There’s a rhino in the car park

 

I took this picture from the back of a truck, so there was no threat to my personal safety.

But - with that clear - this young rhino (he’s 3-4 years old) had just trundled out of the jungle, sauntered among vehicles (even choosing not to knock the motor bikes over) and then headed towards the road. Those on foot scattered, climbed gates or found safety behind vehicles. Rhinos on the rampage, even as young as this, can do considerable damage. 

I was in Sauraha, the town closest to Chitwan national park. The rise in tourism has brought hotels, busy markets, and even night clubs, for tourists to enjoy free time away from the jungle. But the park is just across the river. There is nothing to stop the rhinos wading across and meandering through the town, scattering tourists and restaurant tables as they go. It is not uncommon to find an adult animal wandering around a garden, apparently having spent a night joining in the party.

But rhinos are dangerous. As we watched the sunset from a high point above the river, on our final evening in Sauraha, we could see a big rhino meandering through the bushes behind a long sandy back on the other side of the river. This is the bank that the jungle walkers must cross to reach the canoes that will take them across the river. There were well over a hundred of them, dawdling out of the jungle with no idea that there was a rhino behind the bushes. Two canoes, punted - not rowed - filled their boats almost to sinking point but still had to ply back and forth, at speed, to rescue the walkers before the rhino got it into his head to come out of the bushes to play (or the crocodile decide to have tourist-leg for supper). I have no photos - this was too far away. But we watched for over half an hour as walker after oblivious walker trudged across the sand to the canoes. Everyone was safe - and so this will be an entertaining story for those intrepid walkers. But rhinos are dangerous. They charge - not because they want to eat you - but because they just don’t like you being around.

I understand the novelty of sharing space with a rhino, and doing it safely. My rhino in the car park was finally driven back the way he came by a ranger who knew him well. But the border between where rhinos live and tourists enjoy themselves - and where those who look after the tourists make a living - is becoming blurred. It was, I admit, exciting to see a rhino in a car park. But, on reflection, I think my excitement is too high a price to pay for the risks of sharing living space with a rhino. He is a wild creature, and belongs in wild spaces - not trotting along a main street, pausing at restaurants as if wondering whether to have pizza for supper. 

It is almost time to come home. But I can’t go without a photo of the peace flame in Lumbini. This flame is a reminder of the need to promote peace between all nations, all races and ethnicities, all faiths. It is needed more than ever at the moment.

Lumbini and beyond.

Lumbini is beautiful, and complicated. It is the birthplace of Buddha, and so a very sacred site. A building marks the birthplace itself; it is comparatively simple: a large white structure over the remains of an ancient temple.

Around it lie the walls of the old monastery, and a holy tree. Prayer flags flutter against a gloriously blue sky. Pilgrims from all over the world are quietly reflective. 

But this huge site is, so much more than this original temple. So many countries have built temples here. Are they trying to outdo each other in beauty or complexity? Two temples stand out - this is ceiling of the German temple:

It is surrounded by an immaculate garden, with giant prayer wheels and sculptures like this telling the Buddhist story:

And this is one corner of the huge Thai temple:

Is one more perfect than the other? More important? Evidence the generosity of the countries that built them? They are the most dramatic temples, and draw the biggest crowds. Smaller, less remarkable but still beautiful, many temples are passed by as tourists crowd in the more famous buildings.

But the one that touched me most - and where photography was not allowed - was the Nepali temple. It is a simple dome, with minimal decoration outside and inside just a huge wooden Buddha. Around the walls are long wooden benches, for the pilgrim (or weary tourist) to sit and reflect on why there were there. Nothing gets in the way of thinking. That, for me, is what Lumbini is really about.

(And while we were there we had a very small earthquake. Barely enough to make the earth move. But one of us was sitting on the toilet at the time …the Buddha was looking out for us!)

I’m back in Pokhara now - which meant Tika drove up the Siddhartha highway. It is a notorious road: beautiful and, according to the BBC, one of the world’s most dangerous roads (but they did drive it during the monsoon). I’ve been on the road before - I was driven down it, in the dark, after a cyclone. So I was understandably wary this time. Not without reason - it clings to the mountainside for mile after mile after mile. Bend after bend, steep drop after steep drop, landslide detour (those are interesting) after landslide detour.

But it is, as promised, beautiful. Photographs don’t show the scale of it - and the sun was fierce that day and so many of my pictures are bleached. But this bridge hints at the size of the valley (with apologies to at least two people who will be having a fit of the vapours at the thought of it):

I’m in Pokhara for a few days now. But one last picture from Lumbini: this is the Peace Flame, lit in 1986, and with in a Buddhist prayer that all peoples and faiths can find harmony together. It feels needed more than ever now.