Sights Sounds Smells

It’s amazing how quickly you get used to drivers honking their horns at you. In fact, in just 10 short days, I’ve developed quite an appreciation for the sheer variety of horns, particularly the shrill, melodic, air-horns and their usefulness in saving me from death or at the very least maiming under the wheels of a gaudy transport truck. The thing is, the horns have to be loud to make it over the cacophony of life in Kathmandu. What with the packs of stray dogs barking, the Hindu puja bells ringing, the street vendors bartering, the traffic rumbling, and the throat clearing and spitting, there’s no place for pansy little toots.

Especially when you’re so distracted trying to nail down what on God’s green Earth that smell is. Is it the unidentifiable globule in that pile of rubbish, or fermenting fruit, or whatever skin disease that dog’s got, or the after effects of the curry that man clearly had for dinner? No. Bad, but kind of sweet. A unique blend of garlic and unwashed clothes and incense. And strangely, not altogether terrible…

Which really just compliments the view. Florescent pink fairy floss on a forest of sticks carried like a bunch of balloons. Beggars with twisted limbs and hollow eyes. Lush foliage bursting out of every unlikely brick nook and cranny. Gold and turquoise and fuchsia and red and green saris. Flies converging on a boar’s head and fresh meat cuts at the butcher’s stall. Elderly women carrying baskets of bricks held by a strap across their forehead. Boxes of stereo equipment leaning on ancient Hindu statues.

It’s an assault on the senses – and they love it!