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Published: April 22nd 2007
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The all-seeing eye
Kieron's icon to use throughout the blog to warn our loyal readers of an impending 20-minute bout of verbal diarhoea from our esteemed co-traveller (Cav) Kieron writes...
Ode to the Sacred Cows of Kathmandu Valley
There was a sacred cow called Daisy
Who like Stace was incredibly lazy
When her hind legs she parted
With serenity she farted
Contributing to making Kathmadu hazy
Osmotherlies are not good at lazy days. Whilst Cav and Stace parked on the verander, doing whatever people do when they relax - I dunno, I shuffled off in search of the mythical Summit hotel “petite gym”. Having deciphered contradictory staff advice as to it’s whereabouts, I failed to resuscitate any of the dusty, disused equipment (except for the exercise bike, in which my saddle-sore posterior prevented participation). I opted instead for a swim and some push ups and sit ups, interrupted by mockery from Stace who less than 24 hours earlier had been well and truly thrashed on the ascent to Dakshinkali.
(Random moment in an Internet Café - marching band going past ancient temple outside, local wedding… okay, back to the text).
A creative task was set - conceive of and produce an iconic, non-conventional image of oneself to accompany blog entries. Much to the amusement of the Summit maid service, this prompted Stace and
Temple splendour
The all-seeing eye of Bhuddha I to spend over an hour taking close ups of one another’s right eye. I subsequently risked my friendship with Furlong Snr by eschewing the 30 images he took in favor of the one picture taken by Cav.
A key component of the lazy day plan was the organic vegetable lunch, highlighted by a spectacularly simple, ravishingly tasty quiche - a new entry at #1 on the “quality feeds” chart.
I successfully lobbied for a discontinuance of the laziness and persuaded the Furlongs to adjourn for an afternoon stroll up to Swayambhunath - aided by a strategic decision to withhold key data concerning the triple figure step count. Thus we found ourselves contributing to the smog rich confluence of taxis beeping their way through Kathmandu.
Some notes on the Nepalese Highway Code, included in here unabridged:
1. In Nepal we drive on the left. Unless you prefer the right.
2. Zebra crossings are for decorative purposes only
There are very few pavements in Kathmandu, prompting the following hierarchy of road users:
1. Suicidal street dogs
2. Ambling pedestrians
3. Motorcycles ferrying Newari chaps in nice shirts, wives riding pinion in gorgeously colorful full dress
One of the many temple monkeys
The little chap looked a tad sad. His fellow monkeys took great pleasure in using the holy place as an adventure playground: sliding down the dome of the temple; climbing on and in the buildings, and scurrying around the stupa. sarees (how they stay so colorful amid the smog is beyond me)
4. Taxis which beep a lot. It is therefore essential in one’s negotiation with a prospective provider of taxi services that the vendor be required to demonstrate his horn blowing prowess - the gifted can honk out a surprisingly complex, tuneful rhythm
5. Taxis whose horns have broken due to years of abuse (it’s a red luigght - there’s no point beeping fellas!!!)
A philosophical, nay metaphysical question: if a Nepali traffic policeman blows his whistle and everyone ignores him, does he make any sound?
Anyway, Swayambhunath is a magnificently appointed Tibetan Buddhist Temple, perched atop a conical hill surveying the sweep of what is now Kathmandu Valley, but was once an island in a great lake which legend has it was drained when Manjushri smite a gorge in the valley with his mighty sword.
Cheeky monkeys (insert the inevitable jibe about the Furlongs here - please use your own imagination as I exhaust my mental energies insulting them all day long)… cheeky monkeys “guard” the stairway, their begging for junk food only slightly less insistent than the stall vendors who are want to pursue hapless tourists halfway up the steps to flog their scarves, “singing bowls”, payer wheels and first born children. One such vendor latched upon Cav, who unintentionally negotiated the fee per bracelet from a 150 rupee opening bid to 5 bracelets for 300 rupees, plus the practical demonstration of several karma sutra positions thrown in as a sweetener. I suggested he push for the contortionistic confluence illustrated on page 6, but this Brit nut was not for cracking.
I’m already growing fond of Tibbetan iconography and architecture - those lil’ orange robed dudes sure know how to Feng Shui a great Stupa! Swayambhunath proved that even the most haphazard city looks beautiful from high above. (Actually, Kathmandu is neither as smally as a car full of Rushsticks nor as haphazard as my desk once was).
After a poorly negotiated overpriced taxi back to the hotel (only now am I heeding Hodgy’s Haggling Hints), the day concluded with the first of many disappointing meals to feature Cav repeating the following remark “what part of the chicken is this?” Carnivorous savage - I have no sympathy for the dicky tummy which inevitably followed!
- A meritorious act: After Kieron switched on the air con mid-afternoon in readiness for his "bedtime chill" I calmly pointed out the environmental consequences of his action for the people of Nepal whose air quality has already greatly diminished since the arrival of one Osmotherly senior. Seeing the error in his ways, our fledgling eco-tourist switched off the power-hungry cooling device and opened a window instead to let Mother Nature's sweet breath fill our quarters. Performing 'meritorious acts' are something of a necessity in this part of the world.
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