On my first full day in Kathmandu I walked for hours. My way took me through the backpacker neighbourhood of Thamel - not too seething at that hour - where I accidentally bought a beautifully soft cashmere blanket for next to nothing, simply by trying to leave the shop, as I hadn’t wanted to purchase that early in the day and carry it in the heat. Leaving the blanket behind the counter to collect later, I walked south to Durbar Square, where I felt slightly flat at all the key architecture the 2015 earthquake had brought down. The Gaddi Durbar Palace, a white neo-classical building which might have looked beautiful in Vienna or Milan, seemed vulgar and graceless as it loomed over the rubbled foundations of what were once ancient, elegantly-tiered temples. Exploring the old town, I snapped photos of street scenes with my Canon, until I suddenly felt ashamed of my obvious wealth in these narrow lanes with their grubby, wide-eyed children, and put the camera away quickly in my bag and didn’t take it out again until I had reached the main square.
I met many touts, all pleasant and not at all overbearing. We greeted each other with “Namaste!” and a smile, and then I walked on without hassle. I was offered hash thrice on my first evening, which has never happened before; they don’t usually see solo women as viable customers. When I politely declined the goods of the hashish dealers and the many silk and cashmere sellers, they nodded gracefully and stepped aside to let me pass. I have argued with almost every taxi driver I have commissioned, on both price and location, and yet as soon as we reach concord, all enmity ceases and the smiles return. One taught me the names of some Nepali animals as we were squeezed together in the front of his tiny Maruti. ‘English, tiger’, he said; then, with a cheeky grin, 'Nepal: BARRGH.’ As he said ‘BARRGH’ he lifted both hands from the steering wheel and made a claw-like motion at the windscreen, widening his eyes and gnashing his teeth. ‘BARRGH’, I tried, with the full Bengal tiger gesture. We BARRGHed together, laughing, all the way up the road, gathering curious glances from fellow commuters just outside our open windows.
That first lunchtime I ate buff momos - little steamed dumplings stuffed with juicy minced buffalo and served with a yellow sauce. When I reached for the bottle of branded chilli sauce, the couple in the small kitchen both shouted “No!” at me. Startled, I looked round to see the woman taking from the fridge a Tupperware box of fresh, home-made chilli paste, which she dolloped onto my plate in place of the commercial sauce. Their little boy, who introduced himself formally as Nicol Dharma, sat next to me playing a racing-car game on his smartphone, gleefully shouting, “Wiener!” each time he won.
I feel very connected with Nepal, as if we have known each other all our lives. Perhaps it is the bright, happy colours of the prayer flags and the beautiful saris of even the poorest women, and the deep eye-smiles of everyone I’ve met. Or perhaps there is something spiritual in Nepal's geography, snuggled like a long silkworm cocoon between the hot, dusty terai which lead down to India, and the long Himalayan range in which the mythical Shangri-La lies at the very end of the world. Beyond Everest and the Annapurna massifs lies the vast Tibetan plateau, on which the little Mekong river is born, travelling 4,500km and growing into the mighty river I saw in Laos, Cambodia, and southern Vietnam where its wide delta finally flows into the South China Sea via five different branches known as the Mekong dragons. This is a very special part of the world.
The dusty dogs of Kathmandu - on my arrival into Nepal
The endless quest for a birthday beverage - I try to order a drink in Lahan, with mixed success
The tiger who took a taxi - on my first day in Kathmandu
Political unrest and an exciting trip to the airport - my journey to a regional airport amidst civil unrest
The road to Bandipur - is not as straightforward as it seems
Boiled alive in Bandipur - I visit a silkworm farm and discover the violent origins of the Silk Road
My elephant friends - I meet some unpleasant humans and some very important elephants
I met many touts, all pleasant and not at all overbearing. We greeted each other with “Namaste!” and a smile, and then I walked on without hassle. I was offered hash thrice on my first evening, which has never happened before; they don’t usually see solo women as viable customers. When I politely declined the goods of the hashish dealers and the many silk and cashmere sellers, they nodded gracefully and stepped aside to let me pass. I have argued with almost every taxi driver I have commissioned, on both price and location, and yet as soon as we reach concord, all enmity ceases and the smiles return. One taught me the names of some Nepali animals as we were squeezed together in the front of his tiny Maruti. ‘English, tiger’, he said; then, with a cheeky grin, 'Nepal: BARRGH.’ As he said ‘BARRGH’ he lifted both hands from the steering wheel and made a claw-like motion at the windscreen, widening his eyes and gnashing his teeth. ‘BARRGH’, I tried, with the full Bengal tiger gesture. We BARRGHed together, laughing, all the way up the road, gathering curious glances from fellow commuters just outside our open windows.
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| Buff momos |
I feel very connected with Nepal, as if we have known each other all our lives. Perhaps it is the bright, happy colours of the prayer flags and the beautiful saris of even the poorest women, and the deep eye-smiles of everyone I’ve met. Or perhaps there is something spiritual in Nepal's geography, snuggled like a long silkworm cocoon between the hot, dusty terai which lead down to India, and the long Himalayan range in which the mythical Shangri-La lies at the very end of the world. Beyond Everest and the Annapurna massifs lies the vast Tibetan plateau, on which the little Mekong river is born, travelling 4,500km and growing into the mighty river I saw in Laos, Cambodia, and southern Vietnam where its wide delta finally flows into the South China Sea via five different branches known as the Mekong dragons. This is a very special part of the world.
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| Nicol Dharma |
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More on Nepal:The dusty dogs of Kathmandu - on my arrival into Nepal
The endless quest for a birthday beverage - I try to order a drink in Lahan, with mixed success
The tiger who took a taxi - on my first day in Kathmandu
Political unrest and an exciting trip to the airport - my journey to a regional airport amidst civil unrest
The road to Bandipur - is not as straightforward as it seems
Boiled alive in Bandipur - I visit a silkworm farm and discover the violent origins of the Silk Road
My elephant friends - I meet some unpleasant humans and some very important elephants
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