Trinkets in the River: a Story about Death

I was in one of the most sacred sites in Nepal, a small village south of Katmandu called Pashupati.  I had spent the morning wandering the hillside behind Pashupati’s most important temple complex, which non-Hindus were not allowed to enter.  By looking at my map I could see that if I walked down the hill I was on, I would be able to look across the Pashupati River, which enclosed the temple complex in the back, and see most of the religious site’s structures.  The hills behind Pashupati are forested, and even as I approached the bottom of the hill I still could not see the temple.  As I continued downward, the gentle swish of water in the river passing slowly away forever grew louder in my ears, and I began straining to see through the trees. Continue reading

Traveling and the Language Barrier

I met the man in the photograph above in Namche Bazaar, Nepal. Namche is a town in the Himalaya on the trek to Everest base camp, and it hosts a large Saturday market full of color and endless photographic opportunities. This particular man came up to me, and said . . . something. It could have been the most profound thought anyone has ever said to me. It could have been a fart joke. Continue reading

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