Wake to thunder and constant rain, which reinforces determination to remain in bed. Energy reserves however bring on the squirms and we reluctantly head out for Breakfast. First wander down to pottery square, which is supposed to be the site of the communities morning festivities. A large tree trunk is supposed to be erected via large ropes, which given how small the space is should be worth seeing. Apparently in order to achieve the hauling room, people are located on the balconies of the surrounding terraces. Not much action at present and given the ongoing rain, cannot blame them. Pass a long line of people offering puja contributions at a temple including the odd chicken and goat. The drains out front running with a mixture of rain and blood. The feeling though is festive.
At Sunny guest house decide to try out the mixed fruit pancake which I read as various fruit pancakes but is exact to description and is one mega pancake with chunks of pineapple and apple. Different, but tasty.
The Canadian guys next to us (Heather, Andre (and kids)) strike up a conversation and it turns out they have a history of cycle touring having cycled through Laos, China, Thailand, Indonesia and Australia on one stint and some of South America on another. Really interesting and with some great stories including brushes with Chinese police. Heading up trekking near Manaslu with the kids before possibly cycling as a family in Myanmar, they have a tandem bike in storage in Bangkok. Very cool.
Having sat around talking for a couple of hours we decide we better go and check proceedings down in pottery square again, especially now that the rain has cleared and the sun is out. By the time we wander through the square and down the side alley, the consensus crowd appears to be all coming the other way. Not surprisingly the bare trunk with a bush of leaves at the very top is already in place, anchored into a deep gutter and braced by a large stone. It appears either a rite of passage or form of religious festivity to climb the now hanging thick rope hanging from high up on the trunk, young guys shimming up and post touching the trunk throwing notes of money over either the crowd or the temple below, I am not sure which. Just thankful no coins.
Send a few emails and sit out the rain before coffee at Black cup. Becoming partial to espresso con pannas. Back through the throng to a small hole in the wall for good veg samosas, channa and chia. At 50 rup versus the 450 rup for coffee and choc brownie at Black cup it appears we have unaligned priorities. At one street corner pass a severed cows head sprinkled with rice grains and tika.
At 4pm we walk down to Khalna Tole and join the growing masses to watch the Chariot of Bhaiab descend the hill from just below Taumadhi square. We set ourselves up behind a well wedged against a large plastic water tank behind. Pass the time people watching the crowd and surrounding residents on balconies and behind their Newari latticed windows. The crowd continues to swell and flow down further toward the temple and rock yoni below. A uniformed pipe and brass band plays from a dance platform set under a typical Newari open fronted verandah with detailed brick and wood work.
Every now and then a loud roar and whistling comes up from the guys closer up to where the alley coming down off the hill turns into the square where we are located. But we wait for something to happen or appear and nothing does. It is a bit like going to a music festival when the crowd who have been waiting around for the next act to come on go nuts when they see someone sit behind the mike, keyboard or drums, but it is only a roadie. A French couple squeeze in beside Sophie recognizing our strategic value. The middle aged lady could be from anywhere but the guy is like a smash up between Rolf Harris and Rodger Rabbit. I struggle to contain my mirth. Many people look at me and laugh too. The lady who is pumped shows us pictures taken earlier of the chariot in motion. Surely it will not be long now.
The rain increases and the crowd thins to the sides under cover or umbrellas. A pair of roaming balloon and cheap plastic toy merchants take up a position straight between us and the alley entrance. What the....I am tempted to pay someone to take them out, converted surely it would be inexpensive. We are joined by several small groups of young Nepali guys, in very good spirits, who loiter around for a little while and then float off. Then one of the roars turns out to justified and the edge of the chariot jolts into view. The statue of Betal rides at the front taking on the form of either a jockey or ships figurehead on the golden arched bow. Marigolds draping his form and brass bells jingling from chains hung below. A couple of young guys holding on to either side of the bow extort action and via voice and motioning encourage the foolhardy crew in front to haul the chariot forward.
At every peak of encouragement the chariot and temple sitting above, rocks from side to side but seemingly refuses to budge. The eyes painted on the massive wooden wheels may be smiling. Guys on the sides of the cart push with their feet against the wheels wiggling the wood in an attempt to work them free. When I had initially heard of the whole setup I visualised guys at either ends with these massive ropes like tug of war ropes, one group on either side controlling the movement of this massive wooden construction down through the narrow alley to the square below. What I, no we, didn't realise was that the oversize dual drainage channels on this particular alley served a dual purpose. The wheels approx 1.5mtrs each in diameter sit in the channels controlling, partially, the direction of the cart.
