Asia Travel - Part 23

Where The Deer Are Messengers Of The Gods

Nara, Japan

by Anne Harrison

I don’t know how old the lady was. She may have been fifty, but more likely she approached a century. Standing, she barely reached my shoulder. Her stall was filled with food for tourists to buy and feed the deer. Remarkably tame, over one thousand deer (or shika) stroll freely through Nara Park.

Founded in 710, Nara was Japan’s first permanent capital. (Until then, each new emperor established a new capitol.) Known as Heijo-kyo (or Citadel of Peace), Nara rapidly became one of Asia’s most splendid cities, despite being the capitol for only 74 years. It also became a major centre for Buddhism, for the mountain range here divides Heaven and Earth, creating a home the gods. For many, this area of Japan is sacred.

As are the deer, for they are the messengers of the gods.

One of the delights of staying for a few nights in a place, rather than visiting for a day, is having the time for unexpected discoveries. We passed the night in a youth hostel, and breakfast came courtesy of the vending machine: a variety of different flavored minute noodles. Another machine offered a range of both hot and cold coffees, all served in a can, the temperature indicated by the color. The man on reception even made us some green tea in a gorgeous ceramic pot.

Our walk from the youth hostel led through a largely residential area. Old houses stood amongst immaculate gardens with perfectly manicured trees. Many had stone fences, and many had a statue of a beaver near the front door (for good fortune), often wearing a colorful apron or silly waistcoat. Being summer, gardens were awash with flowers.

We entered Nara Park through the little-used Tegamon Gate, which was literally hidden at the end of the street. It felt as if we had strolled into a local park; despite being the height of tourist season, the grounds seemed empty. Nara Park is some 1300 acres of parkland in the centre of the city; more than enough for hordes of tourists to lose themselves. Within its walls reside some of Nara’s most ancient and sacred buildings.

Within minutes, we’d spotted our first deer. Soon we saw them everywhere, some condescending to be patted, others scampering away should we venture too close. Meanwhile, paths and secluded walkways enticed us in all directions. There are more than enough temples to satisfy the most ardent visitors; tea houses to partake of refreshment, vending machines for cold drinks and ice-cream (flavors including green tea), and manicured lawns stretching down to lakes for simply relaxing. We even stumbled across some vegetable gardens and a few small rice paddies, all grown by the monks who live in the temple complexes. Walking down an alley of stone stairs, we came across a group of ladies painting.

Everywhere we walked, the deer were relaxing in the shade, nibbling the grass, or simply wandering at leisure.

The Todai-ji temple complex comprises the Daibutsuden (or Buddha Hall), sub-temples, halls and pagodas. The great southern gate is 19m high, whereas the temple itself has a striking roofline of up-turned lintels with golden tips. Within the Daibutsuden is the Great Buddha; at 16m, it is reputedly the world’s largest bronze Buddha. Cast in 752 AD, its size is best appreciated when being cleaned, when it is not uncommon to see four or five monks standing in the Buddha’s outstretched hand.

A victim of earthquake, fires and wars, the Buddha’s head dates to 1692. In a wooden pillar behind the Buddha is a small hole; it is said anyone who can squeeze through it will reach Nirvana.

A grand flight of stairs leads from the Sarusawa Pond to the Kofuku-ji Temple and Treasure House. This temple complex was founded in 669, although many of the original 175 buildings no longer remain. The current temple, a five-story pagoda, has been destroyed by fire several times; this building dates to 1462. It is the second tallest pagoda in Japan. The Eastern Golden Hall (or Tokondo) was constructed in 726 by Emperor Shomu (who also constructed the Todai-ji Temple) to speed the recovery of the Emperess Gensho. Along with the Treasure House, it has several priceless images, including a 12th century wooden bodhisattva of wisdom. There are also Buddhist paintings, scrolls, calligraphy and sculptures, many dating from the Nara and Heian periods.

There are numerous temples within the park, but not to be missed is the Kasuga Grand Shrine. This is one of Japan’s most photographed Shinto shrines. Originally built in 710, it was demolished and an identical shrine rebuilt every 20 years, in accordance with Shinto strictures of purity and renewal. The current building is relatively modern, dating to 1863.

The walkways around the shrine are lined with some 3000 stone and bronze lanterns. These have been donated over the centuries as tokens of thankfulness and faith. During festivals in February and mid August they are lit: a spectacular time to visit. You can also buy a slip of paper (omikuji) with your fortune; if unfavorable, simply tie it to one of the trees to negate its effects. Behind the temple is the Rokuen, a botanical garden preserving Japanese plants, and famous for its wisteria, plus its Homotsuden, a hall displaying costumes, swords and ancient armor.

