Land Of The Rising Sun
Holly Blackmore
I watch out the window as our plane taxies at Sydney Airport. The sky is an orange-purple light-polluted haze. From several rows ahead of me, the elderly lady still sings to her granddaughter in a foreign tongue, a chant which fills the cabin.
Earlier on, this same lady had been beside me and I pulled smiles at her infant to stop the crying. Later that flight, the tessellated lights spread out beneath me like a puzzle. It is somewhat surreal to touch down in another country, entirely on my own.
The sun rises over Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
KATHMANDU
The mountains loom large from the windows of the plane, and larger still from the banks of the river. A city nestled in-between the slopes.
Thousands upon thousands of spiritual books, maps, magnets and ornaments.
Walking the winding kilometres to Swayambhunath. Glimpses of the urban sprawl between brick buildings. This city stretches for miles in every direction. Eagles soar overhead. I leave some water in a dip between the tiles for either the monkeys or the dogs nearby.
Passing cow after cow on the side of the road. Try to talk to them, let them sniff my hand, pour some water on the pavement. It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. An attempt to sooth his soul, despite the wretchedness of his position.
An elderly lady yells at the goats in the shrubs, waving her stick in a tide of emotion.
My path home leads me through some slums. Here the water is stagnant and disguised by waste. Cows and canines sleep on the piles of plastic; people stare at me from the gaps in their metal structures. The occasional fire on the side-walk. Washing strung over power-lines. A man shaves his face in the rear-view mirror of a taxi.
POKHARA
Two-for-one rum and cokes, followed by mojitos. After a couple of drinks have gone down, the lines between strangers and pseudo-family become blurred. I kick the door of Kate’s toilet cubicle in a wild drunken dance.
Jungle-Book vines drip down into the cloudy turquoise water. The cries of monkeys can be heard faintly. Our paddle cuts through the water like a blade. Look right and you can see the snow-capped Himalayas set against an unusually clear blue sky. Each time one of us moves, the wooden boat rocks and tosses and threatens to tip.
Barahi Temple is located in the middle of the lake. We hire a boat for two hours & take the scenic route.
TRISHULI RIVER
Floating in the shape of Christ down the river, after voluntarily going in for a dip. Bodies being pushed off their boats left, right and centre. The water is the most perfect blue-green, with big grey rocks and layered peaks in the distance. Pulled back onto the boat and collapsing into a frozen pile of limbs.
ANNAPURNA CONSERVATION PARK
The room is loud with various card games taking place.
Stopping for lunch in an airy room on the side of the mountain where the windows are thrust open and the ceiling shelters us from midday sun. A breeze blows into the far end. A ‘lemon drink’ to replenish some lost fluids. The lower mountains are our backdrop through timber window frames.
Our teahouse is on the edge of a cliff and mist drops around us. A kitten meows from the rafters of an indistinguishable structure, and the hills fall away before my crossed legs. It helps for me to take some time to delve inwards, in order to project outwards. I stretch my back up straight and inhale deeply.
As soon as we walk outside, the snowy Himalayas are right fucking there. We wake the others and pull up chairs on the terrace. Wrapped up in sleeping bags, watching first light hit the face of Annapurna South. Our very own Dawn Wall.
We have a homestay where they offer the ‘local’ honey, which is kept in great big logs strapped to the upstairs balcony. Only three teaspoons, as it is supposed to make you trip out. We mix it into our tea and scull the dregs of pollen.
The lure of an open road. Our drive back to Kathmandu is seven hours, winding along the edge of the river.
“We have bigger houses,
but smaller families;
more conveniences, but less time.
We have more degrees but less sense;
more knowledge, but less judgements;
more experts, but more problems;
more medicine, but less healthiness.
We’ve been all the way to the moon and back;
but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbour.
We build more computers to hold more information to produce
more copies than ever but have less communication.
We have become long on quantity,
but short on quality.
These are times of fast food but slow digestion;
Tall man, but short character;
Steep profits but shallow relationships.
It is a time when there is much in the window,
but nothing in the room.”
[ this is a piece I recorded from a store in Kathmandu - I hope it resonates with you here ]