Nepal - parts one and three, Kathmandu

Since last we posted, our ship came in, our stuff got delivered, chaos ensued, and we went to Nepal. Now we are glorying in a full kitchen and spend most of our spare time wondering what treat to cook next, and which books should go where. These concerns are exciting for us, but likely less so for you.  

So let us tell you about Nepal. Nepal was a surprise trip (for Margaret, planned by Nick) that was full of surprises for both of us. There were good ones: the Dasain festival, a 15-day lunar festival that involves giant, bamboo swings in every village (and goat sacrifices to ensure vehicular safety – thankfully, we missed those), unexpected temples and shrines, a stay in a mountain hut that turned out to be a six-dollar-a-night, all-you-can-eat, farm-to-table restaurant, an accidental run-in with a giant golden Buddha keeping watch over the hills, and a small, beautiful little girl standing outside her mountain house, smiling and holding out marigolds. There were some less wonderful ones: an encounter with two leeches (who knew that there were leeches in the jungle?) and dizzying honking and traffic in Dhulikhel and Kathmandu. But, as our friend Psmith says, the trip was "all to the good." 

But that list is a bit chaotic. For order's sake, we're going to write two separate posts on the trip, one on the trek and one on the city. Let's start with Kathmandu, where we began and ended our Nepalese adventures.

We began our stay in Kathmandu for a night in the dubiously named Chill Out Resort in Thamel district of Kathmandu, before heading on our trek. (On our last night, we stayed at a much more glamorous hotel, called the Yak and the Yeti, which has also been frequented by the queen. At that point, we needed all the help we could get to rinse off the mud, sweat, and other unidentified particles. But more on that soon.)



In a valley surrounded by the world’s tallest mountains, Kathmandu can be stunningly beautiful, but it is also makes for some of the most dangerous landings in the world. Our plane had visibility trouble, which put us a few hours behind our expected arrival after an unscheduled stop in India. On arrival, we found that shops closed up early (the streets are emptying by 8 pm – the city was made for early-to-bed people), but we did find a wonderful little Tibetan Restaurant, where the Chilly chicken was fantastic, and the momos were a revelation in dumplings. Satisfied, we went to back to our “resort,” where – despite paper thin walls and a snorer nearby – sleep was immediate.

Chill Out is in Thamel, which is so tourist friendly it probably wouldn't survive without us. We found some wonderful, interesting things there - but can't tell you about them, since many of them are presents. We also found a lemon tree (yes, according to the locals, those are lemons).



And some gorgeous old wooden shutters on many of the buildings, which Margaret decided were very old, since they looked run down.




But shopping - walking, even - is exhausting in Thamel, and elsewhere. There is lots of noise, dust, and repeated, usually frantic, encounters with moving cars and motorcycles (non-trivial encounters, since there are no sidewalks in most of the city). Drivers use their horns as warning systems. By the end of our trip, we were ignoring them passive aggressively with the best of the Nepalis.

As a result, we were often in search of a quiet oasis. Luckily, one always seemed to turn up when we were in need. Near Thamel, the Garden of Dreams, an odd amalgamation of Japanese and French gardening with some neo-classical flourishes, was everything but dusty and loud, with its green, lush, calm lawns, its little nooks and crannies, and its many lolling people. 

We sat for a few hours, enjoying some coffee and calm.

We went on an excursion to a yoga class at a Hatha yoga studio above 1905, a restaurant on the edge of Thamel. 

And we found the "Five Grains Cafe," a little garden-restaurant down an alley from a busy street. They served us a tremendous second breakfast on our way to see the Swayambhunath, known by tourists as the monkey temple. On our way to the temple, we mistakenly followed a crowd of walkers, who appeared to be on a pilgrimage of some sort. It turns out that it was a health event that only went by the temple - so, after struggling through a slow, sweaty, and unnecessarily large crowd, with children plying us with Gatorade, we needed an escape.  

It was lucky we found a brief moment of calm, because the monkey temple was probably the most hectic place we found. We heard afterwards from a cab driver that it was the busiest day of the year for the temple, which is part of the festival. Here is the entrance.

There are 365 steps to the top, dotted with monkeys who watch the winded tourists lumber up. We thought we detected some disdain in their glances, but perhaps we were imagining things.

When we made it up, Kathmandu was all before us!

And just a little bit above...

The temple was gorgeous, and the monkeys were charming...but it was also a bit mystifying. Important sites in Kathmandu aren't really labeled so that outsiders can understand them. So we walked around, and looked, and tried to match what we saw with our guidebook. We chatted with our monkey friends, and then walked down - a bit unsure of what we'd seen. 

But what Kathmandu loses by not labeling its sites, it makes up for in the sheer quantity of them. There were temples, statues, and shrines at every turn - and whether we could puzzle out what they were or not, we enjoyed seeing them....

And loved the way that history just seemed a part of every day.