Visiting Nara Park is walking back into the Japan that once was. As we left the park, the deer were using the subway to cross under the main street. From the roof of a nearby building we looked back over the park itself, with its primeval forest in which the trees have not been felled for hundreds of years. I felt I was not only looking back into time; I gazed over a sea of tranquility so often lost in this modern age.

And there are the deer. We finally succumbed to their doe-eyes, and bought a bag of wafer-biscuits. Suddenly they were no longer shy. They instantly surrounded us, demanding their share, and more than ready to head-butt us in the back should we hold out on them. One had the temerity to approach the food stall; immediately the tiny old lady whipped out a broom and chased it away. The deer may be sacred, but they don’t get a free feed.

Nara Afternoon Tour of Todaiji Temple, Deer Park and Kasuga Shrine from Kyoto

If You Go:

♦ Reaching Nara: From Kyoto Station, either the JR Nara Line or the Kintetsu Limited Express (both under an hour)
♦ From Osaka Namba Station: Kintetsu Nara line, approx. 45 min
♦ Tourist Information: Offices are at both major train stations in Nara
♦ Japan Tourism
♦ Nara Youth Hostel
♦ Japan Hotels and Ryokan

About the author:
Anne Harrison lives with her husband, two children and numerous pets on the Central Coast, NSW Australia. Her jobs include wife, mother, doctor, farmer and local witch doctor – covering anything from delivering alpacas to treating kids who have fallen head first into the washing machine. Her fiction has been published in Australian literary magazines, and has been placed in regional literary competitions. Her non-fiction has been published in medical and travel journals. Her ambition is to be 80 and happy. Her writings are available at anneharrison.com.au and anneharrison.hubpages.com

All photos are by Anne Harrison:
A deer investigating a food stall
The Todai-ji temple
The size of the Buddha is hard to appreciate
A rice paddy in the temple grounds

Searching For The Sunrise

Mt. Fuji, Japan

by Susan Elizabeth Thomas

There is an old Japanese proverb that reads, “He who climbs Mt. Fuji is a wise man; he who climbs twice is a fool.” I guess that makes me a fool.

After two years of teaching in Mito, Japan, I was ready to do something daring. I had become comfortable with the Japanese language and culture. Just living in another country made me feel more alive, so I was ready for another challenge. So I set out to conquer the tallest mountain in Japan with a few courageous friends and coworkers. Armed with a backpack of food, water and canned oxygen, I had one goal – reach the top by sunrise. I had no idea what we were in for.

Mt Fuji or Fuji san, is not just a mountain. It has a spirit. It is sacred in Shintoism, one of the main religions in Japan and has been venerated by the Japanese in art, poetry and stories for ages. The summit has a shrine dedicated to the goddess, Sengen sama, a goddess of nature. Whether for spiritual reasons or sport, over 100,000 people ascend every year. The first recorded person to climb Mt. Fuji was a monk in 663. Men frequently ascended the mountain in the following years, but women were forbidden until the 19th century. Nowadays, Japanese women not only brave the mountain, but some are rumored to climb it in heels. The shoe company Teva even branded some Japanese Yama Girl “mountain climbing heels” for these stylish, impractical climbers.

The mountain has ten rest stations. A bus can be taken to the 5th station, and the 10th is at the summit. Venders at the stations sell basic necessities: water, medical supplies, gloves and tissues. Several have small inns where visitors can nap and eat a small meal, usually ramen noodles. Some “inns” contain no more than tatami (straw) mat covered floors.

There are two ways to climb Fuji san. The most popular way is to climb up the mountain to the 7th or 8th station’s inn and sleep until a few hours before sunrise. This even gives you time to rest and even cook a small meal in a space oven. The other way is to climb up the mountain all night and down the next day without stopping. Guess which we opted for?

The spirit of Mt. Fuji had some surprises in store for us. The first hint this would not be a pleasant climb came when our leader, Daniel, informed us the weather forecast said “tokidoki ame” or “scattered showers.” Despite this news, our group headed into a large shop in the 5th station, with an air of naïve excitement. I put my valuables in a locker and purchased a souvenir wooden walking stick. Walking sticks can be branded for a few yen at each station. Each stamp is unique.

Our group started the trek, headlights illuminating the dirt path. Our walking sticks clacked against the rocks along the Yoshida trail. The Yoshida trail is the most popular of four paths up Mt. Fuji. Much of the initial slope has only a moderate incline. Later portions are steep and cut directly into the rock.

Our first problem occurred on our way to the 6th station. One member of our group, Helen, started to suffer from oxygen deprivation from the high altitude. After giving her a can of oxygen, I started to feel short of breath too. This worried me. I had suffered from asthma in the past, but I did not open another can of oxygen. I had heard if you start using oxygen at the beginning, you become reliant for the rest of the journey.

