Five Days in the Kathmandu Valley

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We touched down in Kathmandu after the two-hour flight and stepped outside to find a wondrous fresh air, cool mist, and green hills, all a dramatic change from hot, crowded Delhi. I truly felt I was thousands of miles away from India, though I was less than a thousand kilometers from India’s capital.
The eclectic crowd of travelers was another interesting change. Whereas in India, most travelers are either older women in search of meaningful experiences, or younger Caucasian hippies with nasty dreadlocks in search of meaningful experiences. Both are often disappointed and head for the Himalayas as quickly as possible. In Nepal, however, I found tourists of seemingly all backgrounds and budgets, most looking to trek, although we also found families and elderly couples who were no doubt heading to the animal reserves or relaxed mountain towns. All in all, Nepal is more expensive to get to, but the Nepalese (or Nepalis? I’ve heard both) are much more accommodating of tourists, and one could live quite cheaply once arriving. After a painless process of obtaining a visa, we headed to the closest travel agent, an office located within the airport. We had no reservations, so we decided to trust the tour desk. We arranged the first night in a hotel in Thamel (the main tourist enclave of Kathmandu) and free transport to the hotel all for a very friendly price. I usually never trust a hotel without checking it out first, but somehow this seemed ok.
Kathmandu had, from the guidebooks, seemed like a sprawling polluted, noisy, and terrible place. Whereas it is the only real city in Nepal, with about 740,000 residents, and thus very different from the rest of Nepal, it was a pleasant surprise to find the town friendly and easy to explore. True, the traffic, poverty, and overall congestion of the city was a little disarming, I found it relaxing when compared to Delhi, Calcutta, or even Benares. Nepal itself seems to be one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world, with possibilities for adventure around every corner. It is truly a Himalayan country, and unlike Bhutan or Tibet, it is completely accessible and largely hassle-free. Plus, it is absolutely stunningly beautiful.
We had come at the height of tourist season, and so there were crowds of tourists all over the place. Thamel itself is many things, among them a shopping bonanza, a trekker’s outfitting paradise, a bustling night scene (albeit one that quiets around eleven on weeknights), and a delicious culinary treat, with restaurants from all over the world at cheap prices. For someone just getting back from a three-week trek in the Himalayas, I’m sure Thamel would be both frightening and enticing.
We checked into our hotel, Hotel Tashi Dhele, which was not recommended by our Lonely Planet, but was a great find (not that we found it). For thirty dollars a night, we got a fantastic and spacious room with comfortable beds and a balcony, plus free internet downstairs (although it was in almost constant use by a small Nepalese man with a shaved head). We dropped our stuff off and headed to a tourist agency to arrange some sightseeing. Most people stay in Nepal for much longer than four nights, often exploring the country for months. However, despite the fact that we could not do any trekking, there were still a variety of options, and a lot of things to see just in the Kathmandu Valley. We scratched out an itinerary with the agent and paid for the rest of our logistical and accommodation needs. Dad treated, and I felt both spoiled and reluctant, but I was thrilled to have such a terrific itinerary in front of us, and I knew Dad would also enjoy it.
After meeting with the agent, we headed back through Thamel and walked to Durbar Square. Kathmandu is a fascinating mix of old buildings and new, some structures dating back a thousand years. We found ourselves strolling along cobbled roads and under huge wooden pagoda-like Newari temples. The whole city would have felt very medieval, save for the internet cafes on every corner.
We reached Durbar Square, which was a twenty-minute walk from Thamel. Durbar means palace in Nepalese, and there are a few Durbar Squares in the Kathmandu Valley. The square was not so much a square as it was a magnificent open area where tourists, Nepalese, and vendors could all congregate in a completely ancient setting. Almost every building was at least a few hundred years old, all made of wood (Kathmandu, according to our driver who may or may not have known, means “Kingdom of Wood”) and full of statues. Some buildings dated back a thousand years. People sat atop great stone steps leading to each tall temple, and others navigated through art shops and clothing stores. It was a vibrant place, and despite the presence of hawkers trying to sell us tiger balm (I have no idea, nor want to know, what the aforementioned product is), we had a great time just soaking in the atmosphere. After hanging out a while longer, we headed south of the square, into one of the oldest parts of the city.
