Experience Nepal with me.
The First Stop:

　　From my plane I thought they were clouds off in the distance. Then it hit me—these were snow-covered peaks, jutting hundreds of feet above the highest clouds. Even before we descended into the valley of Kathmandu（加德满都）, the Himalaya had cast its spell.

Culture Shock

　　Some cities I love instantly. Jammed in traffic from the airport to our hotel, I realized that Kathmandu was not one of them.
My first foray out into the town did little to change my opinion. Just crossing the street—a feat that locals accomplish without even checking for oncoming cars—I was nearly hit by a bus.
　　Judging from the onslaught（冲击） of street hawkers and beggars, it was clear that I looked like a tourist. Was it my crisp white blouse? New hiking boots? Digital camera and tripod? I couldn’t worry about it for long. There was too much to experience.
　　Within two days my senses were overloaded from the sight of so many temples, the taste of exotic cuisine（烹饪）, the scent of incense, the smell of exhaust, and the sound of honking horns. It was almost a relief to board the plane to Pokhara, our jumping-off point for the trek, and like everyone in the group I was anxious to begin our journey into the Himalaya.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　 * * *

　　Oddly, when I returned to Kathmandu after nine days on the trail, the city seemed to have been transformed. The clamor and frenzy sounded more like music than noise, and people smiled as if they recognized me. I was now navigating the streets with ease, often ignored by peddlers, despite my camera gear.
　　What was different? Yes, my boots were muddy and my blouse was stained yellow from the marigolds（万寿菊） a Nepalese girl had placed around my neck, but I came back from this trek with more than tired legs and dirty, worn-out clothes.
　　Kathmandu hadn’t changed; I had.

The Living Goddess

　　As we toured the temples in Durbar Square, we were introduced to several of Nepal’s deities—Hanuman（猴神）, Kala Bhairab, Krishna—but we never expected to encounter a real living goddess.
　　Tradition holds that Durga (goddess of destruction and blood sacrifices) is incarnate（化身的） in a young girl from a caste of silver and goldsmiths.
　　High priests（牧师） choose the girl based on several physical characteristics, such as “neck like a conch（贝壳） shell” and “eyes like a cow.” Then, to prove she is the Kumari Devi—the incarnation of Durga—the girl must pass a series of horrifying（恐怖） tests.
　　In one test she is placed in a darkened room with severed animal heads while hideously masked men dance around the room and attempt to frighten her. In another the girl must correctly identify items worn by her predecessor（前辈）—a similar test is used in Tibet to choose a new Dalai Lama.
　　Once selected, the girl moves into the Kumari Bahal, the residence of the Kumari Devi, with her family. She leaves only for ceremonial occasions a few times each year and remains the Kumari until she experiences a serious loss of blood or her first period.
　　Standing in front of the Kumari Bahal, we wondered if we would be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the sacred incarnation of Durga.
　　A face appeared in the elaborately（苦心经营地） carved top-floor window, but it was that of an older man. Yes, he assured us, the goddess was present, but certain “conditions” had to be met before she would appear. He also told us that no photographs were allowed. We put away our cameras and continued to wait.

　　The man retreated（撤退） into darkness. When he finally returned, a long and spirited discussion ensued（跟着发生） with our guide. At last assured of our good intentions (and with the help of a small donation), the virgin goddess appeared.
　　About eight years old, with eyes elaborately decorated, the Kumari gazed down on us from her top-floor window. Her expression conveyed an emotion we were not expecting from a goddess—complete boredom.

A City of Contrasts

　　The scene was intense. Rickshas（人力车）, three-wheeled taxis, tourists, and peddlers all squeezed into a too-narrow street packed with shops. I could buy just about anything I needed—trekking gear, a city map, digital videotape—and a whole lot of stuff I didn’t.
This was Thamel, Kathmandu’s main tourist district. Neon signs advertised Irish pubs, Tibetan paintings and carpets, money exchanges, international telephone services, and river-rafting services. Cybercafés and satellite dishes reminded me that Kathmandu had, for better or worse, entered the 21st century.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*　*　*

　　A few blocks away from Thamel, in a scene equally crowded, hand-pulled wooden carts, sacred cows, mangy dogs, motorized scooters（单脚滑行车）, ancient men, and barefoot, snot-nosed kids all competed for the road. Vegetable merchants bartered their wares, piled high and spread out along the ground.
　　It was exhilarating（令人喜欢的） to wander into the “real” Kathmandu. I took refuge on an unoccupied corner as dusk began to settle in. In front of me was a small temple, where a woman was making a puja（礼拜）—ritual offering—of flower blossoms, ringing the bell to alert the gods.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*　*　*
　　　　　　　　　　　

　　As I set up my tripod it occurred to me that my camera was worth five times what the average citizen of Nepal makes in a year. But I was shown over and over again as the trip progressed that, despite extreme poverty and substandard living conditions, these people are spiritually rich beyond

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　摘自美国国家地理杂志