Kathmandu Jesus
My first day in Kathmandu I wandered the streets of Thamel, the “tourist ghetto.” There were people from all over the world, many in flowing clothes with thick beards. Many like to consider themselves spiritual, giving special greetings with huge smiles to my monk friend who only found them bizarre.
One in particular, though, was really into it. He had a long beard, and was wearing a series of Nepali blankets and sandals. His head was covered with a pashmina, and he had feathers in his hair, along with a feather in his hand. He wandered the streets with an angelic look to his face.
I passed him several times that day, as I got easily lost and ended up wandering in circles. Each time I passed, he gave me a serene smile, but I’m not sure if he actually saw me.
That night I went to a pub for a presentation on responsible tourism put on by an Israeli NGO. He was there, sitting awkwardly by himself, staring around the room, occasionally shovelling handfuls of popcorn into his mouth and beard.
For some reason, I’m always running into people with Jesus complexes.
