In Katmandu, a New Age Dawns

I rolled a ball of boiled rice around on my plate with my fingers, scooping curried meat and gravy along with it, then, not too gracefully, landed most of it in my mouth. “When I was a kid,” I told my friend Sanu Shrestha, “I was scolded for playing with my food.”

Sanu, born in Katmandu, laughed as we lunched. Like many Nepalis, he maintains his traditions, including eating with his fingers. He is a tailor and has a shop in the old town where he sells T-shirts, hats and bags to tourists. Maria, my partner, has known him for years. She runs a small import business that brings her often to Katmandu, with its bonanza of Nepali arts and crafts and handmade clothing.

I like to tag along when I can, because no matter how often I visit, Katmandu always offers new, special adventures--though a flood of tourists and its increasing commercialism sometimes tests my ingenuity to find its magical aspects.

As we sipped tea on Sanu’s rooftop deck, I noticed a surprising number of tourists on the narrow street below. It was June 1999, the off-season, the time when monsoons begin. “We had 15,000 more tourists in Katmandu this spring than the same time last year . . . [and] business is steady all year round now,” Sanu said of this booming capital of Nepal, with a population of half a million.

Katmandu is seeing a resurgence that is bringing it the renown it commanded in its days as a legendary, splendid Himalayan kingdom. It controlled one of the primary caravan routes between Tibet and India. Rich Hindu and Buddhist merchants, mainly between the 8th and 13th centuries, financed extraordinary works of art and architecture in this isolated valley.

Today Katmandu is neither isolated nor difficult to get to. It has daily flights from London, Paris and Tokyo. More than 400,000 tourists annually enter Nepal, tourism officials report, making tourism its No. 1 industry. Though many are adventure travelers, most come to see the historic sites and experience the culture in and about Katmandu, which has a trove of seven UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

But once here, they also cannot forget for long that Nepal is one of the Third World’s poorest nations. Unprotected temples are crumbling, unregulated brick and cement monstrosities are growing, and unconscionable motor traffic and mounds of trash are nearly always in your face--along with touts and tourists.

The wonder is that there is still so much worth coming for: The people remain warm and friendly, with tradition and religion permeating nearly every aspect of their lives. The shrines and pilgrimage sites continue to be as busy and brilliant with color as they have been for centuries. You can still get a good room at the Kathmandu Guesthouse for very little money. And few places anywhere are as magical as old Katmandu in the morning.

On our visit last June, we took the 15-minute taxi drive from the airport through a confusion of cars, rickshaws, tractors, motorcycles, bicycles and pedestrians--all maneuvering around the cud-chewing cows and dogs in the streets. Soon we had turned into the walled Kathmandu Guesthouse and escaped the chaos. Despite its name and low rates, it is more hotel than hostel, and it is hard to beat for value and convenience.

That is, if you want to be right in the thick of things.

The complex commands the main intersection of Thamel, Katmandu’s budget-traveler and trekkers’ district. Year by year Thamel’s tentacles grow, reaching deeper down the narrow alleys with a colorful, hip and energetic mix of trekkers, mountain climbers and long-distance travelers. The district is jammed with guest houses, restaurants, bakeries, cafes and travel agencies. The abundant shops sell all manner of trinkets, trekking gear and travel books.

Providing these competitive goods and services, Thamel opens up Katmandu--and by extension the Himalayan region. Even a first-time solo Asia traveler can easily and cheaply arrange a Himalayan trek or a jungle safari or join an overland trip to Tibet.

One of our first steps after settling in was to rent a bicycle, a nifty way to get around flat, compact Katmandu. With our own wheels, we were no longer marks for aggressive rickshaw drivers and Thamel touts.

Thamel, after all, is not the real Katmandu, which can be found in the old town. A couple of minutes on our bikes got us to its narrow, winding, stone-paved, shrine-lined lanes and alleys. They contain hundreds of brick-and-wood fantasies that artist-architects and master craftsmen constructed centuries ago. Exploring the alleys, we found many tiny, traditional shops (grains, spices, Tibetan goods) as well as courtyards, temples and monasteries. Newari woodwork--intricately carved windows, balconies, lintels, roof struts--ennobles crumbling brick houses and courtyards. Heavy tiled roofs and balconies sag with age.

Durbar Square, the center of old town, bristles with a phantasmagoria of Tantric images--serene, salacious and demonic.

The Kasthamandap, a wood rest house said to have been built in the 12th century, is the oldest surviving building in Durbar Square, lending Katmandu its name. It’s still a good place to sit and watch the goings-on. The most impressive temple in the square is Taleju, a Hindu site built in the mid-16th century by King Mahendra Malla. The square’s east side is dominated by Hanuman Dhoka, which, any of several excellent histories of the place will tell you, is a Malla royal palace.

Swayambhunath, which means un- or self-created, is a great, whitewashed stupa dancing with prayer flags. One of the oldest shrines in Katmandu, dating from the 5th century, it sits on a hill overlooking the city.

Stupas, with their broad-based domes, represent a meditating Buddha and are an ancient shrine form. At both Swayambhunath and Boudhanath--the two Buddhist pilgrimage sites of Katmandu--the stupas are crowned with golden towers on which the “all-seeing eyes” of Buddha gaze out to the four directions.

Swayambhunath is an excellent example of the unique mix of Tantric Hinduism and Vajrayana Buddhism that prevails in Nepal. Many Hindu shrines stand on the platform below the Buddhist stupa. These stone and bronze shrines are alive with sputtering candles, incense, scampering monkeys and devotees.

