Far Away

Things were not looking good.

Suraj, the driver from my hotel was waiting for me outside the arrivals terminal at Kathmandu airport.

"Unfortunately we can not go to the hotel just now. They're begun throwing rocks at the cars."

"They" are crowds of students protesting a recent 50% increase in bus fares. A transportation strike has been in effect for about a week, with only private vehicles allowed on the roads. This, along with radical Maoist rebels gaining more political control of the government, has thrown the already troubled country of Nepal - one of the world's poorest - into a state of near anarchy.

No one was leaving the airport except a string of white UN Peacekeeping SUVs.

My first thought was, "Can I make it onto the return flight to Bangkok today?"

My second thought was... stay.

(Actually, my second thought was, "please god don't ever make me have to fly somewhere on Yeti Airlines." Is there also a Saskwatch Airlines somewhere?)

"We must wait here for some time because right now it's not safe. It's just bad luck, I'm afraid," Suraj said. "Would you like some tea?"

The various hotel van drivers, rickshaw drivers, their cousins, uncles and friends were all on cellphones, communicating amongst each other which roads might and might not be safe. After about an hour it was determined that we would attempt the drive to the hotel, and if things... turned bad... we would turn around and return.

We made the short drive to the hotel without incident. Perhaps the homemade 'TOURISTS ONLY' sign in the van window protected us.

I didn't travel to the other side of the world to sit in a hotel room, so later that afternoon I walked to the nearby village of Boudha, home to one of the world's largest Tibetan exile communities. Along the muddy dirt paths, children were riding bikes, mothers in traditional saris were walking with babies, shopkeepers were selling fresh vegetables and handmade metalworks.

In the center of Boudha is the Boudhanath Stupa, one of the largest in the world and one of Nepal's most important Buddhist sites. Every afternoon beginning around 5:00, the local villagers, many in traditional Tibetan dress, and red-robed monks from the areas' several monasteries begin circumambulating the stupa.

Eventually hundreds of people are walking clockwise again and again around the giant monument: chanting, spinning prayer wheels, or just chatting with friends and neighbors. It's a ritual that is repeated nightly and it's powerful, magical and also quite charming.

Thunderclouds rolled in and I walked away from the crowds and back towards the hotel.

"I am so far away right now," I thought. And I knew I made the right decision to stay in Nepal.