Shanghai: Inside a Year

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Spring comes to Shanghai–blossoms and celebratory lanterns at Longhua Temple

I joined the Foreign Service in part because of my love of travel and experiencing other cultures and as much as I may come to care for one place, after some time I itch to head on to the next.  And I rather prefer knowing approximately when that might be.  I knew that I would head to Shanghai for my second tour before I even arrived at my first.  That is not usual in the Foreign Service, yet that was my experience.

Back in February I celebrated one year in Shanghai (see From Sheep to Monkey: Shanghai Year One in Review). One year in a two year tour is a milestone.  Knowing the length of a tour gives one a natural timeframe–literally a frame, to bookend your period there.  But in my case I have extended, so one year, well it marked one year, but not half way.

I struggled with this, I will admit it.  It actually made me just a tad crazy.

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The very cool facade of the Himalayas Center

So to keep myself busy through the spring I worked through my Shanghai bucket list.  There is so very much to see and do in Shanghai.  Given my circumstances – an introverted tee-totaling single mom of a young child – I am not into the bar and restaurant scene.  I am however into museums and historical sites and Shanghai has those in spades.

In February I took C out to the Shanghai Himalayas Art Museum.  Yes, there is such a thing.  There is such a surge in museum construction in China that there seems space for museums on some very specific topics.  The museum is located in the Pudong Himalayas Center located just outside the Huamu subway station.  You might not think a museum about the art and culture of the Himalayan regiona would be that entertaining for a four year old, but C seemed into the replica rooms of a few of the Mogao grottos and several of the murals.  Well, ok, she seemed into it for ten minutes and then she started pointing out all of the exit signs…I still highly recommend it.

In March we headed out to see the ERA Intersection of Time show at the Shanghai Circus World.  The show was spectacular.  I had enjoyed the show at the Shanghai Centre theater but it could not compare with ERA and the theater space that Shanghai Circus World could provide – for example the giant metal sphere into which up to eight, or maybe it was ten, motorcycles drove into and around.  C seemed delighted, but that particular performance had me covering my eyes and crossing my fingers.

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Great weather for a visit to Yu Gardens.  Beautiful but a LOT of work to visit.

The first weekend in April is a long one as it coincides with the Chinese holiday Tomb Sweeping Day.  It would seem like a good time to take a nice short holiday, except that this weekend also tends to be a very wet one; I learned this the hard way last year (see Hanging in Hangzhou).  I was glad I did not tempt fate again with a trip out of town because it did not defy expectations – it poured all weekend.  Yet the following weekend was absolutely beautiful and it coincided with the Longhua temple festival.  We visited the temple awash in sunshine and blossoming peach trees decorated with small lanterns; the stone temple lions festooned with large red bows made them seem more like pets than fierce guardians.  Next to the temple we saw the pagoda, one of the few in Shanghai, and explored the Longhua memorial park, martyrs cemetery and museum.

Later in April we also braved a visit to Yu Gardens and bazaar, a must-see listed in every single brochure and tourist website about Shanghai. We went on a weekend.  With Every, Single, Person in Shanghai.  The zig-zag bridge leading to the Huxingting teahouse, designed to foil evil spirits (who cannot turn corners), was so packed to the gills with people such that our progress was not only slow but totally in the control of those around us.  I imagine from above it might have seemed the bridge itself was moving like a writhing snake.  Yet we were trapped on it – and there I was with a curly blonde haired child in a stroller.  She was the subject of a lot of unwanted attention.  Once inside the garden itself, where the entrance fee dissuades some of the throng from entering, we had a more enjoyable time.

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A quiet place for reflection at the Guyi gardens at Nanxiang

Then there was our epic R&R, two visits to the world’s newest Disneyland, and on Memorial Day I took advantage of the nanny watching C and headed out solo to Nanxiang “Ancient Town” a Suzhou-like water town in miniature located in northwest Shanghai and the nearby Ming-dynasty Guyi gardens.  As I do most things in my free time with my four year old daughter in tow, being on my own for sightseeing is an extremely liberating but sort of bewildering experience.  I am grateful for the chance to walk longer and further than I can with C, but invariably I come across something, for instance a stone horse, that I know C would have enjoyed seeing.

