Kathmandu

Some places are the crossroads of the world, centerpoints of the wheel, fed in all directions by activity of an infinite variety that incessantly assaults the senses and energy field, until one adapts. Kathmandu is such a place. Nestled in a valley some 2200 meters up, this tourist fed city is beyond bustling...it demands attention. It would be easy to get swept into its no name streets and never be heard from again. And yet it is one of the friendliest places on earth. Everyone here is here to serve. Ask for it and it is there in spades within the hour...

But I am ahead of myself. We arrived at the Dwarika Hotel in southeast Kathmandu and were all pretty tired from the travel demands...so most chose to wander around the delightful inner compound of this remarkable, hundreds of years old, hotel. Red brick and dark wood, pad locks on the door, cobbled floors with throw rugs, nooks everywhere, gardens of exquisite orange blossomed flowers that blend so pleasingly with the walls and windows and structure of the 5 floored historical landmark. An inner garden with shops and a stunning pool with mosaic thanka designs embedded in its rich blue colored floor. Does one really swim in this? or just experience it? Altars , four of five of them, spring up around the yard...a square shaped, hollowed out enclosure with the inner relics representing male and female and the constant fertilization of life. Mystical, spiritual, sensual...

Dinner at the Nepalese restaurant in the compound affords us our first taste of the local quisine. A definite cousin to Indian and Tibetan food with some decided twists, Nepalese food, like most places, is defined by the topography, fauna, and flora of the region. So far I have sampled wild nettle broth (a thick, darn green mixture that would be similar to eating hay off the ground in the barnyard...the buckwheat bread with the strong garlic, olive oil, and basil made it palatable...still only finished half), yak cheese (bam!...it strikes the nose first and the body begs to not pursue this path...but pressing onward it lays on the tongue and slowly gives a parmesan like experience...did it...check)...

Post breakfast the next morning, we are met at 9:30 AM for our first excursion into the city. Into the Toyota bus and then yeeeehaaaa...swept into the city flow to the left...(I live at the Pacific Ocean in California and I enjoy watching how water moves in tiny streams created by runoff or from the waves. From the edge you can see a tiny bit of the sand bank collapse and then get quickly swept into the current to blend magically into the water's flow...this is what it felt like). There are so many cars and motorcycles on these narrow two lane streets...driving is more than an adventure, it is Le Mans in slow motion, bumpercars at the fair without the bumps, a video game, motorcross, the X games...let's just say I am glad I am not driving

Free to see the city drift by I see Old Delhi with shops in every possible nook...little 8-10's of product that will certainly serve the needs of someone, somewhere. Most are there to serve tourists so there is cloth and statuary and malas, and gems and jewels and beads and film, and snickers and lays chips and necklaces and bracelets, and thankas and daggers and velvet paintings of the Himalayan peaks, and shawls and scarves and rings and holy relics and...you get the picture...

Multiple storied buildings with shops below and quarters above, the sea of people survive and thrive in the bequeathement of the now, embracing what life gives them and using it to create the next experience. For the most part they wait, are not pushy...until one gets to the many squares. The city is sections, based upon culture...neighborhoods of common influence, exuding a similar but flavored scene. It is rich and colorful...and overwhelming. Turn the corner and see unthinkable squalor and filth and garbage...and people living in groomed quarters right in the middle of it. Children playing in the stream that flows through town...banks of trash sorted here and random there paint the ground that leads to the streets. The deeper into town we go the more the sidewalk vendors appear...on both sides of the bridge on the sidewalk..fruit and peanuts and trinkets and shiny baubles...and squatting people...and the chainsaw buzz of the flood of motorcycles...tiny buses crammed with humanity who have never experienced the luxury of a personal boundary

We are out of a bus, parked in front of the oldest junior high level school in Kathmandu. Uniformed children playing while armed soldiers watchfully stroll the grounds and tend the entrances. We move into the stream of life...look out...the pile of feces is forewarned...having already been violated by some foot...one must watch one's feet as well as pockets and the sights. On goes my audio recorder to catch our walk into the waiting arms of the city...heads swinging to catch this and to see that...color and movement and glistening brass and gold leafed statues

There are stupas throughout the city, spiritual/religious spires and linghams rising above the streets. They are focal points, landmarks, spotted with long serving altars where the locals pray and give homage and offering with bright orange and yellow vermillion. The schtupas often accompany temples and formal worship spots. Circling out from each like the spokes of the wheel are the streets, each an invitation to adventure or the blues...

