302. Monkey Temple

Somewhat fatigued by the high altitude, I retire early but sleep like a baby dreaming of trying on new clothes for some new kind of work. Friends are helping me choose. I even get a dream haircut but regret it in my dream.


In the morning, ringing my bike bell constantly like everyone else, I thread my way through the Katmandu traffic—lots of pedestrians but few cars or bicycles. After a few minutes of peddling I am alone on a paved country lane leading up a hill to the gilded tower of the famous “Temple of the Monkeys”.


I lean my rented bike against a tree where a footpath to the temple begins and start to climb. A picturesque outcropping of stones and trees catches my eye and I leave the main path and walk over to them. The larger stones have mysterious symbols carved on them, the smaller stones and pebbles between the twisted tree roots are smeared with vermilion paste. The air is pine-scented and fresh. Shadowy monkeys appear on rock ledges high above me. I think this little natural shrine suits me better than the big golden one further up the slope so I sit and spend some quiet time here drawing and thinking and save the celebrated sanctuary on the summit for another day.

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