We weren’t in Osaka for very long, but as per our new usual, we still walked and walked until we couldn’t walk anymore, then walked a little more. We eventually found Osaka castle, which was definitely the most impressive castle we saw in Japan. It was well-preserved and the walls next to the moat were just monstruous. We learned later, that wasn’t even the outer moat! It was inside the first, which had been filled in many years ago. The story of the castle was even more interesting though. Hideyoshi Toyotomi is Japan’s biggest rags-to-riches story. He was born a poor farmer’s son, then eventually rose through the ranks (and bloody battles) to become the unifier of the nation and built the castle. He actually was the first to lead the invasion into Korea in the 16th century, which resulted in a massive Korean genocide that rocked the populace. He wanted the territory, and he wanted the people of other surrounding countries to respect him and pay homage to him. He had won enough battles at that point though, so in order to occupy himself while everybody was off in Korea fighting, he stayed at home rehearsing a play. I came to the conclusion at the end of our castle-museum tour that this guy had some little man issues. When he finally had a son by his concubine, for example, he had the rest of his family killed, including his wife of many years and their daughters, in order to secure his son’s position as the next ruler. Oh yeah. And when he died, he wanted to be enshrined as a god. His son lost a battle fighting to keep his position, and then committed suicide, effectively ending the family line. Oops.

The castle was cool, and Osaka seemed like it would be a pretty cool place to hang out, but it was not foreigner-friendly like Tokyo and we had a hell of a time trying to figure out our way around. What it did have, however, was Brian Richards! We found Brian at his hotel ten minutes after he got there, and all went out to dinner. We  drank sake, ate okonomiyaki one last time, this time with potatoes, bacon, cheese and seafood, and also takoyaki. Takoyaki is otherwise known as octopus balls, which means someone just takes a small piece of octopus and undercooks some dough around it. Not the most exciting form of octopus, but I was glad to try it. Afterward we looked around for a bar and found a sign for one that offered drinks for under $9 called “Continue.” The font looked like it was from a video game. Lo and behold, upon entering, we realized we had just gone into a video game bar. At the bar itself, you had various consoles set up for the patrons to actually play while drinking! Most of them were Nintendo and Sega. At the far corner, a group was playing “Street Fighter.” The walls and the rafters were adorned with everything video-gamey, like toys, controllers, game cartriges, memorbilia, and there was even a corner where board games were available. The entire bar was devoted to gaming and drinking. Brian and Seth were in geek heaven.

That bar is perfect for them, and anyone else who happens to be in Osaka and likes to drink anything that’s not wine (unfortunately) while playing any electronic/card game you could ever want.

I wouldn’t write about the transit, but something really weird happened after we finished stuffing our faces to kill time at the Benningtons in Incheon Airport. We were on our way to the check-in counter and ran into two people we had only met for a week in Gwangju and hadn’t seen in two years, i.e. our predecessors from the school. I saw them and said, “WHAT.” And then one of them said, “WHAT.” And then we all just kept saying “WHAT.” And then we just caught up for about twenty minutes. It was so serendipitous. They were the first people we ever really talked to in Korea because they showed us around the school and helped us figure out what we were going to be doing — basically we were the new “them” when we came, just like our replacements are the new us now. And then, they were the last people we would ever talk to before leaving the country. We really came full circle on that one. I think it was the perfect way to leave Korea!

