There’s a certain inner happiness sparked upon me stumbling in the lodge in Tadapani. It’s the third day of my trek, and the hardly fit room pose no objection on my side. “Finally, the search of Shangrila have started to show it’s presence”, I thought, proud of myself on not having to gruntle about the absence of affordable luxury. For years, people have visited and revisited Nepal in hope of finding their Shangrila, a place offering freedom and spiritual enlightment to those needing it. Me, decided to sign up for that, putting high hopes to Nepal, wish to come back upgraded. How, no idea. I’m putting all my hope to it’s weather, mountains, culture, and pretty much everything that Nepal can offer.
My Tadapani night turned to be an endless night of rolling films looped in the back of my head. I’ve been closing my eyes for the past three hours and not succeeding to sulk into my delta state. Images of past occurences flashed randomly. I think about my friends. I think about my loved ones. I think about my family. The laugh. The fight. The past. My brain was tired from rolling the film but it just seems to go on and on. The night was as quiet as it gets, now and then I can hear snuttering of monkeys, I thought, maybe they have films rolling in their head too. I can’t sleep. I tried to open the window, hoping to sleep by overlooking thousands of stars showering the sky. Looking long enough, the constellation of stars formed random objects, so marvelous that it made me thought of sharing the view with my friends. I sunk to the feeling of being alone and sleeping attempt number one failed. Nepal trekking nights can often be melodramatic. It’s a combination of being in such high altitude, the freezing temperature, the quiet night, and the beautiful view of nature celebrating the absence of advanced technology. I guess the connection that has long gone due to the engineered world we’re living in somehow sparked back.
I decided to go outside my room, where dim lights from a far projecting the shadow of a person. I suppose ghosts and spirits might not be able to adapt from this freezing temperature, so I decided to come closer. It’s the only other couple staying in the lodge. A very interesting pair of ex-IT consultant who decided to leave their career behind and embark on a journey round the world. Old news, wondered why I haven’t done that. Life do offer second chance. “Trouble sleeping?”, the woman asked me. “Crazy night, been having trouble sleeping since the first night of trekking.. it just seems that despite travelling alone, my luggage of past just come following wherever I go”, I replied, maybe a bit enthusiastically knowing that someone still up at such short hour. “Get used to it.. been having the same dream for days and days”, said the woman, “I guess this has something to do with the energy, you know, wherever you go you leave some trace of energy behind. The nature pose connection to people, the world has been designed to be sustained through such connection. In cities you cannot feel this anymore, it is blocked with your busy routines, your anger, hatred, stress, and basically everyone’s. In the like of these places, you are more connected to nature, you’re balanced, you’re back to where you’re coming from. You reconnect with you, and this gives you chance to go through what matters and what’s not for you..”, the woman explained her point of view. She might be right, and I certainly hope she is. After some quick chat, I got back to my room, ended up waking up every hour or so, still with random image of my past.
The strange thing is no matter how hard I slept, I always ended up waking up right when the sun shine and felt completely revamped. I tried to compensate the cold weather by sitting right where the sun directed it’s tangerine bath to earth. Everything looks, well, orange. Sitting there, alone, I overlooked the almost endless line of mountains. Made me remember of my previous morning in Poon Hill, a viewpoint just above the village of Ghorepani which offer an incredible view of snowy peaks, including 2 of 3 tallest peaks in the world (yes, Everest excluded). Sitting on the cold grass of Poon Hill, staring at this chunk of miracle, I thought to myself again, sharing this incendiary view would give the experience the icing on the cake. Before I knew it, Harry (which i’m sure is a made up name-just like how Thais have their own “western” name), my guide, called me to get ready for another round of trek. Round up, grab my backpack and eh, was that a marijuana tree that I just passed?, beautifully erected with the background of Macchapucchare mountain?. Well, why bother waste it, I grabbed a handful of it in hope of using it on the way back (I ended up didn’t).
We head down to a village called Ghandruk, which supposed to be the biggest village within the trail of the trek. “So Angga, how many brothers and sisters you have?”, asked Harry just to start off some conversation. It was the third time he popped the question during the four days we met, yet I still answered it with the same, template answer. “One younger brother, but I have a lot of extended family so it pretty much feels like I have dozens of brother and sister, how about you?”, answered me, looping the whole series of conversation all over again. I appreciate this, really. It feels nice when we can just have simple chat, not having to boost each other ego on winning who’s the street smartest, who knows better about world affair and don’t even get me started to talk with numbers. I get so used to people mumbling on books they just read, “oh how smart I am” kind of thing that a change in scenery were so much appreciated. “The woman might be right, it’s a whole different connection here”, I thought. Sometimes simplicity can connects us better with the whole environment. We might have overdo things. We might just have.
I was welcomed to Ghandruk by bunch of buffalos, happily enduring their fecal matters on the rocky steps facing the gate of the village. Despite being not exactly the sacred animal, I grow respect to them simply because the way they look at us. It’s just so intimidating, the way an three star michelin chef would look at big mac. It somehow made me feel that I’m no longer the superior here, that in the end we’re all the same, we just played our games differently
The whole aura of Ghandruk feels like the reminiscence of ancient town waiting for the next big bang to happen. Houses and roads are beautifully crafted with blocks of rocks, people smile whenever you came across them, and I just can’t let my sights off from overlooking lines of snowy mountains shaded by fogs from afar. It’s like knowing a place where you belong to without ever being there before. Nights were odd, it’s too quiet that I thank god of not bringing my partner along – if you get my drift. Morning welcomed me with a freshly made papadam masala and yak cheese spaghetti. Everything is locally grown there, which made me understand on why I cannot find sights of stress on the people’s face. Moment of realization, I’ve been working my ass off for the so called salary, spending it on the likes of gadgets and martinis, yet something always feels, well, incomplete. Over the hows life conversation with the hostel owner, I was intrigued on realizing how eating off of your own crop might delete whatever city life complexities I had on. After all, what’s to worry when you can fulfill your needs just right on your garden?.
