The city was called Bhaktapur, a place for devotees. We had just come off the high of Everest (base camp), both in altitude and spirit, and found it somewhat difficult to adjust to the busyness of this ancient Nepalese town.
Everything here was bright. People, gods, souvenirs, and temples — all dressed in vibrant colors.
The temples were gorgeous and surrounded the city. Tall ones, short ones, majestic ones, humble ones.
But it was the people I couldn’t take my eyes off of. Does she lament or merely accept the troubles life has thrown her way? Is he dreaming of memories of a better time and place? Might she be pining over a lover in distance and heart? Is he looking for his way home?
Where did her years go, and where will his lead? Will they remain friends 50 years from now, and had they sat together on the same steps 50 years ago? And what love stories will these strangers make, as they stand before the old temple laughing over ice cream and sweet nothings?
Tired from our long ride, Olivia and I found a comfortable spot on the steps of Nyatapola Temple to rest and absorb it all. There was this little competition called the World Cup going on, and there was a small scrimmage in the square between Nepal and France.
The scrimmage ended with a European victory, and the boys went back to their own game. The soccer ball they used had a few holes in it, so one boy filled it up with some sand to make it more kickable, which only made it worse. Olivia and I found the nearest sporting goods store and bought the cheapest ball, and received some beautiful smiles in return.
That night we were awoken by the thunderous cheering in the square. Even in my disorientation I knew it had to relate to World Cup. I put on my newly purchased $5 Brazil jersey, and joined the excited crowd watching the Brazil/Chile game on a giant screen that snuck into the middle of the square — the same one that hosted the friendly scrimmage earlier during the day. It had been a very long time (pretty much since I moved to the US) since I’ve been among so many football fans, and I marveled at the strange and euphoric experience of visiting a foreign country and watching two completely unrelated countries play ball.
That was the only night I spent in Bhaktapur, a city I will likely never have the opportunity to visit again. I still remember its vividness, and the smiles we received from the kids, the best gift one can ever receive.
I spent the past few days following up on the earthquake in Nepal. The square where I once watched kids play soccer with tourists is now filled with people who’ve lost their homes and are now seeking safety from aftershocks. It’s tempting to ask why things happen, but most of the time we just have to content ourselves with knowing that it has already happened and now it’s time to move forward.
I hope people find strength in themselves, in each other, and in god if that’s what makes it better. I hope the kids will find their bright smiles again, as children are capable of doing, even in the darkest days. 
This too, shall pass.
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