We did an hour-long walked laid out in our Lonely Planet, affording us the opportunity to get off the tourist circuit and into the real city. We got lost a few times but didn’t care. Children climbed all over buildings that were older than the United States, swinging from the rafters and laughing. Between these giant ancient structures, we were often afforded glimpses of the green Himalayan foothills, shrouded in a wet mist.
We found our way back to Durbar Square and waited until dark in order to see it at night. We discovered, however, that the place does not light up very well, and though the buildings would seem ghostly and very exotic after dark, the crowds chased away any gothic moods it could have conveyed. So we headed back to Thamel in order to get a good dinner. My Dad wasn’t very hungry, but we ate at a terrific restaurant on one of the main streets in Thamel called K-Too Beer and Steakhouse. It was distinctly untraditional, with a pub feel. But perhaps the eclectic mix of travelers, the lively atmosphere, the variety of food, and the presence of alcohol made it the quintessential Nepal tourist restaurant. The place quickly grew packed with all sorts of people, all friendly. We both loved the place and decided to return before our trip was over. They had great steaks for eight dollars, 650 ml bottles of beer for two dollars, and appetizers for a dollar and a half (and this was all top-end in Kathmandu). Nepalese are big meat-eaters, which surprised both of us because of its predominant Hindu culture. But the steakhouse was great, and we had a great time hanging out and watching the always-interesting street from our window.
After dinner, we stopped at an internet café and then returned to our hotel to sleep. I was excited to see what the next day would bring, happy to be out of Delhi, and ecstatic to be exploring an amazing place with my Dad.
The next day, we had a tour scheduled around Kathmandu via taxi. There were four stops to make: Swayambunath or the Monkey Temple, Patan Durbar Square, Pashpatinath, and Boudhanath Stupa. Each site was located on the outskirts of Kathmandu proper. Dad was still tired from the previous day, and although Kathamdnu was paradise to me, hehad just come from California. After all, Kathmandu is still a big cluster of traffic and pushy vendors. True, it has a very unique atmosphere, it being both a historical city and a junction for adventure-seekers, but I’m sure that navigating the place was exhausting. We had coffee and breakfast and then met our taxi driver at nine in the morning.
The first stop was a collection of Buddhist buildings set atop a hill overlooking the whole Kathmandu Valley. The Kathmandu Valley basically consists of Kathmandu and a few surrounding towns and villages, but from Swayambunath, it all appears to be one sprawl. It looks quite out of place when set against the rolling mountains that surround it, and especially when knowing that the great Himalayan range lurks an hour or two away. But the valley is small, appearing to be about the size of San Jose, and it was quite an incredible sight. The Buddhist buildings themselves were nothing I had not seen before, and I don’t think my Dad was too impressed. But a constant stream of friendly monkeys paraded the complex, and they were quite comical to observe.
The second stop was another Durbar Square, this one in Patan. The buildings were much better preserved, and no cars were allowed to the square. I could not believe how ornately gorgeous the temples and palaces were inside the square. I felt as though I were back in Medieval Asia. We ambled about in traffic-free glory before heading back out to the taxi.
The third stop was a Hindu temple. Nepal has a Hindu majority population, which is something that is easily forgotten by the droves of tourists who come to Nepal believing it to be “Little Tibet.” There are many Tibetan refugees, but Nepal has a distinctive heritage. At Pashpatinath, we got a taste of the full Hindu culture I had not seen since leaving India. The complex was set beside the Bagmati River. The temple itself, devoted to Shiva, sat behind a cluster of buildings and its golden rooftop could only be glimpsed from across the river. I’m sure it was a magnificent temple, but we were not allowed in, seeing as we are not Hindus. Beside the river were a series of cremation pyres, categorized by caste, and most were in full use, sending orange flames and black smoke into the blue sky and obscuring the complex in a haze. I could sense a familiar smell, which I shocking realized after I had left reminded me of a summer barbecue. The whole cremation seemed less formal than in Varanasi (Benares), and Nepalese teenagers swam around in the river as the cremation took place. We were even encouraged to take pictures by local guides. This would have never been accepted in Varanasi. It was an interesting sight, nothing glamorous, and Dad and I were growing tired of the sights. We sat and talked on the steps for an hour or so, which was much more engaging than any of the three sights we had seen that day.
