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it must be the light
Entry 19 of 41 | show all | print this entry |
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The days in Kathmandu slip by in a gaze of swapped travel stories and hearty international meals. The food scene in the city is superb ranging from Korean to the standard issue Nepalese of momos and dhal bhaat (rice and lentils.) The quality of light with inky shadows and bright pools concentrating the color morphs with the day creating new scenes as the sun progresses through the sky. From the meandering soft haze of clouds early in the morning to the vibrant afternoon colors of temple vendors to the evening dusky shadows augmented with candle pujas and finally to the lightless nights of deserted foreboding streets. Even the stone slab walkways and alleys change with the progress of the day as empty thoroughfares and squares sprout scarf merchants, steaming momo (dumpling) purveyors, and pungent marigold bouquet sellers giving way to completely different scenes in the same place in the span of a single day. Only at night does the city take on an ominous cast as the cloak of night descends. Shuttered windows look over the empty streets as the inhabitants retire to their secure bolted homes as eerie scenes of roving gangs of street children and sinister looking characters loitering around corners unfold below.
Biding my time here in Kathmandu as I figure out the specifics of my next trek, I spend the days eating, browsing endless alleys filled with stores, and engaging in conversation with the friendlier folk. In the meantime I grill trekkers on the state of trails, permits, and high altitude excursions while narrowing down my choices. At this point I have decided to spend my time till just before Christmas hiking up to Mt. Everest (actually a pass overlooking the famed peak at 5350 meters and then back down). All I need to do now is find a flight to Lukla from which I have a 7 to 8 day hike up to Gokyo (the superb viewpoint below Everest) and 10 to 14 days back past Lukla down to Jiri. This should give me enough time to really enjoy the Khumbu region and provide ample time to get back to Kathmandu and head on to Pokhara in central Nepal for Christmas.
The profusion of tourist attractions, hang outs, and sights is overwhelming here. Having eaten Middle Eastern for Thanksgiving, enjoyed a live band at the local Irish Pub over several Everest beers, and gorged on spicy Korean with Adina and an amiable Italian couple I am kept entertained till the late hours on a daily basis. The shops around the Thamel area (heavily touristy) provide endless distractions of specialized trekking equipment and clothing, Tibetan artifacts, paper products, warm weather wares from bulky wool sweaters to puffy down jackets, and music stores with cheap bootleg cds. Internet shops dot every corner as the shops spill their contents into the alleys and touts jostle you offering everything from tourist office recommendations to whispered propositions of hash and marijuana. The city is at a tourist frenzy particularly in Thamel and it is a welcome respite to be staying in a quiet and clean lodge near Durbar Square a 20 minute walk from the high pressure chaos.
The general state of anarchy of vehicles, pedestrians, roaming cows, and scavenging stray dogs amongst the well swept streets and walkways is all taken with a well timed patience and grace by all those that reside here. As women in bright saris heap steaming momos onto plates for jostling hungry patrons cars snake through thick crowds of parting masses. A man in a white lungi wheels a bicycle with 20 chickens strapped by their legs to the front handlebars past temples with steep steps up to their sacred confines. I enjoy a break on the higher levels of a temple that provides a perfect viewpoint on the other side for the crowds listening to a rally in the square below. The city is bursting with activity and I am left stunned with the profusion of spectacles, obstructions, swaths of color, and sounds after walks meant to absorb the neighborhoods every day. It is a feast for which I have deep hunger pangs.
As the day gives way to night the city slips into new vestments. The din of bells can be heard at the many temples as worshippers file in lighting candles and making offerings. A thin sliver of silver moon appears above one of the temples perched just above the ornately carved wooden tower. Blankets of various wares spill ahead of me from copper pots to crystallized bricks of multi-colored salt. As I wander with Adina bright colored fruits and crisp vegetables are haggled over amongst the meandering mazes of temple squares and progressing alley traffic. We duck and step in rhythm to avoid honking motorcycles squeezing their way through choked markets scanning the shifting sights for new compelling views. An evening of browsing the endless trekking gear stores for appropriate cold weather hiking layers slips into a relaxed dinner filled with animated cheery conversation amongst the four of us. As the stores and restaurants close the streets become long quiet corridors of metal shutters with occasional oases of late night bakeries and thumping bars. As the restaurant staff waits impatiently for us to leave we decide on a late night chai down the street. There we are faced with a lackluster selection of pastries and cakes left out several days too long. We sink into some cushions and make the best of the treats as the night slips into its later hours.
Unknowingly we are left the only people at the bakery and Adina glancing at her watch announces that it is after 1 AM. As we step out into the abandoned streets only filled with small pockets of taxis and rickshaws congregating around bars that spill with drunken beer wielding Nepali patrons. The occasional drunken tourist stumbles through this maze of unsigned alleys and unlabelled streets in search of their guesthouse. As Adina and I are staying at Durbar Square, a seedy and rather menacing walk at this late hour as we discovered the night before, we decide to catch a taxi. Upon locating one of the taxi stands, we bid farewell and safe wishes to the Italian couple. As we are exchanging proposed plans for meeting the next day, a lumbering SUV makes its way around the corner filled with taxis, rickshaws, and drunks. Apparently I am difficult to see in my bright orange scarf and light colored outer gear, as I feel a pressure on the back of my foot. The car is slowly running me over. I lurch forward by my shoe and pants have become caught under the front left tire. I swing around and pound on the hood yelling for the driver to stop. Thankfully he is going immeasurably slow through the crowd and some people run over to his window yelling at him to stop. This gives me just enough time to pull my foot from under the wheel as the vehicle backs up several centimeters when the break is hit. A small crowd gathers in search of entertainment as some angry words are exchanged. As it seems that I am all right the driver hops back into his shiny fortress and careens through the dark streets.
Having averted potential fractures and a visit to the hospital, Adina and I make hast with negotiating with taxis. The drivers are aware of the state of the streets late at night and charge exorbitant prices. We decide on one driver after several minutes of discussion, settle into the back seat, and set off. Not 10 meters into the trip the driver stops next to a group of young drunken Nepalese. After a few quick shouts one of the drunken men jumps into the front seat of our cab as the driver speeds up. Immediately I am gripped with a terrifying scenario and yell at the driver to pull over and let us out. He continues to accelerate and only after opening the door and threatening to jump out does he stop. We walk quickly around the corner out of view of both the driver and his sordid friend.
We then continue wandering around the menacing streets, disturbed and desperate for a ride. Once at the periphery of Thamel do we find a trustworthy looking driver that appears to have only his cab fare in mind. We finally arrive at our lodge after many turns through the late night streets avoiding both angry barking dogs and stick wielding malcontents. After a speedy walk down the alley, we ring the lodge bell to be let in past the heavy secure metal gates. Back in the confines of my simple room do I slowly drift into sleep to awake to a new day outstretched before me. The sun is high, the shadows are deep, and the denizens of Kathmandu are milling about in animated droves.
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