Jiri – Gateway to Mount Everest

Jiri, Nepal
Photo by Krish Dulal

Last week, our guest blogger, Tracy Tyson, wrote about her road trip from Suspa to Jiri, Nepal. This week, she continues the adventure with an account of her visit to the town and surrounding area at the foot of Mount Everest. You can read Part I here.

Now that I’d reached Jiri, I decided there was no rush in finding a room. Maybe it was because after six months among the Nepalis I had absorbed some of their “things-always-work-out-somehow-in-the-end-so-why-stress-yourself?” attitude.

Fifteen minutes later, a man approached and handed me a business card for his guesthouse. We set off to take a look at the rooms. The place was nice, but when he told me the price—100 rupees—I nearly fell over. Not because the amount was a lot but because it was so little (not even $1.50). Sometimes you can bargain the cost of a room down a bit, but I've never been given such a cheap quote initially.

We’d spoken Nepali on the walk to the guesthouse, so maybe he decided to give me a discount for attempting the language. In Kathmandu, I paid four times as much for a room that wasn't nearly as comfortable.

Because I was in no rush, I decided to check out a few other places before committing myself. The next guesthouse was even nicer, and the room cost only 50 rupees. Once again, I’d spoken Nepali with the owner. Too bad my efforts to speak the language don't have the same effect on Kathmandu landlords.

Stupa in Jiri
Photo by Sundar1

All the rooms in the second guesthouse were named after Nepali mountains, and mine was called Everest, which is the closest I ever got to the real thing on this trip to Nepal. Fortunately the name didn't reflect the room's elevation and I only had to climb two flights of stairs to get to it. Leaving my backpack in my new room, I decided to take a walk while there was still daylight.

My first stop was a huge stupa, a shrine shaped like an upside-down bowl with a steeple-shaped peak on top. The bowl part is usually painted white, and the top of the peak is gold. The lower part is white and has four sides, at least two of which display a pair of painted eyes that represent the Buddha’s all-seeing gaze. Between the eyes there's a long squiggle that resembles a nose, although it's actually the symbol for the number 1. I'm pretty sure it represents the unity of all things, a belief central to Buddhism. Stupas come in all sizes. Some are small, just a few feet in diameter and others are quite large and can be over 100 feet. The Jiri stupa is around 30 to 40 feet in diameter.

After sitting by the stupa for a bit, I climbed to the top of a nearby hill, mounting a staircase to the summit. On the way down, I followed a path that led through an evergreen forest clinging to the side of the hill. After a 45-minute walk through a lovely landscape, I came to a small stream with a huge yellow raspberry bush growing on its banks. Luckily, it stood on the side of a hill, so I could climb up behind it in order to reach those high-placed berries. I scratched my arms up getting to them, but the snack was worth every thorn prick.

Main street in Jiri
Photo by Sundar1

The berries did little to take the edge of the appetite I’d worked up on the hike, so I returned to the guesthouse for some dinner. While perusing the menu, I noticed an “Other Items” heading, which contained “Toilet Paper” for 40 Rupees and “Hot Shower” for 50 Rupees. I wondered how you got a hot shower on a plate, but the fact that hot water cost as much as the room explained why I'd found only cold water in the shower earlier in the day. After a tasty dinner of momos (a Tibetan dumpling) and vegetable thukpa (a Tibetan noodle soup), I hit the hay so I could catch the early bus for the trip home.

I may never have gotten closer to Mount Everest than the name on my hotel room, but the moments of contemplation at the Buddhist stupa, followed by a comfortable hike through the forest and a Tibetan meal at the end of the day, made for a memorable experience.

The Road to Jiri

Road in Nepal, north of Kathmandu
Photo by U.S. Dept. of Agriculture

Alli is off for a couple of weeks, so we’re running another Nepalese adventure by Tracy Tyson, an occasional guest on the blog. Tracy is an American educator living in Nepal, where she trains teachers and helps schools set up Montessori programs. In a two-part travelogue, she describes a trip to Jiri, a village in the northeastern part of the country.

In early May, we had a two-day holiday and I was feeling a bit stir-crazy in Suspa, the village where I lived, so I decided to go to the town of Jiri. Once a popular departure point for climbing Mount Everest, Juri fell somewhat out of favor during the Maoist insurgency (1996—2006), and even though the insurgency is over, it still hasn't regained its former popularity. During the insurgency, trekkers hiking from Jiri to Lukla (the next large town on the way to Everest) would often run into groups of Maoists (or even non-Maoists taking advantage of the political instability) who insisted on a “donation” and often threatened to take it by force if it wasn't given freely. Needless to say, the trekkers rapidly began avoiding Jiri and environs.

