All the way there

by Will

It really starts overNorthern India even at 39 thousand feet. I realized we are no longer in Kansas Dorthy. The earth has a patch work very different from the US. The squares are smaller and more randomly wrapped around each other. They look like a schizophrenic Piet Mondrian (look that one up). There were no visible large highways just hair thin roads. As we descended, the mountain homes had the ripples of terraces farmed and manicured reminding me of the Cape Cod sand bars I watched through my childhood goggles.

Much to my surprise the randomness, the chaos, continues when on the Kathmandu ground. The buildings have a similar patch like appearance, like match boxes stacked on top of each other. There are no traffic lights just the occasional traffic police man. Does any one really listen to these police men? This is a land where the horn rules. Beep beep beep! The natives on their scoters are quite comfortable with what feels chaotic to me, despite their coming inches from hitting our van or pedestrians.

I sometimes tire of the regularity, the tidiness, and the control we have in the US. I feel too accepting of the gated communities, and the green lawns, and what the Dow did today. Kathmandu is a reminder that it is OK to be different; it is after all, just different.

I am starved but surprisingly not tired. Time for my 1st dinner here.

Ciao, Will

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