❝AT TWENTY-SEVEN DEGREES NORTH LATITUDE, the countdown begins to visit the Punjab, Odhisa and Varanasi: it will be ten very intense days in India again, and jump to thirty-one degrees like someone who doesn't want the thing. But first, a delicious three-day hiatus in Bhaktapur, the capital of juju dhau, the tastiest curd in the world, parties and masks.
The hotel on this occasion has been chosen with greater success: Peacock Guesthouse, a family business in the heart of the city, in the same square where the Datatraya temple stands, almost for myself these days.
I was very confused, the city preserves intact corners, safe from the growing mystifications of Kathmandu, without a name, and with a more rural charm than the cosmopolitan Patan. Also yesterday and today parties and tablaos. I had a cell phone for a long time immobilized and the camera memory card is smoking (I forgot the other one in Kathmandu). I've blown one of the batteries and yet lately my relationship with Mrs. Canon it goes smoothly down the road.
A whirlwind excursion into the depths of Newari culture by local bus: Banepa y Panauti (probably the oldest preserved Nepali temple in Panauti) and return to Bhaktapur, masks and parties●
Series of masks from the early 20th century collection kept at the Panauti Museum: top row, from left to right: Devi, Bhairab, Indrayani and Ganesh; bottom row, from left to right: Vishnu and Kumari.