It began to rain. Splashing lightly at first, it was just enough to be uncomfortable. I soon realized Helen would not be able to keep up with our trek. She walked behind us slowly, almost stumbling, while sucking on oxygen. It would be dangerous for her to continue, so she agreed to stay in an inn for the night. The nearest inn seemed quite pleasant. Inns on Mt. Fuji become barer the higher you climb. After dropping off Helen, I returned to the station to brand my walking stick and rest.

The rain picked up and so did our speed. I thought we could be safe from the rain as soon as we were above the cloud line. In the rain and black of night, I could only see the ground directly in front of me. Not that there was much to see. Mt. Fuji is a barren rock with the exception of small ferns and moss after 2,500 meters. My group stopped for a rest at each station. The station workers stopped branding our walking sticks because of the rain. Shivering, I munched on some Calorie Mate bars, a Japanese meal substitute, jerky and whatever food I had brought with me. With my hands shaking in my gloves, I cracked the hardboiled egg I had purchased from a store, only to realize I had read the Japanese wrong. The egg was soft boiled and runny. I threw it down the mountain.

Maybe this angered Sengen-Sama. Next thing I knew, I was drenched, despite having raingear, and clinging to black, slippery rocks etched into the mountainside. The wind was strong. I worried one of us would be launched off the path in a strong gust. This was tokki dokki ame?

*“Fighting,” screamed the Japanese climbers up the mountain, “Fighting!” Clad in colorful climbing gear, their group ascended the mountain with the efficiency and timing of well-seasoned climbers. Our bedraggled group was different story. Trudging up the mountain and straight into the wind, my face was pummeled with rain drops. I could only hear the sound of the rain, the cries of the climbers and clacks of our walking sticks. The lights of Tokyo below were blotted out by the clouds. I leaned heavily on my walking stick as it made impressions in the red brown sludge. It was too late to go back. I treaded on.

After arriving at the inns, I was told they were all full for the night. When our group tried to take temporary refuge, old Japanese innkeepers barked at us to go away. I became envious of Helen with her oxygen deprivation and warm, sheltered inn. We were turned away from all shelters on the rock. It was back to the howling wind. If only we could get above the clouds, the rain will stop or so I thought.

Sadly, it continued to pour, even on the summit. The kind monks in the shrine gave us shelter from the rain. I bought charms of protection and health from them. I needed them. I huddled with the other climbers for warmth. The top of Mt. Fuji can be icy even in the summer. I wondered if I would get pneumonia. My friend was practically in tears, so I took to telling her jokes to keep her spirits up. But it was gray, all gray. The mountain, our mood and the sunrise were gray. With the coming sun, the dark charcoal sky turned to a slightly lighter shade. Trudging along, I began my wet descent.

With Mt. Fuji behind us, I rode public transportation back to my home in Mito, Japan. We must have looked strange to the commuters. Everyone in our group was dripping with water, caked in mud and aching from head to toe. Trails of dirt mapped our movements. I continued to rely on the support of our walking sticks while climbing the stairs in the subway. I had suffered from a minor case of altitude sickness on the way down the mountain. Sick and sleep deprived, I was able to sleep sitting, standing up or lying on the floor while waiting for the bus. Despite being dispirited, two of my friends and I agreed to try the climb again next year, when the experience was not as fresh in our minds.

One year later, I returned to Mt. Fuji with my two friends from the first group. Battered walking sticks in hand, I once again braved the mountain that had once threatened to throw me off. My group confirmed there was not even the slightest chance of “tokki dokki ame.” I branded my walking stick at every station. The trek was difficult but nothing like before. I climbed through the night and to the morning. Feet above the clouds, I gazed at a sky full of colors and the clouds below me. The barren rock shined in the new light. Blue, pink and gold clouds colored the sky. I was a fool, yes, but a fool with a good view.

Two years later, I sadly packed my belongings to leave Japan. Japan had been my home for so long, and I had to leave quickly due to rough personal circumstances. I had no idea how to get my Mt. Fuji walking stick on the plane. It was too long for my suitcases. Airport officials would not be amused if I took it through check in. But I did not want to part with it. The stick represented my determination despite the blackest of circumstances and physically grueling of challenges.

I told my Japanese friend Hiroshi about my problems. With a twinkle in his eye, Hiroshi said he had a solution. He took my walking stick and returned the next day. He had cut it in half and attached a screw fitting on the end. I would be able fit my walking stick in my luggage and put it back together upon my arrival. I was so touched by his thoughtfulness. My memories of Mt. Fuji could be carried with me.

Leaving Japan was my Mount Fuji. It was hard and emotionally draining. Sometimes we can’t conquer mountains on our own. I did not need to be carried over the mountain, but I had needed the support of my walking stick. Only then could I reach the summit on my own two feet – through rain, sleet and sadness to the shining light of Mt. Fuji’s sunrise.