I set off early in the morning to walk up to Charikot. It had been getting hot pretty early in the day as we headed into the Nepali summer, and I wasn’t relishing the idea of sitting on top of the bus in the sweltering heat. An hour and a half later, as I approached Charikot, it occurred to me that the bus hadn't passed me on the road yet. In fact, I hadn't seen any vehicles at all so far. At first I considered the possibility that road construction was holding up the traffic, but the closer I got to Charikot, the more I started to think that there was probably some kind of transportation bandh, or strike.

Bandhs of various kinds frequently occur in Nepal. Sometimes the strike only shuts down transportation or closes the schools. Other times, it brings absolutely everything to a standstill.

Strikes can occur in just one area or they can affect the whole country. Someone told me that the idea for these strikes came from the Maoists, who used them to shut down the country in order to put pressure on the government during the insurgency. Later, the situation got out of control, with people calling for strikes on a whim for no discernible reason. However, that might just be a nasty rumor started by someone who supported the monarchy. Who knows? When a group has a grievance that they don't feel is being properly addressed by the government, they usually call for a strike, but at times no one knows why the strike is being held.

Sure enough, when I arrived in Charikot there wasn't a bus in sight. I waited for 15 minutes to see if the lack of buses was some kind of temporary fluke, but all I saw on the road were a few trucks and motorcycles. Eventually I decided to ask the policeman at the traffic checkpoint if I was actually at the correct spot in the road to catch the bus. He told me that I was but that none of them were running that day. Although he explained why, my Nepali wasn't good enough to understand the reason. Then he asked the driver of a truck that had stopped at the checkpoint where he was going.

“Jiri,” the driver replied, and the policeman asked me if I wanted to ride along. I had no desire to walk back to Suspa and sit in my room for the next two days, so I accepted the offer.

Upon climbing into the truck’s cab, I noticed it already held a few people who’d been waiting at the bus stop earlier. Apparently, hitching a ride under such circumstances is fairly common. It was a tight squeeze in the cab but a lot more comfortable than the bus would have been, with padded seats and a great view out the window. At one point, a huge peacock flew across the road right in front of the truck and landed in a tree on the opposite side. It was gorgeous!

Gaurishankar, viewed from near Jiri
Photo by Sundar1

A couple of the passengers were teachers going to a conference in a town on the way to Jiri. We chatted for a bit in English, and when they got out, they were replaced by a family—mom, dad and a toddler. Nature particularly abhors a vacuum in Nepal!

With the truck loaded down and a very curvy road, we made top speeds of no more than 30 or 35 miles per hour—usually far less. At that pace, it took us four hours to reach Jiri.

Fifty years ago, Swiss contractors built the road leading to Jiri, and the town is often dubbed “Little Switzerland.” But whoever christened it with that moniker has apparently never been to Switzerland! The style of architecture is typically Nepali, although the town’s layout has a bit more order and organization to it than you usually find in small Nepali villages. Maybe that's what qualifies it as Swiss.

A single road runs through the town with lots of hotels and guesthouses on either side—tourism plays a major role in the local economy. One of Jiri’s claims to fame is a cheese factory, which sounds very Swiss, but the cheese is made from yak milk, which doesn't sound Swiss at all.

After arriving in Jiri, the truck parked on the main road and everyone got out of the cab. I set out to explore the town, get acquainted with the terrain, and scout out a good place to stay for the night.

Check back next week for the second half of Tracy’s adventures in Jiri.

Off The Beaten Track: The Spirit of Christmas - Nepal-Style

This week we have another adventure from Tracy Tyson, an American educator living in Nepal, where she trains teachers and helps schools set up Montessori programs. She follows up her account of a Tibetan wedding in Kathmandu with a seasonal tale for the holidays.

A few years ago, I made the trek from Charikot, where I was then living, to Kathmandu just in time for the Christmas. I spent the holiday with some friends – a Nepali family and a couple of Americans who lived with them. In an effort to be non-partisan toward any religion, now that Nepal is no longer a Hindu kingdom, the new government declared Christmas and Eid (which marks the end of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan) national holidays, so schools and government offices are closed during these times. This declaration is a great example of what I love about Nepal – a Maoist government that celebrates two religious holidays! I guess they don't agree with Mao's statement about religion being poison!

My friends cut a branch off an evergreen tree in their yard and decorated it. Although it didn't quite have the desired conical Christmas tree shape, the gesture was in the spirit of the holiday. Everyone got a present – mine was a jar of peanut butter (all natural and "made by handicapped persons" here in Kathmandu, according to the label). The kids in the family squealed with delight at their gifts – and they were teenagers!

