TAIPEI – THE VAULT OF CHINESE CULTURE

Taipei is a welcome change after the pollution and cacophony of Kathmandu.  This highly cosmopolitan capitol of the Nationalist Chinese is clean, modern, orderly, with fresh air, great food, western enculturation, modern transport, coordinated and efficient traffic and overwhelmingly modern cars.  Its people are polite, slightly reserved (like Brits), and consummate consumers. They are surprisingly non multi-lingual.

Most appear to be under age 30.  In appearance, they are very much Oriental Americans, as if they have been graduate students who have been abroad for a long, long time.  As a culture, Taiwanese have perfected the “Art of Presentation.”  Even the most ordinary of sales pitches become not merely demonstrations, but theatre with a flourish, complete with elaborate costumes and embellished hand gestures.

I notice this particularly at Taipei 101 – formerly the tallest building in the world at 508 meters until completion of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai in 2010.  After taking in the view from the 89^th floor observation deck, visitors must navigate a labyrinth exit path to be able to descend to the 5^th floor, where yet another path must be discerned before you can egress the building.  There are no signs assisting your way out.  Purposefully.  They want you to shop until you … get disoriented and just surrender your wallet.

Along the way, you are repeatedly ambushed by smiling and well-coiffed sales staff promoting mainly jewelry.  Also expensive gemstone coral.  This is not the endangered shallow- depth marine fossil cumulations one normally sees.  This is the intensely colored (usually pink or reddish) glassy coral found at depths of 10 to 1500 meters. 

Historically the coral gemstone has been used to adorn battle ornaments by the Gauls, as funeral decoration in India, by women in medieval times to ward off infertility, as talismans by Roman children to thwart bad luck, and as necklace charms by Italians to foil the “Evil Eye.”

The strands are rare and very expensive.  It has the appearance of asparagus or seaweed or a small shrub having been pruned, color coated with glaze, and fired in a kiln for three hours.  Some of the pieces have been shaped and polished into works of art costing hundreds of thousands of dollars.  A number of them command the room in the same dominant way the Hope Diamond or the “Winged Victory” of Samothrace statue at the Louvre does.

I am amused by the perky attentiveness of the vendors.  They are dressed almost as if designer dental assistants.  They smile facetiously and fawn over me like a relative at the last reading of rich Uncle Max’s will … right up until such time as it is clear I am another looker and not a buyer, when their smiles turn to scowls and their subcutaneous indifference once again asserts itself.

Taipei 101 is built like a beanpole chimney, modified tastefully to present the appearance of a stacked pagoda.  It is engineered to withstand the worst earthquake known to have been experienced over the past 2500 years.  The building is anchored by 380 concrete pylons driven 80 meters into the soil, and then another 30 meters into bedrock below that.  All floors are equipped with computerized fire prevention and extinguishing systems plus evacuation staircases – it takes 2046 steps to reach the top!

Two high-speed elevators to the 89^th floor (there are a total of 50 lifts in the tower) observatory remain the fastest in the world, with an ascent rate of 1010 meters per minute.  It takes only 37 seconds to reach the observatory from the 5^th floor lobby elevators.  A territorial view from the top is impressive but does not overwhelm, perhaps because the visitor is exhausted from so much shopping opportunity distracting them as they attempt to peek outside.

Just below the observation deck is located the world’s largest wind damper.  This is a huge 5.5 meter golden ball (weighing over 660 tons, and made up of 41 layers of graduated steel plate) hung from the reinforced ceiling by four massive cables.  It is tethered to the floor through a series of cannon-sized flexible hydraulic jacks.  It has the effect of a giant shock absorber which reduces building sway up to 40% in high winds.  The damper was built at a cost of $132 million.

Just outside Taipei 101, a controversial group of demonstrators has staked out space to persuade passers-by to sympathize with their quest for recognition and support of Falun Gong on the mainland.  They persist even in the driving rain.  Falun Gong (also known as Falun Dafa) is an ancient discipline for self-improvement of the mind, body and spirit based on principles of Truth, Compassion, and Tolerance.  It was introduced in its modern form in China in 1992.

Though in practice in 114 countries, Falun Gong has met disfavor with Communist Party officials on the mainland and has led to a banning of the practice and persecution of its followers.  Falun Gong adherents claim this is due to the practice gaining 100 million followers by 1999, thus outnumbering even Communist Party membership.  Former Party Premier Jiang Zemin decided there was not sufficient room for these “Two Big Dogs” to exist side-by-side.

This led to the establishment of a 610 Office (described as a Gestapo like organization) that systematically began a campaign of repression and torture against Falun Gong, including: unlawful detention, mass arrests, systematic beatings, brainwashing, physical and mental tortures including disfigurement by electric baton and live organ harvesting, and psychiatric abuse.  Over 3649 deaths are claimed from torture and police custody.

Falun Gong says its claims have been verified by Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, the US Department of State, and other international organizations.  Amnesty International named Jiang as the “human rights villain of the year” in 2000.

