curryjeanes

[curryjeanes]

See Ya Later

I’ve been told that no one says “Good Bye” in Tamil. This works for me since I always say “See Ya Later” when I step out of a place. The last 11+ months have offered me an amazing opportunity to experience life in a very different way. Though I lived abroad in my youth, I was never on my own and certainly never in a place like India. 

People ask what I’ll miss about India, so I figured I would try to answer that before I go.

The Food 

I liked Indian food (especially south Indian vegetarian fare) before I moved to Chennai. But there’s no real way to experience to the incredible variety on offer without being here, immersed in a culture where food is at the center of almost everything. It’s hard to pick a favorite. An amazing chicken dosa in Madurai, flaky parotta in Coimbatore, fluffy and sour idly in Alappuzha, and all kinds of unidentifiable vegetable curries in Chennai. Kachoris in Delhi, a magical lassi in Jaipur, Tibbs Frankies from the stall outside of the Sathyam theater, fusion street food in Mumbai, and a simple home cooked meal at a colleague’s house all come to mind. I can’t eat it every meal of every day (and I still haven’t found a biriyani that I like) but I’ll miss the food for sure.

The Explosive Love for Movies

I am pretty sure that there will never be another experience in my life like sitting in a darkened theater with 1000 Vijay fans during the opening title sequence of THERI on opening weekend. I made the comment before, but I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been as excited about anything in my adult life as these Vijay fans were to see a movie. Being near that energy was fantastic. I have a lot of gripes about the film industry here and about the way people relate to it, but there’s no denying that the unabashed love that people have for their heroes and the movies is special, and it might not exist anywhere else.

The Colors, Lights, and Fireworks

Are you looking for a reason to celebrate? Come to India. There is a festival, holiday, wedding, or otherwise joyous event just around every corner. These events are always colorful, often loud, and frequently punctuated by fireworks firing off in every direction. From kids bursting crackers in the streets to full-color aerial displays that would require some serious permits in the US, I saw more fireworks in a year than I have in the last ten years in the US. 

From the fabric stores to the giant LED sculptures of avatars to the intricately painted Dravidian temples, the colors are nearly overwhelming. Buildings pop out of nowhere painted from the ground to the roof in bright shades of purple, blue, and green. The cities radiate color and life in a way that will make the gray and beige American suburbs seem so much duller now.

My Team

I came to India to hire up a software development team to and build some new software for my company. And we did it! Our office in Chennai buzzes with a different kind of energy than any of the offices in the US. I’ll miss working with my team for a lot of reasons, but mostly because they made me laugh just about every day. I feel a great sense of responsibility for the team and I’m keenly interested in what they will do from here on out. I won’t be there to see everything they will accomplish, which is a little bittersweet, and I’ll miss being the oddball American guy in the standup every day, but I’ve never had more fun working with a group of people than the folks I worked with here.

Jugaad

When you see a guy who has shoved a cow into an autorickshaw so that he can get it across town, that’s Jugaad. It’s the Indian way of making things work in a way that’s obviously not ideal, but hopefully temporary. The wires coiled around a tree that’s in the way; the man straddling boxes of copier paper and lightbulbs on his two-wheeler; the bicycle turned upside down so that its pedals can turn a hand-cranked juicer. These are all jugaad, and I’ll miss that spirit of making things work despite obvious limitations. In the west, we aren’t so good at this. We have regulations and codes and people who would rather spend ten hours automating a task rather than one hour doing it. Of course the looseness here can be dangerous and sloppy and it almost always promotes getting some done quickly rather than getting it done well, but seeing people make-do with what they can scrape together is inspiring.

These Guys

My apartment building had a full security staff at all times. They were pretty funny guys. They saluted every time I came through the gate and they said good evening or good morning every time I walked through the courtyard. The guy stationed inside the building was supposed to press a button to unlock the door anytime anyone wanted to go in or out. I made it a game to see if I could sneak past him or beat him to the door every day. Usually not, but I enjoyed having these guys around.

Nizam

I never once tried to drive in India and I’m not a bit ashamed of that. The way that vehicles move here just doesn’t work with my worldview. Luckily, I had Nizam. 

