Witnessing history in Nepal

A common sight in Katmandu, where Nepali cyclists are used to sharing the road. (PHOTOS BY ROB VERGER/FOR THE BOSTON GLOBE)

KATMANDU, Nepal - This city was in the midst of one of its famous "bandhs," or strikes, when I arrived in late June and driving was not allowed. But a Nepali friend picked me up at the airport anyway, and the roads were open as we cruised on his motorcycle.

The next day, despite a fuel shortage, the streets were back to normal: clogged and noisy, resonating with horns and engines.

Nepal is in transition. Once the world's only Hindu kingdom, it is now the world's youngest republic. Nepal's decade-long civil war ended with a Comprehensive Peace Agreement in November 2006, and an election in April resulted in the formation of a Constitutional Assembly that has two years to write a new constitution. With 601 members, 33 percent of whom are women, the Assembly is led by the Maoists, former insurgents turned political party. On June 11 the deposed King Gyanendra left the palace here.

"We have surprised the world by the type of peace process that we have," said Ambassador Madhu Raman Acharya of Nepal's permanent mission to the United Nations, when I spoke with him in New York before my trip. "It is very Nepali-owned and Nepali-exercised, and of course the UN is helping us as we have requested, but the peace process is very much indigenous."

With peace, tourism is making a return. The New York Times reported in March that, "December capped a banner year, with air arrivals up 27 percent over the 2006 total." And according to the Nepal Tourism Board, visits from Americans have increased. From last January to May, 11,877 Americans arrived in Nepal by air, compared with 9,516 during the same period last year.

I studied here for the spring semester of 2000 with an organization called SIT Study Abroad and eight years later much of what I loved about this country was the same. For a week, I lived with my former host family, and the feeling was familiar. I ate "dal bhat," the traditional Nepali dish of lentils and rice, and resumed drinking cupfuls of delicious, sweet chia. Cows still roamed the streets. And I enjoyed walking through the bazaar on an old bridge called Kalopul, where vendors sell their goods under a network of tarps.

June and July are the off-season for tourists in Nepal (fall is high season). Everywhere I went - the Swayambhunath Stupa, for example, home to both Hindu temples and a Buddhist stupa, perched on a hill high above the city - I was one of only a handful of foreigners.

A good place to start exploring the capital is Pashupatinath, a complex of Hindu temples on the banks of the Bagmati River, which flows into the Ganges in India. It is the holiest Hindu site in the country, and a popular place to cremate the dead. The quiet road descending toward the river was lined with vendors selling flowers, jewelry, and brightly-colored tika powder, which stood out on the gray day when I visited. Langur monkeys were plentiful, a few scampering along the fence that lined the road's edge. Down by the river, which ran full and brown with monsoon rain, three funeral pyres burned.

I felt safe as a tourist in Nepal, but to get a feel for the current situation, I spoke with Kunda Dixit, editor and founder of the Nepali Times, a weekly English-language newspaper. We met at Dhokaima cafe, which sits beside the large white gate to the city of Patan. Dixit told me about today's Nepal. "We've come through one of the most dramatic transformations of political structure in any country in recent history," he said. "This is a model for the rest of the world. You have a former guerrilla force coming into parliament, helping write an interim constitution, getting into government, winning an election, and coming to power. You are here at a historic moment."

I asked Dixit what advice he would give tourists. "I think first of all, don't believe the State Department advisory," he said. "Ignore it, like the French and the Germans and the Spanish do." He added that the violence during the war "was targeted at security forces. It involved the Nepalis."

But there was an element of uncertainty while I was there as the new government formed. "I've always been a short-term pessimist and a long-term optimist vis-a-vis my country," Dixit said. "In the short term, yes, it will be messy. Tourists should be prepared for highways being blocked by some political faction or other." (The elections of President Ram Baran Yadav in July and Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal in August were important steps toward stability. And now that the new government has formed, disruptions are less common, Dixit indicated in a recent phone interview.)

Two days after our meeting Dixit's prediction came true while I was on a public bus from Katmandu to the nearby city of Bhaktapur. After about 15 minutes, the bus stopped. A throng of people blocked the street ahead. Everyone got off the bus. I didn't know what to do, but a Nepali passenger offered to help me get to Bhaktapur. (I still speak some Nepali, and that helped.)

Together we skirted the protesters and police. We walked down the dusty shoulder for a while, past fallen electrical poles that lay by the side of the road - evidence of Nepal's poor infrastructure - and eventually caught another bus. My new friend even insisted on paying the fare for me. It was the classic foreigner-in-Nepal experience: a hectic journey and kindness from a Nepali.

Rob Verger can be reached at robverger@gmail.com.