02/11/2013

            Danas je bio taj dan kad sam krenula put Kathmandua! Smještena sam malko izvan, u Lalithpuru. Svi su mi rekli da će mi se Kathmandu svidjeti, i tako je kako je rečeno. Zaljubljena! A još ništa nisam vidjela.

            Išla sam predati papire za vizu za još 6 mjeseci u Indiji, čekala satima da bi se kompjuter pokvario baš kad je bilo samo dvoje ljudi ispred mene, tako da moram u ponedjeljak opet ići. Dobit ću vizu dva dana kasnije od planiranog, ali nije da sam išta konkretno planirala. Nekonkretno sam planirala put oko svijeta, popeti se na Himalaje i navratiti do svetog grada Benaresa.

            Nakon te epizode sam besciljno hodala u smjeru gdje me vuklo, iako mi se činilo da svi idu u suprotnom smjeru, usput se cjenkala se za kilo voća (sweet lime, nešto kao naranča/mandarina, ali nije) i došla tamo gdje su mi mnogi rekli da odem, u kvart Thamel. Tamo sam se prešetavala nepreglednim uličicama s dućanima, većinom trekking opreme, šalova yakove vune i raznim đinđulalama – nakit, zdjele, rudrakshe, mandale, kipovi, noževi – nema čega nema.

Tako bauljajući naišla sam na dućan koji šije traperice. A baš sam sjedila u vlaku i mislila kako nikad u životu više neću naći hlače kao one za 20 leva (10 eura) koje sam u Bugarskoj utržila na nekom sniženju, kadli: traperice šivane po mjeri, za oko 100 kuna! To je turistička cijena, za lokalce je 20ak kuna manje. U dućanu sam nekog stranca (čitaj: bijelca) pozvala na čaj, da bi ispalo da nije stranac, već rezident Kathmandua već neko vrijeme. Na izbor mi je dao fensi mjesto s dobrom kafom i nefensi mjesto s dobrim kolačima. Nitko se nije pitao što ću izabrati 🙂 Jela sam cheesecake, i kušala malo toplog čokoladnog kolača s bananama. Njam!

            Ma to ti je život, kad je spiza dobra. A ne oni truli sendviči koje mi jedemo. Ovdje se brate, dobro jede. Jede se domaće, jede se svježe skuhano, svježe iscjeđeno. Nema konzervans! Čudne su te razlike. Čudno je ono što smatramo komforom kod nas, i bez čega mislimo da ne bi mogli, dok propuštamo ono što je uistinu najpotrebnije…a to je? Dobra spiza! Možda nema mašine za robu, možda nema uvijek struje, možda nema uvijek tople vode, ali ima uvijek svježeg povrća i voća i priče i veselja.

            Jako mi se sviđa Kathmandu, ne djeluje mi preveliko, ljudi su vesele naravi, nisu agresivni kakvi Indijci znaju biti, bar ne u ekspresiji (govorim o generalnom uličnom dojmu).  Žele ti prodati, žele zaraditi, ali bez tog nekog prevarantskog okusa, koji je u Indiji, čini mi se, prisutan. Prikriveni osjećaj muljatorstva, dok ovdje znamo i ti i ja da se muljamo, ali pristajemo na to i onda besramno i s osmijehom zaboravljamo originalnu cijenu i prvih par riječi. Ponosna sam na sebe što mogu procijeniti koliko što vrijedi. Ma platim i više, ali što ima veze, neka sam. Turist sam!

            Odveo me prijatel’ nadalje do živuće Božice Kumari,  djevojčica koja dolazi na tu poziciju u dobi od 3 godine i ostaje do prve menstruacije, kada se bira nova. Moraju biti rodom iz određene zajednice, ne smiju imati nikakve oznake na sebi, madeže i slično, pogotovo ne porezotine. Kada je sve to zadovoljeno, onda odabir kreće u brutalu – žrtvovanje životinja u mračnoj sobi za vrijeme čega ona koja ne zaplače je Ta. Istina ili Mit? Kada dođe na poziciju, duh Božice uđe u nju. Zatim se školuje, štuje ju se itd. Slijedeća dolazi i ako se prethodna poreže ili vjerovatno još niz drugih suludih pravila. Meni to zvuči kao izbor za Miss za djecu. Nepotrebno mučenje. Ali što ti je tradicija? I tko je itko da procjenjuje što valja, a što ne valja. Perspektive su premnogobrojne.

