CULTURE SHOCK!

            Abject poverty. Destitution. The struggle to survive. Deplorable conditions. As morbid as these phrases may sound, they are precisely what I was hoping to see at least once on this trip. And now I have -- in Kathmandu, Nepal. One of the reasons I applied for this wonderful experience (globalscavengerhunt.com) for both Casey and me (and was graciously accepted) was to see how the other half lives -- really. Looking at the cheap quarters where the help at your five-star villa resides is not knowing poverty. Driving quickly by a shantytown on the way to the theater is not knowing poverty. Rolling up the window as you drive by a homeless person trying to wash your windshield for a buck is not knowing poverty. Strolling down a street and encountering children begging for money and noticing they are missing a limb or an eye -- and declining to give them money precisely because of their infirmities -- so you don't encourage the practice of maiming a child to make her a better force for begging -- that is witnessing poverty. So why did I want to come here? Call me a voyeur, if you must. But I do not believe any of us can live in the undeniable opulence that characterizes the life of anyone in America -- even those among the lowest socioeconomic tier -- and complain about our circumstances until we see what true suffering really is.

            But guess what happened on the way to the forum? I fell in love with this place. This is my favorite stop to date. I adore Nepal. So does Casey (who has rented a motorcyle (ugh!) and already met half of Kathmandu--he has two new tattoos to prove it!). This place is an absolute contradiction in terms. It's gorgeous. Despite the poverty, the city and surrounding area are beautiful and the countryside is idyllic. The Himalayas are here, with the tallest mountains in the world just a hop, skip and a jump away. Yesterday morning, Casey and I flew on a propeller plane over the mountains and saw Mount Everest up close. Flying into town when we first arrived, the scenery was spectacular. And the temples and buildings are magnificent. So very old and thus so scenic, classy, elegant. We went to a shopping/dining area of town yesterday that looks like the French Quarter 50 years ago. They just don't make architecture like that any more -- and haven't in decades. It is beautiful.

            Granted, as in Vietnam and Cambodia, I have been approached by seemingly hundreds of "Mr. Haneys," trying to sell me paper machete and grade school trinkets for a hundred dollars -- and ultimately settling for one greenback (that is, on that rare occasion when I actually engage them). I hate that whole scene, as those of you who know me know. One of my law firm partners negotiated my last two car purchases. My offer for the house I recently bought was the list price. I am never the one involved in lawsuit settlement negotiations. My partners know that I litigate the cases and, depending on how well I've done, they determine how much we'll recommend for our clients. I'm just not good at anything money-related.  I hate it. I wish we could just put whatever money we earn into an account and every time we buy something, eat a meal or drink a glass of wine, a computer would just take care of everything and we'd never have to see anything up close. Sort of like a credit card without the card, the credit or the monthly invoice. (Of course, the fact that I rarely have any money -- present moment excluded -- may partially explain my aversion. It's easy to be against that which you don't have.)

            But, as usual, I digress. I'll try to give more specifics tomorrow because this place deserves at least two blog entries. We arrived Tuesday afternoon and are here until at least Thursday (today) at 10 p.m. That is when we meet as a group, turn in our "scorecards" and find out the next location for which we will be departing in four hours or more. We have no idea where it is or whether we'll leave tomorrow night or the next day. We never know anything more than where we are at the moment and when and where we next meet as a group. Can you imagine how wonderful that is? No schedule. No expectation. It's like receiving a grand, unexpected gift every few days.

            The people here are fantastic. Make no mistake: that wasn't the universal group expectation. As we took the bus ride from the airport to the utterly charming Hotel Shanker (which is my favorite to date--like the rest of the city, it is old, classic and loaded with personality), there were quite a few shocked looks as we drove by the rundown buildings, garbage in the streets and unpaved roads. Several of our members inquired as to why this trip would detour to a place involving such misery. I haven't spoken with many of them since we were released to swarm the area, but I really hope their attitudes have changed. Admittedly, I was circumspect as well at first, and made sure my wallet was deep in my front pocket when we initially ventured out. But we have been treated with nothing but respect and kindness and I feel as at home here as anywhere outside my residential base.

            We have enjoyed wonderful meals, beautiful tours through amazing temple areas and scenic delights since we arrived, as I'll discuss more tomorrow. Does that make us hypocrites given the almost indescribable poverty so many here face? To be honest, I think it does. But that is true every day of our lives when we do something extravagant in our country all the while knowing of the suffering elsewhere. Whether the poverty is several thousand miles away or staring you in the face, attending to it only when it is in close proximity is perhaps the most hypocritical of acts. But I digress, this is a downer and this is not going to be resolved by a one-day blog entry.

            The cab driver we used for a couple of scavenges yesterday speaks excellent English and makes his living seeking out foreigners. He moved from the countryside to a small, one-room apartment (efficiency) in town where he and his wife raise their two children. He spends virtually all his money sending one of his children to private school with the hope that he can send the other to the same when he reaches admission age. He said he and his wife know that the only hope for their children is to become educated and learn English. He would love to leave Napal for a vacation but a visa would cost upwards of $20,000 U.S. dollars! (The nation does everything it can to avoid mass emigration.) Only the extraordinarily rich residents ever have the opportunity to go elsewhere, even for a visit. His story is reminiscent of so many others we've heard.

            Well, we're off to see more of the city. Casey has already had a full morning. I spent some time getting caught up on e-mail and what not. But I look forward to interacting with more wonderful people from the nation of Nepal. "Kathmandu, I'll soon be seeing you, And your strange bewilderin' time, Will hold me down." (Cat Stevens '70).