The Love/Hate Relationship Begins…

So I’m not sure if you’ve heard of Thamel, but if you’ve ever or will ever go backpacking, trekking, or climbing in Nepal, you’ll most likely end up in Thamel. It’s a small section of Kathmandu where the foreigners outnumber the locals. It’s very westernized with it’s Zara, Mac store, cute coffeeshops, and cheap outdoor gear shops. It’s the place you go to buy everything and anything you left at home from nalgenes (I forgot mine) to down sleeping bags. It’s also probably the highest hippie capital (in more ways than one) as well. So there’s a lot of dreadlocked, dirty hippie people (not that I judge) all running around in their Birkenstocks and linen tunics.
Okay, so that might be the hate part… well at least part of it. I’ll get to more of that later. I went into Thamel with my Cali roommate and her colleague/friend. I thought I should probably get it over with now so I can know where to go later on when no one’s around to show me. So we took a taxi to get out there because it’s pretty freakin’ far away and then as soon as you’re out of the taxi, you’re immediately hit with the sound of honking of taxis, motorbikes, and rickshaws. Throw into the mix, the constant calling of “Hello!” from all the Nepali sellers trying to make a rupee (or a thousand) off of the nearest westerner. Shoot… I meant to get to the love part of the relationship and I’ve immediately slipped back into the hate part.
The love part, here goes. I like Thamel because it’s the place I know I’ll probably go if I feel like I’m missing the states. As I said before, foreigners are a mainstay in this section of Kat. That means that things that foreigners like are available in Thamel. They have gifts and souvenirs, bars and restaurants and dance clubs and prostitutes. My roommate likened it to Bangkok, which I am not really interested in visiting. My roommate, her friend and I stopped at this café with its sleek leather chairs and western food and people watched as different foreigners and westernized Nepalis alike sat and chatted in their cute, trendy clothes. It’s nice to just sit and absorb the western-ness.
Plus, where there are tourists, there are touristy shops. So Joy, I’ve scoped out the place for magnets and know where to find them when I’m about to come home. I’ve already figured out a lot of the gifts I’ll be bringing home and by the time I leave, hopefully (big hopefully) I’ll know enough Nepali to bargain well.  I bought a few things for myself… I can’t help it and it will be a long 7 months. So I bought a warm hat (a little early, but it’s getting a little cooler in the evenings), a new bag for when I need to carry more stuff around town, a map of Nepal so I can orient myself, and season 1 of Mad Men (because I’ve heard a lot of good things about the series). So now I know where I can at least marginally keep up with American movies and television.
A little more on the bad part of Thamel (just a little). Another common occurrence in Thamel is seeing the street kids sniffing glue. I saw it a few times and was stunned. So the street kids asking for money from the tourists, I’m a little wary that that money isn’t going towards food, but towards more glue.

The Hash… or ex-pats unite.

Yesterday, in an effort to be social, I joined my roommates on the Hash. What is the hash? Apparently, they happen all over the world in all the ex-pat communities. It’s like a group run/hike on a course set by the Hares (or Hairs) through the landscape of whatever country they are in. They went over some rules I didn’t understand, something about x’s and checkpoints, circles, and false trails but I think that just applies to the runners. I was on the walking team… I’m not about to look like a crazy person running around with white people and other foreigners. The Himalayan Hash here in Kathmandu is the highest hash and pretty much goes through the hills of Kathmandu Valley. By far, it’s the strangest thing I’ve been participated in… at least in a long while.

Picture this… 70 or so foreigners running/hiking through the rice paddies and poor living areas of Kathmandu leaving small heaps of shredded paper (to mark the way, of course) every few feet and making a lot of noise along the way (even at the gate of a monastery). Then picture at the end of the course, those same 70 foreigners standing in a circle in someone’s ex-pat yard forcing newcomers to chug a beer while everyone else sings the “official” hash song. That would be the hash.

The walking was nice (albeit weird to just be traipsing through Nepali neighborhoods and rice paddies) because I’m glad I got see a different part of KTM and got to hike some. It’s supposed to be a chance for people to meet other ex-pats and chat. I spent my hike talking to my Californian roommate and discussing how absurd the Hash concept is. I got some great pictures and avoided falling or leeches. So that part was nice.

The ridiculous frat party games after, I was not into. I’m not a joiner to begin with and I’m definitely not into being told what to do. So when it came to the forced drinking games, I did not participate. My Cali roomie and I stood and observed the other foreigners. The Hash crowd is a little older, I’d say maybe most of them are 30-50 years old. They come from all over. There was a bunch of Canadian pilots/flight attendants, some Filipinos (none of which approached me of course), some Irish, and of course, Americans. Doesn’t the whole thing seem very American?

I have to say the whole thing freaked me out. If I were to get married and live abroad (whether in Nepal or some other place where they have the Hash), is that what all my Saturdays would be like? They do it EVERY Saturday. They even have a Grandmaster. Yeah, I know. Gordon, is this what we have to look forward to?