Kathmandú: the slaughter of the royal family

For: Ricardo Coarasa (text and photos)
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When I visit Kathmandu, Nepal's capital, King Gyanendra is still reeling and the city is surrounded by Maoist rebels. The cannon that sat on the throne was a massacre that turned the world 2001. The crown prince shot dead his parents, Kings, and the cream of the royal family. After the regicide, the crown could only sit at the head of Gyanendra.

Descend into the valley of Kathmandu through bottomless ravines soaked in water. The vegetation is lush. Huele a humedad, a madera mojada, the tropic. Peasants walking in flip flops and shorts, carrying the heavy sacks of potatoes back. On the road crossing herds of cows and chickens disoriented. A teenage girl is washing her hair in a water pipe while naked children bathing in river dodge Bhote Kosi, now exhibits a plethora flow sandwiched between the gorge like a hunted beast. The Nepalese manage to save the ravine shore to shore. A wooden plank bridge that they wobble with the footsteps of the traveler happens to be, with their 160 meters, the longest in Nepal. Not resist the temptation to cross over, bales dodging seems to walk alone and vacuum glancing opens at our feet, more than 200 meters to the Bhote whitewater. Downstream, the method devised to move from one side to the other is much more ingenious. Drawing on a zip line, a basket where barely fit two adults squatting saves the 50 meters of the channel in this section.

Heat chewed, swallows. The checkpoints occur (five 120 km). The Maoist rebels are encircling the capital of Nepal, obstinate in overthrow King Gyanendra and write the epilogue to two and half centuries of the Shah dynasty. Gyanendra became king in June 2001 after an unprecedented real slaughter that took the throne in tray. His nephew Dipendra, Crown Prince, shot and killed his parents, el rey Birendra y la reina Aishwarya; his brothers, Princess Shruti and Prince Nirajan; the prince also Direndra (King's brother and uncle of regicide); the princesses Shanti, Sharada (monarch sisters) y Jayanti (premium Gyanendra) and husband of the second. A whole blood stained tree on a remote kingdom. All ingredients to pack the front pages of half the world.

A whole blood stained tree on a remote kingdom. All ingredients to pack the front pages of half the world

Apparently, Dipendra was upset because her parents would not let him marry whomever they wanted, a female relative of his mother lejanda. The crown prince executed his vengeance on a royal dinner in the Narayanhity Palace in which, noticeably drunk, shot everything that moved and then shot himself. Gyanendra, many Nepalese who pointed as the instigator of the orgy of blood (and who curiously was not in the palace that night), became king of Nepal. A story he would reserve the dubious honor of closing the Nepalese dynasty in June 2008, when the Maoists forced him to leave the throne. When deposed monarch is not doing as badly converted into business magnate, because the tentacles of their business (entrenched during his reign) extend hotels, casinos and the tobacco industry and tea.

Finally in Kathmandu

Among landslides and asphalt spalling, the road continues down the nearly 1.000 metros de Desnivel hall Zhangmu y Kathmandu. The reckless overtaking and honking, increasingly frequent. In such circumstances,. At one point, a lane is occupied by a herd of cows and a little later two trucks simultaneously advance a carrichoche, one on each side. About Bhaktapur spent the last checkpoint. As we have no Maoist guerrillas pint let us pass. We Kathmandu valley at our feet. A week after leaving Lhasa have come at last the 1.120 kilometers from the capital of Tibet and Nepal (we have spent, calculation, 35 hours and twenty minutes stuck in the road, at five hours a day and an average of 30 kph).

In Kathmandu the symphony of honking is part of the score bocinglera chaos that dominates the city as we get closer to its historic, motley around Durbar Square. Legend, was a descendant of Manjushri, sanctimonious from northern China who happens to be the mythological founder of Nepal, who illuminates the city of Kathmandu in the 724 AD. His predecessor dealt a saber to one of the hills surrounding the Kathmandu Valley, then a large lake where it lay Swayambhu, the primordial Buddha lotus shaped, freeing the water and giving rise to Río Bagmati. The Nepal was born. But their offspring, the founder of the capital, now need a sword, but a good broom to clean garbage. Waste bags, that residents of the old windows thrown casually, accumulate in the street waiting for someone to stick fire to get rid of the stench.

In Thamel to Durbar Square

Walking Thamel, the tourist neighborhood of Kathmandu, You suddenly realize that the absence of traffic lights requires you to be decided if you want to cross a street. To reach the other side no choice but to draw cars, bikes and motorcycles that meander like a slalom ski World Cup they were. In this area merchants stores do not harass tourists, but it is a fleeting impression that vanishes as soon as you set foot in the old city, an amalgam of crowded streets where, nevertheless, motorcycles and rickshaws they manage to break through their horns. In a corner, a child sleeps filthy squat without anyone to pay attention. The obvious dirt, with the mounds of waste that stray dogs sniff. Men and women spit their phlegm on the floor unceremoniously. The sidewalks absent and cracked asphalt twists at every turn. The bins are an unnecessary luxury, because everything is thrown to the ground. During the four hours of our walking tour around Durbar Square only see one. Lee to ask a dealer. "The streets are very narrow and there is no place for them", shrugs. The best thing is that it looks like a believe what you are saying.

The real miracle of this is traffic chaos Asantol Square, eight blocks confluence! Of course, with no traffic lights to control traffic. Goods, whatever they are-spice, vegetables, hot meal, crafts, gifts Kashmir- are exhibited in the street, with narrow portals dilapidated. Nepali lean, girls also, have huge and heavy burdens on the subject back to the front with a ribbon. The street will not let you live, child beggars and suspected sadhus Beholder (cheeky actually disguised as holy men) you cuddle at every opportunity to beg some coins for a photo or impose the tika on the forehead (the third eye, which sees beyond appearances, a sign of blessing for Hindus).

We escaped the hustle introducing us to a small square where the temple of Jaganath. It is an inner courtyard surrounded by houses pigeons. Pigeons are, precisely, the main threat to this temple built in the sixteenth century, because their droppings are deteriorating forced marches their erotic carvings wooden columns. On the altars there are offerings of smoldering juniper branches. The vendors sell incense to burn and oil to polish images. In one of the altars, a child of only three years Bumble image of a deity, familiarity with who caresses her favorite toy while mourning a woman wrapped in a white sari watches him tenderly.

A good choice for a beer is the rooftop restaurant Festive Make, located in the southern part of Durbar Squate, in the square Basantapur. But after a week of monotonous diet, today it's gastronomic homage to Durbar Marg. For dinner chose Ghar-e-Kebab, which claims to cook the best city tandori. We eat with avidity beggar who get an hour to sate. The bill coats of 3.000 Rs (about 40 EUR), but the waiter goes wrong and we account 5.000. We are tired, but we are not fools, and finally rid the mess. Better go to bed without losing confidence in the honesty of others.

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