Christmas dinner turned out to be an interesting Nepali/American mix. For starters we had chaat, a crispy, spicy, Indian-style party mix. Dinner began with a first course of dal-bhat (rice and lentil soup), plus a very hot pickle made from potatoes. This was followed by meat for the meat-eaters and a tasty veggie curry for the vegetarians. And then for dessert – fruitcake! I don't really like fruitcake, but fortunately you can't get disgusting things here like the yucky dried fruit they put in fruitcake, so the cake just had raisins and nuts, and I actually liked it.

Later, as I made my way home, an older man offered me his seat on the bus. I tried to tell him in my primitive Nepali that I was fine standing, but he insisted. Then he said "Merry....." and turned to his neighbor for help on how to complete the rest of the phrase. "Chreesmus," he subsequently added, holding his hands held in the prayer-like position in front of his chest the way the people here do when they greet each other.

This experience reminded me that one thing I love about Nepal is all the little daily kindnesses people show me here! They are such warm, genuine people. When they smile at you it comes straight from the heart.

Off the Beaten Track: A Tibetan Wedding in Kathmandu

Tibetan Bride

Tracy Tyson is an American educator living in Nepal, where she trains teachers and helps schools set up Montessori programs. Several years ago, while living in a village near Charikot, she attended a Tibetan wedding on a trip to Kathmandu. This is her account of that experience.

Not long ago, a Tibetan friend in Kathmandu was preparing for her daughter’s wedding and invited me to the festivities, which were to take place at her house. I leaped at the chance to experience this fascinating tradition.

On arrival, my hosts escorted me into the living room, where I was shortly joined by a group of older Tibetans. The women sat cross-legged on the floor, while the men took the couches that stood about the room. Most of these men carried a bottle of either beer or whiskey, which they set down on a low table near one of the couches.

One man, who seemed to be officiating, took up position behind an urn where burning incense scented the air, and a couple of elderly men joined him, one on either side. On the wall behind them hung a poster of Avril Lavigne in a rather Goth outfit. What an image!

After the hosts handed beer around, a toast was made, and everyone received an honorary white scarf, draped around their necks. Next, the men started chanting, much like in a Tibetan monastery, and then the women sang something in response. They repeated this ritual several times.

When they’d finished, the "master of ceremonies" picked up a long leaf, dipped it into an urn that held some kind of liquid, and flicked the leaf toward the guests sitting around the room. He dipped the leaf back in the liquid and put a few drops of it in each person's palm. We all licked the liquid off our palms and smacked our lips with a loud flourish! (It tasted a bit like oil with lemon.)

Next, everyone received a fistful of rice and, after a few words from the MC, threw a bit of rice into the air and shouted "ho!". This ritual repeated three times, and then it was back to the chanting and singing. Later, I learned that the older Tibetans who’d joined me in the living room were elder relatives of the bride and groom, and by licking the liquid and throwing the rice, they were indicating that they had no objections to the match.

Khapsey Wedding Pastries

At one point, the bride and groom came in the room to receive blessings from the assembled elders. The bride wore a traditional Tibetan dress (that wraparound style you see in the movies) and had a woolen shawl draped around her shoulders. Her hair fell down her back in a long braid with a red ribbon interwoven at the end. The groom had on a Nepali-style suit with narrow-legged pants and a suit jacket, and on his head he wore a light-pink turban!

After the marriage ceremony came the reception, held at a Tibetan temple located a 15-minute bus ride from my friend’s house. Here the guests enjoyed course after course of food, along with plenty of beer. The bride and groom sat behind a table at the head of the room, with around 150 guests assembled cross-legged at low tables on the floor.

Interestingly, the bride's mother, my friend, sat on the main floor along with all the other guests and not at the dais with the groom’s relatives (the bride's father lived in the U.S. and wasn't able to attend the wedding). So I took a spot on the floor beside her. She understood little English, and I didn't know the right kind of Nepali to ask questions about what was going on, so the meaning of a lot of what I saw remains a mystery to me! But I did notice an unopened bottle of beer up on the dais with a white scarf draped around its neck, and I wondered if blessing your beer prevented hangovers!

Tibetan Butter Tea

After the first course of the meal, the guests stood up table by table and formed a line. Then each guest approached the bride and groom and draped a white scarf around each of them. They also deposited an envelope filled with money into a big bowl that stood in front of the newlyweds and was decorated with, you guessed it, another big white scarf!

Given the huge number of guests, this took quite a while and periodically, when the volume of the scarves around the necks of the bride and groom threatened to swallow their heads, they were removed to make room for more. (The scarves, not the heads!) The newlyweds apparently received quite a substantial fund to start their married life with!