I tried to enjoy my way back to Nayapul, the finish point of the trek. The thought of going back to Kathmandu, blending in with the dusty road and traffic fiasco made me not wanting to leave the trek. On the way back, Harry told me his dream of getting his daughters to the best school in Nepal so that she can have her own hotel and live her own happy life. I told him my dream of travelling around the world, and living my own happy life. We had to rush because Harry needed to listened to the radio broadcast which were available on the next village. There was a strike in the city which put life pretty much on hold. If the strike continued, I might need to spend another night in the next village because there will be no transportation allowed during the strike. Maoist in Nepal were known to mobilize strike whenever government disapproved of their needs. The worst thing that could happen to me is to be stuck in the trek’s finish point but I can imagine what loss had it brought to the lives of the people who cannot undergo their business and go to school for days. The basic rule of thumb apparently still applies in world’s shangrila, The small group owning the power always fucked up the live of the masses. When we get to the village, Harry happily announced the strike was over, happy because we can go back on time, but most of all, happy knowing that his daughters can go back to school.
Before heading back to Kathmandu, I spend a couple of days in Pokhara, a beautiful city that woke me up with the view of fish tail mountain, one of the peak in Annapurna range that form a shape of fish tail when seen from afar. The weather was warm enough during the day, and not too cold at night despite the winter. I can boat the crystal clear Phewa Lake in the morning, Paraglide in Sarangkot Hill in the afternoon, and have pints of beer and splurge on the world’s biggest chateaubriand for dinner. I seriously could not ask for more. While doing my budget on the nearby internet center, I list down thing that I’ve done that would make the trip worth it. Poon Hill, Paragliding, Boating over the Phewa lake, and all sort of stuff but in the end it’s just views. I realize that I value more the people that I’ve met during the trip and people back home whom images hastily running over my head whenever I tried to sleep at night.
Before I knew it, the plane I took in Pokhara have safely landed in Kathmandu. I would say it’s quite of an experience, having to ride in a small passenger plane that suddenly stop on the air just before the landing. We know deep inside that it’s just a small flaw, but then we craft the story and tell our friends as if it’s really a near death experience. Everyone needs a drama. I spent the next couple of days doing the usual tourist errands, city trek to to old town, visiting temples and monasteries, took pictures of the 1 hour long queue at the first KFC in Nepal on so on.
At the point of city boredom, I came across this small shop just the heart of Kathmandu backpacker spot; Nepali Musical Instrument and Healing Bowl Shop. From the look of the owner when he saw me getting in, I can see that he doesn’t have that many visitors coming in. The small shop is filled with golden bowls of many size, wrapped carefully with yesterday’s newspaper. There’s also stack of nepali musical instrument, like the bansari flute, and leather and wood drums called damaha. The whole place looks like a small heaven for those experimental musician-as every instruments yield a very unique sound, melodies that not just soothes the ear but amazingly flow right through the soul. “Nepali Musical instrument has a very strong relationship with Nepali culture and religion, we believe that the sound coming out not merely form musical interaction but also generate relaxation and mystical power”, told the shop owner when I asked him about the different sounds coming out from the instruments. “You know that both physical presence and energy form us human; whatever stand on the earth ground has some sort of energy. These instruments yield melodies that aligns to our energy, that’s why you can feel the soothing and relaxing effect whenever you listen to the hums of these instruments”, he continued. Over the next hour, he explained to me on how sounds flow better on liquid than tangible matter, and that’s why sound of the nepali bowl can provide immediate effect because it ease the circulation of blood. Well, he ended up selling of course, but for just things that almost cost nothing, he put a time consuming effort to sell it to me. I guess when passion strikes you tend to do over what’s required.
When the first strike of singing bowl hit me, suddenly the dark I got by closing my eyes turns bright. I felt relaxed, and images of amazing sceneries I have viewed myself the past week flashing slowly. Then the sound changes into hums, a continual hum you get when you listen to the sound of whale quirking underwater. I almost fell asleep, but I don’t want to miss this experience. For 15 minutes the vibration of the sound coming out from the bowl showered me with sooth, and when it ended, me and my soul agreed that it’s one of the best experience I got from Nepal. I was told once that many monks in Nepal and Tibet tried to hide the real use of these singing bowl to foreigners, telling them that it’s sole use is to serve the dish. It remained a mystery for me on the reason why, how such peace was better remained exclusive.
I intended to embark on a trip to Nepal in search of my own Shangrila. It all became clear at one point, that it’s not a place where I can go, it’s not screaming my lungs out on top of a snow peak, it’s not the quiet breeze of sunrise nor the impact singing bowl has on me. I was alone, I had good view, The connection to nature made me think perfectly clear of my priorities and what’s subconsciously matters. My Shangrila is back home. It’s being with people matter most to me. Nepal only helped me realizing that, and if someday I forgot, I’ll come back to you.
tripping.roaming.mingle 