March 8 2014
Kathmandu is either falling down or rising up - it's hard to tell. Piles of dusty bricks and concrete slabs seem to be in limbo-either an ongoing purgatory for navigating passers-by or the stuff of creation. Turning right out of our hotel, I am happy to see the street widen a bit and smooth out. My eyes off my feet, I can enjoy the riot of color: silk and cashmere and wool scarves and shawls and thick Tibetan sweaters and mittens and hats with those dangly ties no one ever uses; masks, buddahs and goddesses incarnated into metal statues tourists tote home.
Denchenling Restaurant is a little oasis of green calm. A noon lunch with old friends from Brattleboro and new ones made, momos and paneer tikka and fried rice and naan and tea, lime soda. Goodbyes and emails exchanged and I felt happy.
Dennis and I stopped at the New Orleans cafe on the way home and experienced our first western watering-hole. Music I recognized but my brain can not name. Vidya says she recommends it to first-timers in Kathmandu to ease them into the culture and the cuisine. So far, we have been fine. How did our family ever survive 40 years ago without hand sanitizer?
Power is out and I am finding the apostrophes by candle light.
Nameste.
your nameste (s) are making me laugh! (serenity now ; ))
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