The crowd as a whole was pretty syked by this stage and you could almost feel the psychic energy urging the chariot to move. Meanwhile I was inspecting it's proposed path further down and the mass of black haired heads filling the space and every now and again poping up and down bodies reflecting overwhelming excitement. Another wiggle, the whole structure shaking, I am surprised that this thing holds together at all and bits of wood don't fall into the semi frenzied crowd. No metal is supposed to be used in it's construction, but there is some brass work on the temple top and the wheels have some metal bracing. But the wheels are choked into the wooden axles and the under structure is one massive chunk of wood, there is some serious weight in this thing.
Another stepped exhortation and then the wheels suddenly budge loose and the chariot is moving. Sh!t this thing is not just moving it is is careering down through a packed crowd and suddenly it is like the running of the bulls. Move or get the horn, but it is not the horn it is just the potential crush, if not by the sudden mad rush of the crowd then the wildly rotating wheels. We had previously been giggling about the thought of one of the wheels rolling away from the cart (throw back to Soph's childhood from a school bus experience) but this is serious. Not that you would get a sense of that from the look in the guys eyes. Sh!t. I am still waiting for the ambulance to arrive or a body to be hauled above the crowd a couple of minutes after the chariot has once again become wedged. I must be getting old, this feels absolutely crazy. Public liability takes on a whole new meaning. This is totally Nepali.
The crowd is really stoked and a mass of people surge down behind the chariot and compress into the square. It appears the braking system rope team were absent. The focus of the crowd transfers to lower in the square near the temple and next to the yoni. The crowd is still humming though and we waited patiently as the flow continued. We focused on holding onto the tank and looking over it down towards the octagonal path (pilgrim shelter) where the statue of Bhairab has been housed for the past few days, rather then leaning too far backward towards the twenty meter deep well behind us.
Slowly a branch constructed brace is raised and then another. A roar from the crowd and I can spot from around behind the chariot a bush levitating above the heads of the compressed crowd. The lingam in this case a huge tree trunk, with cross beam and leaves attached to each end, appears to be being raised using the same style of massive ropes as used to drag the chariot. Slowly in a similar crowd participation model the cross rises. Following the chariot incident I inspect the potential carnage scene underneath should the lingam accidentally fall. Suddenly the trunk jolts and must have slipped into it's base as a huge roar erupts. I notice a guy sitting ontop of the cross bar, like a sailor in the nest. I wonder whether he stays up there overnight, it is a long way down.
We decide to break away at this time as the crowd is starting to slightly dissipate. We slowly follow the path of the chariot down but back up to Taumadhi square, at one point where the twenty centre meter deep drains crisscross we note the baby chariot parked in a small side niche. Apparently the youngsters cut their teeth on this one.
Back at the hotel and try out a Gorkha beer, chopsuey and spaghetti. Will stick with the Dal Bhaat next time.
At Sunny guest house decide to try out the mixed fruit pancake which I read as various fruit pancakes but is exact to description and is one mega pancake with chunks of pineapple and apple. Different, but tasty.
The Canadian guys next to us (Heather, Andre (and kids)) strike up a conversation and it turns out they have a history of cycle touring having cycled through Laos, China, Thailand, Indonesia and Australia on one stint and some of South America on another. Really interesting and with some great stories including brushes with Chinese police. Heading up trekking near Manaslu with the kids before possibly cycling as a family in Myanmar, they have a tandem bike in storage in Bangkok. Very cool.
Having sat around talking for a couple of hours we decide we better go and check proceedings down in pottery square again, especially now that the rain has cleared and the sun is out. By the time we wander through the square and down the side alley, the consensus crowd appears to be all coming the other way. Not surprisingly the bare trunk with a bush of leaves at the very top is already in place, anchored into a deep gutter and braced by a large stone. It appears either a rite of passage or form of religious festivity to climb the now hanging thick rope hanging from high up on the trunk, young guys shimming up and post touching the trunk throwing notes of money over either the crowd or the temple below, I am not sure which. Just thankful no coins.
Send a few emails and sit out the rain before coffee at Black cup. Becoming partial to espresso con pannas. Back through the throng to a small hole in the wall for good veg samosas, channa and chia. At 50 rup versus the 450 rup for coffee and choc brownie at Black cup it appears we have unaligned priorities. At one street corner pass a severed cows head sprinkled with rice grains and tika.
At 4pm we walk down to Khalna Tole and join the growing masses to watch the Chariot of Bhaiab descend the hill from just below Taumadhi square. We set ourselves up behind a well wedged against a large plastic water tank behind. Pass the time people watching the crowd and surrounding residents on balconies and behind their Newari latticed windows. The crowd continues to swell and flow down further toward the temple and rock yoni below. A uniformed pipe and brass band plays from a dance platform set under a typical Newari open fronted verandah with detailed brick and wood work.