 03/11/2013

            Opet sam se dala odvesti kao vreća krumpira, bez da sam znala gdje idem i što ću raditi. Najbolji osjećaj. Ne moraš misliti. Nakon poštenog doručka i Diwalijskih slatkiša, sjela sam u auto s domaćinom, njegovim sinom i par njegovih prijatelja.  Bili smo na Durbar trgu, pa sam odlučila prošetati okolo dok se čekalo na još neke ljude. Došla sam do drugog kraja trga, slikala krave i gledala đinđulale, i htjela se vratiti, kad me zaustavilo da platim upad na trg.

Opušteno sam rekla, ne, ne, ja sam došla s druge strane, tu sam sa svojom nepalskom obitelji. Još su mi dvaput pokušavali naplatiti, pa sam još dodala da smo došli na padyatru, pa su rekli, aha, i pustili me. Prvo, da, ovdje se naplaćuje ulaz na neke trgove, a drugo koliko ja znam padyatra je ono kad idemo blagoslivljati ljude u sela ili slumove. Prvo značenje koje sam upravo našla na internetu je tramp ilitiga skitnica, no ujedno znači i hodočašće, te putovati pješke. Skupila se ekipa mladih Art of Livingovaca, imali smo mikrofon i malo pojačalo, pjevali smo, plesali i dijelili letke. Poblesavilo sve. Kada se mantre pjevaju skupa, energija se promijeni, nešto se dogodi, nešto toliko neopisivo lijepo i ugodno iznutra, još jedna od onih stvari bez mogućnosti pravog opisa. Nestane uma i misli, sve se stopi u jedno i ostaje samo slavljenje i radost u srcu. Nedavno sam razmišljala o tome kako sam se nadijelila tih letaka, i kako najradije nikada ne bih dala nikome nijedan letak više u životu. Ali Guru me uvijek uvali u situacije kojima se opirem, i pokaže mi da je sve super, što god radila. Sve što god trebam dolazi mi u izobilju, a sve što izbjegavam sleti mi ravno na nos kako ne bih mogla izbjeći ni pod razno. Odmah su me osvojili, sutra me vode na nešto negdje, doznat ću već. Sprijateljila sam se s klincima skroz. Neki od njih su bili na Vedic Wisdom programu u Ashramu, ali ih je Guruji poslao doma, i rekao im da rade padyatru. Parlamentarni izbori su 19.11. Po gradu je svugdje vojna policija, ali izgleda mi više kao da se pokazuju, nego što nešto zbilja rade. Većina u Parlamentu su komunisti, predizborne kampanje se održavaju s megafonima na trgovima s puno praznih obećanja, naravno. Svašta se tu događa, ali iskreno ne djeluje mi kao nešto opasno, više kao kad su kod nas građanski marševi i pobune.

             Nakon 6 mjeseci života u Ashramu, iz vanashramske perspektive, dojam mi je slijedeći:

Štogod se događalo, čini mi se kao da sam u nekom balonu, izvan svih događanja. Sve više sve nekako pluta, situacije, ljudi, sve se vrti, sve se događa na površini, a unutra nešto ostaje netaknuto. Prije bi me neke od ovih situacija stvarno dotakle. Onako kao da sam bila napravljena od toplog maslaca, i kad bi se nož približio išao bi ravno u srce. Sada sam si više kao od želatine, sve se odbija, ili skliže, a kad krene prema unutra, treba više vremena da uđe i brže nestaje.

P.S. Za večeru sam jela domaću pizzu s domaćim pelatima. Najbolja ikad!

P.P.S. Sretan Diwali!

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 02/11/2013

            Today was the day when I went on the road to Kathmandu! I am situated a bit out of town, in Lalithpur. Everyone had told me I would like Kathmandu, and they were so right. In love! And I still have not seen anything.

            I went to file the documents for another 6 months visa for India, waited for hours to be sent back when only two people were more to go, because of a system breakdown. I will go again on Monday, and will be receiving the visa two days later than planned. It is not that I had planned anything in particular, except to travel around the world, climb the Himalayas and stop by the holy city of Benares.

            After that I aimlessly walked in a direction that was drawing me to it, even though it seemed everyone was going the other way, bargained for a kilo of sweet limes and arrived to the part of town called Thamel, where everyone had recommended going. I walked the endless narrow streets with mostly trekking equipment shops, yak shawl shops and all sorts of other trinkets – jewellery, singing bowls, rudrakshas, stone carvings, mandalas, knives – what not. Then randomly found a jeans making shop (it said: “jens”). Sitting on the train I was thinking how I will never find another pair of trousers I had bought for 20 lev (10 euros) in Bulgaria on a silly discount et voilà: tailor made jeans for about 12 euros, that being the price for tourists, the local would pay some 2 euros less. At the shop I randomly invited a foreigner (read: Caucasian) for tea (even though I do not drink chai), guessing he would also be a tourist, but turned out to be a Kathmandu resident. He gave me a choice between a fancy place with good coffee and a non-fancy place with excellent cake. No one wondered for too long what I will choose 🙂 I had cheesecake and tasted a bit of warm chocolate banana cake. Yummie!

