I was expecting Kathmandu to be a city of noise, chaos and utter pandemonium – after all, it is a crowded South Asian metropolis. But nothing had prepared us for visiting during the festival of Dashain. The festival took place over the full 2 weeks during which we would be dipping in and out of Nepal, either side of our trip to Bhutan.

The first thing I noticed as we were coming in to land after our lengthy 2-leg journey (from Miami to Doha, Doha to Kathmandu) was the pall of pollution blanketing the city which hindered clear visibility of the mountains surrounding the Kathmandu valley. I knew the air quality might be problematic due to dust from the non-stop re-building efforts after the disastrous 2015 earthquake. It was also slightly warmer than it should have been for mid-October so the last of the summer heat haze was still hanging in the air. Thankfully it looked worse at 5,000 feet than it was down at ground level.

We passed through immigration and out into the arrivals hall in search of SIM cards for our cellphones. It took a while because every backpacker arriving in the city was doing the same thing. Endless paperwork completed and we strolled out into the hot sunshine to find our pre-arranged transport which whisked us off to the 5-star luxury of Dwarika’s Hotel. At check-in we were greeted with ginger lemon honey tea (to which I soon became addicted) and draped in cream silk scarves (Kata scarves) which are given as a welcome gift and to wish happiness and prosperity.

Dwarika’s Hotel is beautiful. Built in the Newari style, it oozes architecturally fabulous treasures. There are intricate wood carvings, and bronze, terracotta and stone sculptures. The suites are equally attractive but the real appeal of the complex is its tranquil, shady courtyards and signature swimming pool. The hotel became our “oasis in a bustling city” – just as its website promised! It is a masterpiece of restoration with some pieces dating back to the 13th century.

Architectural gem though it undoubtedly is, there were some minor irritations. The howling of dogs in neighboring properties in the dead of night … the dawn wake-up call from 3 million pigeons circling the skies above the hotel and coming to rest on the window ledges outside of the suites to continue their manic babble at full volume. Your chances of sleep depend very much on which room you are assigned and the efficiency of your earplugs! Dwarika’s treats its guests like royalty; the staff bow and exchange “namaste” greetings with you a hundred times a day until you have a crick in your neck; and you are saluted by security guards each time you pass through the front door (which was a little embarrassing – should you salute in return or bow?). The food was very good in the Toran restaurant where we ate breakfast every day. Dinner outside in the courtyard amongst the urns filled with floating candles and marigolds was very atmospheric. We loved our stay there and were looking forward to our return to the hotel after our trip to Bhutan. (When we arrived back from Bhutan for our second visit to Kathmandu there was a newly created floral decoration in the reception area welcoming guests to celebrate Dashain. For the eagle-eyed amongst you (also currently living in the year 2023) it is apparently the year 2080 in Nepal. 2080 is also a very significant year for Nepalis as it marks the start of the Nepali 21st century.

There are three main cities in Kathmandu valley: Kathmandu (Dwarika’s Hotel is closest to Kathmandu), Patan and Bhaktapur. Each of these three former kingdoms had its own royal palace and surrounding Durbar Square. The 21st century urban sprawl across the valley has now pretty much joined the three cities physically and yet they still retain their own identities. We planned to visit Kathmandu and Patan during our first 4 days and then Bhaktapur during our last 2 days after we returned from Bhutan.

Early on our first morning in Kathmandu we were wide awake courtesy of jet lag and the cooing pigeons which sounded as if they’d penetrated the external walls of the suite and joined us in bed. So … bright and early we were ready to head out and visit Kathmandu’s Durbar Square before the crowds descended. Kathmandu suffered greatly in the 2015 earthquake. The restoration work has been non-stop. A few buildings are still piles of rubble, some are shored up with scaffolding but most have been restored to their former glory.

First morning … first cab ride into the city … oh my God!

Mopeds, motorcycles, buses, cabs and cars flew at us from all angles. Our cab driver drove at full speed at all times unless (or until) an emergency stop was absolutely critical. There are no apparent rules of the road. You can pull out onto the main road in front of oncoming traffic with reckless abandon … any lane will do … doesn’t matter whether you’re turning left or right so long as there is a convenient gap to squeeze into. You’ve got to hand it to Nepalese drivers – if there’s a square inch of space available they will wedge themselves into it. If you can create a 6 lane highway out of a 2 lane highway then the Nepalese will find a way to do it.

The fear of possible dismemberment aside – the noise from the constant honking of horns all but ruptured our eardrums. Drivers hurtle towards each other with their palms pressed firmly on their horns – mopeds, motorcycles, buses, cabs and cars – all simultaneously honking horns.

