Leigh and I have settled into a nice routine here in Kathmandu. Wake up during or slightly after the morning puja; read a little by dawn’s early light (still chewing on Centennial); walk down the road to the Double Dorje for a simple breakfast of banana porridge, Tibetan bread and milk tea or coffee; work on business or school stuff or wander around photographing for the next few hours; eat a simple lunch of vegetable and water buffalo momos (pretty tasty actually) or chowmein; explore the narrow streets and alleys of the city or visit some very famous stupa or temple complex during the bright afternoon hours; as darkness falls over the land and the last colors of sunset hit the high atmosphere wisps of clouds, we settle in for a nice dinner of vegetable then-thuk or thukpa (hand pulled noodle soup – very yummy!); and finally an evening kora or two before returning to our basic room that costs 5$ a night (kind of pricey for this place) for semi-warm showers and more reading until sleep overtakes us (which usually happens before 10!).
I’m glad I feel comfortable with the routine because we still do not know how long we will be sitting here in KTM before we hear word on our Chinese visas. We have been here since the 23rd, Monday and it is now the following Wednesday, the 2nd. That’s about 10 days now we’ve been here and the total length of time we ever thought we’d be here. Because of the Chinese New Year, which fell on Friday or Saturday, the government and university offices in China and here in Nepal have been closed since then and will not re-open until at least next Monday. Yikes! Granted we are spending much less per day in Nepal than we would be in Atlanta or Lhasa, so if we look at it that way, there’s no place we’d rather be stuck!
The food here is sensational – Nepali and Indian curries and all you can eat thali (daal, rice, curried veggies, fried lentil cakes and sweet yogurt), Tibetan momos (dumplings) and noodle soups, spiced masala milk tea or the rare and delicious treat of milk coffee. We have been pretty good at finding the local spots too. Where are living right now is a pretty touristy area so the prices are pretty inflated to match. For example, a plate of momos around the Boudha stupa runs about 70 or 80 rupees (about a $1). When Leigh and began asking around where the locals go to get their momos we discovered that not only were they tastier but they were half as much! At the local breakfast spot, a bowl of porridge (think watery oatmeal) with bananas, scrambled eggs, Tibetan bread with apple jam and a large pot of milk tea or coffee run us less than $2. Currently all our living expenses (excluding taxis or any other extraneous costs) are running us about $11 or $12 per day. And that’s for both of us! Sometimes I spend that much on just lunch in Atlanta. Obviously, we would be hard pressed to find a cheaper place to be living right now. Bolivia, Nicaragua or Thailand maybe. I can tell you right now that Lhasa won’t be this cheap (or delicious). Kind of makes me a little sad to be honest to get used to this kind of food and these prices and know that sometime in the near future it will come to an end and I’ll enter into the land of MSG, greenhouse grown bland veggies, yak jerky and instant noodles. Ok, so I doubt it will be that bad, but nonetheless I’m having doubts about losing any weight while here in Nepal.
I will say that to balance out the delicious food, KTM has some hellacious traffic! The snarls that occur during the morning rush and evening rush would give New York, LA or Atlanta a run for worst traffic. And as any of you who have ever visited developing countries, there are no traffic rules. There are no lanes per se, there are very few stop signs or red lights and even these are obeyed rarely. There does seem to be a rhythm or an organic pace to it though. And there are some understoods – the larger vehicle gets the right of way…always, the horn is the most important part of the vehicle…more than the wheels or engine, and pedestrians are merely to be missed…don’t ever yield to them. It’s like when we are jumping into a tiny beat up taxi we are putting two quarters into the video game called Taxi Ride. How many points will you get this time? How close can you come to that motorcycle without hitting it? How fast can you go thru a pedestrian filled alley that is only the width of your car? I mean who need to go jogging when they can just jump into a (insert foreign country here) taxi and ride white knuckled, heart racing, forehead sweating, eyes closed for 30 minutes across town? And there is no such thing as emissions inspections here. It is inevitable that at some point during your ride, you will get stuck behind the slowest, dirtiest construction or transport truck that just billows black exhaust into your taxi and therefore face. Ah, the lands of black boogers….I have already purchased a breathing mask. Might be the most essential piece of equipment next to clean underwear and socks…oh how mom was right! And to make things even worse (if possible), this has been the driest dry season Nepal has seen in over 15 years. It is incredibly brown and almost unbearably dusty on some days. Recently the winds have come in to blow some of it away, but when we first landed, we couldn’t see the high mountains that surround this valley for the dust, haze and smog. Hmmmm, just imagine what it’s doing to my lungs…..yum.
