My morning walks in Kathmandu (taken back in June 2025) had me
thinking a lot about the ways in which spaces become sacred. Every
fifth building seemed to be a temple or a stupa, and as I said before,
my hotel window opened out onto the Atko Narayan Temple,
and there was a ceremony
there on Wednesday of my visit.
As a first-time visitor to Kathmandu, I would get up many a morning (yay,
jetlag?) and walk around the
Durbar Square complex,
enjoying the sleepy pigeons and ringing of bells, or wander
through the streets enjoying
the mix of architecture, the bustle of cleaning and setting up for
the day, and the visible and audible practice of faith. I peered
through at many a Bahal courtyard,
those monastic courtyards with small shrines, and went into a few if
they weren’t a center of activity. I tried to remain unobtrusive,
but also was drawn to the beauty and to the demonstrated care for
this overlap of public space and private belief.
Offerings of flowers and food, the
ringing of bells, the tidying of shrines, the singing in group or
alone: all these activities seemed integrated into a day, suggesting
a much more physically engaged religion than the more staid practices
of my Christian Science grandparents or my Lutheran inlaws. Likewise,
the intermixture of regular housing, active business, and spots
inviting active devotion is compressed relative to urban landscapes I
regularly inhabit. That meant that cooking and commerce rubbed elbows
with sacred practices, reminding me how thin the boundary might be
between ordinary routine and spiritual gesture. I wonder if medieval
practices of faith, before the emergence of confessional concerns,
might have been just as colorful, as sound-based, and as kinetic as
what I experienced in Kathmandu. Was Bregenz like this, a mix of
street cleaning, setting up stalls with vegetables from the farms
uphill, bells and clatter and clamour all mixing in with the chants
of the hours and the calls of hopeful merchants? It would have been
lively, if so!
The
infrastructure of Kathmandu also strikes a notable contrast with the
more familiar streets of Nashville. Transport
is, as the tourist guidebooks remind us, often done in human-powered
vehicles, whether that’s of people or of packages. Overloaded bikes
like the one below impressed the stuffing out of me; I’m hard put
to bike myself up a hill let alone contemplate carrying a bunch of
packages. Not shown is the time we saw two people on a bike, the one
in front balancing what was clearly a flat screen TV in its box. Holy
moly! And then there’s the wiring. Yes, we did experience power
outages. With that wiring spaghetti, it’s a wonder that there was
power at all!
But one cannot subsist on the
sacred alone, and I’d like to give a shout-out to Kathmandu’s
food scene.
I mentioned the Ginger Cafe, but I
also got my share of street food and momos. I never did find my way
back to the best shop, but everywhere I stopped, I always found the
food fresh and the stall-owners friendly, forgiving of my linguistic
inabilities. Momos are the easiest food the first time out (not only
my first meal but my most frequent!), but the fried breakfast breads – and
especially the Jeri Swari – were
a special treat. Jeri Swari is cool: the “Jeri” is a deep-fried,
sugar-coated flour batter which is shaped into intricate loops or coils
and fried until crispy, then soaked in saffron-infused syrup. The
“Swari” part is a flatbread which is both a wrapper and the
justification: “I’m an adult eating a real breakfast and not just
chowing down on a honey-delivery system.”
Watching your food being
made is a delicious way to start any day. It’s also a reminder that
in Kathmandu, even everyday meals are carefully crafted. The
generosity and care of the cooks are as much a part of the experience
as are the flavors themselves.
From Delhi, I traveled to Kathmandu, Nepal, where we had a hotel just
two blocks from Durbar Square. My host picked me up from the airport,
hallelujah, and drove me across town in his very, very small car
through the very crowded and monsoon-wetted streets. Once to the hotel, he gave me the standard orientation to drinkable water (and undrinkable);
the various amenities, including generous outlets right by the bed
and a swivel fan; and a few pointers on where I might want to go the next day.
The view from my bed
was rather stunning, since our hotel faced the Atko Narayan Temple; in this rendition, you can see the edges of my window:
It was a delightful location, and one of the days of our stay, there was a festival, so I got to observe the ceremonies with burning offerings, bell ringing, chanting, and the like. No pictures, though; I didn't want to be intrusive.
After a lovely, lovely night's sleep topped off with a productive dose of jet lag (love my kindle, love that I can do highlighting on my kindle, made SO much research progress at 2a.m.!), it was time to face the city.
Being a first-time tourist in Nepal, I started with Kathmandu Durbar
Square, as one does, by paying my entrance fee and getting my long-term visit card
(hint: bring along your passport and a passport photo when you first show up; your fee will last until the end of your visa), and then
went touring. I never did master the names of all of the square's buildings,
but I was fond of the carvings and the architecture, and enjoyed
spending a GREAT deal of time looking at all the intricate details.
