Night in Qatar and home....

Arriving in Doha, Qatar a 10 PM, after about a 6 hour flight, I was told that I could get a reservation in the transfer hotel. Thanks to Qatar Airlines, I was put up in the room below for 5 hours of blissful sleep before I began the 12 hour flight to JFK where darling sister Lisa met me in her neon green shirt and whisked me back to Brooklyn for a Thai dinner with Oonie and Max and Nicholas; we drank beer, wolfed down Penang curries and then had ice cream cones at the park - Nicholas wore his chocolate cone drippings with splendor! Oonie delivered me home by 9:00, and I shot over to Wanda and Dave's to fetch a awaiting but exhausted Shadow; he's had simply TOO much fun with wonderful Marie, who left the house SO neat and tidy that I felt as though I were back in Qatar~ THANK YOU to such a big hearted family and friends who embraced me on my return. These are the little fellows who waited for my homecoming and with home I chowed down on curries and cones; they are dressed for climbing Everest with me! I am SO happy to be home. Om Mani Padme Hum, which sounds like, "Oh, Mommy, pad me home," and she or whoever DID.

Kopan Monastery and starting for home....

After a wild bus ride to Gokarna yesterday, I walked through the pine woods for about an hour to get to the monastery, which is peaceful and overlooks the Kathmandu Valley; unfortunately, they were in the midst ofa TIbetan Buddhism Intro course,so the place was filled with white people who looked strangely fleshy and undercooked. The library and bookstore were jammed with information and geegaws.

Got desperately lost on the way back as a result of my flawless Nepali and one traffic cop's stupidity; I ended up miles south of Kathmandu,but there are always busses and tuk-tuks and kind people. Besides, there are ALWAYS extraordinary visual surprises along the way, which is probably the reason I shall never get too far in life; the way there is always too full of privileged peeks into the secrets that are pulsing all around us!

Do you know what happens when you eat four mangos in a day? Absolutely nothing, but the sheer pleasure of licking sticky residue from your chin remains. I buy them from the vendors, and because they peel smoothly and easily, I can almost eat the peeled ones as I would a slimy, over-juiced pear. OMG, this is sublime.

I leave tonight at 8:25 and have a 10 hour layover in Doha before I take another plane to JFK, arriving around 3 PM on the 5th. By the way, Happy Fourth of JULY! Kathmandu is celebrating with a "reggae day" in Thamel...

Patan

Across the Bagmati River, where dead people are burned and make-shift housing lines the banks of the narrow river, the city of Patan's temples, stupas and museum sprawls- another ancient city, but thisone is loaded with erotica and scenes of torture, much more fun at this point in my journey than beauty and history.

Patan has its own version of the peacock window; see how you think the two compare. I rather like the legginess of these guys.

The Krishna Mandir, a beautiful dark Hindu temple, has depictions of the Ramayana on the second floor; unfortunately, non-Hindi are not permitted inside, so we circled the temple to see if we would catch glimpses. Alas. Oh, well, onto the erotic scenes promised at the Jagannarayan Temple, most satisfying, but choosing which to share is nearly impossible; if you could have seen my dear friend and former guide, Suk, pointing out the best scenes to me, snickering so joyfully that I knew he was withholding a whoop, you'd have known it was just the right thing to do.

Onto the torture scenes. At the Hari Shankar Temple, built in 1704 by King Yoganarendra Malla's daughter, scenes depicting torturous punishments to long haired girls are decidedly Oedipal if you ask me.

We took one of the motored tuk-tuks back, 11of us crammed into the three seats in the back, one guy holding on outside, but what the hell do you want for 10 rupees? I asked to take another look at the small boys who are sniffing glue and lying onthe pavement on busy, filthy streets. We found a group, but they'd come to the end of their glue by the looks of the flattened tube waved around by one of the boys. We did stop at my favorite lassi man who scoops out glass after glass all day long, topping each with cashews and raisins - utter bliss - and across the street, sitting dazed, runny nosed and wee, sat a boy who had clearly been out of it for quite awhile. The only thing going for him was that he was still able to sit and not sprawled out flat on the dirt road. He wiped his nose and came begging, a good sign. Suk bought him a small glass of lassi, but made him throw out the bag he'd used for inhaling the glue before he'd give him the glass - of course, he threw it right into the street, but small steps....

Suk wants very much to work with these street boys, starting a trekking business that involves or can help them. I'm thinking potential guides. He has no money, and a visit to his "room" testified to that. He laughed as he showed his kitchen, library, bedroom and office, all in one room that he shares with his brother. A bathroom and water are outside. I'm reading Three Cups of Tea and, of course, feeling that I am being pulled here to help in some way... Stay tuned.

Today I may trek to Bodhnath tothe Kopan Monastery, which is meant to be the spot where a young, Spanish boy was declared the reincarnation of the founder, Lama Thubten Yeshe, and the model for the film Little Buddha. I'd better post this before my computer runs out of juice; I'm at a new cafe where Mozart is blasting in the background -pieces I' ve played before - I'm preparing my mind for cello playing, fabric quilting and literature teaching.

Swayambhunath Stupa and insane rain

Lonely Planet said the walk there was just a stroll; HOWEVER, it took me ages, and you can probably see why with this photo. There is too much here that mesmerizes me... Here is a goat and his genitals for sale in the meat market. I think there is no extra charge for flies. Also, we are "Always" beautiful here what with the"Always Beauty Parlour."

Here are three welcoming Buddhas on the steep steps up the East side of what has come to be called "The Monkey Temple." At the top is a glorious view of the valley andthe city itself and always followed by the piercing eyes, watching, watching to remind us that we are never alone. I know you want monkeys,but suffice it to say, they were everywhere, and in the interest of a themed blog, here is another example of tinted testicles: It is, after all, a man's world in developing countries where men peer out corners, asking me, "maryhuannna?" and women huddle under umbrellas, fully covered in glorious arrays of colors. I headed for protection from the rain underneath a darklittle arch to a temple, and we all stood, dripping, smiling and nodding until the rain let up around Basantapur in Durbar Square. As it rained, I took a series of the following photos, intrigued by the brass, iron and spots of orange; perhaps I'm more of an abstract photographer - and thinker.

Today I make the one hour trek across the Bagmati River to Patan,

another section of the city where temples abound and a lively market of wood and brass workshops will offer me a fair selection of man made singing bowls, which all families shouldn'tbe without! Feri vatola!