Exhaust choked the road and burned in my throat. Long-idling cars turned off their engines. My taxi driver got out of the 3-cylinder Suzuki Maruti for the third time, scanned the road ahead, and got back in, shaking his head and muttering in Nepali. I looked at my watch. It had been 35 minutes since I got in the cab about 4 blocks back.
About 50 minutes into the journey, we’d moved about a mile from where I’d gotten in. A traffic police officer waved my taxi over. After some back-and-forth in Nepali, the cab driver heaved a heavy sigh and told me, “Not possible. Bhaktapur, not possible.”
It seems that the one English phrase that every Nepali involved in transportation knows is “Not possible.
Apparently some strike or accident had jammed the main road out of Kathmandu and thus to Bhaktapur, my destination, a medieval city about 13km from Kathmandu. I thought quickly, thumbed through my guidebook, and asked if he could take me to Bodhnath, a neighborhood in Kathmandu, instead. “Bodhnath possible,” he said.
Though Bodhnath hadn’t made it onto my must-see list, it turned out to be one of my favorite places in Nepal. I was skeptical at first when my driver let me out. The dirt road was full of potholes and the entire neighborhood seemed coated with dust. But then the driver pointed me down an alley and said, “Stupa there. Bodhnath.”
Wow. I walked down a narrow alley, making sure not to hit the yak butter and prayer flag salesmen with my bags. The alley opened onto a large square surrounding the Bodhnath Stupa, the most holy place in Nepal for Tibetan Buddhists. It’s a beautiful and inspiring place, with thousands of prayer flags catching the breeze and dozens of monks walking clockwise around the stupa spinning the prayer wheels, all under the watchful eyes of Buddha. The neighborhood around it, Boudha, is Nepal's “Little Tibet”. It’s the center of activity for Tibetans in Nepal, and many of Nepal’s 50,000 Tibetan refugees live here.
I wandered off the square, looking for a guest house, and smiled to myself as I passed several maroon-robed Tibetan monks who were sitting around enjoying Cokes and chatting at the neighborhood cold drink stand just outside the gates of the monastery. I quickly dropped off my bags, and then spent the rest of the afternoon taking pictures of the stupa and prayer flags from every angle, visiting a couple of Tibetan monasteries, and browsing in the cute shops that surround the square.
Young Tibetan monks
As afternoon turned into evening, I climbed up to the terrace of one of the multitude of rooftop restaurants on the square for some tasty fried rice and twilight pictures of the stupa.
After dinner, I walked around the stupa one last time before bed. The crowds had thinned, but a few monks were still making their quiet rounds, and several women were selling butter candles to be lit as offerings.
The next morning I was awoken early by crashing cymbals, thumping drums, and the chant of “om mani padme hum” – first prayers at the monastery next door. Sleeping in was impossible, so I got up and walked around the stupa one more time and had breakfast on the roof terrace of the appropriately named “Beautiful View Restaurant.” My fried eggs and toast definitely tasted better with a view of the stupa.
I headed back to the road and asked a taxi driver if he could take me to Bhaktapur today. “Bhaktapur yes!” he said, so we set off. I became a little nervous as we headed away from the city on a rutted dirt road that got worse and worse. He must have sensed my confusion because he said something like “Road bad, yes, but no traffic jam!” I suppose it was the back way. I thought it a miracle that the tiny tires of the Maruti navigated the giant potholes and wash-outs.
About 30 minutes later we arrived in Bhaktapur, a timeless medieval city that dates from the 12th century. The old city is closed to most vehicle traffic, so aside from the odd motorbike, there’s not much to remind you that you haven’t really time-traveled to 15th century Nepal.
I was in Bhaktapur no more than an hour when I ran into some of the girls that had been on my group trip, so we agreed to meet for dinner. I spent the rest of the day wandering the cobblestone streets and making friends with the local puppies and baby goats. (I’ve learned on this trip that goats are really misunderstood. They’re so sweet, and will be your best friend if you give them a little scratch under the chin!)
Milk pails for sale in Bhaktapur
Bhaktapur is known for its hand-thrown pottery
A fruit seller with his vegetable cart/bicycle
In the late afternoon I found a roofdeck cafe for a cold drink and some photos (yes, it became kind of a tradition in Nepal!)
Tachupal Tole (Square) in Bhaktapur. Check out the huge chariot used for festivals!
The next morning, I caught up on e-mail in a hobbity 15th century building whose ceilings were barely higher than my head. Can you believe this place has broadband?
After breakfast, I met up with the girls again to head to Dhulikel, a town out on the edge of the Kathmandu Valley. It’s popular for its views of the Himalaya, but unfortunately the smog still hadn’t cleared and the mountain views were nil. It was fun to take the local buses out there and back, though, and I managed to snap this photo of a passing bus:
See, I told you you don’t want to ride the bus in Nepal. Especially on top. With the goats.
This is what you get for $4.50 a night in Dhulikel:
Finally, here are a few random shots from Nepal that I wanted to share but didn't really warrant their own blog post.
A man tending his rice fields at sunrise in Chitwan, Nepal
Women crossing a small river with their water buffalo at sunset in Chitwan, Nepal
How to board an elephant: Chitwan, Nepal
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