I found back with pleasure the schedule of Benares, getting up at six o'clock, waiting for the sunrise, then breakfast in the morning mist.
Seen from Nagarkot, Mount Everest is a bit disappointing, because from so far it's just a small pebble between two mountains in the distance. I chose as observatory the summit of the hill where our little “bungalow” is. The terraces of nearby hotels seemed to have better views, but ours by the presence of this little temple - where the Nepalese came to pray and shake its little bell – was looking more interesting, although a little too lush vegetation to appreciate the entire landscape. I felt an urge to applaud at sunrise as a performance executed with talent in an artistic setting.
“Save our self-esteem, do not encourage begging!”
The long walk from Nagarkot to Baktapur has revealed another aspect of Nepal, the agricultural life. Watching this sight, it is so easy to imagine the same life in France as here, two or three centuries ago. The "plows" pulled by oxen, the small villages with goats, cows, chickens and dogs around the streets. Religiosity is less present than in the city, maybe it is reserved for Sunday activities. Corn is drying in sheaf, small red chilies lying on mats, coconut, millet winnowed by women in public places. Children play on the floor and walk. The appearance of tourists raises those begging, and after each turn of the previous denial: "Helo, one rupee! "," Helo, one pen! "," Helo, sweet one! Is this a game, or the manifestation of true poverty? The ferocity with which the children were possessed of meager the slices of bread distributed by Mary, was reminiscent of a horde of hungry children, however, their laughter and good humor were more belonging to a game, a new one of their invention. Could the two be mixed up?
On the road, visiting the Changu Temple has not made as much fun as with my American poetess. I guess Marie is not really passionate of Newari architecture, even when it dates from the fifth century!
“Save our self-esteem, do not encourage begging!”
The long walk from Nagarkot to Baktapur has revealed another aspect of Nepal, the agricultural life. Watching this sight, it is so easy to imagine the same life in France as here, two or three centuries ago. The "plows" pulled by oxen, the small villages with goats, cows, chickens and dogs around the streets. Religiosity is less present than in the city, maybe it is reserved for Sunday activities. Corn is drying in sheaf, small red chilies lying on mats, coconut, millet winnowed by women in public places. Children play on the floor and walk. The appearance of tourists raises those begging, and after each turn of the previous denial: "Helo, one rupee! "," Helo, one pen! "," Helo, sweet one! Is this a game, or the manifestation of true poverty? The ferocity with which the children were possessed of meager the slices of bread distributed by Mary, was reminiscent of a horde of hungry children, however, their laughter and good humor were more belonging to a game, a new one of their invention. Could the two be mixed up?
On the road, visiting the Changu Temple has not made as much fun as with my American poetess. I guess Marie is not really passionate of Newari architecture, even when it dates from the fifth century!
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