So. We flew into Kathmandu. Wow, Kathmandu. Where do I start. Ok. First impressions:
We had to get a visa on arrival in the open-air airport, and of course hung out in a really long line forEVER behind some Koreans and a group of about 20 college sophomores from the US who were getting 90-day visas, probably to hike Mount Everest or something. The process of getting a visa isn’t too bad, and maybe takes a total of about 4 minutes per person, but this big group of kids took a long-ass time and meanwhile exchanged stories about their CRAZY dreams and like, really CRAZY things that happened to them. It wouldn’t have bothered me if I wasn’t so sleep-deprived I’m sure (it was about 2AM Japan time), but there were only 4 customs agents working in their 19th century wooden booths and we just wanted to go to the hostel. Of course the pre-arranged cab to take us to the hostel didn’t show up, so a 23-year-old promoting his travel agency gave us the same price as we would have paid anyway and put us in his unmarked yaris with his “uncle” and himself. He said “I will talk to the reception to make sure you don’t have to pay for the cab you arranged in advance.” I didn’t have any cash and he said the hotel would pay him anyway. We got to the hotel, and he talked to the guy at reception. This guy. This guy opened his book, and the only thing on the page FOR THE DAY was: “Patrice Thompson – 2 people. Airport pickup 10PM.” And you could see the “whoopsies”on his face before he told our new travel agent friend that we WOULD have to pay for the service that was never rendered, presumably so his boss wouldn’t notice he messed up. I argued with him and it didn’t take long for him to change his mind. He paid the travel agent with his own money.

We woke up to the sounds of the JP Road in Thamel. To set the stage, all the movies of India you see where there are cars and rickshaws navigating through bumpy, unpaved roads around people (or people navigating around them) with the sounds of honking and bells ringing from temples, and incense burning, and people haggling, and people in beautiful colorful clothing, and really old buildings and temples everywhere? That’s an accurate depiction of where we are right now.

I haven’t seen one 7-11, or a McDonalds, or really much of familiar things at all. We are really out of our comfort zone (which is a goal of traveling, of course). As soon as we walked outside around 9:45 to start exploring, we were bombarded with people trying to sell us things: “hey, where are you going? Can we take you there? Very cheap. Do you want to buy this necklace? Very cheap. Are you going trekking? Come to my travel agency. I give you good price.” We finally kind of shed ourselves of them and were on our way to Durbar Square when a 22-year-old came up and complimented Seth on his hat. Seth said he had a nice hat too. They started talking and the guy, Sunny, who wasn’t trying to sell us anything apparently, had us follow him into an alley where he did not sell our organs, but instead showed us a temple in a little clearing.

We left the clearing and some men in colorful robes approached us and happily put some red color on our foreheads for good luck, and flower petals on our heads for happiness. “Wow, thank you!” We said, thinking, what a cool service. “Five of your dollars and your god will be very happy,” they said smiling. Oh. We started looking for money when some other men passing by said, “Don’t give them money! It’s bad karma. God will be angry. You should give them food.” Their faces dropped. Sunny confirmed this, saying we could do what we wanted, but with money we would make God angry. So they went to a little shop and picked out some cookie packages, the price of which came to $1.42, which we paid. Sunny explained, if you give them money, they might not spend it wisely on themselves like with smoking and drinking, but everybody needs food, and it goes into the body, so God is happy.

Sunny taught us many things in the hour and a half we found ourselves following him around, like how to say “thank you,” and the steps to worship at a Hindu temple. You take a candle, and move it in three circles in front of you clockwise: once for a good life, once for a long life, and once for a happy life. Walk around the temple clockwise and ring the bells you see as you go, then put the red color on forehead of the god statue for good karma, some flower petals on the top of your head for happiness, and some red powder on your own forehead for good luck. He showed us some really, really old temples, like 1600 years old. One of them had a statue of Mary, Jesus’ mother. She was much sexier and golder than the Mary we all know, but Sunny said she’s a god too. I guess the Nepalese are just covering their bases here.

Around this time, I asked Seth, “what does he WANT??” Quietly, Seth said, “he’s just a nice guy.” Maybe he heard us because a minute later he assured me that he didn’t want money; he just wanted rice and milk for his 3-year-old sister. He showed us a few more things, like a famous tree they put a lot of color on during the Holi festival, and then he took us to store where he got some groceries. Whatever you want, Sunny, we said, we really appreciate you showing us around. Another time we saw a businessman sticking pasty, doughy sugar cookies onto a huge, colorful wooden head. Sunny said, “if you give that god food, you will have a good life. If you give him sweets, you will have a sweet life.” The businessman wanted a really sweet life I guess, because he just kept forcefeeding the head cookies! Then I did it too. Why not. A lot of the things yesterday were done with a “why not” attitude.

