Reading my last few journals here you might get the impression that it has been all work and politics here in Kathmandu. That could not be further from the truth. We have been out and around in the city quite a lot. We spend our nights and eat most of our dinners in the tourist ghetto Thamel while the mornings have been spent going out and being tourists.

Among all of our morning outings my favorite was to Patan. In the Kathmandu valley there have traditionally been three major cities all vying for control of the area. Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur. With all of the cities growing over the years Patan and Kathmandu have essentially grown together and become one city. So to get to the religious and political center of Patan it is just a 20 minute taxi ride from central Kathmandu.

Jeff and I one morning found ourselves up at 5 again (jetlag has been persistent), and decided to take advantage of the cool Kathmandu mornings. We hopped a cab to Patan and within half an hour found ourselves standing in the courtyard of a beautiful Buddhist temple. Temples here, both Hindu and Buddhist, are a sea of sounds and movement in the mornings. Many Nepalis stop by the temples in the morning before work to give puja (sacrifice) or for prayer. Worshippers are constantly ringing bells, spinning prayer cylinders, chanting to themselves, bowing and offering flowers to altars, all of which culminates into a peace quite different from the silence that many other places of worship offer. It is a noisy, bustling peace not a still quiet one and for me it makes me just want to sit down, smile and watch the world go by.

From this busy temple we made our way to Patan’s Durbar Square. Similar to Kathmandu’s Durbar Square (Durbar Square just means Palace Square so it exists wherever the palace is in the city) the square was alive with activity. Contrary to Kathmandu, this activity had nothing to do with us. In Kathmandu we were constantly badgered by would-be-tourguides, rickshaw drivers and even sadhus (holy men.) In Patan we were afforded little more than a glance. It was like we were invisible and allowed just to look in on scenes from Patan’s normal routine. A man sat on the ground surrounded by a crowd of people while he tried to sell medicines and herbs. Close by another man had a small flame and a pot in which he made tea for clients lounging on the steps of temples. Blankets were laid out and covered with vegetables for sale. People fed the throngs of pigeons milling around the square, and everywhere were people going to give their morning sacrifices to the gods.

Maybe I should have made my sacrifice as well, because I might not be a Hindu or a Buddhist but when I have a morning as wonderful as this one was someone deserves thanks.