When I first arrived in Chennai, I took cabs that were booked by the office. One day my driver was a quiet guy in his mid-fifties who chuckled when I asked to get out of the car to take pictures of chickens and movie posters. We got along instantly. Nizam has been my driver for the last 11 months, but more than that, he’s been my guide and my advisor and my friend. He taught me about life as a Muslim in Tamil Nadu. He always knew the best place to get an odd wooden stool or piece of PVC pipe. Life in Chennai was often stressful, but I learned to rely on Nizam to approach the day with a gentle smile and some wry reflection on the chaos. He’s the closest thing I’ve had to family here and I’ll miss seeing him every day. If you ever need a driver in Chennai, let me know and I’ll hook you up!

I took a lot of pictures on this trip--not all of them posted on this blog. You can find more on my FLICKR page and even more on my INSTAGRAM. There are too many people to thank for this experience, so instead I’ll just say “See Ya Later” and hope that our paths will cross again.

[curryjeanes]

Things I will miss.

[curryjeanes]

Indian Cinema part 4 - Theaters

India’s rich cinema tradition was born in the movie halls. In my travels, I’ve come across theaters of all types from the majestic single-screen movie palace to the ultra-modern multiplex, to the unexpected drive-in! As the nation races into modernity, theaters get upgraded or replaced, old community mainstays fall into disrepair, and the movie-going experience begins to mirror the economic strata of the nation’s avid movie fans.

Chennai’s Pilot Theatre shut down in 2014, but the building remains with a watchman posted at the door to keep people from sneaking inside. In 2016, the Shanthi theater closed for good, another example of single screen theaters losing out to the convenience, choice, and amenities brought in by the multiplexes. Chennai is still home to other one and two-screen community movie houses like the Casino theater and the Woodlands, but the multiplex trend that started with the Devi Cineplex in Chennai shows no signs of stopping.

When I travel through India, I always look up the movie halls and try to find a unique movie-going experience. In Coimbatore, this led to the Baba Cinemas, a two-screen theater with one giant hall outfitted with a brand new sound system and a massive screen, and one smaller hall for the B-pictures. The owner of the Baba was so happy that I wanted to learn more about the theater that he took me around and proudly showed off his new sound system, reciting technical specs for me and letting me peak inside.

Movie prices in Tamil Nadu are fixed by the government. The most that an exhibitor can charge for a ticket is 120 Rupees ($1.80) but that price can only be charged if the theater meets some set of modern standards. Here are the rules, as printed by The Hindu:

According to the order, for a multiplex to charge Rs. 85 a ticket, it must have two or more A/C halls, a net capacity of over 800 seats with each seat not less than 20 inches and each row separated by 41.5 inches.

Stipulated facilities include xenon or digital projection, digital sound system, three-way speakers and surround speakers. Computer ticketing, web ticketing and home delivery of tickets are also in the list of guidelines. The generator back-up must for A/C too.

Only cinema houses, which have a food court with family entertainment arena (like children gaming area) and more than three cinema screens, can charge Rs.120 a ticket.

I’ve been to some theaters where the price topped out at 60 Rupees. At the Assembly Room Talkies in Ooty, the first class seats cost 30 Rupees and seats close to the screen were only 10.

In other states, the prices aren’t fixed in the same way. First run tickets in multiplexes in Delhi, Mumbai, and Bangalore set me back anywhere from 250 to 450 Rupees. In the multiplex world, the exhibitors appear locked in a race to see who can provide the most luxurious and ostentatious experience, which leads to some pretty interesting contrasts.

The Palazzo in Chennai’s Vijaya Forum Mall sits in the middle of Kollywood and offers up opulent theaters with velvet curtains, marble floors, plenty of A/C, and a variety of high end snacks including a gelato bar.

The same theater chain operates two multiplexes near my apartment, one features a full chaat menu, pizzas, sandwiches, french fries, milkshakes, a day spa, and a full-service restaurant, while the other offers a full arcade, bowling alley, and sit-down restaurant.

Much to my surprise, Chennai even has a drive-in! Situated off the beach, the sound system is amazing, the screen is big and bright, and watching a movie under the stars is always a little magical.

Inside, the high end theaters offer comfortable seats with cup holders, two-person loveseats, and sometimes even full recliners with blankets and in-seat food service. I saw one movie in Mumbai in a theater that looked like the world of Tron Legacy where the price of a ticket was the equivalent of $15!

All of this starts to serve as a reminder of the stark economic divide between Indian classes. Friends in Chennai who are used to 100-120 Rupee tickets complain about the elevated movie prices in Bangalore, while just about everyone thinks the 1000 Rupee tickets in Mumbai are absurd. Meanwhile, the theaters begin to price the audience into groups. Online reviews of cheaper, older theaters are often quick to point out the lack of A/C or decent sound, but they also sometimes make a point to warn customers that these theaters aren’t the best places for families or ladies. Just as the theaters are ranked as A, B, or C class experiences, so too are the audiences ranked. 