The last sight was both of our favorites by far. Boudhanath was once the resting place of Tibetans crossing the Himalayas, and a site where they could offer thanks for their safe journey. The site dates back to at least 600 AD, and it revolves around the gigantic white Boudhanath Stupa, a magnificent sight. Most experts believe it to be one of the largest stupas in the world. For those who don’t know what a stupa is, it is essentially a half dome set atop a platform, and exists as a primitive kind of temple. Over time, it has become a staple of Buddhist architecture. Atop the white dome was a golden tower, and mesmerizing eyes were painted on all sides. Countless streams of colorful prayer flags were hung from the tower. The stupa itself dwarfs the neatly pleasant settlement that has sprung up around it. Directly surrounding the stupa is a circular collection of brick buildings, most containing shops below and rooftop cafes above, all of which overlook the impressive stupa. Hotels and monasteries are also scattered within. Today, Boudhanath has become a center for Tibetan refugees, and many live around the stupa as well. Thus, the whole are had a very self-contained atmosphere of Tibetan culture marking a stark contrast to the dirty and hectic streets outside the circle. Dad and I sat at one of the many rooftop cafes and had a beer. None of the food was very good, but the view was unbeatable: the giant stupa in front of us, the quaint hotels and shops selling Tibetan handicrafts below us, and prayer flags running like rainbows over the aqua blue sky. We sat and drank our Everest Beers (Everest is the staple beer of Nepal, and is quite a lot better than any Indian beer I’ve had. Or maybe even a Kingfisher would have tasted good from the rooftop), watching Boudhanath hum sweetly.
We left Boudhanath after a few hours and drove back to Thamel. We wandered the area for while, doing a little window shopping and exploring. Dad was getting tired, so we went back to the hotel to rest a little. After a couple of hours I roused him and we headed back into Thamel. At night, the area becomes a genuinely happening scene. There are maybe hundreds of restaurants and pubs packed into the few streets that make up central Thamel, and each had their own colorful signs. There were a half dozen cover bands playing from various third and fourth floors above us, and the shopkeepers were still in top form. The streets were crowded with tourists and Nepalese, all enjoying the excitement and wandering to and from pubs. The restaurants were diverse, ranging from steakhouses to Chinese to Sandwich shops. It was a terrific vibe, and the first real night scene I had scene since leaving the United States in June. Though all of the establishments close by eleven (most tourists have to rise earliy to get out to the mountains or just to avoid traffic), they were swinging when we ventured past.
We found a place called Rum Doodle Restaurant and Bar, which is a famous establishment in Kathmandu, and indeed the world. It was once adorned by Time Magazine as one of the best bars in the world, and the ambience was unbeatable. The place is a gathering place for people to and from the mountains, many on their way to Everest, and the walls are decorated with large paper Yeti footprints, signed by those having just gotten back from a trek. Also on the walls were photos of, I’m guessing, famous climbers, all eating and drinking and sharing stories inside Rum Doodle Restaurant and Bar. There was another wall that was covered in the signatures of those who had returned from the top of Everest. The bar itself was huge, covering two floors and having the feel of a drinking den lost somewhere in the Himalayas. In fact, it was a drinking den in the Himalayas, although it was definitely not lost. There was a decent cover band playing all sorts of classics, ranging from “Come Together” to “Another Brick in the Wall.” The drinks were fantastic (or, fantastic to someone who has not been in India for some time), and I was even able to order a Jack Daniels. Plus, the food was good, and I procured a piece of warm apple pie. I felt as though I had a window into the trekking culture, and many of the people around us seemed to have just returned from some mountain expedition. After an hour or so, we made our way back to the hotel, feeling very satisfied.
