April 29

April 29 – We are now in the dénouement of our journey; a flurry of lunch and dinner invitations, final meetings and good byes before we leave Sunday. Both Anne and I have increasingly wistful feelings of leaving.

Late this afternoon, we were on our way to Ashik’s home to share dinner with his family. Shortly underway, we began seeing school children lined along the sidewalks, then adults, more and more. The children wearing various coloured uniforms denoting their schools, the women adorned in their brilliantly hued attire and the older men wearing the traditional Nepali hat, Tope, gave the grey afternoon rainbows of light and dark. Everyone was waving a national flag and Raju explained the King was due to return from his sojourn to Indonesia and the public were showing their support and respect by greeting his arrival. We hadn’t travelled far when we were directed to a detour; the only road to Ashik’s house was closed to maintain security for the King’s motorcade. Raju found a place to park the car and Anne and I decided we may as well join the throngs welcoming home their leader. No sooner had we found our place in the crowd when thunder began to roll and lightening flashed as the sky darkened. Told that the King would be driving by in a matter of minutes, we bravely stood as big drops of rain began falling. Slowly, lazily, intermittently at first, teasing us into believing it would be innocently short. A cool wind came snapping and whipping, the rain increased and we knew then this afternoon’s weather had an attitude. We tried to cross the street back to our car, but were held in place by patrolling policemen. At this point, we were 30 minutes late for dinner; even by Nepali time, we were still respectable. But we were also getting very cold and judging by the looks of each other, decidedly soggy too. Looking around we realized we were the only Caucasians as far as we could see. The Nepali being way more devoted to their King than either Anne or I were mostly still curbside, craning their necks waiting patiently for a hopeful glimpse of their sovereign. We opted for cover and looking behind us, we saw some shops with small over hangs. Still wet and cold at least we were more or less out of the rain (mostly less when the wind gusted rain into our minimal shelter). For the first time since being here, I felt my sense of humour slipping into an attitude similar to the darkened sky. And so we waited “a few more minutes” for the King. After 45 minutes, the motorcade appeared, slipped quickly past, dark tinted windows preventing even a shadowed profile. So much anticipation, so long a wait in the wet and cold, all borne in good spirit and jovial kinship (except for me). The motorcade disappeared around the corner, signalling the masses of people, cars, busses, motorcycles, tuk-tuks (cabs) to attempt escape from the pending traffic jam. In the end, our 30-minute ride was over 2 hours and we were very late for dinner even by Nepali time. But gracious and accepting as Nepalis are, they have an expression, “ke garne?” – what to do? The delightful duo of Nepali time and ke garne allows for most anything to occur in any manner of time and no dignity is lost, no ire is raised. Perhaps a slight shrug and unless quite serious, almost always a smile.

So we never saw the King and eventually we had a delicious dinner and pleasant conversation with Ashik, Shandra their son and niece. Ashik showed us pictures of the first adoption he completed in 1998. Ashik, the Canadian adoptive mother and her friend trekked into the mountains to meet the family and receive the child. Fortunately for our clients, the families now come down to Kathmandu.