* “Fighting” is a Japanese-English expression that means, “Don’t give up.”

Mount Fuji Snow Climb Introduction to Mountaineering

If You Go:

Make sure you pack appropriately, as a climb up Mt. Fuji should not be taken lightly. Dress in layers, because it will get colder the higher you climb. Temperatures can be below freezing at the summit. Bring cans of oxygen, bottles of water, a reasonable amount of food, a headlight, toilet paper, rain gear and a rucksack with good support. Don’t forget to buy gloves and hiking boots with plenty of traction. You’ll need change for pay toilets and other expenses, like stamps for your souvenir walking stick. If you don’t want to buy a souvenir walking stick, I recommend bringing a different type. It will make the climb much easier.

You can take the Keio express bus from Shinjuku in Tokyo for 2600 yen. It’s also possible to take local trains to Fujinomiya or Gotemba, where you can take a direct bus to the 5th station.

If you want to stay at an inn, you might consider reserving a space in advance. The inns can fill up very quickly during peak season and situations involving bad weather.

When you descend Mt. Fuji, the incline is very steep. Most of your weight will shift to your toes and the balls of your feet. On a separate journey, one of my friends broke her toenail and had to limp down the mountain. So, make sure you properly cut your toenails, wear comfortable socks and broken in hiking boots.

Before you attempt the climb, it is a good idea to train lightly but consistently for several weeks before. This will make the trek much more enjoyable.

About the author:
Susan Elizabeth Thomas is an avid traveler, writer and lover of cultural anthropology. After four year in Japan, she is currently living in France. She hopes to give readers cause to question, discuss and deepen their understanding of this ever changing world. You can follow her writing through her blog (travelingmochi.wordpress.com), Twitter @TravelingMochi or Facebook page (www.facebook.com/TravelingMochi).

Photo credits (permission obtained for all photos):
The Shadow of Fuji by Kris J Boorman (www.facebook.com/kjbshoot)
All other photos by Susan Elizabeth Thomas

What I Learned From My Jungle Safari

Jim Corbett National Park, Uttarakhand, India

by Shweta Bhardwaj

A trip to Jim Corbett National Park in the Nainital district of Uttarakhand, India, changed me. I learned to identify the sounds of birds around me and every day when I got up in the mornings, I could distinguish the sounds of an Eagle from a Parrot, a Pigeon from a Myna and a Bulbul from a Crow- almost all the birds chirping in the area. To my surprise I also started noticing the presence of fauna and flora around me!

Initially established as Hailey National Park in 1936 to protect the Bengal Tiger, Corbett forest and jungle are home to many different other species of fauna. A heaven for bird enthusiasts. It is also one of the best bird watching area in India. Surrounded with different habitat types: mountains, saal trees, grassland, it has a splendid landscape and a diverse wildlife. In 1956 this national park was renamed after Colonel Jim Corbett, who is considered the ‘missionary of wildlife conservation in India’. This oldest national park in India has following major zones: Bijrani, Dhikala, Durga Devi, Jhirna and Sitabani. This park was the first to come under the Project Tiger initiative in India.

We reached our resort in the afternoon and planned on having a walk inside the forest in the buffer zone but we weren’t brave enough to venture out alone, and waited for the Naturalist that the resort provided. As I walked on the dead leaf bed of the Teak plants spread all around me, and looked at the foot prints of the elephants and pug marks of the tiger I realized that I was actually walking in the woods. The crisp sound of large dry teak leaves in the otherwise silent forest made me feel edgy for a while. As I walked on the same path where a tiger had passed hours ago I worried that perhaps the beast might be sitting nearby, watching.

This was the magical influence of my jungle trip where I learned to spot different species of flora and fauna, very rare, yet particular to different zones and seasons. It was one of the highlights of my trip. The experience of observing nature from so close left a mark on me. I became more conscious of natural life around me.

Like any other jungle safaris, this was a unique trip. Sighting a tuskar (a mast elephant) gorgeous peacocks, finding tiger spoor marks, seeing Long Hornbills, all these made me realize how mysterious and beautiful nature is. What I realized at Jim Corbett is that Jungle Safari is not just about spotting a tiger, it is also about experiencing and discovering the jungle itself. Its air, rough scenic beauty, sounds, taste and not to forget the ‘fearful feel’!! Yes! Walking in the woods, not knowing what will come from behind or what will pounce, what you can capture in your camera or spot with your binocular, all this gives you a different kind of thrill.

