July 30th

At 11:30 sharp, exactly one hour late, dear Ram knocks on my door, dripping wet slicker on and fogged up helmet in hand. He suggests that I take a taxi since I don’t have a slicker, but I refuse to let the monsoons keep me from the first motorcycle ride I’ve been offered since I was a junior in high school when both of my parents were so nervous that they waited there for me on the street in front of my house until I safely returned on the back of some cute boy’s motorcycle.

With no helmet, pouring rain and this crazy traffic, I’m sure they would have adamantly refused my current escapade. I pulled the hood of my trusty green jacket over my head, nestled my AAA travel bag between myself and Ram and held on as we weaved in and out of scooters, cars, people and puddles. I just had to stop looking as he skillfully weaved the bike between two moving objects over and over again that I was sure we couldn’t fit through.

About 30 minutes into our ride to Patan, he turns around and asks if I’d like to stop at his home to have lunch with his family. Even though I wasn’t hungry, I give an enthusiastic “yes”! How fun!

His wife serves a huge lunch of chicken, rice, soup, some kind of beans and potatoes. It is delicious. The best part of this trip has been the many times I’ve been received into people’s homes. There is something so intimate about entering a home and being taken in to, not only this person’s inner life, but the life of their culture and, in this case, their caste.

Ram rents out part of his home downstairs to this beautiful woman!




With my tummy and my heart very full, we took off for Patan, where Ram introduces me to his friend at the statue store. Patan is the town where most of the statues are made. It is filled with the sound of metal workers and storefronts exhibiting their shiny rows of deities.

Ram takes off for his shop in Thamel and I spend the next 5 or 6 hours learning about the making and quality differences of statues. So many wonderful people I meet, many who take me up dark little stairways to their shops, or to back rooms filled with extraordinary one of a kind masterpieces. I am served the sweet, creamy Nepali tea over and over again, always welcomed on the rainy, grey day. Finally, it is getting too challenging trying to constantly traverse the slick, muddy alley roads and I head toward the taxis with my packages in tow and all my new friend’s e-mail addresses safely written down in my little black book.

I love the Newari people. This is Hem who introduced me to Ratna Tara, who I’d never heard of. This is her on the left.


These beautiful women helped me buy things for the children.


The big Buddha eyes of Boudhanath stupa greet me as I enter the main gate, circumambulating a few time before I head for my 10 minute walk through the water drenched alleys to the monastery.

I stop to give the heavy prayer wheel a few turns and walk past the garden tables that are shining with the flickering of candlelight and remember that tonight in Monday and the electricity is off.