THE BRIEFSix kilometres along flat terrain, with a steep climb up to Swayambhunath.
From Kathmandu's Durbar Square, cross the western part of the city and the
Bagmati River, climbing up to the Monkey Temple. At the bottom
of the temple turn north, past a huge prayer wheel, through semi-rural suburbs and across
the ring road to the Balaju water gardens with its famous sleeping Vishnu
image.
A Diary Extract...
Breakfast at the Cosmopolitan was banana and honey pancakes and Tibetan bread. In Basantapur Square traders draped low tables with red and blue cloths. Tibetan singing bowls, beads of amber, turquoise and mountain coral, horns and prayer wheels jockeyed for space among a sea of Buddhist and Hindu statues. Wafting incense completes the picture.
We managed to avoid hovering rickshaw drivers, Tiger Balm vendors and the "10-postcards-for-100 rupee" sellers, when Karen was caught by a saffron-robed saddhu. He blessed her, thumbed a red tika on her forehead and sent her on her way. Just a little blessing to start the day.
Three women in green, pink and red saris threaded marigolds onto cotton and a cow wearing a garland of flowers snuffled through garbage. By a small roadside shrine a child ate cooked peas and potato, following the progress of a Coca-Cola truck beeping its way through the crowd.
We crossed a footbridge over the Bagmati River where ducks navigated through a million plastic bags. School children in white and blue uniforms and wide smiles greeted us,
"Hello, where you from?"
"Australia!"
"Ah, Canberra capital city. You have pen, bonbon?"
400 steps loomed at the Monkey Temple. Women offered silver bangles and stories of hungry babies and old mothers. On the steps a child stared, one arm holding a baby, the other outstretched and grubby,
"One rupee for rice." We gave her 10 rupees then wondered who’d feed her tomorrow.
Monkeys chattered in the trees as we reached the top and paid a small entrance fee. Locals don’t pay, fair enough, we are sightseeing and they’re here to pray. Tibetan monks in burgundy and yellow circumnavigate the temple, prayer beads clacking. Women light hundreds of candles at small shrines while yellow dogs sunbake. I lost Karen as we walked around the stupa and had to race around again to find her. You have to keep going clockwise, it’s the rules.
She’d bought a book about Hindu and Buddhist gods and was getting her fortune told by a turbaned Sikh called Punjit who looked like our best friend’s ex-husband. He forsees wealth, a long life and recommends she take up jogging.
At the bottom we followed a narrow road to Balaju to see rather uninspiring water gardens and a Sleeping Vishnu smothered in marigold and tika offerings. In our book it says Vishnu is the Protector of the Universe and all its creatures. Karen suggests he may have been asleep too long; he has already visited the earth ten times to save it from destruction - another visit might be appropriate...