Dad and I woke up late the next morning. We had to meet a taxi driver downstairs at nine, and so we had no time for breakfast, and tragically, no time for coffee. We were to visit Bhaktapur that day before making our way to Nagarkot, a kind of resort town on the fringes of the Kathmandu Valley. Instead of a taxi driver, we found a guide waiting for us. Dad and I both groaned. We had said “no guides” to our tourist coordinator. Both of us have the stubborn point of view that anything a guide could tells us about a place, we could find out for ourselves by reading a pamphlet or guide book. Guides are annoying, telling one where to walk, what to look at. Worst of all, the presence of a guide makes it difficult to crack jokes about the area being guided, and so one must trot behind and speak in hushed voices. Guides… But our guide turned out to be nothing of the sort. He was friendly, informative, and best of all, kept his distance, so we thoroughly enjoyed his company. In fact, he probably did us a lot of good. Anyways, we had a guide, and our guide took us to Bhaktapur. We sat in the backseat, stuffing Nature Valley Bars into our mouths rather foolishly.
Bakhtapur was another medieval Newari town, this one being more “traditional” than the last, meaning that the town had learned that by restricting the development and construction of modern-looking buildings, it could attract the currency of wide-eyed tourists such as ourselves as though it employed magnetism. Either way, it was well-maintained, and Dad and I had a great time strolling. We even entertained the guidance of our nameless escort (we had forgotten the name of our guide almost immediately. He did not seem to mind, as he had forgotten our names, too), which, I hate to say, was very interesting, if only because it forced us to slow down. Dad had about three cups of coffee, we both paid ten rupees to a potter for taking his picture (even though he was bogged down in clay and really had no force behind his demand), and we sat and talked with Nameless Guide. He was a pretty cool guy.
Afterwards, we finally escaped the city on our way to Nagarkot. Until this time, each destination had seemed connected to the last by an endless chain of garbage, traffic, and unfinished buildings. It was nowhere to the same degree as Delhi, and I found Kathmandu terrifically charming and enchanting. But Nagarkot broke the mold, and we found ourselves driving past rice paddies, rolling green hills, and fine little Nepalese houses, and all of this under a milky blue sky puffed with fluffy nimbus clouds. Nepal truly is beautiful, I thought. We were dropped off at the Hotel View Top, where we would spend the night in order to await the sunrise over the Himalayas (Nagarkot is famed for having the best view of the Himalayas near the Kathmandu Valley). Nagarkot, situated above 7000 feet, was little more than a collection of hotels straddling the hilltop, but it was relaxing, especially as it was doused in a cool mist that reminded me strangely of winter. The View Top is the highest hotel in Nagarkot, and we, obviously by some mix-up, were given the highest room. Thus, we were effectively marooned at Hotel View Top until eight the next morning, which was fine by both of us. We spent the rest of the afternoon reading in our corner room with its magnificent views, and eating and drinking. It was a fantastic predicament to be in, especially because, we were told, we would be able to see the Himalayan sunrise from our room. We met Nameless Guide for dinner downstairs (he would be taking us on a walk the next morning, and so was staying at the hotel). We had a very humbling conversation with him regarding the difficulties in getting a job in Nepal. It is nearly impossible to get work permit without an established job, and to get one of those, one has to know somebody. Nameless Guide didn’t know anybody. But far from feeling sorry for himself, he studied in his off time, and was working hard to learn as much as he could about computer programming. I felt awkward sitting there with him. I had been able to study abroad in India just by filling out a few forms.
The next morning, I awoke to the disappointed footsteps on the terrace above our room. We could not see the Himalayas, or even a hundred feet from our hotel, because the mist had engulfed the whole hillside. Neither of us cared, however. We were cozy and could have stayed another week in the fog. But we were leaving that morning, so we met Nameless Guide downstairs. Dad asked him his name. It was Robin. He asked us our names. So Ron, Robin, and Ronny set off from Hotel View Point to reach Changu Narayan, an temple about four hours away towards Kathmandu.
The walk, mostly downhill, was superb for most of its duration. We stopped to take numerous pictures of the scenic valley below us, and the terraced hillside full of a variety of crops all around us. Robin was a good sport, waiting for us patiently. He even answered all of Dad’s questions, ranging from, “What is this?” to, “What is that?”
