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We ride in an open-topped Jeep from the small airport into the
heart of Kathmandu. The city is as hot as it is congested and smog-filled. The
narrow streets can barely accommodate the mix of old and young, dark, leather-skinned
natives dressed in bright saris and robes. Cars made in China spit black
exhaust while drivers pound the horn and curse to their Hindu, Muslim, and/or
Christian Gods for the crowds to move out of their way or else be run down. On
both sides of the street, ancient Hindu temples are filled with worshippers
while small fires burn in clay bowls and monkeys use the tall minaret style
architecture as if they were trees in the forest.
The temples are surrounded by three
and four-story ancient wood buildings that look as if you can blow them down
with the gen