As we were walking around the other day, Leigh made a very astute observation: neither one of us have ever seen a place that mixes religion and commerce more completely than what we’ve seen here. There is no distinction really. There are holy days and holy places in the US and they seem to be kept separate from the commercial areas. For example, you typically don’t see vendors hawking their rosaries, votive candles or prayer books on the steps of the First Baptist Church. But here there are no distinctions. Here you have the most sacred Buddhist site in Nepal and at least fifty store fronts within 15 yards of the walls. And that’s not even counting the merchants that have set up shop on the streets in front of the store fronts. Vegetables, cheap watches, colorful clothes, spices, incense, prayer books, thangkas, freshly butchered meats can all be found crowded close to the sacred stupa of Boudha. A natural and almost unnoticeable gumbo of sacred and profane. A perfect mirror of life if you ask me.
Did I mention Nepal seems to be Bindu or Hinddist? They not only mix the religious and the commercial, but they mix the iconography, architecture and ritual of these two predominant religions often. Coming upon a very old temple located in the narrow, crowded, animated, colorful and totally stimulating alleys located in the old heart of KTM where the crumbling traditional wooden architecture (such a shame that there isn’t enough money to preserve it right now) is now side by side with the high rise glass and brick structures, there on the temple were both Hindu and Buddhist aspects. The mix was so natural and seamless it seemed to be a temple for both and neither at the same time. Totally bizarre yet interesting. I wish I had more time (and inclination) to study up on my Buddhist and Hindu histories because they have been meeting and mixing in this area since at least the 5th or 6th century BC.
Speaking of sacred spaces, I want to mention a couple that we have visited recently. One, Swayambhunath, is Buddhist while the other, Pashupathi, is Hindu. The golden spire of Swayambu stupa crowns a wooded hill about 2 km west of KTM. Historical records of its existence date back to the 5th century. It is also called the “Monkey Temple” for the hordes of pink faced, mischievous devils roaming the temple grounds and surrounding forest. The roots of the temple go back to the legendary beginnings of Kathmandu’s valley. Once a miraculous lotus blossomed from the lake that once covered the valley, radiating a dazzling light called “Swayambhu”, the Self-Created or Self-Existent. Gods and men both came to worship this miracle, until a wise monk named Shantikar Acharya, sensing the coming of the current Dark Age, buried the magic light underneath a stone slab and atop it built the stupa. Swayambhu’s worshippers include the Vajrayana Buddhists of Northern Nepal and Tibet, but the Newari (the indigenous inhabitants of the KTM valley) Buddhists are its most fervent devotees. Just past the colorful main gate and the three orange and yellow stone Buddhas are the real test of devotion – 365 worn stone steps leading straight up to the top. At 5000+ feet, it only takes a few before the breathing gets heavy! At the very top is a gigantic gilded vajra resting on an embossed mandala, set on a stone base carved with the 12 animals of the Tibetan calendar. The views of the valley are outstanding here and the nice cool breeze makes it enticing to linger for a moment. The stupa behind has grown in layers over the centuries, as it has been repaired from earthquake damage and from destruction in the brief Muslim invasion of 1349. It is by far the most magnificently decorated stupa complex I’ve ever seen and according to records, a typical 17th century repair session required 39 kilograms of gold…that’s almost 20 pounds! Very much like my experience many years ago at Borabordur, this is a site where the architecture is truly inspiring and lends itself to the direct experience of the sacred moment of enlightenment. It is difficult to describe but after slogging up the many steep stairs, occasionally looking up to see the goal of my struggles, and reaching the top of my climb where the golden stupa gleamed in the sun partially blinding me and the blue colored eyes gazing down at me serenely, I experienced a direct connection with the divine and had an instant of complete understanding and awareness. I was drained of all thoughts, all egos, and all carnal distractions and felt the high, piercing light of oneness with my surroundings, the earth and for the faintest second, the universe. There was nothing but my awareness and I felt empty yet full. It was so amazing. The feeling departed quickly, but knowing that once can feel that way, even for just a second, is inspiring. And to evolve the thought, if one can feel that way for a moment, one can feel that way for all moments. Sacred places lend themselves to sacred thoughts….
