With trekking finished and still almost a week left in Nepal, it's time for Krissy and I to see what 
Kathmandu has to offer. The only significant time we've spent in Kathmandu has been in the tourist catering area known as Thamel. Outside of this part of the city lies the real Kathmandu. Gompas and stupas can be found on almost every corner. Some are enormous and are covered in ornate carvings. Others are smaller and more modest but date back to almost 1500 years ago. A collection of some of the more magnificent religious architecture can be found in Durbar Square: our destination for the day.
Most tourists take taxis but we were happy to walk. After the long bus ride and sleepy rest day it would be nice to stretch our legs and get some exercise. We followed a walking tour that was provided by our Lonely Planet guidebook. It was nice to see all the different points of interest but most of my attention
was drawn to what was going on around me. It was like we had stepped into a whole new country other than Nepal. A chaos I was previously unaware of existed a short distance from my hotel. Motorcycles zoomed by on the impossibly narrow, ancient, brick paved streets. Four, five and even six streets would all meet up at a chowk (square) or tole (massive intersection) which were all clogged with pedestrians, rickshaws, mangy dogs, taxis, bicycles, Hindu cows and roadside vendors. These streets made Thamel look tame in comparison.
Unexpectedly we stumbled upon Durbar Square. A large, muscly man with a tight purple shirt, stylish jeans and oily, manicured hair helpfully pointed us to the ticket counter we had accidentally walked past. As we made our way over to it he started chatting us up. He asked the typical questions at first: Where are you from? How long have you been in Nepal? Is it your first time here? Then he started in with the compliments. "I love Americans! They are all very nice. I really like your beard." I started to raise my guard.
As it turned out he was a card-carrying guide and was looking to earn some rupees. Usually
these people can be turned away with a simple "No thank you." If that doesn't work a firm no will send them on their way. This guy, however, was persistent. He kept jabbering on about how great it was to have a guide and when that didn't work he made up some sob story about his family that he needed to feed. Rarely do I get angry with these people but Muscles Purple Shirt the Guide was pushing my buttons.
I looked him straight in the eye and said "I don't need a guide and I don't want a guide. Go away!"
Scowling, he muttered something in Nepali and finally left us alone. All this and we had just arrived!
We began to wander around and look at all the buildings but we were continually distracted by
all the "guides" that were peddling their services. Looking for an escape, I spotted a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the whole scene.
"Want to get a cup of coffee?" I asked Krissy while pointing at the restaurant.
"Sounds good to me," she said.
On the rooftop we were able to see the layout of Durbar Square with a lot more clarity. We enjoyed the view, sipped some decent coffee and chatted with a fellow American who had just arrived in Nepal a couple days ago. After draining our cups we were reluctant to leave. Nonetheless, we made a plan to check out Freak Street and then make our way back to the hotel.
On the way down we ran into an old friend. Muscles Purple Shirt the Guide was heading up past us on the stairs. He avoided eye contact. Krissy cheerfully said, "Namaste!" Still avoiding eye contact, he responded with a quiet, morose namaste of his own.
Freak Street was the old hippie hangout in the 70's where all the weirdos of the world would
gather to soak up the good vibes in this spiritual hot spot. They were also drawn by the cheap lodging and even cheaper drugs. Sadly, it's nothing more than a name today. There isn't anything freakish about it anymore. Ironically, it was calmer than most of the streets I've walked down in Kathmandu.
Disappointed, we headed back to the hotel where we got cleaned up and then headed out to dinner at a recommended Chinese restaurant. It was an odd experience. Set in a hotel, it had all the sterile charm of a nursing home dining hall. The menu was poorly translated and featured dishes with silly names. The most notable was the "Corn Defense." The food wasn't bad, but we were definitely in a hurry to get out of there.
We decided to save some money before having a night out on the town by stopping at a little supermarket where we picked up some booze and mixers. We sat in the room, drank up, and by the time we had swallowed the last of the cheap liquor it was already after nine! Nepal shuts down at eleven!
In a hurry, we went to the bar across the street hoping to find a dance scene. The music was there but nobody was dancing. Would we have to start the party in Pokhara and Kathmandu?!
We must have stopped into a half dozen bars. Each one had a live band or some bumping dance music but nobody was motivated to dance. Our motivation waned too and we finally settled on a busy bar that had a band playing a fairly mellow set.
It turned out to be an enjoyable evening even if we didn't get to dance. We were treated to a show by a thin, grey haired man with glasses and a beard who was really digging the music. While biting his bottom lip, he grooved rather close to some ladies before scaring them off. Then he danced briefly with a guy who accidentally bumped into him. He shook his moneymaker with the nervous looking bassist who couldn't back up any further. Mostly, to the relief of everyone, he danced by himself. What a performer!