While on the Safari Walk we spotted an elephant herd across a dry river. To give them their space and quiet we had to softly move back into the forest on our side of the river bed, so that we did not disturb them. Once we walked on the same path where a tiger had walked a few hours or may be a days earlier. We saw fresh tiger pug (spoor) marks early in the morning and our guide told us that the tiger had recently been there and had walked towards a particular direction. Our guide was able to tell us what the tiger ate last when it passed through that particular area by finding a dear nail, small bones or animal hair particle in a dried tiger faecal matter. Identifying the foul smell in that area (called the smell of tiger kill), looking at pug marks, listening to tiger roar or a sambhar or monkey call are all tell-tale signs of a tiger presence nearby.

Our naturalist, who led our walk, was an expert and made sure that we returned back to the resort on time before dark. We took a two and a half hour walk in the jungle that day. The elephant herd that I mentioned in the above paragraph was spotted during this walk only. They were unaware of us and were busy grazing in the trees. Watching them from so close was worth taking that walk. The resort that we stayed at was inside the buffer zone and daily past midnight we could hear calls and tiger roars, as if the tiger wanted to remind us that it was nearby. Very diligently, all tourist activities are generally stopped after 6:30 pm as the animals, especially the flesh eating animals become active after dark. The retreat’s fences were also solar electric so that tigers or any other wild animal do not venture inside the resort or other human habitation nearby. Spotting huge tiger pug marks (sometimes male and sometime female) early in the morning was our favourite daily activity during our stay there and was proof enough that this beautiful beast did come near during the night.

This was a three day stay in the buffer zone area of the park, and each day it was a different adventure. Day One began at Sitabani.

Sitabani like other four zones (namely Durga Devi, Bijrani, Dhikala, & Jhirna) is a major zone of the Jim Corbett National Park. It was the drive to Sitabani that triggered my interest in birds and for the first time, I took notice of the tiny creatures chirping and hopping all around and on trees.

On our way to and fro from Sitabani I captured many birds in my camera: a purple Sun Bird, ducks, woodpeckers, sandpipers and peacocks and hence started the affair with bird watching at Jim Corbett. The entire 40 kilometer stretch from Ramnagar to Sitabani had lots of trees on both sides and a river stream. It is a ‘tarai area’ (hilly area) as well so it was quite scenic.

The next day we left on a Jeep safari to Durga Devi and a later canter safari to Dhikala. Here we saw barking deer, spotted deer, Golden Mahseer (Indian salmon), various birds like Yellow Red Great Barbet, amazing views and not to forget Tiger pug marks — lots of them! By this time we had learned to identify them whether it was a male or a female. Lots of fresh elephant foot marks as well. Durga Devi safari zone was more moist and has deciduous flora. One time during the day the sun rays came filtered from tall trees as if it is being sieved through the leaves giving different colours to the rays. This was an amazing trick of nature and the most memorable one for me. I can still see sun rays trickling through the huge trees when I close my eyes. During this safari we managed to see a few of very rare species of birds and then in the afternoon we took the canter ride to Dhikala. Here the grassland like habitat was totally different from where we had been in the morning.

We spotted lots of deer, sambhars, elephants in herds at both Durgadevi and Dhikala but the highlight of this day was something else that we encountered at the highway. A one toothed mast Tuskar on the road very near to Dhikala zone. Taking picture of this huge mast elephant while it charged at the vehicles (including ours) was one wildlife experience that I won’t forget. I actually got terrified as it came very near to our jeep while charging. With a heartbeat pacing at the speed of a bullet train, I started shouting loud, not knowing what would happen next. The driver was prudent enough to move the jeep away on time. Otherwise the person sitting at the back (for that matter our entire jeep) would have surely been subjected to elephant’s anger.

We realized the fatigue only when we reached the resort back in the evening. After a tasty dinner we again fell on our beds, only to be awake at 3: 30 am again the next morning. Today we were going to Jhirna on Jeep safari. The highlight of this day for me was taking pictures of the ever beautiful peacocks from very close, on a dry river bed.

Later we sat inside a cemented ‘machaan’ like small enclosure which was situated right on top of the hill from where you could see the other side of the jungle bordering the river stream. We sat there patiently with our guide with the intention of spotting a Tiger. We spent at least an hour there but all we could hear was the tiger growls. The roar suggested that there were two of them walking towards the thick jungle uphill. The jungle, loud with the sound of the wind, chirping of birds, sound of other animals like monkeys and deer would immediately become silent every time there was a tiger growl. I could sense the tension in the area.

The view from where we sat and waited for the tiger was beautiful, with sun rays falling on the stream. Although during this trip we could not spot any tiger we were lucky enough to enjoy and discover more about the habitat of the jungle. A habitat, which in spite of being sometimes rugged and cruel with its own set of rules, tells that man is still an outsider when it comes to the animal world, “the dense forest.”

