Kathmandu Valley
A three hours flight to Istanbul, one last espresso in Sharjah, eight hours more in the air, two pictures taken, a form on a strange shaped sheet of paper, a smiling look and : “Namaste, welcome to Kathmandu!” The minute I went out of the airport I realized I am was stepping into another world, completely different from everything I ever experienced. After seeing monkeys walking unhindered on the airport roof I boarded a right- hand drive taxi to take me through the crazy roads choked with motorcycles, old cars, rickshaws and cows. The strongest survives. The horn is the only rule. The overwhelming noise is the modus Vivendi. Everyone shouts and moves at fast pace, it seems that the whole population of the city has taken to the streets. An amazing mix of Buddhist and Hindu temples, open-air markets, bazaars, air pollution, all terrifyingly crowded. The central area is rich in colors, women dressed in saris and local scents giving you an exotic mix of aromas and sensations. Everything gives you the feeling that everything is out of a time, which flow on by its own rules.