Kathmandu has to offer. The only significant time we've spent in Kathmandu has been in the tourist catering area known as Thamel. Outside of this part of the city lies the real Kathmandu. Gompas and stupas can be found on almost every corner. Some are enormous and are covered in ornate carvings. Others are smaller and more modest but date back to almost 1500 years ago. A collection of some of the more magnificent religious architecture can be found in Durbar Square: our destination for the day.Most tourists take taxis but we were happy to walk. After the long bus ride and sleepy rest day it would be nice to stretch our legs and get some exercise. We followed a walking tour that was provided by our Lonely Planet guidebook. It was nice to see all the different points of interest but most of my attention
was drawn to what was going on around me. It was like we had stepped into a whole new country other than Nepal. A chaos I was previously unaware of existed a short distance from my hotel. Motorcycles zoomed by on the impossibly narrow, ancient, brick paved streets. Four, five and even six streets would all meet up at a chowk (square) or tole (massive intersection) which were all clogged with pedestrians, rickshaws, mangy dogs, taxis, bicycles, Hindu cows and roadside vendors. These streets made Thamel look tame in comparison.Unexpectedly we stumbled upon Durbar Square. A large, muscly man with a tight purple shirt, stylish jeans and oily, manicured hair helpfully pointed us to the ticket counter we had accidentally walked past. As we made our way over to it he started chatting us up. He asked the typical questions at first: Where are you from? How long have you been in Nepal? Is it your first time here? Then he started in with the compliments. "I love Americans! They are all very nice. I really like your beard." I started to raise my guard.
As it turned out he was a card-carrying guide and was looking to earn some rupees. Usually
these people can be turned away with a simple "No thank you." If that doesn't work a firm no will send them on their way. This guy, however, was persistent. He kept jabbering on about how great it was to have a guide and when that didn't work he made up some sob story about his family that he needed to feed. Rarely do I get angry with these people but Muscles Purple Shirt the Guide was pushing my buttons.I looked him straight in the eye and said "I don't need a guide and I don't want a guide. Go away!"
Scowling, he muttered something in Nepali and finally left us alone. All this and we had just arrived!
We began to wander around and look at all the buildings but we were continually distracted by
all the "guides" that were peddling their services. Looking for an escape, I spotted a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the whole scene."Want to get a cup of coffee?" I asked Krissy while pointing at the restaurant.
"Sounds good to me," she said.
On the rooftop we were able to see the layout of Durbar Square with a lot more clarity. We enjoyed the view, sipped some decent coffee and chatted with a fellow American who had just arrived in Nepal a couple days ago. After draining our cups we were reluctant to leave. Nonetheless, we made a plan to check out Freak Street and then make our way back to the hotel.
On the way down we ran into an old friend. Muscles Purple Shirt the Guide was heading up past us on the stairs. He avoided eye contact. Krissy cheerfully said, "Namaste!" Still avoiding eye contact, he responded with a quiet, morose namaste of his own.
Freak Street was the old hippie hangout in the 70's where all the weirdos of the world would
gather to soak up the good vibes in this spiritual hot spot. They were also drawn by the cheap lodging and even cheaper drugs. Sadly, it's nothing more than a name today. There isn't anything freakish about it anymore. Ironically, it was calmer than most of the streets I've walked down in Kathmandu.Disappointed, we headed back to the hotel where we got cleaned up and then headed out to dinner at a recommended Chinese restaurant. It was an odd experience. Set in a hotel, it had all the sterile charm of a nursing home dining hall. The menu was poorly translated and featured dishes with silly names. The most notable was the "Corn Defense." The food wasn't bad, but we were definitely in a hurry to get out of there.
We decided to save some money before having a night out on the town by stopping at a little supermarket where we picked up some booze and mixers. We sat in the room, drank up, and by the time we had swallowed the last of the cheap liquor it was already after nine! Nepal shuts down at eleven!
In a hurry, we went to the bar across the street hoping to find a dance scene. The music was there but nobody was dancing. Would we have to start the party in Pokhara and Kathmandu?!
We must have stopped into a half dozen bars. Each one had a live band or some bumping dance music but nobody was motivated to dance. Our motivation waned too and we finally settled on a busy bar that had a band playing a fairly mellow set.
It turned out to be an enjoyable evening even if we didn't get to dance. We were treated to a show by a thin, grey haired man with glasses and a beard who was really digging the music. While biting his bottom lip, he grooved rather close to some ladies before scaring them off. Then he danced briefly with a guy who accidentally bumped into him. He shook his moneymaker with the nervous looking bassist who couldn't back up any further. Mostly, to the relief of everyone, he danced by himself. What a performer!
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