If You Go:

♦ India’s oldest tiger reserve, Jim Corbett National Park is situated in the state of Uttarakhand, Northern India.
♦ Ramnagar is the closest town to this park and is well connected via road to New Delhi. One can take a taxi or drive down for approximately six hours from Delhi.

Private Golden Triangle Tour with Ranthambore Tiger Reserve from Delhi

About the author:
Shweta is an HR professional and a blogger, currently working as a freelance travel writer. She loves to write about places that she visits, people that she meets and everyday things that touch her. She has a travel blog at www.travel-lanes.blogspot.in.

Photo credits:
Sambar Deer in Jim Corbet National Park by Pediddle under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

All other photos are by Shweta Bhardwaj:
Pack of Deer at Dhikala
One of the beautiful peacock that were there on the dry river bed at Jhirna
Kingfisher on a dry river bed
A bird
A one-toothed mast Tuskar spotted on the road very near to Dhikala zone

Time Before Present: Temples, Funerals and a Wedding

Kathmandu, Nepal

by Brian K. Smith

As I walked through the streets of the ancient city a resting group of riot policemen posed for a candid picture. This was a time when civil war was on the mountain kingdom’s doorstep. Every day rioting took place in the capital of Kathmandu. It looked as though the country was about to self-destruct.

It did survive that turmoil and moved on with shaky footing until April 25, 2015, when a 7.9 Richter scale earthquake hit. Thousands of lives were loss across the country that day, and more lives in neighboring countries. Many of the beautiful UNESCO World Heritage sites that I had seen were damaged or destroyed. Three weeks later another 7.3 Richter scale hit resulting in more death and destruction.

I think a lot about those sites now. My hotel was close to Durbar Square in Katmandu – being only a brisk 10 minute walk in the cold December morning air. The first morning I arrived just as the hawkers were setting out their antiques and replicas for sale on large tarps in the outskirts of the square. Many invited me to bring them good luck by being their first sale of the day. As I walked around the square it was like stepping back hundreds of years. Beautiful temples washed in a deep red pigment paint and tile roofs in deep burnt umbra color above gave it a true organic feel. The early morning air was impregnated with the rich smells of temple incense and fresh cut flowers as the first orange colored beams of sunlight took the chill away. Ladies, dressed in traditional colorful mountain village clothes, sat on large plastic mats selling strings of brightly colored marigolds formed into necklaces and headbands.

In the afternoon we traveled to the Hindu temple of Pashupatinath. As we came around a corner onto a stone carved staircase and ashram there he sat. I can never forget that moment – the thousand mile stare of the Sadu as he looked through me as if I wasn’t there. With his legs crossed in a yoga pose, he was looking over the ceremonies on the other side of the river. Here the recently departed were being bathed in the holy water from the Bagmati River, dressed in colorful silk and placed on carefully stacked wood funeral pyres for their cremation. The holy man did not blink, move, or change any expression. It all seemed surreal me – like I was in a dream. Here I was in the holiest of Hindu temples in Kathmandu, Nepal. A week earlier on my flight to India I had not even planned to visit Nepal as part of my tour. It was close enough to my destination of Varanasi, in eastern India, that the tour company had recommended it as a side excursion during my month long road trip.

Nepal is much different than its close neighbor of India. In the street markets the women are the sellers – friendly, making eye contact and smiling. Not like in India where women are never seen in public. Here, if they are not in their traditional costumes, they wear western clothes. Their faces are not hidden, but instead lipstick and eye makeup accent their features which are a mix of India and Chinese – a beautiful people. Taking the chance to see if a smile would be returned was a worthwhile gamble paid back in double when the child on a woman’s shoulders also smiled back at me.

The following day I visited another site in Kathmandu – Swayambhunath, also known as the Monkey temple. Over 1600 years of history sits on the hill overlooking the city. It is revered as one of the holiest sites for Buddhist in Asia. On the road way up to the temple hundreds of monkeys greeted me. When I arrived at the great hall in the main building, the sound of traditional music was pouring out from within. It was incredible to hear the chanting and Tibetan horns being played by the monks. The hall resonated with the sound of the ritual music. Tears rose in my eyes as I felt the notes go right to the core of my body. I had dreamed of moments like this where you become part of all that is around you. Outside the hall I made my way to the largest stupa in Nepal. The gold painted eyes on top looked out across the city and valley below and the mountains and hills behind. Shops around the plaza were full of items to take back home. My favorite was to try many of the hundreds of multi-toned singing bowls.

Along the streets of the old city, mixed with temples, were the fruit and vegetable sellers. Everything looked freshly picked even though the temperatures dipped below freezing at night time. Spices were overflowing out of huge containers – cumin, turmeric, and curries. The air had the smell of fragrant local food from the small portable stalls that sold all kinds of savory items. It was a feeling of being alive in those streets – excitement, anticipation, exotic smells and tastes.

