I love a big Asian city… well love and hate, you know how it is!
of course yoga on the beach, meditating in an ashram, climbing in the lofty himalayas, these are all blissful, transcendent aspects of travelling
but its only really in the gritty metropoli that you get a measure, a grasp on how most folk live
a glimpse of narrative tableau, people going about their lives.
throng
step onto the street, risk of life and limb, hurtled at by Rickshaws, scooters appear from every direction… all is squalour and hubbub… the notion of pavement is almost preposterous
its all about surfing the overwhelm, constantly pummelled by sensory stimulus
an exercise in focus and intention… i am going here, this, precisely, is how i will get there
sieve through what is pertinent, this can kill me, that, as joyce would have it, that is just a ‘shout in the street’
cubist consciousness, fractured, life unravels in a different rhythm
world gulped in glimpses
having said that Kathmandu, despite its usual hurly burly, is well blessed with civic spaces
I loved the little stupa square near my hotel, its that mix of the sacred and the mundane
amongst huge clamour, Kids hurtle, chucking water bombs, it’s the cusp of holi… 2 small girls skip to create a crescendo swirl of pigeons
Bells are rung, the noodle stall in the corner does a roaring trade, motorbikes are parked everywhere, askant and akimbo
Kids strum a guitar
Old men with walking sticks and traditional hats (Dhaka Topi) chat on the steps
it’s like a small Spanish towns Plaza Mayor but with a Newari Buddhist twist
Prayer flags flutter, eyes of Buddha atop the stupa serenely observe
a nearly full moon, pollution peach, drifts across the sky above
A 7 year old boy encouraged by the guitar players does impersonations of football players goal celebrations..
he runs, a Ronaldo jump, spin and pout… We all go ‘siuuuu’…
They shout ‘Mbappe’, arms crossed and a cheeky scowl! By request Messi and Neymar follow
global. joyful
3 sisters in pink, the oldest is pushed over to chat to me, she is mbe 13, the others hanging onto her coat 10 and 6… The usual questions and answers: ‘engLAND’ , ‘alone’, ‘2 children boy 26, girl 22’
… my tie dye pink t shirt matches their clobber… I want to take their photo, they want to take mine… But neither of us are like that… Shy smiles mingled with playful waves as they leave
a nothingness of trivial interaction, tho there is a powerful warm glow to it, the questions irrelevant, i can tell they are in from the subburbs, their parents, a little way away speak no english
we are all buoyed by our mutual curiosity
Another day I am sitting near the edge of the central Durbar square, on the steps of a pagoda, next to an ancient statue, comically adorned with lipstick
I am tucked out of the way, observing, a telly in standby mode!
A kid blows soapy bubbles streaming into the air
The cloth merchant begins to neatly fold her nylon saris, gives up, flings them in a heap
A family of four on a scooter… The rag bedraggled homeless man, bare cracked feet, snores asleep on the steps of the temple
people passing people passing
There is a young woman in beige trousers a pattern of dogs, cats and rabbit faces, she has a shiva trident in vermilion powder etched on her third eye…
A Mum wears a bright red smurf bobble hat, straight up, adding half a foot to her stature, daughter has opted for a rainbow sun hat with a feather
garb of exoticism
a shop owner comes over, introduces himself, ‘Ratna’
we smoke cigarettes as he shows a clutch of well thumbed photos from which he beams out youthful
when he first set up in 1980, how he learned english on the street
his wedding, to a Newari budhist despite him being Hindu
Adventures in Hong Kong
he is 61, I tell him of my first trip to Nepal in 1986… 2 oldish men talking proudly of days of yore
he is soon to be a grandad
he knows everybody in these parts
I see him once more 2 days later during the bedlam of the holi celebrations, a crush of people between us, but he smiles and waves
he is standing on the edge of the stage, helping direct people around to safety
responsibility, a man embedded in his own community
I get the sense of a life well lived