But my leisurely pace was interrupted when the courtyard started filling with soldiers -- soldiers carrying drums! It seems the military band was under review. Setting up took some time, but they eventually got themselves ordered. I did notice that they formed up as much in the shade as they could (and who could blame them?). Eventually, however, their commander shifted them back to the center of the courtyard and out into that bright, warm sunlight.
While there was some tootling around beforehand, the flag ceremony introduced the drums and winds.
After a good deal of speechifying (all in Nepali so I can’t report
the content!), the unit marched out.
There must have been some activity outside of the palace, because it
was at least 10 minutes before the soldiers passed by on the outside
on parade, music whirling along with them as the percussion kept
steady time.
Watching the first portion of a parade, even a small one, made me think about
those commonalities with my hometown experience. I too have been in
groups which have crowded toward the shade while wearing an
unpleasantly heavy uniform; outdoor performance environments are not
always optimal. Sure, dark fabrics with heft and weight look
impressive, but there’s a reason science-fiction often references
temperature-regulating textiles! (And I in my short-sleeves was grateful to be recording from the shade, and I was seated on the steps, not standing or moving around!)
In all, about 45 minutes elapsed while I watched the group. I had time to think, in that idle way, about the meta-messaging of such events. The pride and
perfectability of formation was a signal of the kind of discipline
the group represents, and was reinforced by two different leaders, the quieter of which got quicker movements from the group. The (memorized) music spoke to a regularity
of rehearsal. The timbres seemed familiar even if the instruments per se were not. The winds reminded me of fifes, though I never got a
good look at the instruments since I was trying to stay out of the
way and not be THAT tourist. Still, the fife and drum type
combination has a lasting appeal in the military world, so the whole
experience was weirdly familiar, for all that I was on the far side
of the globe.
In all, my first
full day was a great success. The chance encounter with the pass-in-review meant that I managed to hit the “urban
soundscape” button right out of the gate with "real music," not just the sounds and noises of the
city. And historically-oriented me was truly delighted in the architecture,
carvings, and museum displays.
I’m not one for crowds, but I’m
genuinely glad that we chose to stay down by the “busy old center”
for this part of our trip.
Note: These events took place July 1-2, 2025.
RESOURCES: ARRIVING IN NEPAL
My flights into Nepal were limited to a single carry-on (7 kg total), and a checked bag of 20 kg total (44lb). I had known to pack with those limits, but I know others had been caught out.
When you arrive, there's a screening that includes watches and gold jewelry as well as electronics and so forth; be prepared to stand in that line a longish moment since others may have buried those items at the bottom of their bags. There are signs in English with instructions.
I did the Nepal "visa on arrival" process, and I filled out all of the paperwork of step one right there in the arrival area, though you can do part of it online up to 15 days in advance (if you print out your results). I had brought sufficient US cash to pay for my tourist visa, but I did use the airport ATM to get my first batch of Nepali rupees (since I had to pre-pay the hotel upon arrival). It is also possible to get a taxi from the taxi desk in the airport (which is what Nissa did when she arrived), and the cost is regulated so you don't have to worry about negotiating in your travel-weary sleep-deprived state.
We each had an e-SIM purchased from trip.com; I used the airport wifi to log in and claim it. Even sleep deprived it was an easy process: scan the QR code and click where it tells you.
We stayed in a distinctly budget hotel, Nirvana Kuti by Durbar Square -- really just three apartments, one per floor, with a bathroom, hallway sink, and small kitchen area with a kettle and (drinkable) water dispenser as well as a wash-up sink. The rooms were basic but spotless, and cheap, cheap, cheap! The space had comfey beds; fan but not AC; robust WiFi as long as the power was on; but no on-site services. There's a little convenience store right next door for all your snacking needs. However, for all that it was a plain-jane (and budget-friendly) location, our host Bobby was one of the highlights. A Nepali native who had studied for three years in Australia, he was super friendly, interested in cross-cultural conversations at his daily check-in, and incredibly helpful with arrangements and recommendations. (For instance, he took us a couple of blocks over to buy umbrellas at local rather than tourist prices!) We liked the place and its location so much that we stayed there again upon our return. NOTE: there is a second hotel of the same name, so use your map and navigate to the one by Atko Narayan Temple...
We ate several times over by Freak Street, where every other shop is a restaurant. My favorite was the Ginger Cafe (I got the veg khaja set, very yummy!) which is technically located on a cross-street, Phalchasa Galli. I was the only non-native in the restaurant.