In June I managed a work trip to Jiaxing to participate in Dragon Boat holiday festivities, visiting the newly opened Museum of Zongzi (dumpling) Culture and taking part in a dumpling wrapping contest for foreigners.  The skills I learned hurriedly at the museum came in handy and I clinched third place in the contest.  Alright, I tied for third place with nine other people, but third is third, and I proudly accepted my certificate.   July brought about a mini getaway within Shanghai and also a visit to the Shanghai Museum of Glass, with the super-fun acronym SHMOG.  A glass museum might seem a terrible place to take a small child, and indeed there is a display in the museum  thoughtlessly damaged by poorly behaved children and video-recorded by even more irresponsible parents.  (The museum plays the surveillance video of the crime next to the damaged artwork to serve as a warning and reminder.  I used it as a teaching moment with C).  Yet we stayed at the museum for FOUR hours – visiting the main museum, having a nice lunch in one of the three or four museum cafes, running around the beautiful rainbow chapel, exploring the co-located children’s museum of glass, and finally watching a glass blowing demonstration.

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C contemplates the beauty of the SHMOG Rainbow Chapel

All of this eventually brought me to this point – I am now comfortably at the “inside a year” mark.  Where inside a year I am is still very much up in the air.  At this point I still do not know when I will head to my next tour.  It will depend very much on where that next post will be.

While there are still a lot of unknowns and it is unlikely I will have the answers until sometime late this fall, I am fairly confident that I have less than 11 months left at post.

This is in part because I am a pack-rat dependent in recovery.  I grew up with pack-rat parents: I dislike having too many things in my home.  You may recall back to when I first arrived and I wrote about the storage unit mishap with my apartment assignment.

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In my bid to conquer the bucket list C and I also visited the Moon Boat, which had been the Saudi Pavilion during the 2010 Shanghai Expo.  This is from the upper inside floor looking down the spiral walkway.

My use of the ninth floor storage unit ended on July 15th and all of my remaining belongings have been moved into my guest room.  Well, I can stop kidding myself.  I have been living here in Shanghai for 18 months and have not hosted a guest yet.  I might as well call that room my storage room.

I hate it.

Ok, hate is a strong word.  I really dislike it.  I keep the door to the room now closed because I do not want to look at it on a regular basis.   It makes me want to get rid of things in this apartment NOW.

I will admit to having already begun to make the lists of items that will not come with us when we depart.  To have already begun the UAB and HHE lists.  To have started calculating the timeframe for using up those consumables (the laundry detergent, the shampoo and conditioner, the toothpaste, and the like) I brought with me.  I am losing interest already in buying things on Amazon…  Yes, I just said that.  Losing interest in buying things on Amazon.  You know things are getting pretty serious when someone says that.  And I may still have 11 months to go!

The consulate is in the summer transfer season.  Each week brings yet another long-time colleague/neighbor/friend leaving post.  In the past four to six weeks four of my daughter’s closest playmates have left Shanghai.  They head to South Africa, Los Angeles, Jamaica and Ohio.  I too have had to say goodbye to many good colleagues over the past several months, some of whom had become good friends. I am feeling  a little jealous of those departing.

Next year though will be our year.  We will get to do the pack-out survey and the pack-out.  We will get the farewell party and the confusing check-out survey, visiting offices that have to sign off on our departure that I had little or no interaction with during the tour.   I will see who has lasted longer in Shanghai – my daughter and I or that darn bulldozer that has been sitting on the sidewalk on my way to work since day one. Eighteen months later and it is still there.

I am sort of rooting for the bulldozer.

Current Shanghai visa tally:

Total visa adjudications: 36,096

Total number of fingerprints taken: 8,997

 

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July 4th Mini Holiday

June was over.  At last.  It is the busiest season for the Shanghai Consulate visa section.  And it had culminated with the Consulate’s July 4th event, our largest representational event of the year.  An event I had once again volunteered to help organize.

About a month before I had reserved one night at the JW Marriott Changfeng Park even though its location is only 15 minutes away from my apartment.  If I stay at home I find my weekends are often consumed with the little mundane things that capture one’s attention when you are at home.  Grocery shopping.  Meal preparation.  Facebook checking.  Watching meaningless shows on television (and I only have three English channels other than news channels so this can get pretty repetitive for me).    I wanted to be “away.”