Every now and then a loud roar and whistling comes up from the guys closer up to where the alley coming down off the hill turns into the square where we are located. But we wait for something to happen or appear and nothing does. It is a bit like going to a music festival when the crowd who have been waiting around for the next act to come on go nuts when they see someone sit behind the mike, keyboard or drums, but it is only a roadie. A French couple squeeze in beside Sophie recognizing our strategic value. The middle aged lady could be from anywhere but the guy is like a smash up between Rolf Harris and Rodger Rabbit. I struggle to contain my mirth. Many people look at me and laugh too. The lady who is pumped shows us pictures taken earlier of the chariot in motion. Surely it will not be long now.
The rain increases and the crowd thins to the sides under cover or umbrellas. A pair of roaming balloon and cheap plastic toy merchants take up a position straight between us and the alley entrance. What the....I am tempted to pay someone to take them out, converted surely it would be inexpensive. We are joined by several small groups of young Nepali guys, in very good spirits, who loiter around for a little while and then float off. Then one of the roars turns out to justified and the edge of the chariot jolts into view. The statue of Betal rides at the front taking on the form of either a jockey or ships figurehead on the golden arched bow. Marigolds draping his form and brass bells jingling from chains hung below. A couple of young guys holding on to either side of the bow extort action and via voice and motioning encourage the foolhardy crew in front to haul the chariot forward.
At every peak of encouragement the chariot and temple sitting above, rocks from side to side but seemingly refuses to budge. The eyes painted on the massive wooden wheels may be smiling. Guys on the sides of the cart push with their feet against the wheels wiggling the wood in an attempt to work them free. When I had initially heard of the whole setup I visualised guys at either ends with these massive ropes like tug of war ropes, one group on either side controlling the movement of this massive wooden construction down through the narrow alley to the square below. What I, no we, didn't realise was that the oversize dual drainage channels on this particular alley served a dual purpose. The wheels approx 1.5mtrs each in diameter sit in the channels controlling, partially, the direction of the cart.
The crowd as a whole was pretty syked by this stage and you could almost feel the psychic energy urging the chariot to move. Meanwhile I was inspecting it's proposed path further down and the mass of black haired heads filling the space and every now and again poping up and down bodies reflecting overwhelming excitement. Another wiggle, the whole structure shaking, I am surprised that this thing holds together at all and bits of wood don't fall into the semi frenzied crowd. No metal is supposed to be used in it's construction, but there is some brass work on the temple top and the wheels have some metal bracing. But the wheels are choked into the wooden axles and the under structure is one massive chunk of wood, there is some serious weight in this thing.
Another stepped exhortation and then the wheels suddenly budge loose and the chariot is moving. Sh!t this thing is not just moving it is is careering down through a packed crowd and suddenly it is like the running of the bulls. Move or get the horn, but it is not the horn it is just the potential crush, if not by the sudden mad rush of the crowd then the wildly rotating wheels. We had previously been giggling about the thought of one of the wheels rolling away from the cart (throw back to Soph's childhood from a school bus experience) but this is serious. Not that you would get a sense of that from the look in the guys eyes. Sh!t. I am still waiting for the ambulance to arrive or a body to be hauled above the crowd a couple of minutes after the chariot has once again become wedged. I must be getting old, this feels absolutely crazy. Public liability takes on a whole new meaning. This is totally Nepali.
The crowd is really stoked and a mass of people surge down behind the chariot and compress into the square. It appears the braking system rope team were absent. The focus of the crowd transfers to lower in the square near the temple and next to the yoni. The crowd is still humming though and we waited patiently as the flow continued. We focused on holding onto the tank and looking over it down towards the octagonal path (pilgrim shelter) where the statue of Bhairab has been housed for the past few days, rather then leaning too far backward towards the twenty meter deep well behind us.
Slowly a branch constructed brace is raised and then another. A roar from the crowd and I can spot from around behind the chariot a bush levitating above the heads of the compressed crowd. The lingam in this case a huge tree trunk, with cross beam and leaves attached to each end, appears to be being raised using the same style of massive ropes as used to drag the chariot. Slowly in a similar crowd participation model the cross rises. Following the chariot incident I inspect the potential carnage scene underneath should the lingam accidentally fall. Suddenly the trunk jolts and must have slipped into it's base as a huge roar erupts. I notice a guy sitting ontop of the cross bar, like a sailor in the nest. I wonder whether he stays up there overnight, it is a long way down.
We decide to break away at this time as the crowd is starting to slightly dissipate. We slowly follow the path of the chariot down but back up to Taumadhi square, at one point where the twenty centre meter deep drains crisscross we note the baby chariot parked in a small side niche. Apparently the youngsters cut their teeth on this one.
Back at the hotel and try out a Gorkha beer, chopsuey and spaghetti. Will stick with the Dal Bhaat next time.
 |
| Bhaktapur |
No comments:
Post a Comment