We arrived battered and deafened at the entrance to Durbar Square where we paid our entry fee. A tourist guide had spotted our cab pull up and sidled over to us waving his official government badge. Since we were too weary to resist his charms we hired a guide for the first time in the history of our travels.

What an amazing place! Yes, of course Kathmandu is busy and crowded and a bit grungy in places … and the traffic is horrendous … but what a fabulously crazy, colorful, vibrant city filled with life!

Kathmandu is undeniably an incredible architectural gem. It boasts spectacularly decorated Buddhist and Hindu temples, shrines and former royal palaces. There are courtyards with ponds filled with water from the Himalayas, carved stone statues and intricate wood carvings. Cobwebs of electric wires cloak entire buildings. Flocks of noisy pigeons swoop down grazing the top of your head and back up high again to their roosts. There are offerings of rice and flowers at the feet of statues of deities and dabs of red and orange wax smeared onto their heads. Garlands of bright orange marigolds are draped around their necks. It is a city of living goddesses and “fake” orange-robed monks touting for tips from tourists. The whole city dazzles!

The temples, palaces and courtyards built by the Malla Kings (some dating back as early as the 6th century but mostly between the 13th to 18th centuries) were ravaged by the April 2015 earthquake. Over the last 8 years the city has undergone massive rebuilding work using many of the original ancient Newari teak hand carvings which the local residents dug out from the rubble in an effort to save their history.

There is an 8 year-old living goddess who makes daily appearances high up at a latticed wooden window in her temple at Kumari Ghar. You are not allowed to take photographs of her face. Chosen for her blemish-free beauty, a Kumari is a living goddess (an embodiment of Devi, a Hindu deity). Her feet must not touch the ground and she lives alone with her family in the temple. She doesn’t attend school nor receive an academic education. When she reaches puberty she’s out of a job! As a result the once highly prestigious opportunity to be a child goddess is now not quite such a great long-term career choice in a world in which education is more highly prized.

At the north end of Durbar Square is the colorful Hindu temple – Taleju Temple. One of the most important Hindu sites in the country. We parted ways with our guide and continued to meander through the back streets dodging death in the backpacker enclave of Thamel. Taxis and motorbikes race past pedestrians on the crowded narrow streets lined with tourist shops and hiking supply stores. In the interest of maintaining safe possession of all 4 limbs there is no alternative but to leap out of their path and into the gutters.

The Garden of Dreams is a popular tranquil oasis on the outskirts of Thamel. It is a respite from the chaos. The distant hooting of horns outside the walls of the garden fades into the background when you are sitting amongst the peaceful ponds and verdant greenery. It was built in the 1920’s in the Neo-Classical style and is kept absolutely immaculate. We saw staff scrubbing the white-painted balustrades spotless and there was barely a plant leaf out of place. A beautiful pavilion houses the Kaiser Cafe – good for a ginger tea and a beer but the food was decidedly dull.

Wandering through the backstreets of Indra Chowk and the Asan Bazaar spice market, fabulous aromas fill the air. You can’t stand still in either Thamel, Asan or Indra Chowk, or else you’ll be side-swiped by a motorcycle or swept up and carried away in the crowds. Annapurna Temple in the centre of Asan Bazaar is a 3-tiered Newari temple built in 1893 and dedicated to the goddess of abundance – Annapurna Ajima. Geoff stood still for too long (and whilst he wasn’t carried away with the crowds as feared he was plastered with a red Hindu tika on his forehead at the Annapurna Temple). The red tika is for good luck 😉. It must have worked because we managed to make it back to Dwarika’s in one piece after another electrifying cab ride across the city.

The following day we took a cab to white-painted Boudhanath Stupa which is absolutely unmissable. It is also known by the name of Chintaamani “the wish fulfilling jewel”. Its precise ancient history remains elusive – stories of legends and myths abound. The Buddhist Stupa is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and is believed to be the largest Stupa in the world. The devout walk clockwise around it, spinning prayer wheels under the watchful gaze of Buddha’s blue-painted eyes on the central golden dome of the Stupa. The “Wisdom Eyes” symbolize the all-seeing nature of Buddha’s wisdom. Colored prayer flags adorn the Stupa. There is the smell of burning incense mixed with butter candles, their flames flickering in the breeze. Everywhere there are offerings of rice and marigolds. There is a fantastic view over the roof of the Stupa from Guru Lhakhang Monastery located opposite the entrance to Boudhanath. There are monks chanting mesmerizing mantras and upstairs on the roof terrace they were industriously melting down and recycling butter candles for re-use. Both the monastery and Boudhanath Stupa are stunningly beautiful places.

