An Unplanned Walking Tour

I woke up from my afternoon nap to Melissa telling me we were going to a party of sorts.  She had with her Reena, the resident at Kathmandu Medical College that Melissa is shadowing.  (Melissa can tell you about Reena and the KMC residency program in a later entry.)  Apparently one of the other docs was having a ceremony/party for her 5-month-old daughter, who is at the age where she ceremonially eats her first rice.  I thought this would be a cool way to experience some Nepali culture outside of the hospital and typical tourist haunts. 

 

Reena knew where the location of the party was, sort of, but wanted to get a gift for the mother and daughter.  She knew of a baby clothing store, sort of, and so we were off to find it before going to the party.  We proceeded south from Thamel, and she said it would be a good walk but we were up for it.  We traveled crowded streets and narrow alleyways, past more sidewalk shrines and butcher shops.  Reena had not been to the neighborhood recently, though, and had to stop to ask for directions.  6 times.  So we zigzagged through increasingly unfamiliar streets, late now for the party, searching for a store that Reena wasn’t sure was still there.  The walk led us to a sort of outside/inside mall where there were only Nepalese, and I felt like we’d really gotten off the beaten path.  No longer were we surrounded by shops hawking miniature Buddhas and hippie outfits, no more stores of pirated DVDs and trekking equipment.  This was where real Nepalese people shopped, and there was no traditional Nepali garb.  It was all Shakira, Abercrombie, Tupac, American Eagle, etc.  No more proud “Made in Nepal" signs—it looked like it all came straight from China, complete with massive amounts of plastic and styrofoam to package it all in. 

 

Reena is Nepalese so obviously she speaks the language and eventually found the store she was looking for.  To my surprise, she also ran into people that she knew 3 separate times, in the midst of teeming alleyways in an unfamiliar neighborhood, in a city of 5 million.  Weird.  After also locating a shop to buy wrapping paper, we were headed to the party.  This walking excursion took about an hour, during which time I grew increasingly annoyed at the apparent casualness with which everyone here treats punctuality and organization.  But I’ll get over it—it’s just a cultural difference. 

 

The party was located in probably the busiest section of streets we’d seen yet.  For the first time, we encountered a 4-lane road.  It was packed with minibuses full of people, and crowds of people on the sidewalk waiting to get on more buses.  All the streets in Kathmandu have been crowded, but it’s mostly pedestrians, taxis, and motorcycles.  This was the first place I’d seen traffic that really looked like a big city.  On one side of the street, we were told, was the biggest hospital in Kathmandu, which stretched for blocks.  They were in the process of building a new trauma center.  The partially constructed building was surrounded by scaffolding made of sticks lashed together.  On the left side of the street was our destination—an army base.

 

From the wrapping paper store Reena said it was a 2 minute walk to the party.  20 minutes later we walked onto the army base.  She explained that the doctor’s husband is an army officer, so the party was being held at a recreation club run by the army—so not really a base per se, but it was surrounded with many rows of razor wire and had 5 armed guards at the entrance.  So yeah, it’s a base in my opinion.  The guards seemed surprised to see Melissa and I walking in.

 

It was like entering a different world.  It was quiet and spacious.  We found our way to an outdoor reception area where many people were milling around in nice clothing drinking wine and eating hors d’oeuvres.  We met the host and his wife for whom the celebration was happening.  We seated ourselves among a number of the other OB docs and had good conversation for a while.  Whereas I had expected a traditional Nepali celebration, something different and unique, it actually could have been any reception for any formal event anywhere.  It was pleasant but quite ordinary as far as those things go.  There was a buffet and some more conversation, and we then got a ride back home.  I definitely felt, however, that we were sitting among the most privileged of Nepali people, since right outside that razor wire there were people clearly impoverished, and many others conducting their daily business struggles just to get by—and we were drinking wine among doctors and army officers.  Oh, the one difference that distinguished this reception from any I might find at home was the continued presence of those stray dogs.  Nobody paid any attention to them.  Imagine going to a nice outdoor wedding reception and having random mutts begging at all the tables.