|
Which brings up a point. Listening to people bargain over
the difference of pennies may be fun and games for the
tourist but it is serious business for the vendors. And, all
though, haggling is an ancient and accepted practice, there
are rules to be followed. Allowing a profit for the seller
while realizing a good price for yourself is the goal as
well as the art. |
I rode to the top of a hill, west of the city, just on
the outskirts. Here Swayambhunath, The Monkey Temple, is located.
It is perhaps one of the best known and most revered temples
in Kathmandu. It is often seen in photographs with it’s golden
spire piercing the low lying clouds, and the all seeing eyes
of Buddha, painted on the dome, keeping watch over the land of
his birth. Legend also has it that there was a lake here once
and the hill an island. It was a place where the Buddha spoke. Where the hairs from his head when having fallen to
the ground sprouted trees, and the lice became
monkeys. The road leading up to the temple was dusty,
narrow and fairly steep. Already the traffic was
thickening. Locking the bike at the base of a long
set of steps, I started to climb towards the temple
complex. |
|
|
It was mid-morning and already too late! The place was crowded. Crowded with tourists, worshipers, beggars lining the lanes to
the temple, vendors selling everything imaginable, and then there was me. Dusty and thirsty I sat at a table in a small
cafe taking it all in while downing an American icon:
Coke.
|
I wished that I had gotten an earlier start before all
the vendors had set up shop. The Coney Island
atmosphere has certainly taken the mystique and
mystery away from this place of worship and placed it
in the realm of a carnival. To find the Nepal that I am seeking, I must leave the city.
The view from the temple is sweeping, with Kathmandu
and the valley spread out below and smoke from
cremation fires on the banks of the mud grey river
curling into the sky.
Another reason for an early start,
whether by bicycle or foot, is to beat the traffic.
The traffic is mayhem, with the only rule being keep
to the right, unless someone is in your way.
Then, it’s pedal to the metal, and in a cloud of
diesel smoke, attempt to pass whatever hapless thing
that is impeding your progress; and do this
before being hit by the other vehicle coming your way
passing whatever happens to be in it’s way. A
taxi ride is a real thrill not to be missed by the
true adventurer. |
|
|
|
|
Page 7 |
|
|