Namobuddha Walk in Nepal

One day, my Nepali brother, Bijay, took me on the back of his motorcycle up a mountain to visit Namobuddha, a small village atop a mountain that houses the sacred Thrangu Tashi Yangtse Monastery. It is one of the most important Buddhist pilgrimage sites in Nepal and where the bones of a prince who gave his life to a starving tigress and her cubs are buried. Gautam Buddha himself declared that he was the reincarnation of this prince that unselfishly sacrificed his life for the tiger family. The monastery was opened for tourism in 2008 and has become a semi popular tourist destination.

For our journey there, we road the 40k (~25mile) from Kathmandu, up the unpaved road full of tight turns and dips. Much of the road was washed out and muddy due to rain. I was lucky to have a friend drive me all that way, through the mud and up the mountain for a bus ride wouldn’t have been pleasant.

You first arrive to a familiar scene of white stuppas surrounded with colorful prayer flags.

The main stuppa you see here is where the bones of the prince are buried. There is a small hole where you can peek into but unable to see much. It is tradition to run your hand over the prayer wheels as you circle the shrine in a clockwise motion while chanting.

Often you will see people lightening candles and praying at different religious sights throughout Nepal.

You then make your way up a staircase with a path covered with more prayer flags until you reach a beautiful gate.

Bijay and I explored some of the grounds together. This monastery is also home for many young boys studying to be monks. You can see them passing between buildings with their backpacks and books.

The monastery itself is stunning. Beautifully painted and adorned, not to mention a beautiful view of the surrounding terraced farmland.

After this picture, Bijay decided to go home and let me hike back as I had planned. My intention had been to make my way to Namobuddha by myself but Bijay insisted on driving me to make things easier for me. And he did.

Nepal has the nicest people. A country full of kind individuals that are eager to help just because it is the right thing to do. This is really what this story is about. Highlighting the small acts of kindness from strangers that is the nature of Nepal.

Before Bijay left, he told me to mind the weather and not take too long to begin my hike back. Rain would come every afternoon and I had about 10 miles to hike down to the main road where I could flag down a bus. I told him not to worry and continued exploring the beautiful grounds. It was nice to spend the day together but I had been itching for some solitude. It was so quiet and peaceful, the energy calming yet rejuvenating, it was hard to leave. I went back to the temple to meditate. Inside the building had high ceilings that were decorated with colorful carvings and paintings top to bottom. The alters had statues of so many different Buddhas, all adorned with flowers, candles and tapestries. I stayed awhile to meditate and the monk even let me sit in the restricted area.

Colorful carvings and paintings inside the monastery

I kept exploring and made my way down the hillside to continue through a prayer flag forest. I spent too much time taking photos and exploring every corner of the grounds I could. Basically, I stayed too long.

By the time I made it back down to the entrance point I had already seen the gray clouds coming in. Oops.

I started the decent. About 15 minutes in it started to sprinkle. 10 minutes later it started to pour. I luckily had an umbrella that Bijay let me borrow. But there was nowhere to wait out the rain. I tried standing under a tiny tree for protection as the rain came down…

I was in a pretty remote village, on a road with no one on it. I kept walking not knowing what else to do, hoping to see an awning or coverage I could huddle under. Not many patios in Nepali farmland. I see one and pull under a small piece of plastic covering a door entrance. Around the side there are a group of men congregating at some tables and they kindly call me over to get out of the rain.

I seem to have found the local hang out. Two tables of mostly middle aged working men and two ladies in a small room in the back making tea. At first it was slightly awkward as they stared at me, probably wondering how I ended up there. But this I am used to and with a smile and a few Nepali words the tension is broken. One man was friendly and knew a handful of English words. We piece together a broken yet fun conversation. You don’t need words to communicate or make a connection. Face expressions, hand movements and tone can go far. Whenever I travel somewhere that doesn’t speak English, I carry around a cheat sheet of useful words and phrases. This has always been very helpful and locals appreciate the effort.

The rain continues and the man buys me a cup of tea and chips. I am surprised by this kind gesture as I obviously have the means to pay but he refuses. We try to play a game and exchange information to pass the time.

