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Published: March 23rd 2011
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Ok, so it doesn't have quite the same jaunty ring as the They Might Be Giants’ classic "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)", but humor me. It seemed like a good idea in the moment.
The name issue, though, does get at the heart of something I learned on my recent trip to Nepal: that Kathmandu is a whole lot more complicated than I would have ever imagined. First of all, today’s massive urban sprawl that is often labeled with a blanket “Kathmandu” really is several different towns and cities that have merged into one. So Kathmandu proper is really only a small portion of what you see when descending through the crazy machinations required to land at Tribhuvan International Airport. That Kathmandu is the Kathmandu that was Kasthamandap, named for a wooden shrine set in the city’s Durbar Square…but I’m getting ahead of myself. Moreover, several of the cities that comprise greater Kathmandu were actually independent city-states in earlier days. Each with their own king/royal family, each with their own Durbar (Palace) Square, each with their own cluster of Hindu temples. So close, yet so not.
As it turned out, I was not going to be staying in old Kasthamandap/new Kathmandu,
but rather in the rival former city-state of Patan (also, known as Lalitpur – names, names!). * The border between the two: the pungent trickle that is the holy – but highly polluted – Bagmati River. You can easily walk from one medieval city center to the other, passing through the jumble of 21st century Kathmandu along the way (which I did, actually). I almost could imagine the kings throwing spitballs at one another; the kingdoms were that close.
Thus began my crash course in the history of the Kathmandu Valley specifically and Nepal generally.
***
Nepal is one of those places that people have heard a lot about. They know that it is draped on the Himalayan Mountains (encompassing 8 of the 10 highest peaks in the world) and the climbers who have scaled them (such as Edmund Hillary). Everyone knows Mt. Everest specifically; most are aware of the Sherpas and Gurkhas. Others might know of it as a major stop on the hippie trail in the 1960s and 70s.
However, Nepal proved too wonderfully enigmatic to be neatly defined by just its mountain imagery and a few colorful characters hanging around in tie-dye.
Since
I was based in Patan/Lalitpur, my first excursion was to its Durbar Square. This was a little backwards from most tours, since the majority of visitors stay in the Thamel neighborhood of Kathmandu proper – they start with Kathmandu and then work their way outwards; I worked my way inwards. I walked into the medieval portion of the city with Phil’s friend, G. On the way we stopped at the temple for the living goddess of Patan, the Kumari, a young girl who is considered divine and will be until the day she first bleeds (either with her first period or simply from getting a cut). I had heard of the Kumari before coming to Nepal, but I was startled to find that there are actually four of them scattered through the old city-states of the Kathmandu Valley. Patan’s Kumari decided to be coy, and stayed out of sight; but I as I looked up at the window of her chambers I couldn’t help but wonder what her sheltered life must be like – as well as wonder what each goddess goes through upon losing their divine status. How do you reenter society having once been a goddess? It can’t
be easy!
Visiting the Kumari Temple also began the process of opening my eyes to just how much spirituality/divinity bleed into every nook and cranny of Kathmandu. Anyone walking around the city will quickly notice that there is a shrine almost every few feet. Some are enormous, ornate Newari-style pagodas**, some simply small indentations into a wall. Many of the smaller idols have been rubbed in veneration so much, coated in so much red powder, over so many years that they have lost all sign of what they once were. Only the memory of their holiness lingers. A visitor also quickly notices that religious boundaries are much blurrier in Nepal than in the “West”. Hindu and Buddhist shrines intermingle, even merge; at times it was impossible to tell which was which, and somehow that seemed, at least to me, sort of the point.
As I was thinking about such things, trying to take in the sensory overload of Patan’s street life, I was almost taken unawares by its Dubar Square. Suddenly it was in front of us, and I caught my breath. It looked like something out of a Nepali fairytale, a jumble of some of the finest
architecture in the valley. Even at first glance, it was easy to see why it would have become a UNESCO world heritage site. But as G and I walked between the temples and into the palace courtyards (as well into the excellent museum in the palace itself), I became even more enamored. I actually feared seeing this Durbar Square first would ruin my impressions of the other historic cities. But I needn’t have worried; each had its own unique charm and allure.
***
The second medieval city-state I got to see was Bhaktapur, a little further from central Kathmandu. Phil arranged a day trip, since two other teacher friends were also visiting; we piled into the van and off we went, traveling a few centuries back in time on the way.
A major difference between Bhaktapur and the other two former city-states is that most traffic has been banned from the medieval core. This doesn’t mean it is completely-completely pedestrianized, as there is the random tractor or motorbike zipping by. However, for the most part it is foot and donkey traffic only, making for a more relaxing exploration.
Bhaktapur’s Durbar Square is perhaps not as fine as
that of Patan (in part due to the fact that a large portion of it was destroyed in an earthquake in 1934, so it lacks the density of temples the other two palace squares have) but the overall town is much better preserved. You get a better sense of what the old city-states were like as you wander the narrow streets, discovering almost by chance the various squares that string through the town.
My favorite part was sitting in the second story balcony of a restaurant overlooking Tachupal Tole, one of those squares. Farmers drove by on their narrow tractors. Monks strolled by deep in thought. Children filled up water containers from the fountain. The occasional tourist gawked at the temples. I could have sat and watched such human activity all day.
(Ok, I also took an adolescent enjoyment out of seeing the rather explicit carvings that adorned the Erotic Elephant Temple...)
***
Finally: Kathmandu. Which was Kasthamandap.
On one of my last days, I walked to Kathmandu’s Durbar Square and the original Kasthamandap from Phil’s home, perched in the hills of Patan. There, as with the other medieval centers, I was overwhelmed by the buzzing
activity of the temples (though again I failed to see one of the Kumaris!) and the beautiful architecture.
I was ending where most start, but I was not disappointed. In some ways, I felt like seeing Patan and Bhaktapur first made it easier to appreciate the gorgeous chaos of Kathmandu’s old core. At least it gave me a broader perspective.
Kathmandu might have been Kasthamandap, but it was and is so much more.
"Kathmandu was Kasthmanadap/
Now it's Kathmandu, not Kasthmanadap/
Been a long time gone, Kasthmanadap/
Now it's Nepali delight on a moonlit night!"
*Specially, I was staying with my friend Phil, head of an international school in Kathmandu; he has a beautiful home set in a quiet corner of a residential neighborhood in Patan.
**The Newaris are the “original” ethnic group of the Kathmandu Valley; they were the ones who established the kingdoms of the area.
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