Now, I can see the skepticism on your face, like, “this is really dumb. He’s going to swindle you,” which is exactly what was going through MY head yesterday. But how much could groceries cost?? Well, you’re right. He wanted $120 worth of groceries. $120. What?!?! Nothing in Kathmandu costs that much money. We learned later that Sunny had taken us to a shop with whose owners he was in cahoots, but were so confused and flustered at the time that we couldn’t think straight. In the future, we should just bring someone to a shop of our own choosing. Anyway, we took stuff out and got a smaller bag of rice, and got the cost down to $60. Still, it’s dumb, and not worth a two hour tour, but man did he get us. Such is the way of life. The smart outsmart the people who have been in Kathmandu for 12 hours.

We went back to the hotel and licked our wounds with some extremely affordable mutton curry and samosas in the safety of the hotel on site. And, a little jetlagged, we took a nap. But Monday was a huge festival day in Kathmandu, one of the biggest festivals of the year called Indra Jatra in Durbar Square, which is a square with about 400 temples within walking distance of our hostel. So of course we had to go. We walked outside confidently, this time not being so nice to people who started talking to us, and headed to the square.

“

“We don’t know what we’re doing!!”

We waited with a crowd for about an hour and a half, just having no idea what was going on. We were all packed really close together and it rained a bit. We weren’t really sure what we were looking at, but one guy with a motorcycle helmet seemed to get a little too close to my derrière, and Seth was a few people behind and couldn’t help me, so I did my best to ward off helmet man on my own. Eventually we walked with the crowd into the square and the police said we all had to get closer together because an enormous effigy was about to go through. They physically pushed us all together, against a building. I saw the headlines: “Two Americans were crushed today…” I made eye contact with one of the volunteers helping the push effort, and kind of gave him a panicked look, mouthing “no way.” I’m sure we must have looked weird to him — two pale faces in a swarm of locals, and I guess he took pity on me and Seth because he pulled us out of the crowd. Right about that time, motorcycle helmet took the opportunity of everybody being packed in to give my left boob a squeeze, so on the way out I dropped my elbow into his back, HARD. I hope it hurt. Seth found out later he was also violated in another way in that crowd, as in someone pick pocketed him, although he didn’t lose more than $2 or $3.

I know what you’re thinking. “Ok, so then you went home.” Nope. Not us. We hung out right where the volunteer parked us for a few minutes (and told us to watch our bags), and then he said the Kumari, the 13-year-old child goddess for whom the festival was taking place, would make an appearance around 7:30 (we’d been waiting for 2 hours, and it was now 5:30). To give you an idea of where we were, the Nepali royal family was watching from a porch, along with many other foreign diplomats. There was a band playing, what seemed like a group of Nepali marines standing in uniform, police in riot gear, and people. People everywhere. Sitting on the sides of the temple, all the way up to the top. Pouring out of every corner and entrance possible. There was even a monkey on the roof of a building.

But the volunteer changed his mind about where he wanted us. So he pulled me and Seth in front of a military procession, and at least five police and guards tried to stop us until they saw we were with him. In front of everybody, with the Nepali royal family looking on and all the people, we were taken to a different group of photographers and tourists, where we stood for about twenty minutes while people took pictures of Saudi diplomats and  other important people getting into their cars, ten feet away. By 6PM our patience was starting to wear thin, so we decided to go back to the hostel room. One of us (not me) didn’t listen to the other’s (my) suggestions on how to get back, so we got lost, and ended up taking a rickshaw back, and called it a day. That was enough.

So. In summary. We were not very smart yesterday. But we learned a few lessons. Like: most people who approach you in Nepal want to scam you just like in Southeast Asia even though giving money is bad karma, how to worship at a Hindu temple, watch out for horse poop, don’t wear wool socks in September, listen to Patrice when she thinks we’re going the wrong way, and for goodness sake don’t get stuck in large crowds. I’m going to chalk that up as one of the craziest things I’ve ever done.

the Hindu monk who wears crocs, lol