buddhism has spread widely in the Western world. The popularity of yoga has made Hinduism more open and has awakened interest in its practices but its belief in various gods and goddesses keep much of it alien and shrouded in mystery.
We flew out of Chiang Mai in the morning, reaching Kathmandu early in the afternoon. There had been glimpses of the distant Himalayas and we grown-ups were as excited as teen-agers. Our tour director, Anna suggested that we start sight-seeing immediately and there was no argument. We plunked our luggage down in our hotel rooms and and joined her in the bus. Durbar Square in the heart of the city was our goal. This place was jammed with ancient, imposing temples and palaces all crowded together in a relatively small area. Architecturally, these were not at all like their Thai counterparts. There were more straight lines and angles with fewer curves. This is a Photobucket picture:
Near the Square we saw the palace of the Kumari Devi, the living goddess. A pre-teen, as carefully selected as the Dalai Lama, she is revered by Hindus. She is so sacred that her feet must not touch the pavement, so she is carried through Kathmandu on state occasions. Her godesshood is brief. When she turns sixteen or so, a successor is chosen and she returns to ordinary life--probably spoiled by the years of pampering. The local guide led us to Freak Street, the hippie hang-out and haven of the late sixties and the seventies. It was almost twilight as We walked back to our hotel, stopping along the way to peer into small shrines. On a niche in one of these, on a bed of straw, I saw a family of small animals--a mother cat and kittens?--in the dim light I couldn't identify it but it was cozily settled.
Anna prepared us for next day's trip to Tiger Tops Jungle Lodge, a hundred or so miles miles southwest of Kathmandu in the Royal Chitwan National Park.
We could take only hand luggage for our two nights stay. Larger pieces could be left at the hotel to which we'd return. "This will be different", she promised, "from anything you've done before". It was an understatement. We flew to the entrance in a funny plane whose wingspread looked equal to its body. Besides Anna and the twelve of us, there were about thirty other passengers. A magnificent Lunch was waiting for us on outdoor tables when we landed. Then we were en route, a half dozen at a time, by jeep to the edge of a river and were paddled across. Several elephants were on the other side. We climbed a ladder to a platform and boarded the waiting animals, four people on each howdah. Off we went along a dusty trail under magnificent trees full of jabbering monkeys who swung like acrobats from high branches. We found the Lodge to consist of two large two-story simple wooden buildings that blended into the background.
At the side of one was another platform with a ladder so we scrambled down from our mounts. As soon as bags were deposited, we could explore and Anna called us to to the nearby river where an elephant was having its beauty bath. An English-speaking Chinese family, parents and pre-teen boy and girl twins, were among our fellow visitors. The kids heard Anna's call and scampered down to the water. By the time I got there, they were busily scrubbing the elephant. Beside them Anna, her slacks rolled up, was hard at work too. The mahout was beaming and if elephants could purr, this one must have been doing just that. Everyone concerned was having a lovely time.
On the hill above the river was a shelter where a very old elephant, apparently retired from duty, snoozed in the late afternoon sun. From time to time he lazily stretched his trunk, reached for a whiskbroom on a bench near him and shooed away flies.
Anyone who wanted another ride could go looking for tigers or rhinos before dinner. Ruth, the other person traveling as a single in our group, was as eager as I was for this adventure so the two of us with the mahout set off through the jungle in the gathering dusk. The monkeys had turned in for the night and there was absolute silence, an awe-inspiring quiet. The big feet beneath us padded soundlessly along the path. Suddenly after about twenty minutes the mahout turned and pointed with a stick to a clearing forty feet away. A bulky white rhinoceros was ambling through it. On we went, through the immense stillness until at last we came to the river. Across the way were the glimmering lights of the lodge welcoming us back. There had been no tiger but it had been an unique experience.
The lights, I learned, were provided by solar energy as there is no conventional electricity in this national park. Behind each tiny lamp in the rooms a piece of aluminum was nailed to the wall as a simple way of augmenting the light. We dined in a wide, domed room and went to bed early. Tomorrow we were to go on a mini-safari in search of leopards, tigers, or another rhino. We were to start at five o'clock, just before sunrise. Elephants and monkeys we were sure to see.