Kathmandu: Arrival

Time travel is real.
Chasing light to Kathmandu,
The journey begins.

We are exhausted and laughing in Kathmandu. We arrived this morning after what was an adventurous and mind-altering journey across time. Jenna explained to me that if you put your finger on the globe in the mountains of Southwest Virginia, exactly half way around the world is Kathmandu. I am the furthest away from home that I could possibly be. I let the night air cool my face, my feet and the delirious buzz of tension that accompanies a lack of sleep and 24 hours of airport re-circulated air. I am thankful to be here. The streets are bustling and busy with colorfully dressed people walking amidst rushing cars, motorcycles and rickshaws who will absolutely not swerve to miss hitting you and will probably not stop if they do hit you: so be careful! Makes walking an always adventure.

We adventured our way across a bridge of trash where water still manages to trickle, up hills of sardine-squished houses whose laundry is more beautiful than butterfly wings blowing in the wind. Everything blows here: prayer flags, white linen laundry, the florescent drapes that women wear with their jeweled and gold sandals, the dust-covered hair of the street children who run after us to be for spare change, attention a friendly smile or a distraction from the daily grind. We could see the shiny gold of Swayambu - a magnificent complex of temples in the center of the city - peeking out from the trees on the highest hill in the Kathmandu Valley. Valley: the city of Kathmandu rests in a crater-like valley that is completely surrounded by a perfect circle of peaks. One can feel protected or vulnerable, depending on how you look at it. But on the steps of Swayambu - what one feels is reverence. I could not stop losing myself in the hundreds of red, white, yellow, blue and green prayer flags that were miraculously strung more than a hundred yards between the tops of the trees. Do the monkeys hand the prayer flags? I wonder. Who could possibly have the strength the hurl a bundle of flags across the entire hill so that the flags blow just so, a symphony of prayers surfing the violin strings together: beautiful music. I stood mesmerized, too, by the feeding babies of the monkey mothers who sat just by the stairwell as if to give the tourists a show, expecting peanuts or bananas or a handful of seeds. How can one not be captivated. Tiny babies, so much like humans, learned to feed and follow and walk on their four legs and hold their tail just so so that they can swing and not swirl themselves out of balance. Swayambu is a holy place where hundreds of people gather to worship on any given day. Where hundreds of people gather to worship, to sell their goods, to make a living begging or to simply watch the circus. I am the tourist. I would not say that it is a role I love to play; but I am a foreigner in a faraway land: that is not something I can change. But laugh, share smiles, greet friendly and unfriendly folks alike with a sincere Namaste - that I can do. And listen, most importantly, I can do to. Learn from this place, from the people I meet, the places I see, the surprises, the shocks, the beauty, the struggle. We are beginning: today just scratches the surface.

We go to bed early in hopes that rest will allow our delirium to bloom into a pleasant and energized state of alertness, awareness, and joy. Tomorrow another adventure. Jane, Jenna and friends come home; I come to know this home and understand why it calls them back, again and again.

Time travel is real.
Chasing light in Kathmandu,
The journey unfolds.