Oh My God

Kathmandu, 2010. The gods must be feeling crazy, scattered all about one of these spindly traffic-choked pedestrian-impenetrable, impossibly choked, decidedly colorful streets. Yes, the stairway to heaven begins at dusty ground level in Nepal's capital city, which is 1,400 meters (4,593 feet) above sea level, and ends, in my estimation, at the top of snowy Mount Everest, the highest summit on earth, at 8,850 meters (29,035 feet). It is then fitting, and perhaps telling, that I am quite sure in this lifetime, I would only make it to Everest Base Camp (5,360 meters, 17,590 feet).

Buying a wooden deity off a tattered, unraveling canvas sheet on the street is one way to stay grounded in Kathmandu, this town of stratospherically extreme personalities. There's really something all of us can and should learn from how peacefully reverential Hindu and Tibetan Buddhist images lounge side by side on these makeshift tarpaulin blankets, so you can take home a piece of peace. This is a culture which believes that if you have one of these carved artifacts in your backpack, you would never fall into a crevasse while trekking the Himalayas, nor get washed away with an avalanche during freak snowstorms which make thunder snow on Lake Shore Drive seem like a summer 16" softball game.

The process of playing at buying god - haggling, remaining immune to sob stories, resisting caving in to more purchases - is much more than what you bargain for. Just remember that with street peddler prices, as with the Himalayas' most challenging terrains, what goes up, must come down. Wrap your new life insurance policy in newspaper, then tuck it snugly amid your trail mix and fleece jackets in that expedition pack, so that all of you return to civilization preferably in one piece.

(Please click on the image to see it better!) 

Nepali idol.

 On a street in Thamel, Kathmandu's backpacker and tourist district, Nepal.