Mike, Avigail, sleepy Gemma and Rob
Saturday brought the entertainment that only an outstanding piece of literary work can. My day was spent going from one cafe to a restaurant to the next, just to sit, have delicious tea and join the adventures of Gregory David Roberts. His book, Shantaram, is among the best pieces of written materials I've ever encountered in my life, second to Charlie Brown's comics. Quote from an Indian fellow living in Delhi: "If you are going to read one book about India, it has to be Shantaram".
Even though the book has been gripping my actions an thoughts for the past couple of days, Mike managed to convince me to go to Swayambhunath, what foreigners call The Monkey Temple. This tourist destination in located at the top of a hill on Western Kathmandu, and it is actually an incorporation of several small Hindu and Bhuddist temples around a single giant stupa, all united by the beauty of hanging colourful praying flags flapping in the wind. The symbolism is present in every wall, every step and every little detail, from padlocks to hundred year old candle holders. It is an artistic and spiritual experience that is mildly diffused by the surrealism that there are monkeys, jumping, playing, fighting and feeding all over the pace.
Mike standing close to the stupa and a splendid Sun shinning behind him.
Of course, like every other encounter with beauty and spiritualism, this one didn't come without a reasonable amount of physical effort required of us. To reach this site we had to climb some couple of hundred steps while monkeys maneuvered from trees to praying flags and back. The climb, made simple and effortless thanks to a season of trekking in the mountains, provided us with a wide open view of the whole city once we reached the top. A view that, had the city not been shrouded by a mantle of smog, would have been unique, far reaching and fascinating.
The Eastern entrance to Swayambhunath, with the steps and its monkeys.
A side view of the stupa at the top.
Biggest statue of Buddha in Nepal.
Ultimately we ended up our day at the Lazimpat Gallery Cafe, a small place to have delicious food while enjoying the beauty behind international art. On this occasion, the works of an Australian artist, who happened to make all this collection on a roof next to Swayambhunath, were accompanied by the pleasant and exquisite music of 2 American fellows and a third guy. This third guy had a hint of unique romanticism, a grey and white haired man who wore a suit and sandals to play the saxophone in Nepal, a land foreign to his own. With such an unique character in the room, the familiar folk/blue grass music characteristic to American idiosyncrasy and the people who all shared the same joy, I could not but feel exhilarated and at peace. A feeling that was intensified by the presence of my fellow travellers Rob, Avigail, Gemma Pillars and Catherine, and the amusing jokes of the Australian ambassador.
However strong this Australian presence was, I cannot help to feel that the Australian presence was diminished by the beautiful Belgian woman I had the pleasure to share the table with. In a flick of a second, I happened to learn a lot about the Belgian presence in the Nepal and the place where they all like to eat French fries. Tina, as she introduced herself, taught me a lot about a different side of Pokhara that I hadn't heard of before, a more boring and uninteresting side of the city that only older working expats get to see. And in the heat of the conversation we came to share our interest in Rishikesh, a small town in Northen India, were she is heading to today. Just one more reason to surrender myself to the adventure of going to Rishikesh.
1 comment:
[wolf whistles] she ws cute dude,good call;)
and BTW Flo is Austrian, lol.
Post a Comment