Perhaps the most beautiful part of Taipei is the grand central plaza first dedicated as the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall Square.  Since 2007 it has become known as Liberty Square as Taiwan’s increasing economic might has resulted in increased political freedoms and democratic reforms – including the first popular elections of national leaders as of 1996.  The square, named after the cagey Nationalist Chinese General who led the civil war against Chinese Communists on the mainland and also became Taiwan’s first President, became the preferred public site for mass gatherings as soon as it opened in April of 1980. 

The huge octagonal (eight is considered good luck in Chinese mythology) white marble and blue tiled roofed Memorial Hall itself dominates the east end of the square.  Half a mile away to the north along a broad boulevard of homage, bounded by meandering paths and beautiful gardens, is the very picturesque National Theater.  The exquisite National Concert Hall is across the square from the theater to the south.  Both are characterized by color variety, architectural balance, elaborate curved tile roofs, and manicured landscaping.  A supremely elegant white marble and blue tiled “Gate of Integrity” to mirror the Hall faces it from the far western end of the square.

Ascending 89 steps from the square to the main level of the Chiang Ka-shek Memorial Hall brings visitors to a giant statue of the man who became the first Taiwanese president after the Nationalists left mainland China in 1949.  The friendly, relaxed pose of the smiling and casually dressed leader was inspired by the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC.  A very involved “Changing of The Guard” ceremony lasting 20 minutes takes place in front of the statue each hour on the hour.

Ground level of the four-story Memorial Hall consists of a very well organized and thoughtfully documented museum dedicated to the history of the Nationalist movement while on Mainland China, and its history since as the Kuomintang (Nationalist Party) after arriving in Taiwan.  An exhibition hall shows the development of Taiwan in its historical context both before and since the arrival of the Nationalists.

One of the most touching exhibits here is what has been coined “Island, Wharves, New Hometown.”  It shows in pictorial narrative the forced evacuation from the Dachen Island Group in the Straight of Taiwan fishermen and their families who had been displaced by mainland communist attacks.  This took place between February 9^th and 14^th, 1955.  Over 15,000 civilians and nationalist troops were relocated to Taiwan – a place they had never visited – carrying only simple clothing, cash, and deity statues.

These refugees arrived at the wharves in Keelung with little to sustain them.  They found cheering crowds but in a dialect they did not at all understand.  Many struggled for years to adapt to the forced change in circumstances.  In the 60 years since, these surviving “boat people” have still managed at great cost to contribute greatly to the growth of Taiwan’s cultural values, social diversity, and evolution of its democratic values.

A must-see site in Taipei for any visitor with time on their hands would be the National Palace Museum.  Originally located in the Forbidden City on mainland China in Beijing, the 600,000 artifacts of this showplace were crated and sent to southwest China in 1931 after facing invasion from Japanese Imperial forces.  It was moved once again in 1949 to Taiwan during the height of the civil war between Nationalist Chinese government forces and communist challengers.

This superbly organized institution has evolved into a completely modern museum.  It is the premier repository for Chinese art and culture anywhere (including the mainland). The collection continues to grow, and nearly 100,000 additional items have been added since the current museum was established in its present Wai-shuang-xi neighborhood in 1965.

You simply can not allocate enough time for this beautiful museum.  Among its collection and galleries are those dedicated to calligraphy scrolls, antique bronzes, jade and jeweled stones, bells and cauldrons, painted enamels, ceramics and kneaded clay, rare books and documents, ivory carvings going back many centuries, Qing Dynasty furniture, and religious sculptural arts.

All exhibits are well tagged in both Chinese and English.  The museum also has a rare  intuitive flow to it, leading from one subject matter and one historical period to its logical successor.  My favorite displays -- given that I don’t read or speak Chinese -- were those dedicated to the ceramics (particularly the cobalt blue and pure white ceramics, some going back to 1200 BC), ivory “cloud and dragon” carving motifs, and Qing Dynasty jade pieces from 1644 to 1911.

My favorite part of Taiwan however, is what is known as “The Night Markets.”  These are festively lit strips of street carts, carnival barkers, trinket displays, semi-permanent stalls and restaurants primarily open during evening hours.  The most well-known is on Huaxi Street, near the Lungshan Temple Metro Station.  It offers a wide array of international cuisine and street foods, many of which are medicinally oriented.

Two other night markets I visited were The Guangzhou Street Market, and the Shilin Night Market.  They offer up women’s clothing, inexpensive fashion wear, small household goods, electrical appliances, games, CDs, movies, musical apparatus, sporting goods, shoes, street snacks, and creative alcoholic mixed drinks.

The best part of these assorted shops is their variety, and being able to empty your pocket change to cheaply sample the likes of:  barbecued shrimp skewers, sausages, snake meat specialties, steamed pork dumplings, fried rice dishes, wraps, fish preparation of all types, a large variety of candy and chocolates, and mixed fruit drinks.    

 KATHMANDU, NEPAL

“I think I'm goin' to Kathmandu
I think it's really where I'm goin' to
Hey, if I ever get out of here
That what I'm gonna do.”