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The view of Changfeng Park from the executive floor of the JW Marriott

 

On the morning of Sunday, July 3 my daughter and I headed downstairs for the taxi queue to head off on our adventure.  The taxi driver appeared to have an interest in making a go at breaking the land speed record, zig-zagging through traffic on the elevated highway with a fervor and intensity best suited to the Indianapolis Speedway.

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The Pudong aquarium might be the one everyone has heard of, but Changfeng has beluga whales.

But we made it to the hotel.  I cannot say for sure if it was the taxi ride, the beautifully appointed lobby, the thrill of having a night away, or the helpful bellhop with the English name Buttery (I kid you not) that led to my agreeing to a $70 upgrade on top of an already $150 room, but I did.  Probably it was the option letting me check in right away that appealed to me most.  With the upgrade we secured a room on a higher floor with inclusive pricey breakfast in the executive lounge as well as snacks throughout the day.  Worth every penny.

 

According to my plan though we had little time to dawdle.  It was off to Changfeng Park right away.  Because I wanted to take C to see the beluga whales.  Some months ago I bought her a book on whales and she has been fascinated by the idea of white whales since.  Watching Finding Dory recently only solidified her need to see them.  Imagine my surprise while Googling one day to come across the Changfeng Ocean World.  We had to go.

There was a show at noon.  We arrived at the ticket line at 11:40.  It seemed possible to make the show.  There were only about 25 people in front of us.  And yet at 12:30 we were still in line.  How is that even possible?  It could be that there was only ticket seller.  But I think the real reason behind the wait were the line jumpers.  There were a few people who were behind me in line who kept trying to move ahead of me, but I called them out and they edged back.  However there were other groups of people who went straight to the front of the line and after a short conversation with the person second in line, handed over money for that person to buy their tickets.  I saw one older woman mouth “you paidui” or “there is a line” as she motioned to all of us behind her and shook her head.  At first I was buoyed that she would turn them down, but then she agreed to buy their tickets.  Argh!

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Which one of these kids does not belong?

So by 12:35 we had the tickets.  I thought we could go in to see the aquarium first and then see the show.  We entered and went through a small section with fish.  It took about 5 minutes.  It turned out the rest of the aquarium was in a separate building on the other side of the park.  Also, although the next show began at 1:30, they would let people into the arena at 1:00 and at 12:45 a line was forming.  So once again we got in line.  Luckily we were able to snag a front row middle seat, right in front of the show tank.  Unluckily we were now there 30 minutes before the show.  More waiting.  I was forced to buy a light-up beluga whale toy on a necklace.  If you have kids and have ever had to wait for a show like this you know exactly why I had to do it.

 

The “show” started at 1:32.  Well some very loud screaming into a microphone began at 1:32 as the emcee welcomed us all.  Then six children were selected from the audience to participate in a quiz game that dragged on for 10 minutes.  C was selected after one of the show’s organizers confirmed with me she could understand Chinese.  Except the questions were rather complicated, aimed at upper elementary aged.  Poor C was likely chosen because of her blonde curls than her chance at winning.  The winner got to pet a seal.  C was not the winner, but she and the other runner-ups did each get a plush sea animal.

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The three belugas.  My daughter named them Cupcake, Sarah, and Wonder Woman

So there was a short show with a seal.  The winner of the kids quiz show and her mom got to pet a seal.  The rest of us watched them pet the seal.  Riveting.

 

And then six more kids were selected for another kids’ quiz.  Ten more minutes we watched.  Then the two winners of that quiz and their parents got to go in and touch the nose of a beluga whale.  We all watched them touch them.

Then FINALLY it was time for us all to watch the beluga whales do their thing.    They swam in formation.  There were one or two jumps.  They poked their heads out of the water and looked at us with their cute faces. My daughter was very happy and that made me happy.

Still when the whole show ended at 2:30 I wondered where the last 3 hours of my life had gone.  That as a lot of time for 10 minutes of beluga watching.  Part of me wanted to just go back to the hotel, get my things and go home.  But there was more aquarium to see.

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In my book an aquarium with information like this gets bonus points

Last year my daughter and I visited the Shanghai Ocean Aquarium in Pudong over the Chinese New Year holiday.  There we fought the crowds to catch a glimpse of anything at every single display.  The cacophony was deafening.  After some 30 minutes of the noise and the chaos I just wanted to get out of there.  The aquarium at Changfeng was busy; there were school groups, and yet you could still see everything.  I was quite impressed with the information placards, in both English and Chinese.  They had an impressive number of seahorses, one of my absolute favorite sea animal.  Equally impressive were the signs about protecting sea life.