The second I mention is Pashupatinath. This temple is Nepal’s most sacred Hindu shrine and one of the subcontinent’s great Shiva sites, a sprawling collection of temples, ashrams, images, and inscriptions raised over the centuries along the banks of the sacred Bagmati River. The essence of Hinduism is condensed into a rich brew, as pilgrims, yogis, priests, and devotees worship Shiva in his form of Pashupathi, “Lord of the Beasts” and divine protector of Nepal. Pashupatinath is a magical place. The largest temple complex in Nepal, it retains its integrity as a living place of worship. Pashupitnath’s grounds are set with rows of linga, long lines of stone Nandi (the name of the bull who acts as Shiva’s vehicle), and Licchavi-era (Hindu dynasty which ruled the valley from 300-879 AD) sculpture fragments jumbled in careless heaps. The two most sacred things about the temple complex are the Shiva linga (among other things a phallic symbol of masculine generative power) enshrined in its main temple (which unfortunately or fortunately is “For Hindus Only”) and its location on the banks of the Bagmati. Little more than a stream in the winter months, it flows past ghats where worshippers and mourners mingle with pilgrims intent on mundane tasks like laundry and dishwashing. We watched as devout Hindus dipped themselves three times in the holy (and polluted) water. Spiritually equivalent to a dip in India’s Ganges, the ritual assures a release from the cycle of rebirth. Even as appealing as that sounds, after taking one look (not to mention the smell) of that water, I think I’ll suffer through a few more cycles before taking the big plunge on that one. A man’s got to know his limits! In addition, Pashupatinath is Nepal’s most renowned cremation site as well. During our exploration of the complex we were able to witness cloth wrapped bodies carried by barefoot pall bearers (male relatives mostly as women are supposed to stay at home and weep….this is still a much divided culture). At the cremation ghat, the eldest son performs rites to assure the soul a smooth transition into the next world. The body is then placed on a log pyre and the white clad mourners (not black like in the West) watch the slow (and smelly) destruction of the body. A couple hours later, when there is nothing left, the ashes are swept into the river where they are carried south to join with the Ganges. These ceremonies were being carried out with apparent disregard to the many Nepalis and scattered tourists watching or photographing the scene.
After taking in my first public cremation (and the aroma that comes with it), Leigh and I continued to wander through the sprawling complex and at one point encountered a very magical and mysterious scene. Pashupatinath is also a mecca for wandering yogis or sadhus, ascetics who have renounced family and caste to follow Shiva. They are usually bearded and long haired, typically dread-knotted. They wear on their faces the colors signifying their particular sect. They may be naked or wrapped in beautiful robes. Some spend their lives performing austerities, refusing to lie down for years on end or surviving on a diet of milk (while we were there the “Milk Baba” was giving audience). Some are red-eyed and smokers of tremendous amounts of Shiva’s favorite herb, ganja. Others are skilled musicians, and on this day we encountered the musicians. Coming up some steps admiring the rows upon rows of sacred lingas, we heard live music and followed the sound to its source. An older Nepali man wearing a traditional hat was playing the harmonium and giving what seemed to be a teaching in both song and speech. Fascinated and drawn in by the mesmerizing drone of the harmonium and the hypnotic rhythm of the accompanying tablas, Leigh and I drifted over and found a place within the group surrounding the musicians to sit. We stayed for at least an hour or more listening to verses we could not comprehend but somehow understood, bobbing our heads in time with the beats laid forth by the skillful drummer. At one point there was a changing of singer and drummer and they were even better than the first pair. The voice was strong though a tad raspy and the passionate devotion shined. The ash covered sadhu who took over the tablas was exceptionally skilled and I became lost in a mental space of warm sun, sacred song and beautiful beats. It was a very mystical series of moments that afternoon. We felt privileged to experience such wonderfully expressed and blessed compositions.
I feel magic occurs everyday if my heart is open to receive it.
I will say that to balance out the delicious food, KTM has some hellacious traffic! The snarls that occur during the morning rush and evening rush would give 
Speaking of sacred spaces, I want to mention a couple that we have visited recently. One, Swayambhunath, is Buddhist while the other, Pashupathi, is Hindu. The golden spire of Swayambu stupa crowns a wooded hill about 2 km west of KTM. Historical records of its existence date back to the 5th century. It is also called the “
The second I mention is Pashupatinath. This temple is 
After taking in my first public cremation (and the aroma that comes with it), Leigh and I continued to wander through the sprawling complex and at one point encountered a very magical and mysterious scene. Pashupatinath is also a mecca for wandering yogis or sadhus, ascetics who have renounced family and caste to follow Shiva. They are usually bearded and long haired, typically dread-knotted. They wear on their faces the colors signifying their particular sect. They may be naked or wrapped in beautiful robes. Some spend their lives performing austerities, refusing to lie down for years on end or surviving on a diet of milk (while we were there the “Milk Baba” was giving audience). Some are red-eyed and smokers of tremendous amounts of Shiva’s favorite herb, ganja. Others are skilled musicians, and on this day we encountered the musicians. Coming up some steps admiring the rows upon rows of sacred lingas, we heard live music and followed the sound to its source. An older Nepali man wearing a traditional hat was playing the harmonium and giving what seemed to be a teaching in both song and speech. Fascinated and drawn in by the mesmerizing drone of the harmonium and the hypnotic rhythm of the accompanying tablas, Leigh and I drifted over and found a place within the group surrounding the musicians to sit. We stayed for at least an hour or more listening to verses we could not comprehend but somehow understood, bobbing our heads in time with the beats laid forth by the skillful drummer. At one point there was a changing of singer and drummer and they were even better than the first pair. The voice was strong though a tad raspy and the passionate devotion shined. The ash covered sadhu who took over the tablas was exceptionally skilled and I became lost in a mental space of warm sun, sacred song and beautiful beats. It was a very mystical series of moments that afternoon. We felt privileged to experience such wonderfully expressed and blessed compositions.