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Although it was disconcerting to be back in the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu after the relative quiet of Kolti, we were eager to take in the sights on our day off. I was struck by Kathmandu's colorful contrasts, where teenagers chatting on cell phones sit on the steps of ancient temples, and where traditional artisans ply their wares at trendy shops and tourist hotels.
 | | A bird's eye view of the Himalayas, which lie along Nepal's northeastern border. |
We first joined an early morning tourist flight over the Himalayas, home to eight of the world's 10 highest peaks, including Mount Everest. Though only about the size of Georgia, Nepal would equal the area of the United States if its mountainous terrain could somehow be stretched flat. The airline provided a folding map of the travel route, which I tucked in the seat pocket in front of me for easy reference. The tiny triangles on the map did not do justice to the peaks rising up around us. I traced the route with my finger as we passed Dorje-Lakpa, Cho-Oyu and Pumori, hoping for a glimpse of the elusive peak of Everest, often hidden by clouds by this time of day.
We were lucky: within minutes, the captain called our attention to the exposed summit of Everest, peeking out from a heavy layer of clouds that obscured its base. The peak looked otherworldly, a jagged triangle of snow, ice and exposed rock. In Nepali, Everest is called "Sagarmatha," meaning "Goddess Mother of the World," a respectful and appropriate name given its immensity and grandeur. I suddenly remembered the message in a fortune cookie that I had opened just before departing for Nepal. The small slip of paper prophesied, "Soon you will be sitting on top of the world." The prediction had quite literally come true!
Once we passed Everest, the plane slowly turned and retraced its route back to Kathmandu's airport, which was built on sacred farmland once part of nearby Pashupatinath Temple. Obviously, no one had informed the cows that this was no longer their grazing area, and several lazed alongside the runway, seemingly undisturbed by the plane's noisy arrival.
We continued our sightseeing with a visit to Swayambhunath stupa, a domed Buddhist temple on a large hill overlooking Kathmandu. Also referred to as the "Monkey Temple" for the playful primates living in its surrounding forest, Swayambhunath is one of Nepal's most important shrines. Our cabdriver dropped us off at the steep stone staircase leading up to the stupa, where we joined other tourists and devotees laboring up 365 worn steps to the top. Along the way, we passed brightly painted stone statues, multi-colored prayer flags streaming overhead, and even a few napping sheep.
 | | Swayambhunath stupa, which dates back to the 5th century, sits on a hill high above Kathmandu. |
As we approached the top, the gilded spire and whitewashed dome of the stupa became visible. Painted on all four sides with the tranquil eyes of Buddha, the stupa has provided spiritual sustenance to pilgrims since at least the 5th century. We watched as a few men circled the temple in prayer, moving slowly in a clockwise direction. Outside one temple, a row of butter lamps burned, their flames dancing in the wind. Vendors lined the square, selling postcards and guidebooks as well as relics including Buddha statues, prayer wheels, and thangkas, elaborately painted scrolls. A dozen monkeys, including several babies, lazed in a quiet, sunny corner of the courtyard. We spent an hour admiring the ornate shrines, statues of numerous deities, and chaitya (small stupas), as well as the sweeping view of Kathmandu below us.
To end our day of sightseeing, we taxied to Patan's Durbar Square, which housed imposing Newari temples, ornately carved statues and enterprising vendors all squeezed into a few blocks in the town's center. Patan, just  | | A constant flow of people stream through Durbar Square. |
south of the Bagmati River from Kathmandu, was established around 300 A.D. and rose to prominence as an artistic, cultural and spiritual center. Unlike its larger neighbor, Patan seemed untouched by modernity, with ornate shrines and intricately carved columns and doors in front of many houses.
We stood for a moment in the square, marveling at the spiraling statues, temples and pagodas, some of which dated back to the 14th and 15th centuries. Our first stop was the Patan Museum, a former palace of Malla kings built in 1734, which had been painstakingly restored to its original splendor. Two imposing stone lions, appearing to stand guard over the  | | The Himalayas provide a breath-taking backdrop for sunsets in Kathmandu. |
treasures inside, flanked the Museum's gilded front door. The museum housed a large collection of ancient Buddhist and Hindu sacred artifacts, including cast bronze and gilt copper statues, traditional handicrafts made in Patan for centuries.
Finally, with our energy levels waning, we returned to the hotel to start packing for our return to Atlanta. I found myself drawn to the hotel's observation deck to watch a final sunset over Kathmandu and the distant Himalayas. As I stood in the fading light, my mind replayed all of the experiences of our trip -- the jarring pace of Kathmandu, the lazy, warm visit to the Terai, and perhaps most vividly, the optimism and fortitude of the people working with CARE in Bajura -- and knew that these would stay with me long after my plane touched down in Atlanta.
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