 

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This was supposed to be a cool museum at one time

Then I wanted to shift into the mommy phase of this mini-vacay.  It was time to head over to an adjacent park for a visit to the Shanghai Matchbox and Brand Museum.  As we walked up to the building I saw what appeared to be a large amount of debris lining the sidewalks in front.  Piles and piles of abandoned desks and tables and filing cabinets.  And sure enough on the dusty front door was a sign indicating that the museum was closed.  Strange.  Just a month before I had found an online article about visiting the museum.   This is not the first time I have gone to visit a a sightseeing spot in Shanghai only to find it closed, but it is disappointing nonetheless.

We had a great night at the hotel enjoying the cake and cheese desserts and beverages in the executive lounge and just being away.

On Monday morning we headed to the Parkside Plaza mall, right next door to the hotel.  Here is where you can find the Shanghai Legoland Discovery Center, which just opened in April.  They promised “2-3 hours of fun” and they were not kidding.  I think it was three hours and one minute of fun when I called “time.”

This was my first time to any Legoland, amusement park or discovery center, so I do not have a comparison, but this place was not only fun but really cool.  There were two rides, a play area with slides for toddlers and another for older kids, building areas, a car build and test drive space, an amazing miniature Shanghai built entirely of Legos (of course), a 15 minute 4D Lego movie (all in Chinese but after a few minutes even I was so into it I sort of forgot I could hardly understand the dialogue), a cafe, and more.

It was a great getaway and a good reminder that not only is Shanghai chock full of awesome things to see and do but also just a 1 1/2 days of fun and a night away from home can be enough to re-charge.  Long live the mini vacay.

Kathmandu 2002: Part Two

I should have known better.  I went to the same restaurant.  Again I had the same plans for the following day:  to visit the Buddhist Boudhanath Stupa and the Hindu Pashupatinath temple.  Clearly I was tempting fate.

Well, I have certainly learned a very valuable lesson, and that is DO NOT eat a second time in a restaurant from which the first time you received food poisoning.  I thought perhaps to give the New Orleans Cafe another go.  It might have been a coincidence to become sick after one meal, but twice?  I woke up about 1:30 in the morning and dragged myself to the bathroom.  Despite my illness I did notice that my two handsome neighbors were playing, of all things, the Greatest Hits of Whitney Houston!  So while ridding myself of my dinner I could enjoy the Greatest Love of All and the theme song to the Bodyguard.  What a strange place is Nepal!

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Buddha’s eyes watching from Boudhanath

The day after my visit to the “Poison Café,” I could barely get myself up.  But I managed to eat a few pieces of fruit and have some tea before heading out to Boudhanath and Pashupatinath, the most famous of Nepal’s Hindu and Buddhist temples.  Boudhanath is apparently the second largest Buddhist stupa in the world.  It is also home to a large Tibetan community in Nepal.  All around were monks of all ages in their red robes and women with their traditional garb with colorful aprons, some carrying their wooden beads.  I walked up onto the stupa and looked around at this amazing little Buddhist village.  It was very charming.  I even saw people walking their dogs, when I thought in general dogs were not pets, but just street animals.  A sign on the stupa tells visitors in English to not do immoral things while there, such as smoking, gambling, spitting and the like, while all around me I saw people doing these exact things.  Several young novice months, maybe 6 to 12 years of age, stood around a gambling area, placing their bets.  And I saw many people smoking, some quite young.  And spitting, of course!  The sound of the throat clearing and the spit is as common as car horns!  I walked around the stupa about three times, soaking in the atmosphere and decided to then try my luck walking to the Hindu temple, which I had been told was about 30 minutes on foot.

I headed off in the direction of Pashupatinath along a gravel and dirt path between two store facades.  Immediately I was transported into the real life of Nepali people, away from the tourists.  The first scene I came upon was a group of boys throwing stones at another boy.  Without thinking I intervened, telling the offending stone throwers “No!”  They hesitated and slyly threw a few more stones for good measure.  I then came upon also three people washing in a stone bath outside, though they were all wearing saris, and a woman bathing in an area outside her house. There were lots of children playing.  Along one side of the road a bus stood broken down, though for how long it had been there, who knows, and three men stood talking conspiratorially behind it.  On the other side, three young women stood gossiping with each other.  Perhaps they, the men and the women, actually wanted to talk with each other.  It reminded me a bit of a scene I had seen on the first day as I walked to Kathmandu Durbar Square.  One one side of the street a young man sat on the stoop of a store smiling shyly.  On the other side of the street, a lovely young woman in an all red sari stood, brazenly flirting with the man.  It was enchanting to watch.