Bob Seger’s famous lyrics are a reminder I have looked forward to visiting Kathmandu for many years.  I almost went there in lieu of England when I took my college Semester Abroad program some years back.   It was supposed to be a fun, mellowed, alternative lifestyle, loose and looser, altered-reality sort of hangout.

In reality it is dirty, crowded, heavily polluted, not particularly a bargain, and really better as a short stopover than an extended stay.  Keep in mind, I am not in my twenties anymore and not likely disposed to all of its alleged attractions in a way I might have been in previous years.  At this present stage in life, I expect something in a travel destination besides friendliness and good intentions.

I expect value, beauty, character, hospitality, learning and growth oppportunity, a sense of freedom … and engagement.  I was disappointed to find these lacking in Kathmandu.

Instead I found a serious limitation on transportation options.  Air pollution so heavy surgical masks were often necessary (Kathmandu is in a high altitude basin surrounded by mountains).  Sewage with animal and human waste running in virtually every open waterway.  Traffic is a nightmare.  It is very busy and congested.

Infrastructure has not caught up with all that bustling.  One amusing sight I witnessed over and over was telephone, power and internet connections from both private homes and businesses scabbed on to utility poles.  The number of pirated lines connecting to these supply trunks made them appear like frizzy hair day after a good rain.  I have no idea how communications companies figured out who was who, who was legal, or how to bill for such a tangled mess.

The warmth factor was less than what I had anticipated, except for the compound of my lodgings at the wonderful Albrus Hostel in the Thamel section of town.  The hospitality was lacking when compared to places like Egypt and Turkey.  The capitol seemed surprisingly commercialized.  One local complained, though it did not appear so, that “Kathmandu is for the rich.”  As a result, I have had difficulty writing about this place.

Oh, Kathmandu has a certain charm to it.  Of course it does.  It is motorcycle heaven (or hell).  Pedestrians are treated with at least some consideration.  There is a laid-back, yet energetic air to the place … a sense of purpose among locals needing and wanting to get from place to place … which separates it from Africa. And for those so disposed, there is absolutely no shortage of stealthy curbside pocket vendors offering weed, hash, or other botanicals that might top your shopping list.  Prayer flags, prayer wheels, and vibrating “singing bowls” abound for the more spiritually inclined.

I don’t plan to go into much Nepali history or their unusual caste social strata system.  Or the drug sub-culture.  Or hippie circles that still manage to thrive in isolated pockets both inside and outside the city.  Or the thousands of Buddhist and Hindu legends that adorn this burgh in three-dimensional form.

One interesting facet of Nepali life that has changed within the past decade is the national transformation from a monarchy into a republic.  One June 1^st of 2001, Prince Dipendra, the primary succession candidate to his father King Birendra’s throne, devolved into a drunken stupor and killed nine members of his family in an outbuilding on the grounds of the Narayanhity Royal Palace before turning a gun on himself.

Oddly, despite being the transgressor of such a crime, Dipendra became the de facto King of Nepal while laying in a coma after his self-assessed wound.  His uncle Gyanendra Bir Bikram Shah (a very unpopular man with the average Nepali) acted as regent for three days for his dying nephew, until being appointed King himself following Dipendra’s death.

Interestingly enough, the shooting spree that resulted in the death of nine royals and Dipendra himself was first described as an “accidental firearms discharge,” since under Nepali law the Crown Prince could not legally be charged with murder had he lived.   

According to official reports following the massacre, Dipendra had been drinking heavily, smoked large quantities of hashish and had "misbehaved" with a guest, which resulted in King Birendra telling his oldest son to leave the party. One hour later, Dipendra returned to the party carrying at least three firearms.

A two-man committee consisting of the Supreme Court Chief Justice and the Speaker of the House of Representatives carried out a week-long investigation into the bloodbath. Their findings – reached after interviewing more than a hundred people (including eyewitnesses and palace officials, guards and staff) -- concluded that Dipendra had carried out the massacre alone.  A large number of critics and Nepalese however disputed the official report because many facts and evidence reported by the investigation team seemed contradictory.

Among many reasons for this skepticism is that King Birendra and the shooter Prince Dipendra were very popular and well respected by the Nepalese population. Such favor led the Chairman of the Nepalese Maoist Party to claim the massacre was planned by the Indian intelligence agency RAW or the American CIA.  Promoters of these ideas allege Gyanendra had a hand in the massacre so that he could assume the throne himself, pointing out that his rise to the throne would only be possible if both of his nephews (Dipendra and his brother Nirajan) were removed from the chain of succession.

In addition, on the day of the massacre Gyanendra was in nearby Pokhara while most other royals were in the royal family compound. While the entire families of King Birendra and Prince Dipendra were wiped out, nobody amongst Gyanendra's family died  (two of Gyanendra’s family did receive wounds).

Among the claims refuting the official report was one published as a thinly veiled “historical novel” based on eyewitness testimony from a maid on the scene, whose husband (also a royal employee) was killed during the massacre.  The book claims two men masked as Crown Prince Dipendra fired the actual shots involved in the killings.

