[Kathmandu, 10/29/25]
Walking a couple miles, I got a last look at everything, that square with the serene stupa and Tibetan temple, KTM Burger, Fire Café, Bueno Burrito, the early morning chai place that made me feel so at home on my first morning, 4 Square with Sumitra mopping the steps, the Indian beggar in his NIKE knit cap, Saroj’s store, founded in 1943 by his grandad, where I bought more treats and yak cheese. I passed too many gorgeous neighborhood temples to count. I moved too fast for stray dogs to say goodbye or curse me for leaving them.
With plenty of time before my flight, I asked the taxi driver to leave me outside the airport’s gate. Thirty-seven years old, he’s been driving 15 years. Though his village is only 100 kilometers away, he doesn’t have to go there since his parents are dead. Only his 55-year-old brother remains.