Collecting Lenses

Pre-empting jet lag of the supreme variety I had set a loud alarm on my first morning in Kathmandu. I needn’t have bothered.

Instead of being roused by the shrill tones of an electronic device, I was jolted awake by the cacophony exploding outside my window. Horns blared, vendors shrieked, animals called to each other in their respective tongues. Gathering my courage, I left the compound of my hotel and was immediately pressed so close to my fellow humans that it seemed that surely we would all bind; a continuous weave of souls in the street. Colour bloomed on all corners. Flowers, not of petals, but of prayer flags, and softly sagging sacks of spice. Every sense was overwhelmed, every instinct muddled. The giddying music of Thamel enveloped me, and even the dust was dancing to the syncopated sounds.

Needless to say, after about ten minutes I was lost. I stopped, for a moment, an islet in the relentless tide. Resisting the pull of the crowd, my eyes fell upon a small alleyway cut into a thick, high wall. Through it, a small rectangle of sunlight could be seen.

I took the chance.

Entering the cool darkness of the tunnel the noise of the street outside immediately soothed, and with every step lulled further. I emerged into a square, hugged by tall walls of red mud brick. A shrine stood in the centre; it’s white exterior ablaze in the midday sun. My lungs could finally exhale. Small children laughed softly, kicking a ball across their imagination’s field. A mother watched on, her washing hanging with fatigue over sagging lines. And everywhere – quiet. It seemed incredible to me that a mere ten metres away, chaos was erupting. I stood, for how long I cannot remember, transfixed.

No matter where in this world you wander, you will find that humans have tucked away small, sheltered harbours, places for stillness and recollection in a continually rolling sea. Although it was terrifying to face the streets of Thamel, I believe that it was only by letting myself be immersed in the swirling undertow that I could be borne on to calmer waters. These are not locations that can be found with your nose in a guidebook, but they are so often the places that resonate most deeply with the traveller. So I won’t tell you exactly where I found this walled oasis; that would be no fun at all. It’s up to you to brave the tide of wherever you travel, and trust that you’ll happen upon a place that speaks to your soul like this tiny square did to mine.