Allison and I were headed for Kathmandu.  We had been staying in the same hostel in New Delhi and decided to join forces on our trek.  She was a short, curly haired lady and I was tall with long brown hair.  We stayed in a room by the train station and I used the last of my purple paint to do a mural of a big floating purple buddha on the wall.   I wonder if it is still there.

    We got up early in the morning to go to the train station to get our train to Kathmandu.  We knew it would take time to get the tickets and find the platform.  We were early to the spot and settled in on our blanket.   As the waiting went on we got to know each other.  Her father was a musician in an orchestra in New York City.  

    We watched a man bed down an old Brahma Bull with some blankets, hay and water.  They seemed familiar with their nook in the train station.  We snuggled into our blankets too and bought some food from the constant stream of vendors wandering the station.  Allison finally decided to check on the status of our train.

    We had waited on the wrong platform.  We had to go back to the hotel and try again the next day.  No one seemed preturbed about this.  We made it out the next day and got to the border of Nepal and India.  Two men sitting on top of their desks stamped our passports and we got the bus up into the mountains toward Kathmandu.  We made it there in twelve hours.

   The road was so dangerous and winding that there were little shrines to pray at before you got on the bus.  At each stop it was a challenge to find a potty hole with some privacy.  After awhile you really didn't care anymore and squatted anywhere.  They hosed the vomit and dirt off the sides of the bus and added some more cages of chickens to the luggage on the top of the bus. 

    We made it to Kathmandu late at night and found a hostel to bunk in.  There was a government authorized hashish shop nearby and it was very clean with big jars of pot and little scales to weigh out your purchase.  I remember getting stoned and watching some people bed down another Brahman bull.   This one was sick and had a blanket over it and little candles all around.  

     We made it up to the Tibetian border and camped by the bridge going over to Tibet which was heavily guarded with Chinese.   One nice thing about Hippies is that they know how to travel.   I have since lost touch with Allison.  I hope she has fond memories like I do of our long journey.