I’ve been in discussions about theaters that turned to statements like ‘the kind of people who go there’ and it’s easy to see how this develops. Those with the means gravitate towards the newer, cleaner, fancier theaters. Middle class cinema-lovers that I’ve met still wax nostalgic about the energy of the crowd in those B and C halls, but when given the choice they generally seem to prefer comfort. Having been to both, I can understand why, but I genuinely love watching movies in a place where the the movie is the star--not the snackbar or the spa or the potential selfie backgrounds.

[curryjeanes]

Buildings

[curryjeanes]

Thoughts on Singapore

In list form.

10. Banks. If you look closely at the logos on those beautiful glass and steel buildings, you will recognize that this is the empire of banks. Admiring the architecture without thinking about how it gets funded is only seeing the shapes of the buildings.

9. Peaceful Coexistence. In one neighborhood, I saw a typical Dravidian style Hindu temple on one side of the street and a Chinese Buddhist temple on the other. A mosque sat just around the corner. And what sat in between them all? Shopping centers and food courts.

8. Slogans. What’s the line between public service announcements and propaganda? Singapore has been ruled by a single political party for many decades. Murals like this one show people from China, India, Malaysia, and Europe all building a common state. Before each movie I saw, there was a video about stopping global warming. The local TV stations aired lots of spots about environmental issues, diabetes prevention, and general do-goodery. I don’t know if these things are all government-mandated but I have to admit that on the surface, I didn’t disagree with any of them. I could see how this might manifest in dangerous ways, but most of it seemed kind of useful.

7. Rules. Everywhere you go you will be reminded of the fines for littering, jaywalking, or eating or smoking on public transportation. The rules might seem overbearing but they tend to work. Every area I visited was clean and orderly despite being somewhat crowded.

6. Fun Names. A good 30% of the MRT stations seem to be named after Jedi Knights. Or the other way around. You get the point. If you need a good name for your Jedi role playing character, just pull up a copy of the MRT map.

5. Public Transportation. How do you stack 5+ million people on top of each other and still make it easy to get around the city without overwhelming the sky with diesel fumes? SMRT. Buses looked clean and comfortable and the subway was incredibly efficient.

4. Housing Blocks. I didn’t see a lot of single family homes. Even outside of downtown, the residential neighborhoods I saw were dominated by housing blocks. This is common all over Asia (less so in India) and it feels like a kind of tradeoff. Singapore is strapped for land, but it’s growing. So the buildings have to grow up. These blocks looked like public housing in some places, but they also managed the “mixed use” model naturally. At the ground floor of these buildings I found everything from fancy coffee shops to hole-in-the-wall food stalls to laundry services and notary services. Some of them even had built-in, public-use gym equipment!

3. The Food. Singapore is full of food courts. They offer a variety of food options from small stalls with open-air seating and centralized dish-return stations. I loved these places! (Pro Tip: the beverages are often purchased from a centralized beverage vendor instead of at each stall.) You need not spend big bucks on food in Singapore. Everything I tried from the $1 Yakitori to the $3 plate of Chicken Rice to the $7 set of black pepper beef and soup was great. I had a Kopi Chino that was so good it made me want to start a Singapore-style coffee shop when I get back to the states.

2. Shopping. No joke, I traversed almost an entire neighborhood without ever stepping foot outside of a shopping mall. Sometimes the shopping plazas even had covered walkways connecting them. I’m not a mall guy but I can understand how giant air-conditioned buildings are popular in a place that’s 1.3 degrees north of the equator and more humid than Florida. I went to the malls because that’s where the movie theaters were, so I got to see a good number of them. It’s maybe not the most culturally-rich way to experience a new country but even the malls offered lots to look at.

1. Those Smartphones. I’ve never been nearly run into by pedestrians as many times as I was in Singapore. Well, maybe it was like this in Tokyo, too. People everywhere were glued to their phones. One kid who sat next to me in a movie kept playing a turn-based warfare game throughout the whole movie by just flicking some control on the screen without really looking at it. I wonder if smartphones have become a good defense mechanism in a place where personal space is at a premium. If you don’t want to interact with the rest of the world (or even watch where the rest of us are walking) you can just get lost in your hand-held screen. 

