The day at the Yak and Yeti begins with an envigorating hot shower and a spicey curry breakfast buffet. It’s too early to take these things for granted, so we’re savoring all of the amenities. Shovan’s father came to meet us this morning (the 29th) and we were all so disappointed that we couldn’t go out to spend the evening with him last night. Apparently here in Kathmandu the taxi drivers called a strike and refused to transport any local traffic. Thus there was no way we could have coordinated our transport to his part of the city, South of here in Patan. Interestingly, the taxis had the good sense to still offer service to their golden eggs, the tourists. The cars could still carry passengers to the airport and the hotels as long as they definitely looked like outsiders. Even yesterday after Pema got us settled here in the hotel he had a bit of a challenge getting back to his apartment. He took a taxi, but to ease the driver’s anxiety they had to take all the back alleys.

Our group still has some unresolved cravings, so we returned to Thamel for a round of pizza at Fire and Ice, which is a remarkable Italian place. A couple of us took our chances at a nearby Korean restaurant, the Shimta, but we didn’t need to worry. The food was fantastic and everything was safe. After we were a little skiddish with some salad, the owner exclaimed, “Do you think you’re the first tourists to come here? I’ve done this for a long time, everything is safe!” Well, we’re happy to report we have not gotten sick. As a matter of fact I feel very fortunate that I have not been hit by any bugs, nor have I sprained anything or fallen to my death in any way. I have been pretty careful, but I’m sure my habits of using hand sanitizer, not drinking the water, and giving the right-of-way to the yaks have ensured my safety. After lunch we huddled together outside and made a plan to rush through the huge market area surrounding us. As we walk along the insanely busy streets we’re continually prodded by very outgoing (pushy) street salesmen who won’t take “No” for the twentieth time and still try to push their wares on us. Some members of our group thought that buying from them or handing out small donations would make them go away, but it just attracted more pushy vendors. Some of us ended up short on cash but packed with junk we didn’t know we wanted. Pema wanted to give us the sprinting tour of he area, so he briskly set out among the mob of people and stampede of barking motorbikes and taxis. We could barely even see him as he dashed ahead, let alone muslce through the quagmire of traffic. We found it was a big mistake to stop and take in any sights because Pema would get far ahead and out of view. He wasn’t interested in seeing anything himself, he just wanted to get in and get out quickly. We thrashed through Thamel then on to New Road, the place where I was bewildered before by all of the people. Today there must have been less than a third of the people there, but it was still sensory overload, and I really had to watch my toes for the cars. There were a lot of interesting things going on, but I couldn’t allow anything to catch my eye because Pema was dashing ahead. I had a few souvenirs left to buy, but shopping there consisted of having a split second to stop, scan, ask the price, then dash off again. We made it to Durbar square, the historic courtyard of old Kathmandu and took a bit longer, about two seconds, to absorb the cultural significance. We abrubtly reversed course and passed by another concentration vendors. There was a spread of about 40 sellers all dealing in the same exact items. In my alotted 1.5 seconds I scanned a couple of items and made a purchase just as I was sprinting to catch the group again. The vendor handed me my merchandise and change like a baton in a relay race.

The story of the day continues in the same manner with harried flight through the streets, then fighting tooth and nail to get into a taxi. The whole city seems like shreds of clothing and severed limbs should be rebounding in all directions, with a big mushroom cloud of soot and exhaust towering above, but in a surreal way there’s complete order and harmony. It’s a system that seems to work, so maybe the traffic cops back in the States could ease off a little. They should see how well anarchy works. We rode across town to Pema’s neighborhood. He has an apartment and we were going to relax and have dinner with him. We stopped at one more place, a tremendous Stupa (I get the name a bit later). This is another tourist trap, but it doubles as a sort of holy Buddhist temple. There were many monks encircling the stupa in clock-wise fashion, and some would spin the prayer wheels as they passed. It is an amazing sight, but it is lined heavily with vendors and begging children holding out their hands. Again it was a mistake to give them anything because that only made them more persistent. It was a spiritual experience, but of the adverse kind. There was no inner reflection, just repulsion to the crass exploitation. We were a little disgusted with the atmosphere, so we left as soon as we could find our way out. Gladly we were soon out of the abomination and we were just minutes away from Pema’s apartment. The atmosphere changed quickly, and we found ourselves in a surpirsingly peaceful neighborhood. Clean, quiet, manicured. We really enjoyed ourselved at Pema’s place, and I began to reconsider my comment about all of kathmandu being a havoc of excrement. Still it was all too much for one day. On our way back to the hotel we needed some smooth, creamy peace, so we stopped at Baskin Robbins for some ice cream.