pugyo: we have arrived!

I sit on one of the many prayer flag- and laundry-strung rooftops here in Kirtipur. I look out at Kathmandu Valley and the great, green mountains which surround it, leading to the snow-capped majesties beyond. I see a student smoking on the roof next door for the second time since a sat down. I see small children biking on another roof across the way. I see a man washing greens in a tub of water, and a family washing clothes in another. I see birds flying from roof to roof and people walking from path to path. Everything I don't see, I hear, as I did all night. I hear cars revving and honking up on the road, at a much slower frequency than in Kathmandu, Delhi, and even Amritsar. I hear music coming from the building next door. I hear the clanging of pots and pans and smell the fragrant output. I hear children whining, shoes scuffling. I hear birds and dogs trying to converse over the incessant sound of human activity, with which they did not have to deal late last night--for the most part. I smell urine, petrol, and breakfast, and I feel the hard stone banister beneath me. I taste only the saliva of sleep, but that is soon to change. Mmm, kasko miTho! How delicious!