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Nepalese children

Further along the path I saw a boy hitting some cows hard with a stick.  I thought here was a boy who had not learned that cows are sacred in Nepal!  I took a picture.  This did not make the boy shy; he only hit the cows harder.  As I walked, I would come to a fork in the road and would just ask someone “Pashupatinath?” and I would be pointed in the right direction.  A few children yelled hello to me, but for the most part I seemed to pass by unnoticed.  This was such a relief after the constant “Hello friend,” “Tiger Balm, cheap for you madam,” “Where are you going? Rickshaw?” and “Come inside, just looking, very cheap” calls in Thamel.  Also the interesting proposal I received of “Tour? Sightseeing? Marriage? Madam” from a rickshaw driver.  Tempting, but no. 

I began to grow tired and feel sick.  My legs began to feel like lead, my stomach to hurt, and my head to pound.  Just at that time by my side appeared a Nepali man who spoke English and told me the temple was not farther.  Thank goodness!  Although a 30 minute walk would usually be a piece of cake for me, this one was beginning to feel it would never end.  The man asked me questions along the way, and showed me the path to the temple and the way inside.  I knew I was earning myself a “guide” but I did not have the energy to tell him to go away.

Those who are not Hindu cannot enter the temple grounds proper but only the area alongside the river and up to the cemetery.  I paid the entrance fee and he led me inside, immediately to the right of the ticket booth we went to the riverside where the cremations are performed.  I looked over the side of a wall and there lay a body almost burned and another wrapped in white cloth being prepared for cremation.  My guide points out to me a hand on the pyre.  “Can you see it?” he asks.  “No,” I say, “and I am not sure I want to…ah there it is.”  My stomach churned.  “Can you see the foot?” my eager guide asks.  “I need to sit down,” I say.  That the smoke in my face is coming off the burning pyre and the ashes as well are from this just burned body, is too much for meI sit down and my head spins and my stomach leaps about.  I tell my guide I think I need to go.  “No, no, I have more to show you.”  I tell my guide that I am going to call it a day.  I pay him some money and catch a motor-rickshaw back to town.  I feel every bump in the road and I slide further and further into the depths of the rickshaw clutching my stomach and moaningThen the rickshaw breaks down.  A policeman watches the driver tinkering with the engine but does not offer to help, while I slump in the back holding my head and wondering at it all.  After perhaps 10 minutes the driver gets us going again and we bump our way back to Thamel and my hotel.  I dragged myself up to my room for a long nap. 

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Cremation at Pashupatinath

The following day I woke up quite late, about half past eleven.  I was still tired.  I think the air of the Kathmandu valley quite tires me out.  I have to use my asthma inhaler quite frequently and I feel lightheaded at times.  I was not too worried about getting up late, I am here after all to relax, and I had been sick the day before.  I was just worried about being sick still.  I decided I would return to Pashupatinath.  It took me a couple hours to get going and I did not arrive at the temple until about 4 pmAgain a guide joined me almost immediately and though I tried to shake him, he hung on tight.  But he was very informative and I was glad I had him to tell me about the temple.  I saw a cremation on the commoner side of the river.  Though actually on the same side of the river as those for the rich, in government positions, or in the royal family, the cremations for the commoners are separated from the others by a bridge.  For each caste there is a separate platform.  On the commoner side there are four platforms for the four castes.  On the other side were three platforms, one for rich and high government positions, one for, I believe, the sons and daughters of royalty, perhaps for the queen as well, and one for the king. 