At one point, two little boys ran up to us and tagged along. The two began to alternately ask us for chocolate and then sweets. It soon became a kind of chant, which continued for about five minutes, complete with tapping of shoulders. We were carrying empty water bottles, and after a while, the boys’ attention turned to the bottles. We were eager to shake them off, and offered them the bottles, which they immediately used to bash each other on the heads. We quickly realized that we should not have done this, as they returned shortly, the bottles mysteriously absent. They continued their chant of requests for a few minutes more before losing interest. After they had left, I wondered whether Robin had noticed, and whether he would have been disappointed or not that we had not given anything useful to the boys.
We reached Changu Narayan around noon, which sat at the tip of a hill, a small wooden village below it.The surrounding village was mostly devoid of tourists. Dried corn hung from many of the buildings, and small puppies played on the cobbled road. The temple itself was close to five hundred years old, made of wood and adorned with gold statues. It was peaceful and almost serene. We spent a small amount of time recuperating from the hike before getting back into a taxi and departing for Kathmandu. At our hotel, we said goodbye to Robin, feeling strangely indebted to him.
That afternoon, Dad and I did some shopping, used the internet, and not much else. We were tired, but also just wanted to enjoy Thamel. It’s an infectious area, exhausting at times, but always interesting. We bar hopped that night for a while, which included a “Mexican” theme and good pina coladas, and then went to bed.
We woke at five the next morning and made our way to the domestic airport terminal, about a half hour away. We were going to take a mountain flight. Neither of us were quite sure what this entailed, but it was highly recommended, and so we figured it would be a good way to end our time in Kathmandu.
The terminal itself was filled with an exciting and eclectic mix of travelers, some no doubt on their way to climb the highest peaks in the world, others preparing for a relaxing week in Pokhara. The terminal itself was pretty disorganized, which attracted comical disapproval from some of the wealthier tourists. My favorite was an overweight American who walked around with his hand outstretched, holding his ticket. He would ask every white person he saw, with a completely exasperated face, “Are you on Buddha Air?” When they would shrug or say no, he would give them an evil menace and continue on.
We took a bus to the plane and climbed aboard what seemed little more than a sardine can. It fit sixteen people, barely, and required one to crouch in order to navigate the aisle. After some suspicious sputtering and revving of the engine, we were off.
The plane rose higher and higher. Through the window, I could make out the valley growing shadowy, until it was no more than a series of wavy contours. Then, above me, higher than the clouds, I was able to see a towering frozen behemoth. It quickly receded from view as we ascended into clouds. We were submerged in complete whiteness for sometime, and it was a little unnerving. After a few tantalizing minutes, we broke the surface. A vast flat field of clouds stretched before us, and in the distance, as though sowed from the clouds themselves, grew the whole Himalayan Range. It was nothing but clouds, frozen mountains, and a bright blue sky. I felt as though we were in Heaven. We passed the Annapurnas, Langtang, and finally, Everest and Lotse. Everest was the grandest of all, towering above the others and coming to a perfect triangular peak. The whole plane was silent in reverence. I have never experienced, nor ever will experience, anything quite like it.
After a half hour or so of bliss, soaring through the ethereal landscape (for the clouds looked as though they were a white earth), we returned to the whiteness, and the God-like mountains disappeared. We returned to Earth, most of us experiencing the same odd feeling that we would never see that scene again.
Dad and I wandered about Thamel in excellent spirits for the rest of our morning and early afternoon before catching a taxi to the airport. We spent an hour or two in the hot and crowded waiting room of Kathmandu International, and then boarded a plane to Delhi. We took Air India, which I thought was a much more comfortable alternative to Jet Airways, for anyone looking to go to India soon. The food was better, and the flight crew was very accommodating. More to the point, they served Heineken.
Returning to Delhi, I found everyone to be very nice. In fact, I felt fond of the place for a few hours. There is still a lasting warm feeling in my chest. I don’t know where it came from. Maybe it is the knowledge that everyone in this country is human, just like myself, which is something that is easy to forget in a foreign place. Anyways, I got a message from an irate commenter on my blog requesting that I vacate the subcontinent as quickly as convenient, due to my whining and my inflammatory remarks regarding India and Indians. I reread my blog and realized that I have been harsh at times. I don’t take anything back that I said, because India is fair game for a tourist’s observations, just as any other country would be. I will, however, try more consciously to reserve judgment.

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