Smoke World [Shannon]

It was getting dark as we climbed. We had a sudden guide, (the young Sudip, whose father was a sherpa who died on the mountain) child beggars clung to us, half-dead dogs ate garbage, raw sewage flowed in the gutters we jumped to avoid cars and motorbikes that fought us for the road, silk-clad women lit stacks of butter candles in dark elephant shrines, Monks in red robes and sunglasses rode motorcycles, (Nepal is Hindu and Tibetan Buddhist), old people banged instuments and chanted songs.

Kathmandu is sensory overload, constantly. The cremation/sewage river is the worst thing I've ever smelled, yet the people smile like angels and say, "If you are happy, we are happy." Everyone's jumped to anticipate our needs, weird. I'd never been so comfortable, yet so on edge at the same time. Everything was ridiculously cheap.

I felt more alive in Nepal than anywhere I've ever been because death was all around. Death is not fear, it's decay, the disappointment of lives cut short and the deperation to avoid that. I feel extremely fortunate to have been born in the West. Nepal would be a god place to adopt a child.