After about an hour or two, the rain started to die down and two men walk by heading down the mountain. I was told to follow them to the next village. I did not interact much with these men, but I remember walking behind them in their black, rubber slipper sandals, squishing through the muddy roads. Another reminder of the many people in this world that do not wear shoes.

I get to the next village, “Go left” as I was instructed and continued down the road. As long as you know the town of your destination, there is typically only one or two ways to get there. The next village I passed through was where they made bricks. I’m only guessing this because all the buildings were made out of red bricks, unusual for Nepali houses.

I walked through fields of farmland and overflowing roads with rushing water. My feet squished underneath me in my soggy shoes and my pants clung to my legs. It was so beautiful and I was still happy, but I was getting hungry. I regretted not bringing a bigger lunch and was hoping to pass a small kiosk soon. No restaurants here.

I finally come to a small stand. There was a man sitting there with a bright smile and kind eyes. I would’ve stopped even if he didn’t have food. Once again, we engaged in the best of conversations we could. One Nepali phrase I learned early on was, “I’m hungry”. I looked for items with the most substance. Chips and dried noodles. I planned on eating them dry along my walk but he tried telling me something I couldn’t understand. He brought out a teenage girl who spoke excellent English and told me that they would make my noodles for me, free of charge.

She showed me the outside of their home and told me her father built their whole house by hand over a year. She watched her father build the house piece by piece, everyday before and after work for months. She said, “ I have the best papa in the whole world.” Once, she had to spend a night away from her parents and she cried the whole night. She said, “Sometimes I love them so much it hurts”. Now, I love my parents. But can’t say I ever cried or even missed them at a sleep over. Definitely not at her age. Actually, I had the complete opposite sentiment and I shutter to think about my feelings and words of rage towards my parents at her age.

Sweet Esther, the daughter, introduced me to her mother who was sewing in a little workroom next door. She and her husband were sewers by trade. They made bags, clothes, tapestries and repaired items for people in town. They used old school sewing machines powered by your foot.

When Ester returned with my food she had garnished my soup and gave me some rice and pickles on the side. I don’t know what she added but this was one of the best packaged noodles I’ve ever had (summit of Annapurna was another). Once I finished, she insisted I eat more and came back with a serving of dahl baht ( lentil soup and rice ). This seems small, but was one of the fondest memories I have in Nepal. Sharing this family’s home, being introduced to their friends that walked by, watching her parents in their craft as they make an honest living to provide for their family. And Esther and I were genuinely interested in each other. Her English was so impressive because she wanted to go to university and become a tour guide. She even offered to come meet me in Bhaktapur the next day to show me around the area. It was adorable. She gave me her papas cell number when I finally left. I still had 4 miles to go.

By now most of the day had passed. My legs were getting tired and my feet were cold. The sun was getting low in the sky and I knew at this rate I was losing chances to catch a bus. There really is no schedule. You just wait on the side of a road until a bus comes by that you can flag down. The later it is, the less people that need to go places. Just as I was estimating what time I’d actually make it back to my hostel, a man in a motorcycle stops a few feet ahead of me and asks where I’m going. He tells me to hop on. I do.

Now this is where some people may raise their eyebrow. Hopping on the back of some strangers bike? Well, yeah. I trust my intuition and I felt like this man was kind and genuine. (Not suggesting you trust all strangers. Use your judgement.) This man worked for the government and was riding back to his home town after doing an inspection. We drove along this ridge, watching the beautiful sunset and remember feeling so blissful. It was the exact kind of day I loved. Unplanned exploration with genuine human connection.

The man dropped me off at the bus station and I tried to offer him some change but he would not accept. He said something like, “My mother told me to help from the goodness of your heart.“ He waved and drove in the opposite direction back home.

When I reflect on that day, I think of the many amazing souls I was able to have brief encounters with. They were such small interactions but they left huge impressions on me. I will never see or hear from those people again and there is a good chance they have already forgotten me. But it showed me how much more enjoyable a world could be if we were all nicer to each other. If we felt safe enough to trust others. How these small acts of kindness can have lasting affects on other people. It also made me feel a little sad how drastically different I think this is from the U.S. That these incidents where people stop and go out of their way to help a stranger are so unbelievable and rare. There should be more of that.

But maybe this is what makes Nepal special. Their kind, open hearts.