They also point to six bullet holes in the Prince’s back as evidence he was a pawn, and not the principal architect of the crime.  This chain of doubt, and new King Gyanendra’s unpopularity, led to the monarchy being abolished through a popular uprising in 2006.

The Tribhuven Sadan royal compound behind the Narayanhity Royal Palace was demolished after the massacre.  Today it simply shows the foundation outlines, but remains a fascinating walkabout due to the on-scene narratives revealing progression of the fateful night’s events in real time, and markers where each of the 9 + 1 royals met their death.

The Palace itself (a museum as of 2008) is fascinating on its own.  It has 52 rooms, of which only 19 are open to the public.  Many of them are not lit, attributed to regular power outages in the city.  A number of the rooms are quite impressive, including the elegant Gorkha Room with its 4 x 6 x 8 foot ceremonial throne.  The Kaski Baithak Room is beautifully appointed in an art-deco style and was used for receiving visiting heads of state and other important royal functions.

Other must-see sites while in Kathmandu (which can essentially be visited in one day with a properly motivated taxi driver) include: The Boudhanath Buddhist Temple.  This whitewashed spherical stupa is one of the largest in the world.  It was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1979.  Interior access is sadly limited.  Its primary attraction is a complete series of large Buddhist prayer wheels and prayer flags ringing the complex, which more or less takes up a circular city block. 

Another attractive feature is the ring of commercial buildings which rise up above the temple at times, and surrounds it.  This is populated primarily by Tibetan refugees who escaped the clutches of the Chinese takeover in the fifties.  It is said to entomb a Buddha incarnation who, according to local tradition, grew to 20 cubits high and lived over 2000 years (!).  It features primarily tea houses, prayer flags, Tibetan shoes and clothing, and various incantations of the proverbial colorful Buddhist prayer wheel for sale.

Nearby is the Temple of Lord Pashupatinath.  The temple is one of the holiest in the world and is revered by Buddhists and Hindus alike.  As such, it is a symbol of religious harmony in Nepal. This deity (the “God of Five Faces”) is considered by these two faiths to be the Lord of All Living Beings, the source of eternal bliss and peace, and the savior of humans from worldly afflictions.  Nepalis revere Pashupatinath as The Buddha. 

Nobody knows when this giant 264 hectare complex of monasteries, hermitages, monuments, vihars, paties, pouwas, sattats, ghats and stupas was first built.  However, inscriptions on some of the early buildings date back to 459 AD.  Many visitors arrive to practice meditation, engage in spiritual pursuits and witness Buddhist and Hindu religious  performances.

My favorite part of wandering these hallowed grounds is located above the high banks of the sacred Bagmati River.  There, Hindu funeral pyres line concrete platforms which never seem to be out of use.  Considering loved ones are being sent along their final journey in this life in a very intimate way, families are surprisingly welcoming of visitors.  Photographers are not discouraged.  The scene is at times gripping – especially when watching the fear, sadness and bewilderment of young children who do not yet understand the cycle of life and death.

One other amusing if not memorable sight at the temple includes phony Brahmins (highest of the four castes in Nepal, followed by Chetat, Bisha, and Indra or “The Untouchables”).  These exalted beings -- who prance like enlightened faeries along flower petaled pathways with their long beards, orange sarongs, flowing hair, and prayer invoking hands -- are quick to offer a smile and a photo op.  But only for a price.

Hanuman Dhoka Durbar Square is the plaza in front of the old royal palace of the former Kingdom of Kathmandu. It is one of three Durbar or “royal palace” squares in the Kathmandu Valley.  All three are UNESCO World Heritage Sites.  The Square is surrounded with spectacular architecture and showcases skills of the local artists and craftsmen developed over multiple centuries.  The square encompasses quadrangular courts revealing former palaces, museums, an antiquarian library, and various temples.

One of the most unusual experiences of my entire journey occurred here.  I was walking in a loosely roped off area, when I was accosted by a young man gesturing toward my wallet.  I ignored him.  No donations today.  He continued to persist, and then got increasingly vocal about his demands.  A policeman started to approach.  I complained about the apparent panhandler.

Turns out, he was a ticket procurer.  The young man was directing me to an official booth where I was required as a foreigner to acquire a relatively inexpensive pass (a purchase, nevertheless) with a yellow tag hanging from my neck.  It had a prominent red star affixed.  It was quietly explained that I would not be hassled for proof of a ticket with such a pass hanging prominently in place.

The blaring receipt of sorts has the effect of marking you for every beggar, every predatory stall vendor, every pickpocket, con artist, slouch wanting to practice their English, and needy mother in search of milk money within a kilometer.  Being identified in such a way also exposes you to the “double charge.”

This is where you pay what you think will be one overall admission fee at the square entry, only to incur additional fees at virtually each stop worth viewing.  I saw plenty of locals and what appeared to be very Aryan looking foreigners proceeding without paying such fees.  Disgusted, I tore my yellow tag off within 100 meters.  Now I have some idea at least of what the Jews of Warsaw and Krakow felt like in the early days of World War II when their marked identification was mandatory, also.  

