Not from me, but from Roxy Cruz '09, who is on a Fulbright Fellowship in Nepal. She just updated her blog with tales of her fascinating life in Kathmandu. Those of you with Pitzer study abroad programs in your future should give it a read; those with Nepal in your future should commit it to memory.

But Shivaratri was the most intense time and atmosphere there that I have experienced. Throngs of people, music, smoke, games, fires, pujas, bajaans, chillums, ganja, prasad and excitement from every corner of everywhere. Shivaratri lacked the whole commercial-consumer-goat-sacrificing-new-appliance-buying atmosphere that Dasain had. It was refreshing. I think it is by far the most fun and lively holiday I have experienced yet.

As Sadhus come to stay there beginning a week before the actual night of Shiva, I also began my daily visits to Pashupati a week early. I talked with Sadhus (sometimes called Babas) from all over Nepal and India. We sang songs in bajaans, did puja, and ate prasad in honor of Shiva. The Sadhus that spend time in the Himalayas had incredible stories and oral maps of sacred lakes and temples to share with me. Many gave me advice on sleeping, eating, and my lifestyle in general. One even told me Yoga shuru garnu parchha, that I needed to start doing Yoga because he could see my body aging too quickly.

From her blog's inaugural post:

By in it, I mean life in Kathmandu:

Constant nonstop traffic. People, cars, buses, microbuses, taxis, tuk tuks, rikshaws, motorcyles, scooters, bicycles, dogs and cows moving in masses together through both big and tiny streets. Paved streets, unpaved streets, trash, burning trash, holes.

Cows blocking traffic. Cows walking in traffic and obeying traffic signs. Cows sitting in trash, eating trash. The saddest looking dogs. Happy dogs. Hungry dogs. Temples and stupas every few blocks filled with people doing puja (Hindu worship). Wearing face masks to avoid inhaling exhaust fumes from the polluted air. Buddhist prayer flags. Women in beautiful saris and brightly colored kurta surhwals.

Young girls in shorts and tank tops. Old women out of the 8th century squinting their eyes as they make their way through traffic. Lepers laying on the sidewalk, begging for money. Little kids on the sidewalk, begging for money. Women from India walking around in tourist infested Thamel holding babies, asking you to buy them milk for their child just so that they can immediately return the milk for rupees. Hard stares from some of the most beautiful faces I have ever seen.

Haggling with taxi drivers. Haggling with street vendors. Haggling with store owners. Haggling. Watching awkward tourists walk around in expensive gear and speaking loudly to Nepalis in english, as if speaking louder will make themselves better understood. Watching those Nepalis understand those tourists perfectly, and then speaking back to them in perfect english in an even voice. The occasional monkey crawling on a building, tree, or stoplight.

The occasional monkey stealing Momos (Tibetan dumplings) right off my plate. Little Tibetan kids playing soccer in between the monks circling Boudhanath. Sadhus (Hindu holy men) posing for pictures in Pashupatinath. Bodies burning at the funeral pyres at Pashupati, and then the remains pushed into the Bagmati river.

All content shamelessly stolen from Roxy's blog.