Funeral Crashing in Nepal

Life changing experiences come when you least expect. I had just arrived in Kathmandu after a long flight and I was exhausted. I came to the city with very little expectations and slight bitterness because I didn’t have as much time here as I had wished. I have always felt a calling in my soul to come to Nepal, something about this country felt mysterious and I was eager absorb as much as possible. I was met by a man with my name on a sign outside the airport. He placed me in a car that whisked me off to Thamel, the heart of the city. Headphones blaring, I watched eagerly out the window as this new world passed me by. Chaotic traffic flowed gracefully around pedestrians crossing at random, cars and minibuses and bikes weaved effortlessly despite the lack of lane lines. Drivers knowingly avoided rickshaws that ran every red light without thinking twice. Every inch of this place was alive and coated in a charismatic layer of brownish dust that is so prevalent it can be seen from the sky. People were talking, rushing, hustling their goods.

I arrived at the Oasis Kathmandu Hotel and the place immediately felt like a home away from home. The staff was so accommodating; within minutes I had been checked into my room, ordered a hot meal and was sipping a proper latte (which has been so rare these days). After telling the manager I was short on time and wanted to see as much as possible, he arranged an English speaking guide and driver to pick me up within the hour. I highly recommend private tours with a local guide, especially when you’re not in the city for a long time. It is more expensive but its so worth it. The personalized ability to choose where you want to go, how long you want to stay there and to be able to ask every question to a local is priceless.

The first stop of the trip was to a temple that I have been dying to see for myself ever since I began taking photographs: the iconic Swayambhunath Temple. We walked up the cobble steps to the top of the mountain, dodging many particularly diseased looking monkeys. As I turned the corner, the air became thick with incense and an ominous tape playing a deep chant filled my ears. The stupa towered over the mountain and the sight of it wiped away all traces of jet lag. The golden stupa adorned with the eyes of Lord Buddha, prayer flags blowing enchantingly in the gusts of wind. I stopped and consciously absorbed what it felt like to be in this moment. To feel the ancient ground beneath my feet, to engrain this place into my memory amidst the whirl of tourists and merchants and monks. I walked clockwise around the stupa twice, turning each prayer wheel as I passed. After truly appreciating the scene for what it was, I went on a photo frenzy attempting to capture what it felt like to be here.

The day continued to present beautiful sights one after another, from Durbar Square to hidden temples to shops filled with curios fit for Indiana Jones himself. It wasn’t until my guide asked if I would like to see the “night festival” that my experience took an unexpected turn. He was very nonchalant about it so I didn’t think much of it assuming it would be a night market or a touristy traditional dance. You know what they say when you make assumptions…

It was dark by the time we reached the banks of the sacred river Bagmati which was stagnant and blackened from pollution. I could see billows of smoke across the water as figures appeared to be flipping boards of burning embers into the river. Even once we joined the crowd that had gathered around the river I still didn’t understand what I was seeing, until I spotted the shrouded bodies laid out on the steps below.

It didn’t take long to realize I was now attending a Hindu funeral. The ceremony draws in crowds of people every night to dance, sing and spectate. It’s a normal part of everyday life here; I didn’t see anyone sobbing or commemorating their loved ones individually. There were 10 or more platforms on which the cremators build wooden pyres. They place the bodies on the pyres draped in garlands of orange flowers before igniting the shroud. The formation of the cremation ghats allow the ashes to be washed away by the river. Its worth mentioning that the cremators who tend to the fires work tirelessly throughout the day and night everyday, very closely stirring the ashes without masks to filter the smoke.

Pashupatinath was a powerful place to contemplate mortality. This funeral practice felt very foreign and oddly casual but its familiar in the way that all of us have to come to terms with the deaths of the ones we love eventually.

I had never seen a cremation before and I had no time to mentally prepare for the graphic reality of it. My imagination ran wild in my dreams that night. In between the wreaths of ceremonial orange marigolds I could see the flames engulf my body. I didn’t feel pain as I watched as my muscles, intestines, bones and everything that I am composed of fade away. I looked down at my fingertips to see them crumble into ash. I was no longer a physical being but a consciousness becoming one with the air. A man stirred my fire until the remains of what once was mine floated up in embers and became nothing.

