Coming Together in Kathmandu

Timbuktu. Zanzibar. Marrakech. Kathmandu.

To me, Kathmandu has always been one of those mystical ends-of-the-earth places, so impossibly exotic that it can’t possibly exist in reality. So of course it was one of the cities I was most excited to visit on this trip, and the more I learned about it, the more excited I became. Like my own San Francisco, it’s also one of the greatest melting-pot cities in the world, its history, culture, and people a blend of Central Asian ethnic groups, Tibetan Buddhism, and Indian Hinduism. It has also influenced other cultures more than I previously realized. For example, the pagoda, seen throughout Asian architecture, originated in Nepal.

Getting to Kathmandu involved a 6-hour bus ride which wound through misty Himalayan foothills carved into rice terraces and dotted with traditional Nepali villages. The scenery was serene and beautiful; the ride anything but. In a previous post I described the horror of Nepal’s roads and driving conditions. I’m just glad that I didn’t know then what I happened to read in my Lonely Planet guidebook today during a leisurely lunch: you are more than 30 times more likely to die in a bus accident in Nepal than you are in a western country. I absolutely believe it, but I’m happy for the false sense of security (ignorance) I had during those bus rides. I’m equally happy that my bus riding in Nepal is now over for this trip.

Once safely in Kathmandu, our guide led the group on a walking tour of the old city of Kathmandu, a medieval warren of hobbit-sized buildings on narrow winding lanes which open onto neighborhood squares with open air spice, tea, and vegetable markets and Buddhist and Hindu temples. The buildings look ancient, and many of them are more than 500 years old, with some of them up to 800 years old. Most are built in the traditional style, with a small shop on the first floor, several floors of living space above, and a terraced roof which occasionally has a pagoda-style small temple on the top. Distinctive, intricately carved wooden screens cover the windows. Each building nearly stops me in my tracks. In any other country I’ve visited, any of these buildings would be moved into a museum or at least cordoned off and visitors would be charged admission. In Nepal, it’s just another home and sari shop.

Vegetable market & fruit stall in Old Kathmandu

After our quick visit to Old Kathmandu, we piled into the ubiquitous white 3 cylinder Suzuki Maruki taxis for a ride up the hill to Swayambunath Temple. (Yes, I said 3 cylinder, and yes, I said uphill. The taxi I rode in stalled out on the hill no less than 10 times in about half a kilometer. Did I mention that just getting around in Nepal is adventure in itself?)

Swayambunath (pronounced swa-YAHM-boo-NAHT), one of the most important Buddhist temples in Nepal, is also known as the Monkey Temple because a troop of mischievous monkeys inhabits the hill on which the temple stands. The site dates from at least A.D. 460, though it has evolved over time under the various Nepali empires. It’s a beautiful place, set on the hill overlooking Kathmandu. We were there just before sunset, and a beautiful light spread over the city below us.

The eyes of Buddha on the Swayambunath stupa and the view over Kathmandu

Spinning prayer wheels and prayer flags for sale at Swayambunath

Tibetan Buddhist monks and a monastery at Swayambunath

Swayambunath Temple, seen from Durbar Square, Kathmandu at dusk

The next morning was the official end to my first group tour, and also was the morning of my mountain flight around the Himalaya. I was incredibly excited about the flight, especially because it’s been very hazy in Nepal since I arrived and I had only caught the barest glimpse of the Himalaya in Pokhara, Nepal’s resort town, which is set on a beautiful lake that usually reflects incredible views of the Annapurna range. Apparently this is the second-best time of year to see the Himalaya, before the monsoon starts, but the drought this year has depressingly reduced visibility. I described the flight in a previous post, but as promised, here are a few more pictures of the mountains:

Makalu, the 5th tallest mountain in the world and my personal favorite of the Himalayan peaks

In the afternoon, I checked out the other main attraction in Kathmandu: Durbar Square. Durbar means ‘palace’, and every major city or town in the Kathmandu Valley has a Durbar Square, where the local royalty lived. The square generally consists of a palace and dozens of temples, usually including some lotus bud-shaped Hindu temples, pagoda-style temples, and small shrines dedicated to the Hindu deities Shiva, Vishnu, and Ganesh. Durbar Square in Kathmandu has literally dozens of these, so there’s lots to see. It’s also the popular hang out for young, cool Kathmanduites, who sit and chat in groups on the temples’ steps.

Pagodas in Durbar Square, Kathmandu

Rickshaw drivers gossiping in Durbar Square

The temple I was most interested to visit was Kumari Chowk, the home of Kumari, a young Newari girl who is considered a living goddess. She lives in relative seclusion (but with her family), appearing at certain times in her screened window and at annual festivals. She becomes mortal again when she bleeds for the first time, whether at puberty or by skinning a knee, and a new Kumari is chosen. The current Kumari, recently chosen, is just three years old. I didn’t see her during my brief visit to her courtyard, but I did see two young girls who ran down the steps that led up to Kumari’s apartment to play badminton under Kumari’s window. I was really curious about who these two girls were: her sisters? I wondered what it must be like to be the sister of a living goddess. It’s probably better than being the goddess herself, who I’m sure isn’t allowed to play badminton.

After my brief but exciting visit to the city, I was excited to head out to the countryside in the Kathmandu Valley to see the even older medieval city of Bhaktapur and hopefully catch a glimpse of the Himalayas from the ground out in the Newari town of Dhulikel.