I feel like I am hanging on a cobweb; just sitting here, wondering what I am suppose to do? What is this that is going on inside my head? Here I am finally here in Kathmandu and just a stop away from Lhasa, Tibet. Yet I must confess that I am still holding on to the thought of someone which at this particular time I am really fond of. Yet there is a millions cacophony voices inside of me that just make things worse than it could ever be. I don’t know what the logic in this is anymore. What the fuck are you doing this to me? I don’t mean her but my head. Clearly I am fucked in my brain. Someone please crucify me upside-down!
Leaving India was kinda another revisit to the heartbreak hotel. Frankly I made no close friends or met anyone there but believe me when I say I am feeling sad about leaving this place. The colorful culture and indescribable experience has left me shouting out for more and a part of me wanted to stay on. I guess India did crawl under my skin and it became a part of me (but I don’t smell like India). I can never remember a single time where I got so baked in my life; I have to thank the Bhang Wallah for popping my Bhang cherry. But this vagabond has got to do what he needs to do; that is to bottle up his emotions and keep moving on to satisfy his wanderlust.
After Delhi, just under one hour and I was in Kathmandu International Airport which totally remind of the airport in Kuantan – small and tiny yet self sufficient. I was glad in some way that I was out of Delhi and venturing into a totally new country and I can’t wait to see what Nepal has to offer. The moment my jet on which I arrived dropped me here, it was like I have travel back through time and landed into a medieval village. From the airport, I was sardine canned in a beat-up mini bus that took me through potholed twisted lanes teeming with people, cars, bikes, cows, buses, and motorcycles going in every direction - most of them straight at us, swaying off just milliseconds before impact.
I step off the mini bus which seemed like my imminent death at that time, and I quickly forgot about all the ordeal of being in a sweat reeking, jammed pack bus of death. I turned and watched life on the street of Kathmandu. A panoramic reel of people, food vendors, shops, children, blacksmiths, men squatting, raw slabs of red meat splayed out on iron benches, men at foot pedal sewing machines, splashes of color in fruit, vegetables, saris, buildings and the worst case of wiring that I have ever seen in my life. There is so much going on but this is everyday people’s life at its best.
Feeling I have been teleported to a scene in a movie, this is Kathmandu, just like I have imagined it…