I enjoyed Singapore, but I understand why a lot of people say “there’s not much to see there.” It’s a big wealthy city with lots of shopping and luxury resorts and opportunities to separate travelers from their money. Nice lodging and good food was still cheaper than the US, Hong Kong, and Tokyo, but if you wanted to drop US $200 on dinner, you could. 

Singapore is a real living and thriving place. All of those buildings didn’t build themselves, and if you get a few blocks out of the ring of shopping malls you can find lots of interesting little joints that are too small to even have a marker on Google maps. Singapore and Hong Kong both throw a magnifying glass on the problem of income inequality. The people who keep the city running are often migrant workers who see more opportunity in Singapore than their native places, but with that opportunity comes risk and sometimes exploitation. As the gap between the haves and have-nots widens in the US, we’d be wise to watch what happens in a place like Singapore, and to understand the ramifications of enacting the strict rules that keep it all from falling apart. There’s probably a reason that Singapore ranks 154th on the Press Freedom Index.

[curryjeanes]

The Colors of Singapore

[curryjeanes]

Sound More Horn

[curryjeanes]

Chennai in Blue

[curryjeanes]

Scenes from a wedding

[curryjeanes]

Thoughts on Bangalore

Sometimes people call Chennai the Detroit of India. After visiting Bangalore, I think it might be more like the Birmingham, Alabama to Balngalore’s Atlanta. Chennai feels like a southern city with one foot in the traditional past and one foot in India’s new economy future. Bangalore on the other hand, feels like a city that has simply jumped forward towards commerce, towards technology, and it must be said, towards the west.

Bangalore is landlocked so it’s a bit less humid than Mumbai and Chennai on either coast. It’s a bit cooler, too, and the streets tend to have a gentle slope to them as the city weaves up and down hills. The sidewalks are wide and walkable (mostly) and at a few intersections near St. Mark’s Road, I even encountered audible crossing signals for the blind. 

Bangalore features a happening food and bar scene, where if you have the money to spend, you can treat yourself or your pals to fancy cuisine, locally brewed beers, and chic interior design. It offers no shortage of fun spaces for special event dinners or first dates.

This is great for tourists and visitors and special occasions, but even for the local IT crowd, much of it seems expensive by Indian standards. Interspersed with restaurants that feature valet parking are the typical local joints serving biriyani and dosai, but it’s easy to see how those places are losing favor with the ever-image conscious young Indian professionals. No one is impressed with a selfie in front of the local mess.

I saw my first Lamborghini showroom in Bangalore. Two branches of the Entertainment Store featured the same Diamond Select action figures and Funko vinyl toys that you can find at any comic book store or Spencer’s in the US, but the import fees made the already expensive $20 Iron Man toys the equivalent of $30 in Rupees. I can imagine that to the tech workers who have spent some time at offices in the US surrounded by Game of Thrones bobbleheads, these seem like a cool thing to own but they are perversely expensive at local rates.

What Bangalore lacks in temples and traditional south Indian sightseeing opportunities, it makes up for with green spaces. Several parks and botanical gardens give people a still and shaded place to enjoy. The Cubbon Park serves as a huge green space in the city’s center, and while it’s not as clean or well-maintained as a similar park would be in Europe or the US, it’s a nice place for an early morning stroll.

I only spent 36 hours in Bangalore, so I’m sure that I missed a lot. I visited Indiranagar, Koramangala, and the city center. But my overwhelming impression is that it’s a great place to visit if you want to experience a cosmopolitan Indian city. Fancy shopping, great food, cafes, nightclubs, and even pubs make this feel nearly a world apart from Chennai. The start up culture is alive here, from IT companies making apps to goofy themed-restaurants like the Crime Cafe (where milkshakes are named after famous criminals)--people are just giving things a shot! If I was going to stay in India for another extended stint, Bangalore might be a good option as there are parts of it that don’t feel so far from home.

But as I wind up my year long stay here in India, something about the friction between the “common man” and the consumerist vision of tomorrow’s India that Bangalore exhibits rubs me the wrong way. The income divide is stark. Driving between posh parts of town, you see the homes made of old movie banners, thatched bamboo, and crumbling concrete. I can’t help but wonder what the millions of low-to-middle income people who live here think when they walk by a store selling plastic American toys for 3000 Rupees a pop. I want for Bangalore and indeed every city and village in India to grow into the kind of place where clean water, public safety, proper sanitation, plentiful food, and opportunities to thrive are non-issues. Parts seem to be making slow progress there while other parts are barreling towards Lamborghinis.