While at Durbar Square, I was introduced to Nepali Singing Bowls – one of my very few purchases on a very long journey.  These beautiful 7-layer alloys of copper and brass are both decorative and ceremonial.  A health benefit is also claimed.  They make great displays for fruit or flowers.  They are also utilized for offering gifts to the dead in Buddhist and Hindu ceremonies.

When its edges are rubbed by a properly shaped wooden rod, the bowl will begin to vibrate and offer up a pleasing hum.  Some bowls large enough to be placed over the head or near the ears during this “singing” phase can have a very therapeutic effect.  If the vibration is maintained, water placed inside the bowl will bubble and then boil, offering a cleansing opportunity.

The Dharahara Tower (yes, I had to check the spelling twice) provides the finest view in all the Kathmandu Valley.  This nine-story rolling pin was built in 1825, and stands 62 meters (approx 203 feet) tall.  It is designed in a modified European and Indian Mughal style.  Its original purpose was to serve as an elevated pulpit for important events, announcements, and festivals.  The 213 steps to its observation deck make for a nice bit of exercise and are worth the territorial vista available from that seventh floor.

One of my favorite finds in Kathmandu – away from the usual noise, traffic, pollution, hawkers, cow dung and muddy potholes -- was the Garden of Dreams.    This 7000 square meter brick-walled compound (built in 1920) is a lush urban retreat filled with ponds, fountains, plants, flower beds, manicured grass strips, statues, decorative garden furniture, and European-inspired features such as verandas, pergolas, balustrades, urns, and birdhouses.  It is dominated by pastel coloring and subtle shading which often appears more impressionist painting than terra firma.

People of all ages come here.  Seniors primarily for the peace and quiet.  Adolescents treat it as a Lover’s Lane (more amorous square, actually).  Everybody comes for the food – there is a restaurant and a café, with somewhat overpriced fare but much better on average than is found throughout the rest of the city. Two public bars are on premises.

After being neglected for many years, this English style Zen Garden oasis was fully restored from 2000 to 2007 – but retains only half its former size.  It remains a unique place within easy reach of all other tourist spots in city to take a nap, reflect on your travels, experience some tranquility, enjoy free wifi, and take advantage of scintillatingly clean public toilets.  My suggestion:  BYOB (bring your own blanket) for the perfect public lawns! 

The Monkey Temple is another of those obligatory pit-stops for the first time Kathmandu visitor.  Some locations have been known to go to the dogs.  Others (especially around here) have gone to the sacred cows.  This one is dominated by simians (who often provide some very amusing poses).  Thus the name.  You have the usual collection of hilltop temples, shrines, chortens, prayer flags, souvenir stalls, and contemplation benches.   Only one catchall description is necessary to provide a cover for most of them: tourist trap.

But in this case, there is an added bonus.  Rooftop café dining.  It is an ideal place, perched on one of the highest points of the city, to sit on the terrace roof of the Nirvana Restaurant with no timeline in mind and peer westward into the setting sun.  You easily blaze to memory the ring of green hills and low rise mountains which girdle the white fanged 8000 meter Himalayan Mountains just beyond … tallest peaks in the world.

These snow-capped giant pyramids, spires, needles, and crenellated ridges are the subject of my favorite activity while in Nepal … a morning flyby from Kathmandu through the central Himalayas.  The flight only takes an hour.  It is the most expensive day venture of my entire journey, at $200 per person.  But what an incredible experience!

When I was younger, I did quite a bit of mountain climbing and rock climbing.  The Himalayas and particularly an expedition to Mt. Everest (tallest peak in the world at 8850 meters or 29,035 feet) was number one on my adventure wish list.  I even petitioned the Chinese Mountaineering Council in the days when Communist China was off limits to westerners, to climb Mt. Everest from the Tibetan side along the classic Northeast Ridge route – immortalized through the disappearance in 1924 of English mountaineer George Leigh Mallory, last sighted within easy reach of the summit.

For years, I did research on Mt. Everest with a view toward writing a book on the world’s most famous peak should I not be able to ever climb there.  I never lost my fascination with the Old English expeditions of the twenties and thirties, the eventual successful ascent of the peak in 1953 by New Zealander Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, and the still formidable mountain’s reputation as the world’s highest graveyard as today’s expeditions attempt ever more dangerous routes to the top.

This day it was my distinct pleasure and good fortune to enjoy clear, near summit-level views of:  the distinctive dark shark fin of Gauri-Shankar (7134 meters), the giant molar cap of Melungtse (7181 meters), the huge elephant back expanse of Cho Oyu (8201 meters), the relatively small but perfectly symmetrical summit pyramid of Pumori (7161 meters) and chiseled wedge of Ama-Dablam (6812 meters), the white brooding hulk of Makalu (8463 meters), and the statuesque frozen mass of Kanchanjunga (8586 meters).

The real prize – the “Royal Courtyard” as it were – was the lofty triumvirate of Nuptse (7865 meters), Lhotse (7855 meters) and Everest.  These three are bound together by what is the world’s highest valley (The Western Cwm), and threaded by the world’s highest ridgeline.  Everest particularly commands my attention.  I know each of its features as if the mountain had left my embrace only moments earlier.

