"The Restaurant at the End of the Universe"
26 September 1999

To my right Everest can be seen in the distance. As I sweep my eyes Westward a panorama of mountain peaks appear one on top of the other ending somewhere in the Annapurna Himal, where two days ago, blisters and all, I, Charles Dunn, emerged no worse for wear.

This afternoon I am sitting on a rooftop restaurant in Nargakot aptly named "The Restaurant at the End of the Universe". From this locale, on the Eastern rim of the Kathmandu valley, civilization ends 100 meters past town. Afterwards only formidable mountains, impossible passes, and lots of snow. Already the temperature has dipped below 5 degrees Celsius. Tonight there will be more snow. It is only the end of September and I stand at but 6000 feet.

Matthew left for Europe today; an unimaginable flight after such an exhausting trek. Our idea is to meet in Venice in 3 days. Mine is to photograph the Darwani ceremony in town before leaving. One hundred and eight goats are to be sacrificed; an orgy of blood in an otherwise peaceful city.

Francis Kingdon-Ward passed through Kathmandu in the early 1920's. Partaking of the ceremony one evening he recalls, "I had the pleasure of slaughtering four young ones. Had my stomach seen meat more recently than July I might have been squeamish."

The village has become silent. The twilight has given way to a black sky with a little less than a billion stars. A moon struggles to escape the grasp of the himalayas; a scene D.H. Lawrence best describes in his 1913 poem "Aware"

Slowly the moon is rising out of the ruddy haze,
Divesting herself of her golden shift, and so
Emerging white and exquisite; and I in amaze
See in the sky before me, a woman I did not know
I loved, but there she goes, and her
Beauty hurts my heart;
I follow her down the night,
Begging her not to depart.