Benzene Scented Adventures with Emily

It’s a recurrent fact that when she’s around, things happen. It has always been this way. Together, we have run out of a bar as a generalized brawl started. We searched for tigers in the jungle by foot with only walking sticks and an awareness of the closest tree to assist us. We’ve jumped off a cliff paragliding in the Himalayas. We’ve been together for major transitions: abrupt moves, language learning and marriage. We’ve been strong together as we were preyed upon by an unstable peeping-tom after curfew time. So when Emily arrived to visit for a few days, I knew it would be exciting.

On Wednesday, Kathmandu came to a halt. The students declared a ‘bandh’, or generalized strike. They were protesting the oil price hikes and used all means necessary to prevent any vehicles from moving – e.g. the health-damaging tire burning. No cars running and shops were closed… all over the city… I had taken the day off to enjoy it with my friend… but our plans were hampered. After a hefty breakfast nearby, we decided to start walking just to see if anything was open. We walked and walked. The air was full of the fumes of burning tires – the smog was thick and covered the sky.

We finally arrived closer to Thamel (the tourist area – our only hope for a place to rest and shop) and the cycle-rickshaws were out. We hoped on one and kept our eyes peeled for trouble. Having both lived in Nepal during the war, we’re very used to keeping away from crowds protesting this or that… so when we saw youth gathered ahead, we directed the rickshaw to shift paths and take a smaller lane. As he progressed, something happened… we’re not sure what instigated the flood of young men to move from where they were, but they started streaming down behind us. I looked back through the little curtain and said – Ok, Emily get off NOW! We jumped off and ran perpendicular to the crowd coming in our direction into a covered construction site… It was like a haven of peace with the workers bewildered by these two foreigners, one with notable flaming blond hair and the other complaining in Nepali about how there are always problems… The crowds finally dispersed and our rickshaw was waiting for us to bring us to our destination – a tourist restaurant apparently closed, but not if you know the other entrance – where we shared a refreshing beer. We walked for 1½ hours to get home – with my scarf on my nose, as nausea from the tires set in. Even if too short, Emily’s visit was a complete success and faithful to our growing legacy.