"Hope"

After gathering ourselves from our bazaar and somewhat tedious journey (I just finished reading Born in Tibet again so I'm reluctant to think that my journey is at all difficult), we set out to explore the new development in Lumbini. Beginning around what is thought to be the exact birthplace of the Buddha is a development complex that has two parallel rows of monasteries from various nations stretching out approx. two miles. It is quite a beautiful plan (which is a work in progress) and the area exudes a certain peacefulness. While the monasteries are very grand, especially the Chinese and Thai, the star of the show is the park and ruins of the exact spot of the historic birth. Inside a protected enclosure you find the remains of a structure dating to the 3rd century C.E. Among the remains is a peculiar "marking stone" which is encased in glass, but I failed to absorb the full details on the stone. It seems like it may have been placed there under the direction of the King Ashoka given the dates floating around and the obvious connection of having one of the famous Ashokan Pillars close by. The place has a strong feeling of history not only of time but of reverence and prayer.

(Michael has much better photos, but here's one just to give you the feeling...)


We spent a total of three nights in Lumbini and enjoyed a sense of relaxation. It was particularly amusing to rent bicycles and spend time cruzin' the scene, man. We developed a warm relationship with the owner of our guesthouse and spent some time laughing about the idiosyncrasies of certain groups of travelers. The most humorous of which (especially to our owner, Jupiter) was the young travelers from France. With a powerful consistency they show up with hippy/rave culture clothing, smoke a lot of pot, drink a lot of beer, feed their munchies and giggle to each other till all hours of the night. Jupiter compared the laughing fits of these young French to that of small school children who laugh for no reason. He acted this out using the example of laughing at a dog for wagging his tail. "Of coarse dog wags tail, that is what dog does." I found it to be a very accurate rendition.

Through working out the details of our transportation to Kathmandu with Jupiter, (some 10 hours on the traditional jam packed local bus) he began to ask us about Obama. Being cut off from our injection of highly intellectual and liberal news from various New York dealers, it was great to hear about various stories through the lens of this sweet and upright Nepali. He was very impressed by some kind of press conference addressing terrorism, especially how clear and well spoken he was in explaining the difference between the religion of Islam and those who choose to push their agenda by the mindless slaughter and destruction. This made him hopeful to hear our president be able to hold a mature and thoughtful view, and not just lump Muslims and terrorists together. Concurrently I had just finished "Dreams From My Father," which is a stunning read and an extraordinary window into the complex mind of our president. It was particularly great to read about his time as a child in Indonesia. The landscape he was describing could easily have been the very one we were now traveling through. It was a great feeling to think that our president had such expansive and lived experience.

The morning of our departure from Lumbini Jupiter had a serious look on his face and told us he had some bad news. He told us of how he had just heard on the news that an American who had been laid off had killed his family and himself in a fit of despair. This news was very upsetting to him, and he wondered out loud why the man hadn't moved to Nepal where it is very cheap and stated that he would have given the man work at his guest house. We also learned that morning that he and some others had gone to the birth place of the Buddha and lit a butter lamp on the night of the American election making prayers for Obama. Touched by this man's genuine heart I reached into my bag and offered him my Obama campaign pin which had the bold type word "hope" written simply. His face lit up and he held the pin over his head calling out the word inscribed. "That's it," he said "Hope!". We bid him farewell and tumbled down the road continuing our adventure.