Kathmandu – an introduction
First test of culture shock: returning to the capital city after nearly three months of living in the rural country side. It certainly was shocking. Several of us went out for a walk on our first evening here and were slammed with sensory overload. The noise of car horns, motorcycles rumbling, dogs barking, momo’s steaming; the barrage of signs, the speed at which everything passes by, the sheer quantity of stuff for sale pouring onto the streets, the array of colors presented by a single shawl shop, the density of people on the sidewalks, the bicycles and motorcycles on the sidewalks – and the occasional cow. It was quite a lot to absorb.
But what is actually somewhat surprising is how very under-developed this city is – surprising because it is the Capital. I guess I’ve seen one or two other such under-developed capital cities (Phenom Phen, Cambodia; Quito, Ecuador), but somehow I was expecting it to be farther along. You know – it’s the capital! I’d expect it to be showing itself off or something. But behind the tall buildings, in the side alleys off the tourist strips, it appears that the Nepali lifestyle of the countryside is very much continued. It’s an interesting juxtaposition in my mind.
Here’s a brief report on the infrastructure conditions in Kathmandu:
Traffic (no lights, no street lines, lotsa horns). It’s a lot like the streets of Cambodia – it’s a ballet of intuition, frogger-ing ones way through a cross walk between oncoming motorbikes, cabs, buses and bicycles. There are public buses available, but their stops are unmarked, reserved for local knowledge and keen observation. So we mostly stuck to hoofing it.
Pollution. Ugh. Every night I blow my nose and remove the tissue to see black. A couple of us bought face masks the second day to at least keep the particulate matter out of our systems. But I’m well aware that a lot of other fumes made their way through. At least the danger of most toxic substances increases with exposure; as in, one week’s worth shouldn’t do me in. It does make me worry, however, about the health of everyone living there. Ke garne? (what can you do?)
Electricity: The majority of power in Nepal is hydroelectric. (I’m hoping to find out more detail about their electricity mix as time allows (a side project). Thus during the dry season, Kathmandu goes WITHOUT power for up to 18 hours each day. That’s right – they only have power for 6 hours per day. Dry season aside, the electricity sporadically goes off and on throughout the city.
Water: All plumbing (where it exists) in Nepal uses gravity to provide water pressure. Thus water is stored in big tanks on the roof. But in order to get it there, one needs electricity to pump the water into the tanks. So – after a couple hours with electricity, our hotel effectively runs out of water. Again, ke garne?
Hmm – this sounds mostly negative, but I don’t mean it to be. After a week spent in Kathmandu, it started to dawn on me that there ARE actually a lot of cool and beautiful things within it’s boundaries. They’re just hidden – behind walls that block out the traffic and noise and pollution. By the end of the week, after talking to more locals, I had a laundry list of hidden places to seek out for when I return – places time did not allow me to visit this go-round. I’ll report back to y’all when I do. For one, apparently there’s a gorgeous terraced garden where one may nap with pillows on the lawn. Another: there’s actually a Jazz scene here – Jazzmandu. And on our last evening we attended a play in a tiny (what-must-have-been-a) community theater. Just outside of it there was a street exhibition of paintings themed on overcoming gender related violence. I’d love to see what other shows are coming and find the visual art scene. I suppose I’ve got time…
But not all of it’s treasures are hidden; in fact many are very much in your face. There are gorgeous hindu temples and buddist stupas scattered all over the city, impossible to miss (you practically trip into them). And the culture – the food, the colors, the people – certainly pour themselves onto the streets. I guess this crazy capital is what you make of it.
Mondir in Durbar Square
In regard to the driving and the air pollution, I can relate here in Lima. Frogger-ing is exactly how I describe trying to cross the street here, but at least we have street lines. Of course, street lines are more “guidelines” than anything else, and frequently taxis and combis will drive down the middle of the street, like a bull moose marking its territory. There seems to be a city-wide game of chicken going on at most times. Also, I have discovered that stop signs are here to add a splash of color to an otherwise dreary landscape, rather than to indicate what one should do when coming to an intersection. I can also relate to the “black Kleenex phenomenon.” Living here has surely made me appreciate the Clean Air Act more than I used to!