            That is life for you, mate, when the grub is solid (who knows how this sounds in English, it is a bad translation from Croatian, only, meaning food quality is important).

Not those rotten sandwiches we keep on having in the West. Here you can have decent food. Here we eat fresh, home grown, freshly squeezed. No preservatives! It is strange what we consider to give us comfort, things we think we could manage without, while missing the most important stuff, and that is…? Good food! Maybe there is no washing machine, maybe there is no electricity, maybe there is no hot water every time you want to have a shower, but there are always fresh veggies and fruits and stories and joyful laughter.

            I really like Kathmandu, it seems to be not too big and people have a generally sunny disposition lacking aggressiveness Indians tend to exhibit (talking of street impressions). People want to sell, they want to make money, but without leaving you with that feeling that you are somehow cheated. A feeling that a hidden agenda is there, as opposed to Nepal where we know we are messing with each other, but we are both agreeing to it, and that too with a smile, and then shamelessly forgetting the original deal. I am proud of being able to recognise the value of things. I pay more, but so what, I am a tourist after all.

            My new friend took me to see the living Goddess Kumari who is a girl from the age of 3 until she gets her first period, then a new one is chosen. They have to be born in a certain community, they are not supposed to have any markings on their body, like birthmarks, they are not to have been cut, bled or hurt in any other way. When all these conditions are satisfied, then the selection turns brutal – sacrificing animals in a darkened room during which the one that does not cry is The One. Truth or Myth? Once she is chosen, the Goddesses spirit enters her. She gets educated and worshipped and all that. The next one is taken if this one cuts herself and probably an infinite number of other rules. To me it sounds like those baby girl beauty pageants. Unnecessary torture, if you ask me. But that is tradition for you. Who has the right to judge? The perspectives are too numerous to impartially make judgment.

03/11/2013

            I let myself travel like a bag of potatoes again. Without knowing where I am going and what I will be doing. The best feeling ever. No need to think. After a fair breakfast and Deepawali sweets, I went with my host and his son and son’s friends to Durbar square. While waiting for others to join us, I went for a walk on my own to the opposite side of the square, taking pictures of cows and browsing through trinkets. As I wanted to return someone had stopped me and said that I needed to pay the entrance fee to enter the square. I casually said no, no, I came from the other side, I am here with my Nepali family. The attempted to charge me two more times, so I added that I have come for padyatra, so they said aha and let me go. Firstly, yes, the entrance to a square is charged, secondly, as far as I know padyatra is when we go bless people in villages and slums? The first meaning I just found on the internet is tramp, but also means a pilgrimage, or journey by foot. A few Art of Living youth came, we had a mike and a small amplifier, so we sang and danced and gave away flyers (I am still not clear on what exactly they said, something like coming back to our roots and promoting hinduism, which I am not entirely sure I agree with, but what to do? Kya karo!). Everything went crazy. When mantras are sung together, the energy changes, something happens, something so beautiful and enjoyable from the inside, another one of those things a description cannot do any good . The mind dissappears, thoughts dissappear, everything melts into one and the only thing that remains is celebration and joy. I recently wanted to decide not to give another flyer in my life, ever. But the Guru always gets me in these situations that I resist and shows me how it is okay, whatever you do is okay.  All I need comes to me in abundance, and all I resist comes to sit on my nose so it cannot be avoided. I started to dance, I sang as if I was at home, I was like a child with those young enthusiasts and had the time of my life. They owe me now, I guess they’ll take me out tomorrow to do something again. BTW, some of them were attending the Vedic Wisdom program at the Ashram and were sent back home by Guruji to do these padyatras. Parliament elections are on the 19th. Military police is about, but they seem to be there just for show. Most of the parliament is communist, the pre-election campaigns are conducted on squares with megaphones giving people empty promises. Honestly, it does not seem to be dangerous, more like the marches and public rebelions we also had in the recent years in Croatia.

            After 6 months of living in the Ashram, now being in a non-ashram environement, my impression is as follows:

Whatever happens around me, I seem to be in some sort of baloon, outside all happenings. Everything seems to be floating; situations, people, appearing and disappearing on the surface, what is inside stays untouched. Before I would have been seriously upset about some of the things I have been living throught these days. As if I had been made out of hot butter, at the approach of the knife it would just slide right into my heart. Now, it is more like I am made of jello. Everything bounces off me, or slides, when it starts to go inside it takes more time to go deep and disappears more quickly.

P.S. I had pizza for dinner with home made sauce. The best ever!

P.P.S. Happy Diwali!