A word that comes to mind when I think about this experience: confronting. I realized how vastly my cultural norms effected the way I felt when witnessing something different than anything I’ve seen before. Funeral traditions are deeply ingrained in our cultures. An average funeral in the US goes something like this: Everyone arrives to a church in all black. They take their seats in the pews to listen to a ceremony of prayers and share memories and tears together. Then they go to a graveyard and solemnly watch the casket lowered into the ground. Afterwards everyone gathers at home surrounded by loved ones to console the immediate family and commemorate the life of the deceased.

The social norms I have unconsciously constructed surrounding death, both in the way of dealing with people I love passing and dying myself, has been uprooted. If the Hindu people can gather and watch bodies burn and dance and chant in the smoke without breaking down or acting morbid why should I feel so scared of death? While looking on at the festival, my Hindu guide said, “If all goes to plan, this is exactly where I will go when I die”. The Nepali people seem so much more open to conversations about death than my people in the US. The pyres in Pashupatinath have seen more death than is comprehendible. Apparently fires raged here nonstop throughout the day and night after the earthquake in 2015 as hundreds of families mourned their loses from the disaster…

Mount Everest: Mountain Flight

I felt immense guilt traveling to the country I’ve always dreamed of without making the legendary trek to Everest Base Camp. Short on both money and time, I have resolved that I will be back one day to check that off my bucket list. My final experience in Nepal was a flight to see the infamous Mount Everest. If I wasn’t able to trek on this trip, I had to at least lay my eyes on the tallest mountain in the world.

I booked the mountain flight one day in advance with Buddha Airlines. Keep in mind this was in January/February so availability may vary and you might want to consider booking ahead of time. Flights start everyday at 6 am, everyone is guaranteed a window seat and they fly about 20 miles away from the summit. The fare is around $200USD and is worth every penny. I chose to go on the earliest flight possible (arriving at the airport at 5 am) because I was leaving the country the same day and didn’t want to risk missing my flight. Thankfully my international flight wasn’t until the late afternoon because the mountain flight was delayed over 5 1/2 hours due to weather conditions. This is apparently very common in the winter months. Waiting patiently in the freezing steel chairs of the domestic terminal with no wifi I reached new levels of exhaustion and boredom. I watched the terminal slowly fill with tourists sporting their new knockoff Northface gear and shiny hiking boots. Finally the fog lifted and we were cleared for takeoff.

Winter in the Himalayas: Climate Change Awareness
I visited Nepal in the middle of winter (end of January, beginning of February). Since I was coming from South East Asia, I anticipated the coldest weather transition possible but this was not what I found in Kathmandu… It was sunny and 75°F (24°C) all day with no storms on the forecast for the upcoming month. I traveled throughout Asia during the rainy season and didn’t use my rain jacket once. I didn’t think much of this until the mountain flight. As you can see in these photos, there was only light, dirty layers of snow on the mountaintops. To all the climate change skeptics out there: Take a look at the tallest mountain range in the world during the winter of 2017-18. Where’s the snow? You can’t see these mountains and not ask this question. There is a serious problem arising when the tallest mountains in the world aren’t covered in snow during the winter. The face of Everest is bare this year and we should all be more concerned about it. Our world’s temperatures are changing at a rapid rate and learning about the causes of these problems and their impacts on both the environment and the millions of people that live here is the first step to finding a solution.

I feel immensely privileged to have seen this much of the world and it has become my goal to always show the beauty of nations otherwise negatively perceived. Our minds are capable of comprehending the complexity of all the issues in the world. Nothing is one sided, especially when it comes to our humanity and our fight to protect the environment. It isn’t too late if we don’t give up. We must push away from the things we don’t understand by educating ourselves. Through these stories and realizations I hope we can move towards a more conscious, interconnected world. ⠀