not even in chronological order. disgraceful. but i wanted to write about kathmandu, where everybody knows your name. each time i return (currently on my third revolution) i feel like i'm on cheers. probably one of the reasons that i am so recognizable is the "holy cow fiasco." but we will get to that when it comes.when i first stepped into the streets of thamel, the tourist district in kathmandu, i approached catatonic shock. it was like bangkok divided by india. on drugs. rickshaw drivers grabbed my arms, men shoved travel agency advertisements in my face, children grabbed my leg asking if i wanted hashish. somehow, over time, it's turned into a sort of home. this is probably due to the sangria, coffee, the international herald tribune, familiar friendly faces, amazing thai, mexican, italian and japanese food and the traveler's culture that i love and love to hate. 
there is so much to do and see, and so many pictures to upload, but while i have many photos, i do not have endless patience. so, one of my favorite places in the kathmandu valley is bhaktapur, a pedestrian city with old architecture (tons of newari-invented pagodas), which i visited on gai jatra, the cow festival. the hindu celebration is dedicated to those who've died in the last year and the scores of parades are punctuated with mobile shrines to the deceased. newaris, a nepali ethnic group, believe cows will guide the deceased in the afterlife and the celebration is a raucous, dancing, singing event. (it's especially good luck to be holding a cow's tail at the moment you die. you know, keep that in mind). since bhaktapur is the best place in nepal to celebrate, i obliged. after wandering the streets, chatting with people who greeted me with, "you look nepali!" (i seriously hear this ten to twenty times a day), and pretending to be a photo journalist, i was stoked. boys in ascending order of age marched, two by two, hitting sticks together in a rhythym with drummers and horn players following. groups of dancers followed, stopping frequently to perform varying dances. the excitement and happiness that only occurs when i feel a part of something, connected to someone, in another country. it's the romanticism. it's why i travel. and, as all romantic moments, reality quickly set in.
i stopped at a converted pagoda to have a famous bhaktapurian lassi (amazing yogurt drink that is pretty much like heaven) to find my wallet gonz-o. the shaky hot feeling set in as i emptied out my purse on the table. i bolted out, through the throngs of people, in search of a way back to kathmandu. i thought of the time during college that i panicked when i thought i lost my wallet and cancelled my video update card. this was a bit more pressing than that. now, i think obstacles are experienced for learning purposes, and i thought that as i ran in the afternoon heat. keep cool. as in other crises in traveling, i only made use of emotion to garner understanding or empathy. however, fabulously, i found goodwill everywhere. the people letting me create a credit system at restraunts, the internet cafe. especially the amazing ron humm. things were learned, of course. i intend to be more gracious with people in the future (as the westerners were actually much less kind and helpful than the nepalis. we are suspicious of everything, yes?). i am now experiencing what travel was like before the golden age of plastic. mainly, i have stopped ridiculing people who wear money belts. and... fannypacks. 
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