Perhaps the most unique experience of the trip was our visit to the temple of Pashupatinath. The Temple is dedicated to the God of Shiva and the huge complex of temples and pagodas is one of the most sacred sites in the Hindu religion attracting hundreds of thousands of tourists each year from Nepal and India. Decoratively painted “saints” known as Shivas linger on walls waiting for tourists to pay them for a quick photo; and sacred cows command the walkways roaming freely amongst the shrines.

The complex is the site of 24-hour open-air cremations several of which we witnessed. From our vantage point on the opposite side of the river to the Temple, we saw bodies brought out wrapped in orange and red robes. They were laid on plinths on the stone steps overhanging the river below and bathed in concoctions of milk, purified water, yoghurt, ghee and honey which drains into the holy waters of the Bagmati river. The deceased were then carried on bamboo stretchers in a procession of mourners to a funeral pyre a few yards further down the river. The smoke from the burning pyres rose and swirled and exacerbated the heat of the mid-afternoon sun. It was all quite intoxicating. In two hours a body will turn to dust and the ash will then be set adrift in the Bagmati river which, ultimately, connects to the River Ganges in India and to the famous city of Varanasi hundreds of miles away. In addition to the Temple itself (which non-devotees are forbidden to enter) the complex includes a residence for destitute elderly who are without families and a crematorium building for those without the funds to pay for a highly coveted outdoor cremation.

Pashupatinath Temple complex was extremely busy with Hindu pilgrims from India. It turns out that many of the visiting Indians had never seen a caucasian in the flesh before. As a result, we caused quite a surprising stir. I lost count of the number of modeling shots we were entangled into with grandma. We had starring roles in several large family group shots. Since it was boiling hot with all of the fires burning I was beetroot red and dripping in sweat. Not my best look for making memories for posterity!

Pashupatinath Temple was absolutely stunning but it took quite a while to successfully wash the lingering smell of smoke out of my hair 😉

We passed on the opportunity to visit Swayambhunath Temple (also known as Monkey Temple). It was hotter than it should have been in mid-October so we didn’t fancy the drag up 365 steps nor navigating safe passage through the marauding gangs of monkeys to reach the summit of the hill on which the temple is located. The pool at Dwarika’s was far more appealing.

Turning to the subject of food in the city – we had some excellent meals (upstairs on the terrace at Baber Mahal Revisited, and at vegan friendly Graveaty in Thamel, and at Toran in Dwarika’s); we had fab homemade cheesecake and coffee at trendy Himalayan Java but distinctly average food at Kaiser Cafe inside The Garden of Dreams and at OR2K in Thamel (despite its inexplicably high ratings). If we had stayed longer in the city, and if we hadn’t been half asleep by 6pm from jet lag, we would have explored culinary options further afield.

Our last day before flying to Bhutan was spent in the city of Patan which suffered less damage to its historical buildings in the earthquake. It is Nepal’s second major city and is separated from Kathmandu by the Bagmati river. The river might well be considered sacred but it is also a floating, polluted, filthy trash can which would be worthy of a major clean-up given its significance in the valley. Even driving past at speed, cloying wafts of rotting trash (and god knows what else) drifted into the open windows of the cab.

Patan is the oldest city in Kathmandu valley. It is a city of fine arts and skilled craftsmen dating back to the Newars. Local Newari speakers call it Yala and to others it is more popularly known as Lalitpur (“City of Beauty”). Patan’s Durbar Square is far less chaotic and slightly less touristy than Kathmandu’s. Whilst its history dates back to the 6th century the city, as we currently see it, is attributed to three Malla kings – father, son and grandson who constructed most of the temples, monuments and the royal palace during the 16th to 18th centuries. The beautiful pagoda-style Golden Temple was built in the 12th century and gold-plated with donations from local merchants trading with Tibet. Legend has it that the temple was built in the location where a rat chased a cat (as opposed to the other way around 😉). Ever since then, rats have been considered sacred and have ruled the joint there. They are fed and cared for and scuttle around in the gloom clambering over the statues of the deities. We visited temples and courtyards (Sundari Chowk was particularly striking with its stone carvings of snakes winding around a sunken water tank). The city’s most important temple is spectacular 17th century Hindu temple, Krishna Mandir – a shrine to Lord Krishna.