[curryjeanes]

Bangalore

[curryjeanes]

Street scenes in Chennai

[curryjeanes]

Indian Cinema part 3 - DDLJ

TITANIC was a massive hit. It played continuously in theaters for over a year. GONE WITH THE WIND enjoyed an initial run of about four years, but that was back in the days when the second town couldn’t see the movie until the first town was done with it. But in Mumbai, there’s a film that’s been playing continuously, every week, in the same theater since 1995. It’s called DILWALE DULHANIA LE JAYENGE (DDLJ) and I got to see it.

Think about that. Most films bounce out of the theater in 8 weeks. DDLJ crossed over the 1,100 week mark in 2016. The only other thing like this is the ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW, but that feels like a cheat. DDLJ is not a movie that people like ironically. The audience doesn’t throw chaat at the screen on cue. It doesn’t inspire weekly dress up parties and quote-a-longs. It’s not a movie that found its audience years after the initial release. It’s just the prototypical Bollywood romance and it has somehow captured the imagination of audiences for 21 years.

In DDLJ, we meet a Desi manchild who goofs on everyone, charms the ladies, gets out of trouble with his quick wit, and humiliates girls if he thinks it will entertain his bros. He’s a real jerk. Enter a sweet, innocent girl with an overbearing and traditional father who isn’t immediately won over by the hero’s antics and good looks. They meet in Europe, get stuck together in one screwball scene after another, and eventually, even though he’s still kind of a jerk, they fall in love.

The first half cliffhanger is pretty good. You go to the lobby for snacks just as the lovebirds have been separated so that she can be married off to some local guy in India. The second half of the movie finds the bro trying to prove just how much he loves and how well he fits in to Hindustan culture. And like so many others, the second half of the film takes a turn towards the serious, making the first 90 minutes feel like a comedy and the second 90 more like a drama.

To me, what’s far more impressive than the film is the fact that the Maratha Mandir theater has been screening it every day at a matinee for 21 years.

I booked my tickets for this online using BookMyShow. Prices ranged from 15 rupees for the close seats to 25 rupees for the balcony. Just to underline that: in 2017, there’s still a theater in Mumbai where you can go catch a movie at 11 AM for a 25 cents.

The print was a DCP but it looked and sounded pretty good. The theater lacks A/C but it’s cooled like many old movie halls by fans. The seats are a little creaky but generally comfy, and the theater still feels majestic with its red curtains (no matter how dusty they might be.) For 15 rupees, the theater is actually a nice place to take a cool nap if you’re so inclined, and we saw a couple of people doing that. 

There might have been about 50 people catching the matinee in a house that seats 1000. But they weren’t all there for a nap. One guy behind me was happily singing along with the songs and quoting his favorite lines. One guy in the row behind us put his feet up on the chair in front of him which disturbed another patron enough that he stood up, barked something at the guy, and the slapped him in the head! Do not mess with my man’s DDLJ matinee!

As I was redeeming my online purchase for paper tickets at the box office by handing my smartphone through the window, a young woman sauntered up. She wasn’t wearing shoes and she didn’t appear to have bathed for days, but she was carrying a large pillowcase-like sack. She plopped it down, reached in, chucked out some clothes, and then dug around until she pulled out a wadded up 10 rupee note and an even shabbier 5 rupee note. Shoving them through the window, she happily collected her ticket, stuffed the clothes back in her bag, and bounced into the auditorium.

It’s not hard to understand why movies play such a unique and powerful role in Indian culture. This young woman seemingly had nothing but what she could carry along in that dirty sack, but for three hours and change, she could sit in a cool, darkened room. She could escape to the lush, verdant scenery of Europe, and to the colorful wedding preparations of a wealthy family. She could lose herself in the songs. The heroes on the screen would play out a romantic fantasy about star crossed lovers stuck between their roots and ‘the west’ and she could watch and laugh and sing along and it would all end happily in an affirmation of love, family, and India.

It might seem like hyperbole, but if you want to be reminded of the magic of cinema, you should simply book yourself a ticket for DDLJ. It’s playing daily in Mumbai, and it only costs a quarter.