You start with the Base Camp amidst disheveled rocky glacial moraines, at about 18,500 feet.  Then the Khumbu Icefall, a chaos of constantly shifting locomotive-sized ice blocks that arguably forms the most dangerous climbing route in the world.  Then the powdery incline of the Western Cwm (valley).  The 4500 vertical feet of frozen bulges on the Lhotse Face.  Next the broad icy saddle of the South Col, highest pass in the world at over 26,500 feet.

From the South Col soars the 45 degree Southeast Ridge, original route of ascent but now considered the “tourist route” to the top.  The South Summit, a ten meter knob straddling the summit approach and scene of the world’s highest emergency bivouac in 1963.  The Hillary Step – a climber's bottleneck just below the summit. And finally, the mounded summit haystack itself, topped with a radio antennae planted by the Chinese in 1975 to certify their ascent of the mountain and to assist in altitude verification of Everest proper.

My most rewarding experience in Nepal had nothing to do with world class summits, tourist traps, spiritual quests, or garden retreats.  It was in fact an unanticipated visit to an orphanage, a growing theme within my travels.  My high school friend, Randy Bollig, a teacher in Japan, had suggested I visit a friend of his running a “Friends & Family Project” outside Kathmandu.  I really had no idea what this effort entailed.

Matrika Rijal picked me up at the Kathmandu Inn courtyard – one of the more heavily promoted dining and lodging establishments in the Nepalese capitol.  He has hired a driver for the day to take me outside the city to tour his … project (of which I am still unaware).  He is what we might call in the United States a community organizer.  This is the functional type however, that has boots on the ground, gets his hands dirty, and has no political aspirations.

He has conspired with Randy, given the latter’s new awareness of my work with orphans in Rwanda, to transport me to a site dedicated to caring for Nepalese children who have been abandoned and orphaned – The Balmanddir Orphanage.  I do not really know the reason, other than I am curious, and Randy knows I am disappointed with Kathmandu’s “finer” attractions.

I learn that Randy sponsors 57 children (some at the orphanage and some at the nearby Bal Ankur Secondary School) at a hefty monthly cost -- especially considering his teacher’s salary.  Matrika is the facilitator that connects Randy and other sponsors with both the orphanage and the secondary school.  This highly congenial man works his magic all over Nepal, connecting funding sources from both home and abroad with children of need.

The orphanage is my first stop.  It is much spacier and generously appointed than what I have seen previously in Rwanda.  That is by Third World standards, of course.  By western standards, these kids still lack much of what we consider merely basics.

I am gratified to see a basketball court, small soccer pitch, two classrooms (free to nearby poor children), an office, therapy room, library, eight-bed dorm, dorm for four handicapped children, storeroom, dining hall, kitchen, vegetable garden, well, water system, staff quarters, and nascent health clinic.  Much of the credit for this infrastructure goes to a group of Dutch doctors, who ponied up initial funds and $4000 for additional renovations.

I am beyond surprised to find that this orphanage – due to excellent management and connections (and some partial government funding) – actually offers its children milk, meat, eggs, lentils, vegetables, dal bread, and electricity. If only its staffers were regularly paid, this would be close to a “Cadillac” operation.

What a contrast, between this facility – this organization – and that of my Rwanda orphans!  And yet both are vital and, absolutely committed to this necessary work.  My head swims with the obvious necessity of these institutions, their apparent helplessness, and the very fleeting thought of: why bother?

You come to realize, that if but one of these children escapes these minimal surroundings and prospers … if one of them becomes a Ghandi … a Churchill … a Reagan … an FDR … a Lincoln … a Sadat … an Atuturk … a Gorbachov … a Peron … a Mandela … then every effort toward their ascension is worthwhile.  These ascents, are infinitely more important than summit conquests by even the most altruistic of mountain climbers.

Some of the luckier and more qualified of the orphans attend the Bal Ankur Secondary School.  The cost is $250 yearly.  This includes admission, full tuition, uniforms, shoes, socks, and exercise suits (but not food).

I am treated to a lengthy tour of the three-story boarding school by its reputable and highly accomplished headmaster, Birman.  The facilities include pre-school, elementary, middle school, and high school classes.  The classrooms are very crowded, with up to 32 students per diminutive room, but there are several fully-stocked libraries and even a computer lab on the premises.  The school is well protected by a walled enclosure. Scholarships – funded by generous people like Randy Bollig – are often provided.

It is pleasing to think that most of those scholarships go toward female students.  The reason for this is quite simple.  Asian and Mideast families tend to put most of their resources into the success of males in the family, and particularly the oldest male child.  This funding preference is intended to help even the playing field and reflect the best intentions of school sponsors.

At what I thought was the end of the visit Birman’s wife (“Madame”) and daughter Piptil – an engineer and part-time teacher -- generously ply me with endless helpings of food.  They ignore pleadings to escape this feeding, despite my just having been stuffed from a delightful home-made meal at the Balmandir Orphanage.  Both were welcome examples of the legendary Nepali hospitality I’d been led to expect, but had yet to experience.

