Dad Post: Day 1

Below is my father's account of his arrival in Nepal:

I loved every minute of my stay in Nepal, but couldn't wait to leave. But I'm getting ahead of myself so back to getting off the plane in Kathmandu after a 25 hour plane flight from LA. I knew I was in a Third World country when they unloaded the 300 passenger jet onto the runway and we walked the final 100 yards to the terminal (which had the feel of a Midwest high school auditorium in desperate need of repair (and fumigation). All my initial doubt and skepticism vanished however when I saw Lauren's wry smile among the crowd of Nepalese locals waiting at the gate. I knew from that smile that the fun was about to begin. We found a taxi (slightly larger than a MiniCooper but with more of a Neo-Tijuana look and a driver who couldn't have been more than 16) and Lauren started bargaining on the fare. Later I would find out that she was going toe-to-toe with the guy over 50 cents. Would we pay 250 rupees ($3.75) or 300 rupees ($4.25) for a 40 minute drive half way across town? I'd never seen Lauren bargain before but she seemed to know what she was doing. Turns out this was nothing compared to the near sadistic glee Meredith would later show as she trims rupee after rupee off the slave wages fare where most cabis start the bidding. I had a lot to learn and would probably need these negotiating skills given the way the US economy is going. Forty minutes and a harrowing taxi ride later we arrived at Lauren and Mer's apartment in the nicer part of town. When I say harrowing I mean bumper cars with no bumpers, I mean the only thing saving everyone from head on collisions was that there was so much traffic everyone was forced to drive under 35mph. If not there would certainly have been massive pile ups and loss of life. Once in Lauren's apartment everything was calm and quiet. We had some tea in her living room which had a front row window seat to the back of the North Korean Embassy. The Axis of Evil in our back yard! I suddenly felt very Republican. Its not a good feeling. The next thing I know I'm being introduced to Projjwal, the son of Lauren's landlord. He's wearing a Che Guevera tee-shirt, 4 gold earrings (in one ear), and spoke with a British/Southern drawl. I'm told he's a DJ,a businessman, rice farm owner and. . .I forgot the rest. He invited us to participate the next day in the rice harvest at his farm about 2 hours South of Kathmandu. We accepted not knowing we would be stopped by a Maoist guerrilla and shaken down for 75 cents as we returned to Kathmandu from the rice harvest. Again, I'm getting ahead of myself.