My guide told me what a sad time it was last year when so many members of the royal family, who had been murdered in the palace, were cremated.  That royal homicide occurred just weeks after I last left Nepal, and things have become even more difficult for the struggling country. I was not the only spectator; there were many more, most Nepali.  How strange I thought to watch a funeral.  But I thought this in Bali too.  I sat and watched a Newari cremation ceremony until the sky grew very dark and the first fire was lit under the pyre.  Beforehand each member of the family and friends had gone down to the holy river (which flows to the Ganges in India) to dip their hands in and to carry a handful of water to the lips of the deceased.  At last the eldest son dressed all in white and being supported by another man, walked three times around the pyre and then placed the first flame beneath the head of the deceased.  He then fled to the back of the crowd wailing; his loud cries could be heard across the river. It was very sad and very strange for me to be sitting across the river from this rite of passage.  When I said this to my guide, he told me not to worry for this is human life, part of the cycle of life. 

That evening I enjoyed a nice dinner in a cafe overlooking one of the main thoroughfares of Thamel.  Enjoying Mexican food, writing in my journal and reading for my exams (yes I did in fact study) it was hard to reconcile the life on the street below, the shops, loud music, strands of blinking lights and people preparing for or returning from a trek or others selling their wares, with the end of life I had just witnessed, but there it was – the cycle of life.

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Riding in style – Kathmandu public buses.  See the goats?

The next day I had plans to go to Bhaktapur, the UNESCO World Heritage city about 18 kilometers from Kathmandu.  Last year my friends and I had decided to skip it because we were too angered by the entrance fee.  The fee is 750 rupees (or $10) for foreigners and 50 rupees (.75) for citizens of SAARC countries or China. This time however I was prepared to payThis time I would not take a taxi.  I was determined not to take the easy traveler’s way.  I had hoped to take the bus there, and the trolley car back, but was disappointed to learn the decrepit trolley had finally seen its last days.  I walked down to the City Bus Park in Kathmandu and asked the first police officer I saw to help me find the bus to Bhaktapur.  He kindly helped me find one.  I was delighted because it looked to be about a century old!!  Well actually it looked as though it was rather newly made, welded together from other century old buses, pieces of wood and carpet, which with grinding gears and horrible exhaust belched its way down the highway.

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Beautiful carved door opens to a courtyard in Bhaktapur

The 18 kilometer trip to Bhaktapur took about 45 minutes.  I arrived though in good spirits right outside one of the city gates.  Who needs to take a 300 rupee taxi ride when they can take an 8 rupee bus ride?  My first glimpse of Bhaktapur, just inside the entrance, was disappointing. It looked shabby and the houses in disrepair.  But on my left a courtyard opened up, with an old woman sitting on a wooden parapet and weaving on an old loom.  Beside her a young girl stood, just in the doorway to this courtyard.  Inside women were threshing rice and the yellow grain littered the ground beside Hindu temples.  Ah, this is Bhaktapur!  From the courtyard I hurried up the street to see more of the city’s treasures and came upon a square I mistakenly took to be Bhaktapur’s Durbar Square.  It was wide and open with some big temples and a totem like pole in off center.  A lovely tea shop set up right into an old building with beautiful windows, porticos and balconies to my right.  I thought I would come back there for lunch, but I did not.  As it was still too early to eat, I headed off down a side street.  I saw two boys rolling thin rubber tires with sticks; they spun their tires quickly up another side street and away. 

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Hanging out in Bhaktapur

Off I went down another street and I came upon the true Durbar Square.  It was truly beautiful.  There were some temples there which seemed like those I had seen in Lopburi, Thailand or Angkor in Cambodia.  Along the steps were parades of animals.  Once again I acquired a guide, though this one, a student, said he wanted no payment, only a chance to practice his English.  He told me his name was Dave.  Dave gave me a wonderful tour around Bhaktapur, telling me many wonderful things about the city I would never have known on my own.  And he told me about himself. Seventeen, he just taken his high school exit exams and is waiting to go to university.  We had cokes in a cafe overlooking the Durbar Square.  We had a nice conversation and I watched the school kids just let out of school scatter across the square.  I also bought a Thangka painting, painted by my young guide.  It was not expensive and it will help him to go to school.  Dave brought me out another of the gates to another bus park and I hopped aboard a smaller bus back to Kathmandu.  This time I had to stand the whole trip.  It was fine.

Tomorrow is my last day in Nepal.  Then I fly back to Bangkok for an evening and back to Singapore the following day.  Back to the exams.

The trip must have worked.  I scored very well on my exams.  Quite well in fact.  When I graduated I received a gold medal for achieving the highest score in my program that year.

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My Thangka painting by Dave