#pharping

Day 10 Kathmandu (again) - 17 Mar

Up at dawn again this morning, but this time it’s so we can observe the Buddhist monks as they go through their daily morning spiritual rituals. We made our way with our monk escort inside the decadently decorated temple, only to find that the adult monks are not in residence, and it’s more of a teaching session with the young boy trainees.  I was a little disappointed at first, but decided that these ‘mini monks’ were just too cute, and cheered up considerably. During the ‘chant’, they had a little natter between themselves, giggled, gazed around distractedly, while the ‘teacher’ studiously ignored them doing so, instead concentrating on the zealous few who participated. Just like a regular day at school, if you ask me. Gomez chuckled that it was more of a ‘mutter’ than a ‘chant’, given the few who joined in. But it gave us an idea of the process of the Monk life – that is, until the final chant was droned – then it was like “school’s out!” as the mini monks made for the door helter-skelter .. I doubt the monks proper would have made QUITE a dash to the door for breakfast!

We took a little longer to leave, enjoying the intricate paintings and decorations throughout the temple. Most paintings were edged in gilt, and I would have loved if one of the monks could have hung around to explain some of the depictions of their deities – there was one of two skeletons dancing? For when they celebrate Halloween, perhaps?  There was also a framed photo of the Dalai Lama – he has such a serene, benevolent face, you can’t help but love him, I think.

We again took our breakfast in relative solitude, and had a lazy morning strolling the grounds while we waited for Kishor to collect us. He and Dip drove us to a local home, which served as an orphanage. The husband and wife (and her mother) have taken in children from the surrounding area that have been either left orphans or the parents can’t afford to pay for their upbringing (mainly in the country areas) They don’t receive assistance from the government – Kishor makes regular donations through his business, and if ever tourists ask him about visiting a school or orphanage, he recommends this one first.

The kids were adorable – they either spoke very little, or no English, but their enthusiasm was overwhelming. They peered eagerly in to my bag of ‘goodies’, and as each item came out, they would yell out what it was excitedly in Nepali – which I would say in English, then they would repeat it. I brought out a “Where’s Wally?” book, and explained the concept to them. I thought this would keep them going for ages, trying to find that damned red and white stripe shirt, but the cheeky wretches found him almost straight away every page!

One girl, older than the rest, seemed to act as a sort of supervisor over the other kids, making sure they minded their manners, no pushing etc. Kishor explained she was 15, her name was Sarita, and she had only been with the family for about 3 weeks, coming in from an outlying village for schooling. I pulled out a simple hardcover book, which the children yelled “diary” (it wasn’t, it was simply a blank notebook I had bought and had never used at home) I said that if it was a diary, then it should go to a 15-year old girl who could write her thoughts in it, and handed it to Sarita. She was gobsmacked – she accepted the book shyly, then hugged it to herself. She allowed the other kids to look at it, but watched them like a hawk to make sure the book was returned. On chatting with her, I was told that she would like to study to become a Social Worker in Nepal, and I wished her good luck whole-heartedly.

I gave each child a small amount of crackling candy, and laughed at their expressions as the lolly popped and fizzed in their mouths. Even the Grandma, who couldn’t come downstairs due to her ‘bad knees’ was given some. She didn’t crack a smile, but when she had finished her serve, she tilted her head back, mouth wide open, for some more!! It was so funny. I went upstairs to her at her request, and she hugged me, tiny little thing that she is – uh oh – getting teary!

I pulled out a bottle of ‘bubbles’, and the kids laughed delightedly, chasing each bubble around. The balloons were a hit also. I blew one up, then pulled the neck of the balloon while letting out the air, creating a ‘farting’ sound. I would gasp in shock and look at one little boy, asking “was that you?” A simple game, but they thought it was hysterical. It certainly makes you realize just how much we take for granted in ‘First World’ countries, and how the simple things in life can give so much joy.

All too soon it was time to leave. It was quite emotional, as it’s so easy to become attached to these pure, unassuming souls who simply want to be loved. The mother asked Kishor to translate, and gave a heartfelt speech of thanks for our generous donations, to help them with the children. I was very humbled, as I looked and thought it was really very little by our standards. I nearly lost it when Sarita came to me and asked “will you come back?” I promised we would try. She then held my hand and said “Don’t forget me” and I had to go. I would bring her home with me in a snap, if given the opportunity. Kishor explained later that these kids cannot be adopted, as it’s not a formal orphanage. Rather, as they grow up and leave, they send a small percentage of their wages back to the mother, to assist her in the upkeep of the place.

We farewelled Dip on arrival at our Kathmandu Hotel. He is from Pokhara, and now has a few days free to be with his family. I had given him a pack of Tim Tams for the family and told him of the coffee/Tim Tam combination (when you suck the coffee through the biscuit) He promised laughingly that he would try this on his return home – if his 7 year old daughter left him any! Kishor stayed a little longer, advising that a driver would come for us tomorrow night for our flight, but that we would only have the room until 1 pm. No problem – last minute shopping it is!!

We wandered down the streets again, looking for a cheap ‘n’ cheerful place to eat. Found a tiny place down an alley, where a husband and wife ran a small shop between them. We had a delicious buffalo soup and grilled momo’s (they’re normally steamed) all the while chatting with the husband, who advised us their son was living in Chippendale while he goes to Sydney University! On leaving, he asked us to come back tomorrow. “We leave tomorrow” was our response. “So come before!” he replied good-naturedly.