Nepal – Day 1: Central Kathmandu

I will not dwell much on day 0 of this adventure: my dad and I left Prague on a Sunday afternoon, transferred in Istanbul, and touched down in Kathmandu shortly after dawn on Monday. There were two highlights to the journey. First, we found all the alcohol at Istanbul Airport had labels warning customers of a three-litre purchasing limit – but these were, hilariously, only in Russian. The second highlight was seeing the sun rise over the Himalayas. There was also a lowlight: we encountered strong turbulence on our flight from Istanbul to Kathmandu. As I am sure is true for many people, this was an opportunity for me to revisit most of the religious hymns I know.

We began our first day in Kathmandu by checking into our hotel, where we ate a leisurely breakfast. The rest of the tour group was supposed to arrive the next day, so we took the opportunity to venture into the city alone. Piecing together an itinerary with the help of the Rough Guides travel book, I had a rough idea of where to go, though the trouble with any literature on Nepal is that it is never entirely accurate. Perhaps most significantly, crossroads tend to have one or two extra roads sprinkled in, which makes counting angles – rather than numbers – vitally important.

No guide book, moreover, could prepare us for the absolute chaos that are Nepali streets. Narrow and packed with people, they are an anarchic domain in which cars fight vans, motorbikes fight cars, and pedestrians fight everyone. It is impossible to traverse the road without practically throwing one’s body into it, signalling to drivers one’s willingness to cross or perish in the attempt. Obviously, there are no clear lanes on the narrow roads of central Kathmandu, which creates a jumble of pedestrians and motorbikes bustling past each other in both directions.

Added to these difficulties, of course, is the problem that foreigners tend to attract quite a lot of attention. One’s concentration, therefore, is divided between trying not to be run over on the one hand, and refusing offers from taxi drivers, deals from hawkers, and blessings from priests – or, in the more pleasant scenario, holding Q&A sessions with local kids.

We walked from our accommodation in Thamel Quarter past several stupas and temples to the very centre of the city: Durbar Square. Home to the palace of the Shah Dynasty, which ruled Nepal from 1768 to 2008, the square charges foreigners an entry fee, with little guard posts monitoring every street into the area. Several of the buildings on Durbar Square were quite badly damaged in the 2015 earthquake and have not yet been fully repaired. For that reason, access to many interesting sites is severely limited, though we did have the chance to see Kumari during one of her appearances at the balcony of her abode.

Dubbed a “living goddess,” the Kumari is a pre-pubescent girl believed to be possessed by the goddess Durga. She is revered by both Buddhists and Hindus despite being chosen from a prominent Buddhist family through a series of rigorous tests. Although the Kumari of Kathmandu is the most important, other children fulfil the same role in other Nepali cities. During their tenure (which ends with their menstruation or serious illness or injury), these living goddesses provide blessings to the community and are truly treated the way a deity would be. They are not permitted to walk outside, sometimes needing to re-learn how to walk after returning to normal life – though a Kumari does receive a pension following her retirement.

After eating lunch in a restaurant overlooking Durbar Square, we continued southeast, walking along a large rectangular field until we reached the Bagmati river. We were not entirely sure what this field was; it was bare and desolate, with people only congregating on the sides, which were shaded by trees. Towards the south, we could spy some military vehicles and people clad in uniforms. We later found out this was Tudikhel, an important venue for festivals, military parades, and horse races.

We were equally taken aback by the desolation of the river. Despite being on the Rough Guide’s list of places to visit, the temples and Ghats along the Bagmati were completely deserted, giving the place an eerie atmosphere despite the streaming sunshine. Adding to this strange feeling were massive piles of wood prepared for the funeral rites of bodies that are traditionally incinerated at these temples.

Having reached the southern tip of our itinerary, we turned back again and – more by sheer dumb luck than by following the map – ended up at Durbar Square and subsequently Thamel. I think the temple I found the most impressive on this tour was the Kathesimbhu Stupa, which dates to the seventeenth century and neighbours a beautiful Tibetan monastery. The entire square that the Stupa occupies is beset with various smaller stupas and statues, and adding to the charm of the place was a group of women singing a plaintive prayer in one of the adjoining buildings.