I have no idea (even now, months later) what this connection with the orphanage and the boarding school will mean to me, or how I might be of eventual service to them. There are occasions when knowing is merely a booby prize.  Just being a willing part of the circle of life and realizing you have left your part of the chain unbroken is often all that matters.   

DUBAI (UNITED ARAB EMIRATES) – ALL  SHOW,  NO SOUL

At some point in the future  thousands of years from now when its oil runs out, as archeologists are sifting through the dunes of the United Arab Emirates (U.A.E.) and Dubai particularly, I am sure they will be very puzzled.  Yet they are sure to arrive at some interesting conclusions.

An indoor ski resort in the middle of the desert?  How will that be interpreted?  The planet’s finest set of vanity towers, crows nests without peer and nothing natural to look at.  High level bird cages for the anointed.  An effete paradise.  Excess without purpose but to drive more traffic.  A conspicuous consumption oasis that makes the Parisian Champs-Elysses Boulevard look like a row of dollar stores.  All show, and no soul.

There are no beggars here.  No obvious hustlers or panhandlers.  No cripples, and no local out of wedlock pregnant women.  Foreign women “of child” are sent home rapidly.  To remain here, one must have a job and be self sustaining.  It is very clean and orderly and modern.  Almost antiseptic.  Is there an old city souq here not catering to the jet set?

In fairness, the men of Dubai (one rarely gets to encounter a Dubai female citizen who is not covered head to toe) are immaculately dressed and have impeccable manners.  They are also highly educated and multi-lingual.  Most are quite helpful at all times, in the same dispassionate way that a Swiss railroad clerk hopes you make your train on time.  An obvious sense of duty and efficiency prevails.  But always with a sense of removal, lacking that spark of possibility and engagement travelers live for.

I liken it to an ice sheet capping a river in winter.  The two elements are co-dependent, and they maintain constant contact, but really without mixing.  That was my experience with Dubai’s locals.  Its so-called “guest workers” are an entirely different story all together.

United Arab Emirates (of which Dubai is a major portion, along with Abu Dhabi) has a population of approximately ten million.  Of that number, one million are local citizens, one million are European ex-pats or opportunity contractors, and the remainder are …  well, the Indians and Pakistanis at least have some workplace status, since they generally are the shopkeepers and restauranteers and merchants that keep Dubai running.

The others -- from Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Nepal, Malaysia, Indonesia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, China, Korea and Eastern Europe (with the majority coming from the Philippines) – are serfs living in crowded dorms, riding the worker buses, eating in cafeterias, and necessarily dropping by Western Union regularly to send wages home to their families.

These are the people who man the shops, run the dining counters, change the hotel linens, clean the toilets, serve as maids, pump gas, and otherwise engage in work the Dubai citizenry find disdainful.  Don’t get me wrong – these immigrant workers are very happy to have these jobs.  However, there is next to zero observable interplay between the two.  The Emirate men and women both treat these folk like dirt.  They are dispensable. One is the ice, the other a hidden river providing support and flowing silently underneath.

It is rumored that citizens of Dubai – with an average household income somewhere in the range of $200,000 US dollars – do not really work.  They collect government benefits.  They play at business.  They offer financial services.  Oil revenues increasingly put effort (and especially labor) in their rear view windows.

It is factual to say that they can get drunk in public, hit you with their car, paralyze or kill you, and usually completely avoid the consequences.  If a pass-through western visitor or especially one of the guest workers did the same, they would have little recourse to western style rights and would be certain to await trial for a long time before finally spending a lengthy stint in prison.

Guest workers have their passports withheld almost as soon as they enter the country.  This act alone puts them at a serious disadvantage.  Reported abuses take place regularly, from restrictions on movement, excessive work hours, difficult conditions, unwanted sexual advances, and regular failure to pay wages.  Human trafficking in Dubai extends to both coerced and deception initiated prostitution, paying off debt bondage (up to two years of wages just for the right to work in Dubai), and oddly enough -- forced labor of camel jockeys.

To their credit, Emirate legal authorities have made some effort to control prostitution and sexual slavery in recent months.  However, they have done very little about work conditions or wage abuses, other than institute an electronic system of wage payment that can be monitored (but which is not yet anywhere close to being universal).

Dubai is in fact the third highest prostitution capitol in the world, after Amsterdam and Bangkok.  Saudi and other Arab men regularly take puddle jumper flights across the Persian Gulf to participate in sex junkets and long weekends of western style debauchery, including easy access to liquor.

Speaking of which: it is not difficult at all to get a drink in Islamic Dubai.  But the pricing is quite dear.  A beer costs the visitor a minimum of $10 US. Meals for some reason are quite reasonable.

The transport system in Dubai is outstanding.  An efficient elevated light rail system will comfortably take passengers from Dubai International Airport at the east end of town, to the Jumeirah Towers at the west end in a cool 45 minutes.  The metro access stops are all futuristic in design, air conditioned, and packed with amenities.  It is simply too hot to walk outside most of the year to span the 1.5 to 2.5 mile intervals between Metro stops.  Taxis (which are reasonably priced) are necessary to bridge the gap.

