Swayambhunath
I will be the first to admit that the viewpoints I formed during that first thirty-hour sojourn into Kathmandu are about as subtle as a jackhammer. These were not impressions with which I felt comfortable whilst I was traipsing my way around the mountains, three weeks during which I had a lot of time to think and mull and re-read old journal entries. Specifically, the whole light = good / black = bad juxtaposition is so clichéd, so stereotypical, so usually a product of closed-minded and lazy thinking, that I felt shamed at the time. While I cannot say that those first impressions were unreasonably formed – I suppose what makes stereotypes so insidious is that even the worst of them start off with a hint of truth – the truly shameful act would have been had I let those initial reactions become conclusions without giving the city a deeper look. When I returned to Kathmandu, I had five days with which to play around, to explore and to experience; and I was ready to embrace some grey.
Newari Architecture
I will start off by saying that my first brush with Kathmandu was not atypical. Kathmandu is ‘easier’ during the daylight hours. Shops are open, and people are about. Obviously, light provides an advantage to people who want to see where they are going. Night-time is a completely different monster. Aside from within the tourist areas – since foreigners are perhaps less used to having their days driven purely by sunrise and sunset – shops close, markets shut down, and most people go home. This is not to say Kathmandu by night is hard. There are still experiences to be had; they just take a little more effort to root out.
A River of Refuse
What I found was that Kathmandu is somewhat bizarre, a real eclectic mash up of religions and cultures. This certainly befits the capital of a country wedged between Tibet to the north and India to the south. Hindu and Buddhist symbolism is everywhere; with traditions meshing seamlessly as followers of both faiths worship side-by-side, often at the same religious sites. Older sections of the city showcase perhaps over a millennium of history and architecture largely associated with the Newari people indigenous to the Kathmandu Valley. Now, Newar intermingles with Brahmin and Chhetri, Sherpa and Bhotia, and the multitudes of other ethnicities and cultural groups making up the melange that is the Nepali populace.
Kathmandu is also charmingly anachronistic. While it certainly isn’t overtly modern, it was still a shock to discover that scheduled rolling blackouts run roughshod, often denying power to sections of the city for up to sixteen hours per day. Cows walk across relatively new stretches of highway. Stores peddling the latest in digital cameras do much of their business in the dark, or with gas generators chugging along just outside the front door. The landline telecommunications infrastructure is lacking, but everyone seems to have a cell phone due to the strength of the wireless network. In Thamel, the ghosts of early twentieth-century Himalayan expeditions still pervade; even as internet cafes, and stores flogging Gore-Tex and carbon-fibre climbing equipment, dominate the landscape.
The Monkey Temple has monkeys.
The Pilgrim's Climb (or Good Lord, Pilgrims Never Do Anything Easy)
Crazy is another word I would use to describe the city. Intersections might involve five or six streets, coming together at weird angles; and given that street names are absent or written in Nepal Bhasa script, navigation is difficult at best. Kathmandu was the first city in which I’ve managed to get lost whilst actively reading a map. During waking hours, the narrow thoroughfares in the old quarters are clogged with a mass of people and vehicles. Side streets are often little more than alleyways, barely able to accommodate a single car; without any semblance of signs or lane markings, head-to-head confrontations between cars are frequent, only resolved when one driver blinks and backs up. (Driving is certainly one thing that is heaps easier done at night, when the roads empty.)
There is plenty to see and do. I met up again with my old travel buddies, Kim and Kelly; and we visited the old Durbar Squares in Kathmandu and Patan, and hiked up to massive stupa and temple complex at Swayambhunath. We also ate our way around the city.
One of the best parts of Kathmandu for me was the food. While I will admit that the sheer overload of dhal bat (the standard Nepali meal of lentil soup, rice, and maybe some curry or pickled vegetables) during my time in the Himalaya might have affected my palate – I was ready to kill for even the most crappily-made *anything but dhal bat* – I can’t say enough good things about the food. Some of it I expected going in: aside from the Newari cuisine, it was easy to find tasty curries and naan, and well-made Tibetan momos. Much was unexpected until I realised that a preponderance of tourists and visitors means a virtual plethora of other cuisine choices. I got a really good bowl of bibimbap served with a fine assortment of kimchi. I had great wood-fired pizza from two different places. You can find cafés serving hand-crafted burgers, grab a pita from the Israeli-run falafel shop, or tuck into a decent English breakfast.
Awesome does not even begin to describe this guy.
(Thanks again to Kim and Kelly for the photo!)
Perhaps most unexpectedly for a solid land-locked country, the best meal I had in Nepal was in a Japanese restaurant specialising in sushi. The location of the restaurant – right in the middle of Embassy Row – ensured that fresh seafood was flown in from Bangkok to satisfy finicky Japanese Embassy staff, and that the place was full of characters from various diplomatic corps. And we certainly met some characters. Like the Japanese attaché with the bellowing laugh (you had to be there to hear it) who laughed harder and harder the drunker he got. But the prize had to go to his friend and drinking partner. The Most Interesting Man in the World isn’t the guy out there schilling for Dos Equis; he is the one who looks like the Japanese Tom Selleck, who oozes cool, and has quite possibly has the best moustache in the world.
A Bell at Swayambhunath
If I had more time, I’m sure I would have uncovered more, but alas. Thirty hours might not have been enough time, but five days was certainly adequate to drive home that Kathmandu is much, much more than just the night and day distinction.
Related Entries:
1. Kathmandu: Night and Day
2. The Streets of Kathmandu
3. The Everest Base Camp • Gokyo Trek: A Wrap Up
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