At the gates of the world’s greatest valley, a horde.

 

 

 

I’ve had some time now after Nepal; time has done the work it does. Combing back through the pictures I’m struck by how beautiful it all looks. I don’t know that I ever could have gotten used to the place looking the way I do, but now from the pictures I see something vividly that was hard to appreciate in the time I was there. Please read what follows as something that I’ll coin “snark-therapy”, that is: the act of self-soothing by being a bit snippy. Some of what happened was serious, some was just stupid. I hope it’s as funny for you as it feels to me now. I finally have pictures sorted and posts written and I will update these more regularly over then next week. 

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At the gates of the world’s greatest valley, a horde.

My overwhelming feeling in Nepal is that of being a coin-spitting carnival-machine with eyes. I am a wallet with a haircut inside a puzzle box opened only by relentless nagging and poking. It is dehumanizing and my lack-of-god I hate it. A travel guide tells me to embrace it, it’s just a game. My hotel manager says it’s not. Covid changed everything. It’s straight-up middle-class desperation now. And I feel that, I do. But I am no one’s savior, certainly not financially. My wallet is the least impressive thing about me which is saying something.

It’s such a massive culture shock coming from Thailand where they just don’t hassle like this, or when it happens it’s barely noticeable. Men in Nepal actually look like zombies in a TV show. When they smell blood their heads snap and lock onto the meat, they move from the shadows in a perfectly straight line without concern for oncoming traffic, and are not even a little deterred by body language or direct denial. “Hello sir, how are you my friend? where are you from sir? how are you liking Nepal sir? Taxi sir? Tour sir?” Rapid fire and nearly verbatim, like there was a class. There is no less effective way to market to me than the pretend-friend aggro-pitch and I can’t be the only one. And please believe me that I would not write this next observation if it wasn’t expressed or confirmed for me by two Nepali friends I made. That is: most Nepali men harbor open resentful prejudice against white men while at the same time revering white women and the two feelings are deeply related. So hearing these sentiments of “Sir,” and “Friend,” barked at me from the shadows while the unmistakable look of contempt glowed in the eye just behind the phrase; it is among the most unwelcome I’ve ever felt in a place.  

In my limited experience of travel: the more conservative a place is, the more transactional it is in proportion. Erika is in Egypt now and she says it’s a whole ‘nother tier. She’s seen women lead through the streets in chains and even the educated men working the hotels look at her like meat. Religious conservatism is cancer to civilized society. A not-insignificant portion of my trip has been something like a spiritual awakening and I hold fast to the idea that we should cut religious dogmatism, especially nationalistic and political dogmatism the fuck out of our world like the metastasizing threat that it is. Fuck your holy book. Read that shit in your bedroom if you must and don’t let it touch anything else. 

Nepal is somewhere in the middle of the religious conservatism spectrum which is so broad a statement as to be nearly worthless. What is obvious is that: religion is exceptionally important here, Hinduism enjoys extraordinary dominance, but there are Buddhists and a rapidly expanding number of Muslims... as Muslims do. What I can say is that whatever form of Hinduism dominates the greater political and social landscape, it is old and conservative, mystical and superstitious, and by force or coercion staying just the way it is. 

Ideas are only dangerous when they’re backed with violence. If your religious beliefs come with an enforcement arm, your beliefs are a threat to everyone. Doubly so when they are unconcerned with reality, or evidence, or rationality.

Thailand is transactional, but it’s clearly stated and separate from other parts of socializing. In Nepal the transaction is woven into the fabric of every.single.interaction. It is impossible to tell who is trying to talk to you and who is trying to game you. And honestly I’ve only met one person who I’m sure wasn’t trying to game me. Everyday is a hustle has become, every thing is a hustle. In each interaction there are hidden fees, surprise changes in the agreement, unrequested additions, syrupy sweet sycophantic servitude in a gross pantomime of royal worship played for tips. It all made my stomach turn again and again. I hated what it did to me. As a persistent illness took what was left of my ability to feign tolerant smiles and keep requests to leave me the fuck alone polite I withered into a angry creature swatting mosquitos that were sometimes imaginary. I became a version of myself that looking back feels shameful, but at it’s core was just protective. There were times I wasn’t safe.

Admittedly I come to Nepal off of some frustrating travel experiences. The state I was in after that travel contributed significantly to my introduction to Nepal. What happened at my first hotel was a direct result of being Jet-lagged and exhausted; I made some mistakes that acted like catalyst for the very worst instincts of an entire neighborhood of young men and it went from uncomfortable to scary.

In my entire 3ish weeks in Nepal I only took my camera out for two days, a religious festival and a temple of monkeys where I was more confident people would leave me alone; one: because Nepali press were around and they had big cameras too, and two: because everyone seemed much more engaged in celebrating than hunting. The remainder of my time in Nepal a camera was just another thing that marked me as a target. I eventually learned how to reduce the overly tense interactions with Nepali men, but there is no way to make it stop and after an honest to goodness threat to my life in the streets and then again at a hostel, and an illness that took most of my breath for days, I couldn’t stand it anymore and it was time to leave.

I did find a few uncommonly beautiful people in Nepal, because uncommonly beautiful people are a universal phenomenon. I feel badly speaking so ill of their home, but two of them are those who confirmed what I was sensing in the streets. I think they know their city has these issues. Nepali people aren’t nationalistic in the same way Thai people are. Nepali people seem to identify with a more ancient cultural heritage that has a long enough timeline to be unconcerned with the trivialities of how people behave in any given century and they deserve the pride they feel. I’m going to do my best to highlight these beautiful people and how strong their effect was on me, but first… The story begins at the airport in Chiang Mai.