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.