Our guide leads us through a doorway...many are short, causing one to stoop to enter...the foot is also raised (word is that evil ones have no knees so they cannot stoop or lift their leg to cross over)..there is this sound that is noticed, a cooing rumble...into this inner mystical courtyard shrine there are hundreds of pigeons...on the ground, on the roofs, on the altars, everywhere...they move as one...walk through them and they part and then flow back together...a man moves through them and claps hands and they take to the air...a flurry of wings and wind is felt...magic..a never before experienced kiss from the winged ones...I am in bliss...the camera clicks rapidly like a fashion shoot...work with me...yes, hold that pose...everywhere they fly...called now to the food being laid out by the old woman in red...a beehive of pushing and shoving to get the grain. A mother and her little girl now move through the carpet of pigeons and twirl in laughter as the pigeons react. They fly and adjust, all around, never striking any passersby. I am mesmerized by the experience. This one goes in the special memory bank...

Onward to the oldest Temple Square in the city...an awe inspiring visual of perfect architectural designs of 600 years ago...placed in the best feng shui manner to elicit a constant energetic reminder of the power of the Presence...in these squares there are no beggars or vendors...so one is free to experience...We are led to a special temple where a young girl is kept...she is a human representation of the Divine..a goddess kept in this location until she reaches puberty and her first blood. Every need met, this child is selected via a long process of aligning to the 22 qualities and then having the same horoscope as the previous king...she is revered by the people and celebrated. Periodically through the day she comes to the window to let the people see her for one minute... throngs show up...amazing...the whole thing feels very strange to me...but custom is custom and must be viewed through the hearts and minds of the people it serves.

Off to a shopping focus...each of the group wants something in particular...I want singing bowls..so i am led to a shop down a street to the left to the right and then into a courtyard behind a street to a tiny cubicle with wall to wall bowls...and left to rendezvous back at the square in an hour. The shopkeeper is a delightful man who knows his stuff. For 40 minutes he plays the bowls...I listen and feel...no, I do not feel that one...yes...set that one over there...the pile grows...time is pushing...I experience the bowls...he digs for one over there on that shelf, his small body stretching to get to the one high up...he now knows what my sound palette is..and he brings them on..decide...how? but I must narrow them down...it is down to three bowls and two tingshas...how much? American or Rupees he asks? $350 American...barter...expect 20 percent reduction...I know what these are worth, and even now this is a good price...because they are hand hammered and special chosen to the frequencies I am aligned with...but i listen one more time..no, these are too close to one another...again I listen...this one...yes, this one...aaaah...and that tingsha...yes...$145...I will give you $120...the dance begins...$130...$120...$125 he counters...$120 I say...no $125 he crosses arms...tick tock...the square beckons...sold I say...smiles and hand shakes. Turn around and access the money belt and six $20 bills are passed. Farewells and directions back to the square

I am one who knows directions and it usually only takes one trip to know my way, by landmarks or signs or feel. But these streets are a winding quagmire of confusion...on first sight. He said left then right then left...OK was that quick left or the second street...did we come this way?  that feeling starts in the pit of the stomach and then sweeps over the mind...a curtain of growing fear...visceral...I do not have a phone...do not not know the name of the square...everything starts to look suspect/menacing...even the children..stop it...go back to the store...I find my way back and at the door tell him I am lost...he smiles, starts to tell me again...I give him the look...he smiles and says i will show you. He shuts off the light and walks out, and with store door wide open he walks me back to the square, choosing to walk me by the bigger store he owns on the way...I get his card and then turn into the square where I see the rest of the party...adventure...check

Lastly, after lunch, we go to a major stupa overlooking the whole of the city. It is a magnificent swirl of sight, color, sound, prayer flags, prayer wheels, monkees, tourists, locals, priests, monks, statuary...all on the top of the hill. It is amazing...around the center circular stupa are a ring of prayer wheels. People walk around the circle whirling each wheel to send out their prayers...I want to do that...around I go, hand touching the shiny place on each that has been touched and spun millions of times...I feel the vibration as I reach completion, to be greeted by two monkeys who stare at me with satisfaction...

What a day it has been...and one more full day tomorrow...out of the city to different experiences...I am full... I take my bowl to the room and sound fills the walls of this haven...it is a good day...Kathmandu, I'll soon be seeing you, with your strange, bewildering eyes...