One evening my driver, Ali, and I decided to find the night market. We searched for an hour, but could not locate it. Finally we found what looked like some sort of event, maybe a market, and decided to check it out. As we got closer to the gate a group of intoxicated, well-dressed men ran towards us with silk scarves and wrapped them around our necks. Then four beautiful Nepalese women in colorful silk dresses escorted us through the gate to a small greeting hall. There, inside, sat the bride and groom. They both bowed from their pedestal seats and welcomed us in. Ali told me this was not a good idea –we should leave immediately.

I had never been to a wedding in Nepal, and it seemed obvious they were happy to have us. After all I was the only white person there – so maybe it was a sign of good fortune for them as I was not an invited guest. Part of our plan had been to have dinner at the night market, so we were very hungry. In the main area under a tented roof was seating for 1000 or more. At the front was a huge buffet with a wonderful assortment of food. We helped ourselves to a sampling of many items on the 30 foot long table. Part way through eating our dinner, a line formed beside us – it was the families of the bride and groom getting in line for dinner. We realized that we had really crashed the wedding in style! The family members smiled and greeted us as they moved past. Now Ali was really desperate to leave. I suggested after dessert would be a perfect time to head back to the hotel. On our way out I thanked the bride and groom and took pictures with them. They seemed to be very happy with our chance meeting.

That night I dreamed of sitting beside the Sadu. A feeling of complete calm and peacefulness enveloped me. My short four day side trip to Nepal had been an incredible adventure. I knew everything would be okay for my long journey ahead across India.

Natural Hot Spring Trek from Kathmandu

If You Go:

Annapurna Sunrise Trek from Kathmandu

Editor’s note: I requested this article on Nepal from Brian Smith as a memorial to this fascinating, historical city that has be so tragically destroyed by the devastating earthquake. I felt sad as I read it. Nepal was always a destination I had dreamed of. We all pray that the Nepalese people will recover from this tragedy and somehow rebuilt, though so many of the important historical and religious sites have now been left in ruin.

About the author:
Brian Smith has traveled to more than 41 countries around the world. His favorite destination in the last seven years has been Asia with seven trips to China, including Tibet. He is a seasoned adventurer and is co founder of Adventurocity with his business partner Rick Green. Their motto is ” Why take a trip when you can have an adventure”. www.adventurocity.com Brian is a career professional photographer, with a Masters of Photographic Arts (PPOC ). www.brianksmithphotography.com Twitter: @fotocraze

Photo credits:
First Kathmandu photo by Rajesh Maharjan from Pixabay
All other photos by Brian K. Smith.

Vietnam: The Dragon of Halong Bay

by Anne Harrison

I stood in the silence, trying to decide where the dragon had plunged into the sea. Dawn had barely touched the sky. No other boats were about in the morning mist as mine drifted past islands and craggy cliffs straight from mythology. These came into being when the dragon of the gods, after gouging the mountains with his tail, plummeted into the sea. The foaming waves rushed in to flood the devastation, and when they settled, Halong Bay had been born.

Now the limestone islands and impossible peaks float in a sea of emerald. Later that day I would find a floating village (complete with a school and a bar) hidden among the 3000 islands (or maybe 1500 islands, depending upon your sources). Elsewhere there are forgotten grottos perfect for swimming and snorkeling. Simply cruising past in a small boat is spectacular. Passing the night under the stars is magical.

For a little while I enjoyed having the waters to myself. As we neared the town, however, any sense of the mystical evaporated. Halong Bay is a major tourist hub, filled with a frenzy of people either visiting or making a living from a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The area down by the pier is a typical tourist trap where the usual touts and scam artists compete with over-priced markets for those in a hurry to buy presents for home and give proof of their stay. As all tour boats congregate here, the place is perennially crowded. Even the hotels look dubious, and the restaurants not at all promising.

Yet to discover the true town, I had to be brave and run the gauntlet. Passing through the chaos I wondered if this was where the belly of the dragon had scalded the land. It certainly seems so. Or perhaps his fiery breath so scorched the earth nothing of beauty could grow.

Within some five minutes of walking uphill I came across parts of the town tourists rarely go. Away from the gaudy neon lights and dubious massage parlors the atmosphere rapidly changes. School children rushed by on their way home for lunch while old men sat in cafes, smoking. Bicycles were everywhere, with shops opening straight onto the street. Tiny lanes hid between buildings. Grandmothers sat on their doorstep nursing a baby or two while watching the world pass by. Hairdressers plied their trade on the street, while a few doors away builders were busy at work, hauling bricks and cement to the second floor with an intricate system of ropes, pulleys and buckets (which look remarkably like a stack of flowerpots). Amidst the chaos were small vegetable gardens and rows of herbs growing in pots.

