Day Two: Kathmandu Electric Boogaloo

3/18/2016

Toured around Thamel this morning before all the shops opened. Fucking touts. But I guess that’s a very western way of thinking. Everyone has to eat.

Walked to Swayambunath, what a journey. Took the western steps up. Thought I was going to die. Saw monkeys and prayer wheels and the umpteen jillion stupas (stupii?). I did my circumnavigations. I felt a little better. Could barely see the city from up there. Ever present haze cuts everything off after about a mile. All you get is a fuzzy silhouette past that.

Saw a mother help a child scrape rice into his mouth with a piece of cardboard torn from a cigarette pack. Everyone has to eat.

Walked the semi-same path back. Have yet to become a traffic fatality, so that’s a plus. Guidebook says 40% of traffic fatalities are pedestrians, so yeah, gonna keep an eye out for that. I knew I was on the right path when I remembered to take a right at the post with three goats tied up. Only now there were two. Everyone has to eat.

So much death and stink and decay. So much life pushing up from the rotted remains.

I wonder how much of the city people see in their life. Every house seems to have a shop, every shop an owner. The surety with which people walk through the crowded and choked streets is amazing. There’s never a hesitant step from them. Pedestrian history, passed down from generation to generation. It’s for this reason that I wonder how large their circles grow. Whether it’s the same dirt streets pressed down to concrete hardness from repetition, or if their toes get to feels the new and growing paths throughout the winding maze of buildings.

Ate at MoMo Star in Thamel. Had the chicken khana. First food in 24 hours and it was delicious aside from the tendons and bone I had to pull out from my lips. Should have picked up some of the flatbreads I saw on the way to Swayambunath. Unfortunately I’m still way too shy for such a tight knit city. I wish I had been more prepared.

There’s a definite sense of closeness, whether that’s mandated by the amount of people crammed into Kathmandu or if it’s just the nature of these seemingly gregarious people. Hands on shoulder walkin, cramped busses with callers hanging from the open doors, two people to every scooter. I’ve noticed that there is an indifference to touching someone, even a stranger, especially on the plane from Doha. Very interesting. Also a bit terrifying. Going to let my scrotum air out then see about getting a charger for my camera. – 11:51a

Met the same tout from last night (Rajesh). Same spiel but he saved me a long walk and I got a charger for 2000 NRS ($20). He was really miffed that I did not want to take a Himalayan flight tour. Evidently he does not think I’ve read the news or else I wouldn’t be in Kathmandu. Tipped him for showing me where the shop was and made it perfectly clear that this was a tour of loneliness and isolation. Lulz.

Went to the Garden of Dreams. Serene with thick, white walls muffling the horns and engines out on the street. Quite a few of the buildings were damaged but all had bamboo scaffolding up around them with diligent workers balanced precariously as they made their repairs.

The Garden is still well maintained and this is a flourishing spot to lay down on the putting green like grass and soak up some sun. Walked up to the terrace to get some pictures. Had to dance around a few couples who were, as my mother would put it, “necking.” 250 NRS ($2.50) to enter. Small price to pay for a quiet, calming place to smoochy smooch.

Went down Kanti Path, saw the water fortress of a Shiva temple (Rani Pokhari) that’s gated off and only opens once a year during the Tihar festival. Looks a bit damaged but still impressive. Would love to come back for Tihar where the Hindus take 5 days to show their reverence for the animals in their lives.

Continued south to Ratna Park and bought a ticket to go in. Looks more frequented but it is next to one of the larger intersections and bus areas. Evidently a “no horn” zone. You can practically feel the Nepali trigger finger itching. Horns aren’t their way of saying “holy shit you royal bastard fucking move”, but they apply it very liberally as if to say “holy shit you royal bastard I almost killed you.”

Posted up outside of the parade grounds for a smoke and an observation. Everyone passing gave me a look. First face, then camera. Bugged me out a little bit. Maybe it was just my inborn white guy syndrome acting up. Kid came up and talked with me. Hesitation in his eyes, hand on his back pocket. I excused myself. Bad juju or just a stupid American being stupid. I don’t know. Kind of ashamed.

Got lost in the backstreet bazaars. If you ever hated buying clothes with your parents as a kid this place would be a nightmare personified. I do see where all these kids are getting their western style clothes though. So many alleyways and courtyards gagged with clothes and fabric and people and scooters and everything, just everything.

Made it through the jumble and out into Basantapur Durbar Square (1000 NSR). This palce was hit hard.  Not a lot of tourists out at this time of day so I got accosted by a few guides in my meandering. Evidently China’s had a negative impact on the tourists according to the guides. I dunno.

Tons of pigeons, handfuls of corn available on the cheap and even a bazaar of its own for purchase of your own religious totem of choice. Beautiful place.

Beautiful people.

Skipped out on a side street to avoid the rickshaws. Long walk back. Always peek down the alleyways.

Beautiful white washed stupa in its own private courtyard amidst a community of apartments. Perhaps the most impressive one I have seen.

Backon the street, two Carlsbergs in hand. Up to my room and wash away the consciousness. Slept for four hours. Went back out into Thamel. Hit the supermarket. Found the Asian tourist district.

Not really jet lagged (this turns out to be a damned lie), and I put in a lot of hours. – 10:44p