The last stop in Nepal was a spiritual one: Lumbini, the birthplace of Siddhartha Gautama, aka the Buddha. The small town had grown to be a base for buddhist monasteries from all over the world, all built one next to the other in a specific “development zone”. It could have been a wonderful zenlike experience were it not for the fact that half the site is still under construction, and for the hordes of (loud) (mostly local) tourists, including busloads of schoolchildren. The birthplace of the Buddha itself was complete craziness: a line of tourists as far as the eye could see, waiting to get a glimpse of the ruins of the building where the buddha would have been born. The entrance to the whole thing was manned by police, army and security firm, searching the bags of all tourists wanting to enter. Unfortunately, the pocket knife which I was not allowed to take with me into the complex for security reasons, was stolen from the security post by a 14-year old boy (who subsequently took the knife into the complex…). My first claim to my travel insurance ;-)
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The grass on the hill looked worn and a sign stated “forbidden for beginners and not for teaching purposes”. Yet there I was, beginner by any means, nerves surprisingly well under control. The sky was steel blue, a couple of clouds but visibility would be great. “Are you Stephen?” asked the Nepali instructor in broken English? We exchanged some generalities, after which he made sure my safety harness was well tightened. “If I say WALK, you walk, if I say RUN, you run, ok?” He hooked my harness up to his, did some magic trick to lift the parachute from the ground, and then yelled “go!” After some initial confusion about whether “go” meant “walk” or “run”, I got his point, started running and a couple of seconds later, we were floating in the air. I took in the magnificent scenery: below me, Pokhara’s Fewa lake; at eye level, an amazing view of the Himalayas. A couple of minutes later, the instructor made some whirling acrobatics, and before I knew it, I was back on solid ground.
How to find a good paragliding company in Pokhara? There's tons of paragliding companies lining Lakeside, and you can just go and have a chat with them. Alledgedly, it would be best if your paraglide started from the Sarangkot location, so ask them where they start from. Also, enquire about the number of years of experience of the instructor that will accompany you (it is of not much use to know that most of the instructors have 12 years of experience, if the one accompanying you started yesterday...). I also suggest to ask about their insurance in case of accident (even better: make sure your own travel insurance covers you - paragliding is a high risk sport, so not all travel insurances will cover it by default!). If you have any physical problems, do tell the paragliding company about it: I had a lot of pain in my knees at the time, so they gave me an ace instructor who was able to land very softly! I had decided to stay in the same hostel I had stayed during my previous visit to Kathmandu. It was a nice place, and very cheap. On day 2 of my stay, I met a Canadian guy there, who told me that he had had a near-death experience. He had taken a shower and the gas boiler malfunctioned, as a result of which he got carbon monoxide poisoning and passed out in the bathroom. Luckily, the carbon monoxide must have been able to escape. He gained consciousness again and was able to crawl out of the bathroom. Since he was feeling pretty bad, he went to the hospital to have his oxygen levels checked. Since his levels were not good at all, the doctors kept him tied to an oxygen supply overnight, in the hospital. Upon his dismissal from the hospital, he was presented with a bill of 2000 USD… Lucky for him, his travel insurance picked up the bill.
Morale of the story: be careful when showering in budget hostels with gas shower, and don't ignore the importance of travel insurance (for more guidance on travel insurance, click here)! The whatsapp icon on my phone informed me that I had 152 unread messages. That’s what happens when you do a 10-day meditation in noble silence… A bunch of us Vipassana students were sitting in a (too) expensive coffee bar in Kathmandu, trying to catch up on what had happened during our meditation retreat. Donald Trump’s election as president of the United States struck us all with disbelief, and made a great banter topic for the coming days, which we spent in Kathmandu, recovering from the meditation.
My legs and back were tense and hurting, and the sacral singing in the hall made me slightly uneasy about what was to follow in the coming ten days. I was sitting on a big light blue pillow, in a pose that looked like a rather futile attempt to resemble lotus posture. It could not have been more than fifteen minutes since we started our one hour meditation - the first of my 10-day course - but already my cramped posture was starting to give me problems.
It had been one of those rash decisions I was trying to unlearn: reading my travel guide on the plane from Jakarta to Kathmandu, I had decided that in the land of Siddhartha Gautama, better known as the Buddha, it would only be proper to try out some kind of meditation, and that the 10-day Vipassana course near Kathmandu would be the one. I cannot say I was not adequately forewarned. My guidebook mentioned explicitly that the course was for serious students only and involved getting up at 4 am every morning. Upon signing up to the course, I was pointed out several times that the timetable was demanding: getting up at 4 am, 10 hours of meditation per day, 6 hours of sleep per night, no real dinner (only tea and some fruits). The first three days were spent learning “Anapana”, a meditation technique focusing on one’s breath. The first day we had to turn our attention to the in- and outgoing breath, the second day to the triangle including nose and mouth, and the third day to the area below the nostrils and upper lip. During the scarce breaks from meditation, no book, no music, no writing, no phone, no talking with others… The next 7 days we focused on the actual Vipassana technique as originally taught by Siddhartha Gautama: scanning the body for different sensations, while making sure the mind stays balanced and does not start craving for pleasant or creating aversion against unpleasant sensations. 7 days of scanning your body, in perfect “noble silence”… By day 7, my mind started revolting and a lot of discipline was needed to not climb the meditation center’s walls; but somehow, I eventually made it to the finish. The application of the Anapana and Vipassana technique on such intensive basis was extremely demanding, both physically and mentally, but what kept me hanging in there was the philosophy behind the technique: one’s misery is not caused by external circumstances, but by one’s reactions to the sensations which those circumstances generate. Those reactions are deeply rooted in one’s subconscious mind and basically consist of craving in case of pleasant sensations and aversion in case of unpleasant sensations. When we do not obtain the things we crave, we are unhappy; the same goes in case things happen which we have created aversion against. The key to happiness thus lies within oneself: when we understand that all things are impermanent, and learn to observe the sensations (both pleasant and unpleasant) in an objective manner and without losing the balance of the mind (equanimity), the external circumstances will no longer be able to cause unhappiness. If my explanation does not make sense to you, no worries, I can assure you that guruji S.N. Goenka explained everything in a much better and much funnier way ;-) Should you want more info about Vipassana meditation (courses are available worldwide), have a look at http://www.dhamma.org/en-US/index If you prefer watching a documentary about it, have a look at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WkxSyv5R1sg |
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