Since my last post lots has happened. I reached Everest Base Camp, climbed to over 18,000 feet, slept 2,500 feet above the summit of Whitney, and survived the worlds most dangerous airport, Lukla. But more on that another time.
My Uncle Chris, who came to Nepal nearly 30 years ago, just returned for his second time to visit me. We had an amazing time. For three weeks we traveled around the country, celebrating Holi with my host family and heading out to the far west of Nepal to Bardia National Park where memories of Botswana were invoked as was saw elephants, a leopard, and more types of birds than I knew existed.
My last day with Chris was spent enjoying a
nationwide strike. We rented bicycles and for the first time since arriving to Nepal felt safe on the roads as a pedestrian, as the only traffic was the occasional government and tourist vehicle.
The following day I left Nepal for the first time since I arrived over nine months prior.
I was one of the few tourists on the plane ride over to Bangladesh. The rest of the flight was packed with members of the Bangladesh Army who were participants in a training in Nepal and Nepali migrant laborers who I met while waiting in line for check in.
Most of these men wore flimsy white brimmed caps with their contractor's name printed on them. The majority of these men (some I would be hard pressed to called boys) are traveling abroad to work primarily low-skill jobs on two year contracts. Over 1 in 3 families in Nepal rely of remittances and the airport everyday is packed with these men heading out. Most of them come from rural villages and have never flown on a plane, let alone seen one up close. Camera phones flew out and a tidal wave of people rushed to the window when a Pakistan International Airlines flight arrived.
It was easy to spot those that were making their first trip abroad and those that were returning. There was a mad dash to get onto the plane and some ran across the tarmac trying to get the best seats. Obviously plopping themselves down in first class, until flight attendants instructed them to go further down the plane, to where they took the first seats in coach. The concept of assigned seats was lost on some.
Throughout the flight, there was a constant and futile war being waged by the flight attendants to get these men to turn off their cellphones and stop taking pictures.
I was woken maybe 15 minutes into my hour long flight and to my surprise was handed a full meal.
American carriers take note.
The crowning moment came less than 5 minutes before landing, after several announcements had been made to return to the seats and the flight attendants had strapped themselves in. Realizing that one of the bathrooms still was occupied, a flight attendant rushed up to the bathroom banging on it vigorously; only after several bangs and what I can only image to be several choice words in Bengali, did a kid (maybe 18 years old) emerge hair soaking wet with a sheepish grin.
Although airplane protocol I would assume for most of the people that read this blog is second nature, it is not for everyone and it was interesting (to say the least) to watch the Nepalis adapt to these new experiences.
I left one strike only to find another. Bangladesh has regular nationwide protest/elections - the date still to be determined for upcoming elections. To put it simply, these have put a damper on travel, but I have managed to see some cool things so far.
Yesterday was Bangladeshi New Years and this is how we celebrated:
At New Years getting interviewed.
Alyssa, Onik, and I
Meet the vuvuzelas Asian cousin....
Maisoon, Alyssa, Onik, and myself right before on stint on national telivision
They closed this street in front of parliament the previous night and the entire road for several km was covered with these cool paintings.
Floats from the celebration
Some photos from Alyssa and my boat trip through one of the world's busiest ports, Sadarghat:
