Little men scurry to help pick up my luggage and of course want a small tip…under his breath the man says….”American money” which I politely say, no. Wel-come to Nepal!  I Experience a first time when the taxi is not waiting from the hotel.  No phone, no information center.  BUT many more people wanting to “help” for a small fee of course.  I engage in a conversation with a young man who walks off, pulls out his Chinese made Iphone and calls the hotel for me. Madam they are on their way ..”American money”?

A blood red sun hangs in the sky as I am on one of my last motorcycle rides in Kathmandu. As big as a harvest moon I see bits of it between buildings as it slowly slips behind trees. LOOK! I loudly proclaim to my driver whose breath is also taken away. Hurry so we can see between buildings I shout as we zip in and out of smog filled traffic. A truck ahead veers to the right and coughs its black smoke at us. I am so glad I have my purple and pink scarf wrapped around my head and face so that only my eyes would show if I did not have my sunglasses on! The dark sunglasses hid any resemblance of man or woman as my black leather jacket flapped in the wind. Protection of leather or feeling cooler without it and I chose hot! We hurried along but could not maneuver between vehicles fast enough to get to an empty spot. Quickly it was fading. We made it back to the house, climbed the steps and got on the porch to see it in a fraction of its size slide behind the mountains. Another day perhaps.