Two points of interest in Dubai evoked my curiosity enough to lay over here for three days on my way to Nepal.  Those were the Burj Khalifa, the world’s tallest building, and the artificially created sandspit islands of the Palm Jumeirah.  I had also hoped to visit the adjacent attraction of the Burj al Arab – a sailboat shaped waterfront skyscraper, but was not allowed even minimal access without having expensive dinner reservations made in advance.

The Burj Kahifa – modestly described by Dubai locals as “the cutting edge of architecture, design, art, engineering, construction, and imagination” – is an impressive project any way you choose to look at it.  This hypodermic needle look-alike dwarfs buildings normally called skyscrapers near its base, and can be seen from 95 kilometers away.

Some fun facts: It is 829 meters high.  Its observation deck on the 124^th floor is the second highest exterior viewing platform in the world.  The tower has 2909 steps between the ground floor, and the 160^th floor.  It has 28,261 protectively glazed glass panels designed to protect against the extreme heat (122 degrees Fahrenheit) of the Arabian summers.  These windows take 3 to 4 months for 36 workers to clean. Its foundation has 192 piers, driven 50 meters through sand to bedrock.  It has 1044 residential apartments.  The Burj Khalifa has 57 elevators.  And it consumes the energy equal of 29 million pounds of ice daily to cool the massive complex.

The view from the top is incredible.  If there was only something green to look at!  What does appear from the 360 degree perspective is a 900 foot fountain at the base (world’s largest) looking like a lily pad … huge lagoons … the turquoise Arabian Sea …endless desert and odd corkscrew mirages, even from this height … the Dubai Mall at its base, looking like a postage stamp … various skyscrapers like the Burj al Arab dotting the periphery … and the palm shaped islets of the Palm Jumeirah.

I remember watching construction films of this remarkable construct on the Discovery Channel.  It started in 2001 with barges employing huge scoops, sucking up bottom sand and redistributing the slurry (obviously no environmental impact studies were required here) via massive nozzles into a series of arced palm frond like artificial islets.

These individual sandspits were connected to a central trunk with a huge vehicular parkway directed back to the mainland.  At its crown is the massive and luxuriant Atlantis Hotel, taken straight from Las Vegas playbook in both content and character.  It connects to the mainland by both road and a 5 kilometer monorail.

In addition to ocean water circulation and marine life environmental problems, Palm Jumeirah ran into financial difficulties as its builders underestimated costs of construction from 2001 on, and the Persian Gulf economy slowed markedly around 2009.  Their solution: to double the number of units beyond the 2000 planned.  Those buying residential units complained they were virtually living on top of each other.  Commercial building vacancies and up to 28 hotels with unmet demand also added to complexity of the island difficulties.

Presuming you are loaded down with enough disposable cash (not an option on an extended world tour), Dubai can be an adult playground.  Some would say family playground.  I dispute the latter assertion emphatically.  This is no place for kids.

Nevertheless, distractions abound.  There is golf … boating … deep sea fishing …falconry … water parks … shopping … auto racing …skydiving … swimming with dolphins … ballooning … four wheel driving … quad rentals … scuba diving and snorkeling … cruising … bird watching … and camel racing.

My favorite Dubai retreat involves none of the above.  It is instead the Dubai Museum, also known as the “Al Ayaala” Museum.  The stated purpose of this collection, located in the coral block Al Fahidi Fortress (1787), is to shed light on life in Dubai back to 5000 BC -- before oil elevated its economy into the modern age.  I am delighted at the staff’s superb map, diagram, diorama, multi-lingual sign, and photo enhancements.

Briefly, the museum beautifully and sequentially displays within the topic of sustenance: charcoal, use of fire, ancient spices, cooking oils, fresh and dried foods, rice, fish, flour production, and water delivery.

In the household and miscellaneous category: medicine, weaving, textiles, tailoring, tobacco cultivation, carpentry, blacksmithing, pottery, wind towers, ventilation, 1000 years of pearl diving, candles, falconry, wells, desalinization, Bedouin travel, palm trees, oasis life, fishing, dependency on the sea, nomadic existence, the growth of agriculture, and religion.

As I prepare to depart this wonderful place, mindful of recent beheadings and other terrors being spread in Syria and Iraq by an Islamic group called ISIS (justifying their extreme actions on citations from the Koran) I am struck by the irony of the following quote from one of the museum displays (my commentary is embedded in italics):

“Islam is the religion of mercy, encouraging friendship, love and negotiation [in reality, it has the reputation of being the religion of the sword].  It promotes an end to injustice and divisions between people [unless they have substantial oil money].  It is a complete way of life where worship calls for purity in body and heart.  It encourages education and knowledge [except for women, apparently].  Muslim scholars enriched medicine, mathematics, astronomy, and other humanitarian and social sciences for the last 11 centuries” [that ended 800 years ago – where are the current inventions and discoveries and Nobel Prizes?].

Enough said.  I would love to see evidence of Islamic intellectual achievement that benefits the planet and not merely believers, stepping up proudly into the 21^st century.