No Parking

I walked slowly back to my hostel on a cool evening in Kathmandu.

Foreigners from around the world dined in outdoor cafes using the Nepali capital as their launching point for visits to the Mt. Everest base camp. It was not climbing season, but they wanted to get as close to the peak as possible to be able to say they did.

Local men sat in small shops smoking cigarettes, drinking tea and playing cards as they waited for late night customers to spend a few rupees or dollars. Either would do. Neither was preferred.

The streets are narrow. One parked car has the potential to create gridlock for blocks. At one end of the wall, painted with the large no parking sign, small cars were tucked in close to hedge rows. At the other end a string of Royal Enfield motorcycles were lined up across the alley from a small hotel. It is an old crowded city and to survive the rules must be bent or stretched to their limits.