Under paved surfaces

Dirt so loose it sticks with you on your shoes on your clothes, in the denim of your jeans, the scent of it becomes your scent, you begin to believe its part of your vision, dirt so loose it becomes a part of your look for a few days, it begins to affect your sea worthiness, and just as you were regaining you land worthiness, this could make for a dangerous limbo. (Just a little water to the shoes fixed this for me but I cant say it will be every ones fix.)
Reaching the location was a caper no tourist should attempt their was an easy way but convenience trumps it every time. under a major highway the sounds can get nauseating so its good to counter balance said nauseating with drinks that contain at least some part alcohol. traveling light is a good idea also.
A distinguished young lady yanks and rips at a pull cord sends a heavy piece of gasoline powered machinery in a violent job accomplishing rumble she walks away and back to the group well postured and calm as if she hadn't just provided power for an entire town of shanty's.
Men lit only by dimly glowing strings of decorative light down in the dusties of the ground, set up archaic analog gizmo's some recognizable some not, some technically advance and some that need a kick start.
Soon enough they begin to make noise and the clashing of the wind breaking vehicles above and the howling of the angst and desperation from their devices and amplifiers unwittingly become a tune.
Poised and collected the man who brought me here an acquaintance from the city in the woods I once resided in assured me as to the normalcy of this whole seen and I took to agreeing with him even though we were most obviously in a part of the city where the sun don't shine to often.

Before to long Katmandu showed up and whisked me and the westsider (a man about town) to a gathering the Westsider knew off, the place was crawling with beautifull women but the walls were caked in trouble. The kinda of trouble you could have fall over on you when you're a white guy and two brown guys at an Asian gang meeting. Soon and surely enough shots rang out and we were forced to scale a wall in a hasty retreat hands and tennis shoes flying all over the place and the sounds of well landed jumps mashed with the sounds of those not so well executed boys urging others to "Bounce" and girls asking for help up. In the shuffle the westsider was lost replaced instead by fleeing underagers who were just nimble enough to get over the wall in time with us. Asians throw one hell of a party to bad you have to leave before the bullets fly back down to earth.