Day Seven: It All Comes Crashing Down

3/23/2016.

Slow start. 

Crisis of self. 

Wine.

Shree Pashupatinath.

Settle back into the woods and visit the cracked and crumbling temples. Head back down the hill. Watch the cremations. See Hanuman steal the organs that the deceased’s family is supposed to bury in the river. He stomps on the sheet metal roof over the cremation ghat. Thunderous, grievous sounds roll over the smoking, stinking, holy Bagmati.

Back to my hotel.

Drink the last bottle of wine while taking drags off of my cigarettes as the light fades.

Close my window to Kathmandu one last time.

Day Six: 56k Go Jump In a Lake

3/22/2016

Today’s the day. I’m nervous. What if I don’t find the colorful streets I’m looking for? What if the stories and pictures are cropped to force the perspective? I hope I feel better after this glass of wine. – 5:00a

The Germans got rowdy around 5:30a so I managed an early exit. The way they were packed I’d say base camp. Do they really have the porters carry that much? Jesus Christ.

Did a few loops from Thamel to Basantapur. Was heartened to see a few dye bags for sale. Bought six lal mohan (fried dough balls) for 10 NSR from a lady cooking outside on of the temples while her son making the ringed sel rotis. Such practiced maneuvers. Probably the most delicious breakfast I’ve had so far. Still snagged some quiche and was back in my room eating it and filtering water by 7:30a. Out again by 8:00a.

Headed to Basantapur Durbar Sq, back alleys and begin to see long streaks of color on the faces of northbound pedestrians.

Arrival at the square, paid my entrance, and was greeted with yellow and purple smudges. Proceeded to the Shiva-Pravati temple where a crowd was forming. The old gathering had been Maju Deval on the square in previous years before the quake. So this is the eccentric, jovial Nepali spirit.

Staggered my way back, kids caking on more and more pigemtns to my face along the way. Evidently the tall, white, bald, bearded dudes make a good canvas. Hotel receptionist looked up from her phone as I walked in. “Oh my God” she said. So it’s true what’s been said, foreigners are good targets. Took a 30 minute breather. Headed back out. Wandering groups seems to be the trend. Notice a bit more of the gender roles as they play out through the opposing crowds. They get a bit more aggressive with their painting.

Snag two beers. Down one, try to take a cold shower and wash off my adornments. May schedule an appointment for a rash, just to fuck with the medical staff. Opened second beer. Make a smoke run. Nap.

This was exactly what I hoped it would be. – 3:20p

Day Five: Fine Line Between 'Shiv' and 'Shiva'

3/21/2016

Not much previous evening. Three-quarters of a bottle of wine, read until sun faded. Crashed, woke up at 4:00a. Cold shower from a bucket, laid in bed till 7:30a. Off to Patan.

Pretty par for the course getting out of Thamel. “No, no rickshaw.” “No, no trek.” “No, no hashish.” Thick of traffic already but still the lone white devil out roving the streets of Kathmandu. Pass by Ratna and the military practice field and the “bus” station.

Make it south of the Bagmati and notice much more construction, wider streets, consistent sidewalks, the whole nine yards. Hear a STOMP STOMP STOMP of someone running up behind me. I turn my head and see a lady in red sari and robes standing behind me. I keep walking. STOMP STOMP STOMP. I step up onto a closed shop’s steps and motion for her to go past me. She starts speaking to me and counting on her fingers so I wave my hand along with my well-rehearsed “no, no.” She turns away and I continue walking. Then I hear glass rebounding off of brick behind me. I turn around and see that she’s throwing two coke bottles against the shop steps. I figure this bitch is trying to make a shiv and decide to pick up the pace.

Luckily coke bottles in Nepal are made from that same bouncing glass shit that all the smoke shops brag about. I still wasn’t going to chance it and I was not going to have the first place I get stuck like a pig be Nepal.

STOMP STOMP STOMP. I practically jumped into the next shop front and waved my hands at her. She winked, picked up a rock that probably weighed a good eight pounds.

“This is it,” I thought, “I’m findally going to have to punch a woman in the face.”

Then she threw the rock in front of a bus and ran about 50 feet ahead of me, knelt down, and started digging through her bindle.

This culminated in a proper “fuck this shit” moment and I turned around, crossed the street, and soldiered on. Got some pitying looks from the ladies at the crosswalk who had watching this all unfold.

Continued on to Patan Durbar Square without incident. Beautiful, beautiful. Probably the better of the two durbar squares. More open, mor interesting architecture, and cheaper, althought I didn’t see the ticket boot till I was on my way out. Local school kids in uniform were playing Holi a day early. You know how it is a day before Christmas, you just wanna dig in early.

Marched east instead of looping around like I had planned since I had reached my monthly quota of crazy, shiv making, rock throwing bitches (Limit: 1). Weaved my way through throngs of friendly folks and came out into the dust and haze of the choked motorway.

Turned north and I think I could see where all of the money for repair and reconstruction went. No sidewalks so I trotted along what I assume will be the spillway for the expanded road. Filled with trash and dust already, of course.

Couple of the cement tablets were broken. Noticed a young kid smashing trash down into a huge burlap sack on the back of a three wheeled bicycle. Walked another broken section as the head of a boy, probably 10 or 11, suddenly poked out with a lit cigarette between his fingers. What the fuck, lil homie? Best I can figure is that he and his friend were paid to clean out the trash, where only their tiny bodies would fit into the spillway. This took a second to process and I turned around. He saw my camera, and we took our chances.

Other than that, standard long slog back. Coughed involuntarily and my back cried a bit. Bought the next mask I could find. It’ll come in handy tomorrow. Bout to go eat some momos.

Also, hair on the top of my thighs and back of my calves are noticeably shorter. – 12:54p