You can’t hire a guide in any of the cities without them trying to get you to buy something in the store of one of their friends or relatives 😉. In Kathmandu we’d been inadvertently “guided” into an art store selling hand-painted mandalas. It takes some skill to try to look sufficiently interested in the various handicrafts so as not to cause offense and yet also successfully escape from the store without making an entirely unwanted purchase. In Patan we resisted being dragged into an art store to admire mandalas (been there, done that) but we were still route-marched through a courtyard and up the back stairs of a store selling Singing Bowls before we even realized what had happened. Singing Bowls are pretty impressive. The vibrations created by striking a mallet against the bowl are highly therapeutic – reputedly both physically and mentally. They are also used as a popular aid to meditation. Whilst a session with a vibrating heavy metal bowl sitting on his head didn’t quite cure Geoff’s neck ache he was considerably more relaxed by the time we left …

As I mentioned above, we had inadvertently timed our visit with the 2 week-long Hindu festival of Dashain during which the streets are even busier than normal with preparations for family gatherings and people on the move from one family get together to the next. Dashain celebrates the day the Goddess Durga (the Universal Mother Goddess) defeated the demons known as Mahishasura. She battled the demons for 10 days and the festival symbolizes the triumph of good over evil. It is a time for the devout to make offerings to the Goddess Durga which, unfortunately, includes mass animal sacrifices. The animal sacrifices are becoming increasingly controversial in Nepal and we were relieved that we wouldn’t be in town for that part of the proceedings as we had to catch a flight to Bhutan!

After our return from Bhutan we visited the city of Bhaktapur which became our favorite of the three cities in the valley. Bhaktapur is the cultural capital of Nepal. As usual we were accosted by a guide at the entrance gate and agreed a price to procure his services. We had learnt by then that having a guide in tow saves a lot of unwanted attention. Bhaktapur’s Durbar Square was the least affected of the three cities by the 2015 earthquake and the city has a more authentic feel compared even with Patan. Bhaktapur is known as the “City of Devotion” due to the vast number of its temples. It dates back to the 8th century and was the capital of Nepal until the 12th century. It was, and still is, famed for the high quality of its Newari handicrafts such as wood carving and pottery.

Its Durbar Square was magnificent. We watched monks collecting alms – small camera-shy boys with alms bowls led in a snake of orange robes through Durbar Square. We wandered through the Golden Gate and past the famous 55 Windows Palace – 55 windows apparently for each of the king’s 55 wives or concubines. Durbar Square was a vision of stone dogs, erotic carvings, offerings of rice and marigolds and incredible brick and stone temples.

We wandered through Dattatreya Square (a “living museum”) with its namesake three-tier temple dating back to 1427 and reputedly crafted from the timber of a single tree. We saw the famous carved Peacock Window (the peacock seems to have lost his beak) and the guide finagled us through the door of The Peacock Shop where I couldn’t resist buying some Nepalese handmade paper greetings cards. I’m a sucker for pretty paper! It’s also far easier to carry cards hand-luggage back to the USA than a large, heavy, metal Singing Bowl.

Bhaktapur’s Taumadhi Square houses the famous 5-tier pagoda-style Nyatapola Temple, the tallest temple in Nepal. Our guide took us on a circuitous route through the back streets of Bhaktapur which we would never have found alone – so he was worth his weight in gold. We ducked through alleyways and out into small courtyards where tons of newly-harvested rice was being spread out to dry on huge groundsheets. There were mounds of golden rice everywhere – swept into piles across streets, in courtyards and spread out in front of small temples and shrines. Anywhere there was a flat surface was piled high with rice.

We passed through Pottery Square where local potters were hawking their hand-made vases, pots and souvenirs in stores surrounding the square. I stopped to photograph some handmade pottery puppets and Geoff struck up a conversation with the store owner for just long enough that we got unexpectedly “Wham’d” with a tinny rendition of Wham’s massive 1986 British hit “Last Christmas” drifting out from his store. The Brits amongst you will no doubt appreciate the ignominy of being “Wham’d” as early as October! (for those unfamiliar, just Google “Whamageddon”) … What on earth were the chances of that in an obscure back street of Bhaktapur?!

We loved the architecture of Bhaktapur and its more authentic feel. In 1929 a well-known Victorian English adventurer and travel writer wrote the following comment on Bhaktapur in his book (“The Last Home of Mystery: Adventures in Nepal together with Accounts of Ceylon, British India, the Native States, the Persian Gulf, the Overland Desert Mail and the Baghdad Railway” – quite a mouthful for a book title!) …

… “were there nothing else in Nepal, save the Durbar Square of Bhatgaun, it would still be amply worth making a journey half way around the globe to see”.

We’re inclined to agree 😊