Kathmandu is
one of the most densely populated cities in the world, 50,000 inhabitants per
square mile. That is a fact I read.
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| ...if Legos were earth tone |
What I
learned from observation is that those people live in a city that is
constructed much the way a child would build a Lego village. Area wise, Kathmandu
is not that big. Rooms are continually being added to current living space by
simply building out and up from existing structures.
I also observed
some of the most crowded streets imaginable. I’ve walked the streets of New
York, Los Angeles, Saigon, and San Jose. They were crowded but for the most
part the vehicles stayed in the streets and the people stayed on the sidewalks.
This was not the case in Kathmandu. There were only streets—narrow streets at
that—and everyone used those— pedestrians, cars, motorcycles, bicycles, trucks,
Pedi-cabs, animals. The shops came right out to the streets, oftentimes with their
wares stacked alongside the curbs, which were not really curbs but rather ditches
for the rain to run off.
The honking
of horns and ringing of bells never ceased, not for a moment. Vehicles turned
corners blindly with only a horn to alert anyone in their way. They would pull
up within inches of those in front of them—whether approaching or coming from
behind—and use their horn to announce their presence. Motorcycles literally
pulled into shops to make way for larger vehicles.
What I
noticed, with all this congestion and continual noise around me, was that no
one ever seemed to lose their temper. I never saw anyone flip someone the
finger. I never heard anyone curse. I heard no threats. I didn’t even see dirty
looks. People just got out of the way or waited for the other to get out of the
way.
It was the
same with merchants—who like merchants round the globe, did everything in their
power to make a sale. They would follow you on the street, initiate
conversations that never seemed to end, promised the moon, good luck or everlasting
salvation if I bought their product. But when a sale was obviously not going to
happen, they simply walked away. No parting remarks, no bad feelings.
The people
of Kathmandu are very friendly and helpful—almost to a fault.
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| This driver definitely did not know where he was going. |
Jessica and
I rode in Pedi-cab once when the streets became so difficult to navigate, the
driver got out and pull his vehicle along, with us in it. The first time
this happened we were so caught off guard that we stayed in our seats, probably
thinking the driver was simply getting the cab out of traffic. The second time
it happened, we got out, paid the driver and walked alongside him.
There were
times where the drivers seemed to be driving around in circles—it is not
farfetched to think even they could get lost in a city so crowded—but they
never gave up. A lot of businesses say they aim to please and customer
satisfaction is their only goal. These drivers didn’t have to say it. They’d
drive through hell to get you where you wanted to go.
School
children walking arm-in-arm filled the streets at all hours of the day and were always smiling.
I met some
very nice people in Kathmandu. I came away with a strange notion that maybe
there is something mystical about growing up in the shadow of the Himalayas. The
people I met weren’t full of themselves. They seemed down to earth, satisfied, and
at peace living in what I viewed as a hectic and demanding world.
All these
observation led me to the conclusion the people of Nepal are very special
people indeed.
No one
deserves a tragedy such as the one that struck Nepal last week. And yet,
sometimes that is the only reaction we can come up with. Of course they need
monetary aid, medical assistance, food, and water. Rebuilding will take years,
decades perhaps. They will get all that, and I know for a fact they will
appreciate it.
Still, I can’t
help thinking. These people did not deserve this.
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| Many of these thousand year old temples have been destroyed. |