We had parked our bikes on the small road below the stupa, and as we walked down the steps to where we had left them, we recognized a friendly but rugged-looking Tibetan mani stone carver. I enjoyed watching the swift, relaxed way he worked.

He spat on the whetstone, sharpened his handmade chisel, braced a pancake-shaped river rock tightly with his knee, then, without hesitation, cut a straight line across the stone. From this line he carved the Sanskrit Om Mani Padme Hum--the mantra of Padmasambhava, the scholar-saint who is said to have brought Buddhism to Tibet from India and is thought to have lived for a time at Swayambhunath. Buddhists pay a mani carver to make them a stone, which they leave on the path to the stupa, believing it gains them religious merit.

While the traditional pageantry continues all day, every day at Swayambhunath and Boudhanath, early mornings are our favorite time in Katmandu. And Tuesdays, a special day for Ganesh--whom Hindus revere as the lovable, elephant-headed son of Siva and Parvati--are best of all. One of Ganesh’s most venerated shrines graces Durbar Square. On Tuesday mornings, the northeast section of the square fills with sari-clad women bearing offerings on their best silver platters: flower petals, incense and sweets, which Ganesh is said to love.

Before dawn we wheeled out of the guest house courtyard and headed through an empty Thamel toward Durbar Square. Katmandu was quiet. Here and there we passed women doing their puja (devotions), stooping before candle-lighted shrines, smudging a bit of red tikka paste on a statue or leaving a flower petal or two.

We propped our bikes against the old Kasthamandap platform and bought tea from a vendor, then found an out-of-the-way place to sit and watch.

While the patient women made their way to the shrine for a few moments with Ganesh, men on their way to work passed by, walking clockwise around the shrine. Most of them patted the shiny bronze structure, clasped hands in the traditional Nepali gesture of greeting and rang the bells as they continued on.

As the morning brightened, vegetable and fruit sellers arrived from the countryside. They ignored the rites as they practiced their own ritual, arraying their produce on mats or on the brick stairs of the nearby Siva temple. By 8 in the morning, this centuries-old slice of true Nepali life had vanished.

By the end of the week, Maria had taken care of most of her business in Katmandu, and we decided to rent a motorbike and explore the surrounding valley.

We spent a night in Bhaktapur, the “Temple City,” seven miles east of Katmandu. Auto traffic is banned from this World Heritage Site, and the historic squares are clean, quiet and once again the province of pedestrians.

The next day we drove to Nagarkot, a hill station on the rim of the valley. Our little vehicle strained as it pulled us up the steep, winding road. But once on top, we were amply rewarded with wonderful views of jagged Himalayan peaks blazing white in the afternoon sun. We chose a room with an unobstructed vista at the small but comfortable Hotel View Point.

Nepal has eight of the world’s 10 highest peaks; from our little veranda we identified five of them, including Everest. Maria was smitten with mountain fever, and first thing back in Thamel, she went off to ask about trekking to Everest.

I was relaxing at Le Bistro when Maria bounded back. “They make everything so easy,” she said. “All we do is hire a car from here to the trail head at Jiri. The five-hour drive costs $75, and the Sherpa [porter] rate is just $4 per day, plus another $4 for meals. Taking our time, it sounds like about a 12-day trek. One way. . . . “

Some things never change about Katmandu. Adventures that most people just dream about elsewhere are commonplace here. And we still find ourselves eating with our fingers more often than not.

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GUIDEBOOK

Poking Around Katmandu

Getting there: There is connecting service only from LAX, daily on Thai Airways and three times a week on Singapore Airlines. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $1,575 until Nov. 30, then increase to $1,665.

Where to stay: There are a half-dozen five-star hotels, including Yak and Yeti, GPO Box No. 1016, Durbar Marg; telephone 011-977-1-248-999 or 240-520, fax 011-977-1-227-781 or 227-782, Internet https://www.yakandyeti.com. It has 270 rooms, restaurants, health club, whirlpool tub, casino. Doubles start at $185. Or consider the Hotel Malla, GPO Box 787, Lekhnath Marg; tel. 011-977-1-418-385, fax 011-977-1-418-382, e-mail malla@htlgrp.wlink.com.np. With a central location between the Palace and Thamel, the Malla has 125 rooms, 50 executive suites and 20 apartments. Doubles start at $170.

Hotel Vajra, P.O. Box 1084, Bijyaswori; tel. 011-977-1-271-545 or 011-977-1-272-719, fax 011-977-1-271-695, Internet https://www.hotelvajra.com, has 50 rooms, with doubles from $16, in classic Newari brick and wood architecture with a courtyard garden.

There also are many inexpensive guest houses, primarily in the Thamel area and Freak Street (Old Town), like the Kathmandu Guesthouse, P.O. Box 21218, Thamel; tel. 011-977-1-413-632 or 418-733, fax 011-977-1-417-133, Internet https://www.nepal-hotel.com. The guest house has 120 rooms, with garden-view doubles with bath for $40 a day.

Where to eat: Our favorite Katmandu restaurants: Rooftop Restaurant, Hotel Vajra (contact above). Extensive menu of Western, Nepali and Tibetan foods. Nanglo Chinese Room Cafe and Pub, Durbar Marg, local tel. 222-636. Best “buff” steak and burgers in town. Lovely roof terrace with plants and shady trees. Cafe de la Cabine Restaurant, Chaha 2-28 Thahity, no telephone. Simple, home-cooked meals. Cozy, traditional decor, reasonable prices.

For more information: Royal Nepalese Consulate General, Tourist Information, 820 2nd Ave., 17th Floor, New York, NY 10017; tel. (212) 370-3988, fax (212) 953-2038, Internet https://www.south-asia.com.