Further up the hill, some half hour from the port, a tiny laneway opened onto the local market, which had been somehow hidden from view despite its size. Once inside it felt totally chaotic, but with a mood completely opposite to the turmoil down by the water. With the stalls run largely by women (for the men are down by the port, scamming tourists), the place is roughly divided into sections: clothes, hardware, household items, fresh fruit and vegetables, then a wet market which stretches forever. The range of seafood is incredible – and largely unrecognizable.

A pair of policemen strolled past; this is, after all a communist country, and their presence is everywhere, always in impeccable uniforms. They chatted to various women at their stalls, and one had a play with my camera, experimenting with all the dials and settings. After taking our photo they vanished among the stalls.

A large covered area served as a food hall – large enough, it seemed, to feed the whole town. With nothing more than a small cooker over a gas burner, and her hair in curlers, a lady deftly prepared some pho (complete with the tiniest, and juiciest limes). Next came some thinly sliced beef stir-fired in a highly spiced sauce. The aromas were simply amazing. While we ate her mother came to visit, bringing the baby. As I nursed the baby the lady in the stall next door made coffee. I was at first dubious when, after making the brew in a small percolator which sat directly above the cup, she thickened the coffee with a dollop of condensed milk. My fears proved ill founded. Perhaps it was the setting, perhaps it was because I hadn’t found a decent coffee since leaving Saigon, but this java proved one of the best I have drunk outside of Italy (or Melbourne). The meal and coffee (for two) cost less than five Aussie dollars.

Nourished and refreshed, we headed back to the water. After all, this is why people come to Halong Bay. The afternoon began in a whirl of noise exploring the islands on a boat about the size of the African Queen, and about as sea-worthy. A trip amongst the islands is a rather crowded affair, but by now I had adapted to the chaos. Standing on the bow, I enjoyed the spectacle as our boat assumed ramming speed to gain prime position at any mooring. With all the boats covered with old tires, the moorings resound to the thuds of collisions, and the creak of wood as the boats jostled among themselves.

The first stop was Thien Cung Grotto – or Palace of Heaven. After climbing some 100 steps, a crowd of us went along a dark tunnel to the cave proper. Some hold this is the actual cave where the dragon sought refuge. It was simply huge. Neon lights of all colors highlighted the various formations: a dragon with a small man riding his back, elsewhere a pair of angel wings. Small rivulets ran down the stones and into vast chasms of nothingness. A dragon could easily live here – as could dwarves or a horde of orcs. There was a perfect cave for Gollum.

Only a few of the islands are habitable, but most are laced with caves and grottos, the result of the limestone slowly leeching away with time. Some are deemed dead, but others are still living – that is, the caves are still evolving as the limestone is eaten away, and stalagmites and stalactites are formed.

I sat in the bow of our boat as it potted among the islands. Each one, it seems, has a name such as Island of The Two Hens or Tea Pot Island. Many caves open straight onto the water as the islands rise straight form the sea to tower over everything, their tops covered with lush vegetation. The Surprise Cave was not discovered until 1901, and was used by the Viet Cong as a hide-out. At Ba Hung Cave, featured in the movie Indochine, a small grotto opens onto a lagoon inside the island, surrounded by walls of steep jungle.

As the sun fell a cool breeze came over the water, and I had the front of the boat to myself. Slowly the protective cocoon I had hid in for the day fell away, and I discovered the true beauty of Halong Bay. The crowds had been left behind, and before me stretched the still waters, empty of everything save the islands. They swirled about me in the rising mist, as if I was slowly traveling back to when the dragon had plunged into the sea, and both myself and Halong Bay were new born.

5 Days 4 Nights Hanoi – Halong Bay – Peaceful Halong Bay Cruise, one of 7 world Wonders

If You Go:

Halong Bay Travel website
Vietnam Tourism
Discover Halong Bay tour operators
Halong Bay Travel
♦ Tours can also be organized from either Saigon or Hanoi.
♦ If staying overnight, chose one of the many boat stays rather than within the town itself.

2 day private guided tour famous Ninh Binh – Halong Bay UNESCO sites

About the author:
Anne Harrison lives with her husband, two children and numerous pets on the Central Coast, NSW. Her jobs include wife, mother, doctor, farmer and local witch doctor – covering anything from delivering alpacas to treating kids who have fallen head first into the washing machine. Her fiction has been published in Australian literary magazines, and has been placed in regional literary competitions. Her non-fiction has been published in medical and travel journals. Her ambition is to be 80 and happy. Her writings are available at anneharrison.com.au and anneharrison.hubpages.com.

All photos are by Anne Harrison.