[curryjeanes]

Again with the Danger

[curryjeanes]

Colors of Nepal

[curryjeanes]

Thoughts on Kathmandu

I expected Kathmandu to be a dirty, bustling city nestled up in the mountains. It is after all, an ancient trading post and gateway into this part of the world. But even knowing that, nothing prepared me for the yellow air so thick that many locals had taken to wearing masks and air-filters in public. The streets and buildings were covered in thick layers of dust and pollution. I didn’tsee a lot of trash--just a film of dust that made stacks of brand new Coke bottles look like they had been sitting in the same place for decades. Still, somehow Kathmandu’s colors were popping out of the dense smog in every direction.

The streets of Kathmandu snake around past shops and homes and hidden squares to form a bumpy, muddy labyrinth. Nearly every road seems to branch off into a dozen others leading to who-knows-where. It feels a bit like a grimier, landlocked, Asian version of Venice. Streets narrow, go under a tiny door, and then open up into community squares where kids play soccer and grandparents wander around with their grandkids.

From the air, the buildings look uniformly constructed of concrete--all practical rectangles of various sizes with big, boring rectangular windows. But walking through the streets, it becomes clear that many of the buildings are made of brick or framed in wooden beams, and they reveal a lot of character up close.

We stayed for a few nights in Thamel, the tourist heart of Kathmandu and if I had it to do over, I would have changed that. All of the top-rated restaurants and hotels are in the Thamel neighborhood, but that seems to be a function of the volume of reviews more than an indication of real quality. It’s a vibrant, busy section of town buzzing with rickshaws and cars and people scurrying everywhere, but it’s overrun with tourists. The last thing I want to see when I’m exploring Nepal is the wandering hippie bullshit like Sublime t-shirts, hemp bags, and stereos blasting Bob Marley. Nepal still attracts a lot of trekkers, backpackers, and wandering souls with dreadlocks and that’s cool, but after a night, I wanted to bump into different people, so we wandered.

We spent our time alternating between precarious neighborhood strolls around the markets and Durbar Squares in Kathmandu and Patan, and more serene stops at ancient places of worship. If the streets were dirty, the people with their bright smiles and welcoming nods more than made up for it. Everyone greeted us with a pleasant “namaste” and the locals were friendly and warm everywhere.

While the markets and local neighborhoods were fun and colorful, the real breathtaking experiences were all found in elevation and stillness.

The Changu Narayan temple was badly damaged in 2015′s earthquake, and a local home stay owner told us that the number of daily visitors has plummeted since December 2015. Repairs and restoration are underway, but the side effect of this devastation was that we had the place nearly to ourselves. I spent a good long while just sitting in silence and looking up at this Hindu temple that’s so old that I can’t get a straight answer as to when it was built. 1500 or more years ago seems to be the best guess.

Further out, up a winding road with too many hairpin turns to count, I caught my first glimpse of the Himalayas and the view was spectacular. A hill station called Nagarkot features hotels and restaurants for trekkers, but keep following the road up a ways and you get to the Tower. At an elevation of 7,200 feet, the Tower offers a great, serene view of the nearby portion of the Himalayan mountains. My travel companion Melissa climbed the ladder up the tower for the best panoramic shots ever, but again I just sat quietly and soaked it all in.

I’m not a Buddhist, a trekker, a hippie, or even a nature lover, but seeing that clear blue sky and those snowcapped mountains rising high out of the smoggy valley was a special experience. It’s perhaps the first time I’ve ever gasped at the way the Earth is majestically indifferent to the people running around polluting it.

But my favorite moment of the trip came at the end of climb up the steps to the Swayambhunath temple. The stairs are no joke. You have to really want to get up to the top, which somehow made everything we experienced at Swayambhunath seem special.

The Stupa itself is huge and impressive, surrounded by prayer wheels and doors concealing idols. By mid-morning, the area was full of souvenir stalls, trinket sellers, and tourists but we arrived just early enough to spend a peaceful hour with the space, some pigeons, and devotees.

Then, amidst the relic shops, I finally stumbled upon what I had (jokingly) come to Nepal to find all along: The Crossed Dagger of Adjanti!

Brother Numpsey was nowhere to be seen. The man selling these artifacts kindly informed me that the crossed dagger was in fact an old medical tool used (somehow) like a stethoscope.

If you’re planning a trip to Nepal, Kathmandu is a must. But for the best experience, get up early, hit the ancient places of wonder, the smaller temples and shrines everywhere, and then get out of town to see the countryside that gave birth to the Buddha, the world’s tallest peak, and a history far richer than the city alone reveals.

[curryjeanes]

Swayambhunath. Up 365 steps on a hilltop in Kathmandu, Nepal