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Published: October 4th 2009
Bhaktapur - Thursday is Bhaktapur day. Pell and I had been reminding ourselves all week. Now, Thursday had arrived, the children were all off to school; and that’s when we realized. “Thursday is Bhaktapur day.” That simple statement encompassed the entirety of the planning we had done for the outing. We had maybe glanced at a map to get the general idea of where it was in relation to Kathmandu, but ultimately we had done little to no research. Poor Bhesh was yet again approached by these two American simpletons in need of direction. So, Bhesh…how do we get to Bhaktapur? Fortunately, Bhesh loves being of service to people. It makes him feel important. We are eternally grateful.
It was simple enough: Catch a micro to the bus park in Lagenkhel, walk to the other side of the public toilets, and listen for someone yelling incoherently something that sounds similar to “Bhaktapur, Bhaktapur, Bhaktapur!” When you find this screaming maniac, get on his bus. This, literally, is exactly how it transpired. Thank you, Bhesh for your enduring accuracy.
The ride to Bhaktapur is only about 35 minutes or so (much of it very rough and pot-hole ridden) and costs
Nyatpola Temple
the tallest pagoda temple in Nepal. oooo trivia!only 15 rupees. Add the 10 rupees for the micro to Lagenkhel and you’ve got a trip to an ancient city for about 35 cents per person. Why thank you. The bus dropped us in the middle of the city, right where all the historical buildings are located, which was very convenient. We had heard that walking in Bhaktapur is immensely more enjoyable than walking in Kathmandu because there is no traffic. We stepped off the bus, started walking, and found this to be entirely true. This being said, I highly recommend taking a walk through Kathmandu before visiting Bhaktapur. Doing so will heighten your enjoyment of the latter at least ten fold. You will appreciate the lack of burning trash piles, grid-locked micros, buses, cars, and motorcycles all trying to just miss you, and the lung-destroying exhaust and non-stop honking that comes with it all. In Bhaktapur you will feel as if you’ve been transported to a different time—aside from the occasional motorcycle, or tourist sporting a 20-pound camera, silly hat, backpack, sunglasses (and many other very unnecessary items) and tennis shoes with crew socks climbing their calves. One thing I do love about Kathmandu is the fact that
at any time and place it is not uncommon to see a cow meandering down the busy streets. There is no one leading or following her; she’s just a cow out for a stroll in the middle of the metropolis. She has places to go, garbage to eat, and no one will dare question her. This is
her city.
Depending on how enthralled you are with old stuff, Bhaktapur can be either a treasure trove of history, culture, art and incredible craftsmanship; or just another old city. To me it was more of the latter, but I don’t travel for the history; I travel for thirty people in a 12 passenger van, cows walking through major cities, children having dog-fights with kites in the sky, and of course, eating with my hands along side 38 smiling faces. The architecture and craftsmanship is of course impressive, but my interest is held only as long as it takes me to snap a photo. I did enjoy considerably the peace of walking the streets and observing the people who are only going about their daily business, yet are constantly on display as mere accoutrements to this living museum. We foreigners come from
The Last Potter
this is the guy whom i didn't ask about using his wheel. all corners of the world to see a model of ancient times, but often forget that the people hauling baskets of rice on their heads, making pots in the pottery square, or begging us for change, are not just accessories enhancing the display we came to photograph, but are real people leading real lives. Half of their children won’t live to age five, their home may be washed away in a monsoon, the rice and food they carry on their backs for miles to bring home to their families is getting more expensive every day—and still they get up before dawn, pray, and begin the days work that will hopefully ensure they get the opportunity to do it again in the morning.
I kept this truth in my awareness as Pell and I made our way through the historic town, from square to square, palace to palace; taking in the reddish-brown brick streets, the imposing statues, the sky-reaching pagodas and intricately carved temples, the inhabitants in their colorful clothes, and the dog defecating in the middle of the square. We eventually made it to the Pottery Square, which I was most interested in seeing because I had this silly
hope that I could convince one of the potters to let me sit at his wheel and throw a bowl or a vase. We arrived too late in the afternoon though and could only find one man still throwing, tucked away in his shop. I grabbed a photo and almost asked him if I could have a try, but then chickened out because I am lame.
After a bit of lunch and beers in Durbar Square, Pell and I returned from the city that time tried to forget, but couldn’t quite succeed in doing so. I took a nap at the apartment to rejuvenate and then made my way to Ama Ghar to be poked, cajoled and teased by the children. They only had one more day of school before most of them would return home for the Dashain holiday, so I didn’t withhold the Donald Duck voice, and I let them harass me to their heart’s content. After all, it would be a good two weeks before I’d see most of them again.
A few left on Friday, but most of them would leave on Saturday and Sunday, eventually leaving only 10 children in the four-story house
that would soon feel very empty. Oh but not for long…eight visitors from a strange land called California were due to arrive.
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Becky
non-member comment
Glad you're feeling better
I admit I was a bit concerned reading of the foreign fever that had ravaged you unmercifully. Nothing more worrisome to a concerned sister than having a brother being on the other side of the world with a mysterious fever and little by the way of healthcare. So a big "PHEW!" hearing that you're up and around again. Anyway, as you may or may not know, I collect prayer beads. I have yet to poses a set of Hindu or Buddhist prayer beads. So if you can spare the money, I'd love some and be happy to pay you back you when you get here. LOVE YOU!! Sisterface