❝ A TWENTY SEVEN DEGREES OF NORTH LATITUDE, No, I don't disown Salgari. Even though I've relegated him to third or fourth place, I'll always remember his sinister Kali and the Black Jungle. Today I got up at five in the morning to go to the Daxinkali temple with Sundar, aboard a packed intercity bus (about twenty kilometers; only time and traffic can tell you how long the journey will take: just the right predictions).
This morning the goddess kali She didn't wake up as bloodthirsty as I feared. Roosters and goats, each species on its own, ended up with their necks separated from their bodies., with a slash or by twisting it without consideration at the foot of the Daxinkali temple, with little architecture, that On Saturdays it becomes a pilgrimageAs I had experienced in Janakpur, not only did I have to walk barefoot around the area, but the ground was completely soaked this time. My feet were freezing, and I had to hurry to put on my shoes and go out to eat. sel roti y put puri, Nepalese delicatessens, with boiling masala tea, by the food stalls that, like a footbridge, line the entrance from at least 300 meters beforehand, alongside others selling animals and souvenirs. Photography is prohibited, but you do what you can.
From the bus, one of those that Pla wouldn't like at all, without a safe-conduct pass or a ticket (no documents, you pay when you get off), on the way back, a very tender scene of a young mother, relatively young, reading aloud a newspaper, as big as a fold-out map of the Kathmandu Valley, in front of her children, one of them with his mobile phone in his hands without paying much attention to her.
