Kathmandu is a city that overwhelms the senses. From the moment we stepped outside the shelter of the airport it hit us like a hot blast. Just getting out of the customs room was like being an air molecule trying to leave a room via a keyhole: people were rushing through and it wasn't clear who the customs officials were looking at. When we stepped outside, there was a small, empty street, and about fifty Nepalese-looking people apparently waiting for buses. How to get to town?

Taxi

Out of the crowd stepped a young boy, 17-18, and a couple of accomplices. "Taxi" he said, and gestured for us to follow him. So we did. One of his buddies tried to carry my suitcase, holding part of the strap as I carried it. "No" I shook my head, "I'll carry it." We both carried it for a way, despite my protests until finally he gave up and let me carry it. The "taxi driver" led us across a dirt lot and down a little hill to a parking lot full of beat up old cars. They grabbed our bags and threw them into the trunk of an old Toyota.

"Yasko kati?," "how much," said Brad. "Where?" they said. "Tamel, how much?" "Three dollars per person." Not only did they speak more English than we expected, but they also spoke "American dollars." We had just waited in a long line to get rid of our dollars. But I have to admit, three dollars sounds like a lot less than 60 rupees. These guys are no dummies when it comes to bargaining.

"No, no, no, too much. We'll pay 3 dollars total - 1, 2, 3" pointing to each person for one of the dollars. "Do you understand?" "Yes, yes, ok" he replied. We repeated the gesture and again he agreed. So off we sped.

Traffic

Before I describe the taxi ride, I'll describe the streets of Kathmandu. These are narrow streets, teeming with people, bicycles, motorbikes, dogs, cows, cars and buses. Each is moving as fast as possible, but always giving way to the larger object, with the exception of the cows, which are sacred. Someone who hits and kills a cow will be thrown in jail for 12 years. Moo!

As the taxis, cars, bicycles and motorbikes are making their way through the crowds, passing literally within inches of the people walking in the streets, they all continuously beep their high pitched horns, or ring their bells. Cars beep at other cars, bikes and people. Motorbikes beep at bikes and people, and bikes ring at people. The street is a noisy place.

We sped off on the first of our wild rides. It really can't be described, but imagine a small car, beeping like crazy, speeding as fast as possible through an incredibly crowded street. Nobody dodges out of the way but nobody really looks either, yet somehow all the obstacles have flowed out of the way before getting hit. The basic technique is to travel in the center of the road, no matter who you are. If something bigger (and faster) approaches from behind (beeping), then you move left a little, enough to ensure that something that big can get around you on the right. If there is traffic in the opposite direction, then the whole flow pulls momentarily to the left, after passing, back to the middle again.

Crossing the street can be tricky. I don't think I've yet seen a car yield to a person, but the game of chicken is still played. If there is room for the person to cross in front of the car, he does. If not, he acts like he's going to, then he crosses immediately behind the car. There is one exception to this rule. As in fluid dynamics, if the crowd waiting to cross the street gets too big, eventually they will overflow across the street because there simply isn't enough room for them not to. Still, this only occurs when a less tenacious driver is passing. Today there were large crowds due to the political convention in town. One of our drivers took on the crowd in a major way. He would actually plunge into a crowd at top speed, beeping his horn, as they were crossing the street. He made it clear that he wasn't going to stop, so they moved, briefly, until he had passed. On another occasion he sent a woman and her children scurrying. Have you ever seen a duck with ducklings accelerate as you approach them? It was exactly like that.

Taxi Driver

But back to the first taxi ride. This poor driver, who we initially believed to only know enough English to get us into his car, turned out to speak very well. First he tried to convince us that we needed a guide for our trek. Then he pointed our all the landmarks and explained to us about the political conference that was taking place. He gave us advice on hotels to stay in, and took us to several. He stopped at each one, only to discover that it was full. At each he would run inside with me and question the owners for me. Finally we ended up at the Panorama Hotel. Inside the hotel we ran into a kid who had tried to get me to go to the Panorama in the first place. (He did this between the encounter with the taxi driver and the guy who tried to carry my bag.) He smiled and basically said "I told you so." We ran into another couple from our plane who had gone through tourist information to arrive at the same place.

But we got a better tour of the city, including long delays because many streets were closed or converted to one way because the King was making an appearance. So we gave the driver 5 dollars instead of the 3 we had so carefully insisted upon.