Exploring Kathmandu

I Continue From Here: Between Tradition and Change: A Day In Kathmandu

4 May 2026

I woke up early, as always, and stepped out for tea at the same eatery. I had a croissant along with my chia.  For breakfast too I went there and had channa and anda like the locals. 

Afterwards, I walked to a nearby money exchange shop and converted some Indian rupees into Nepali currency. Most shops in Thamel accept Indian rupees, but I wouldn't be able to use them in the more remote areas. Officially, money exchange shops do not exchange Indian rupees, but almost all of them will do so for a nominal fee.

I took a bike ride to Buddhanilkantha Temple. InDrive is a popular app for booking taxis and bike rides in Nepal. I had come across the temple while looking for attractions in the area. It was about a 30-minute ride from Thamel. Along the way, I passed through an area where slums had recently been demolished. The issue had been widely covered in the news, and I had watched several reels about how the illegal settlement was cleared by the new government. The decision had left public opinion sharply divided.

As I reached the temple, I saw a large crowd gathered there. Many families had set up pandals within the temple premises, and several havans and poojas were underway. The temple is also a place where children undergo their first tonsure ceremony. There were Bratabandha (Upanayana) ceremonies taking place as well, marking the transition of young boys into religious life and adulthood through the introduction of sacred rites and rituals. I was somewhat surprised by how deeply religious many Nepali Hindus appeared to be.

However, the main attraction of this temple for me was the idol of Lord Vishnu reclining on the serpent Kalinga, lying in the middle of a pond.

I booked another InDrive bike to Kapan Monastery. The route took us through quieter neighbourhoods and up a small hill where several monasteries are located. I failed to find exact change for the ride. I asked at a few shops, but nobody seemed to have change for my large currency note. Eventually, I had to pay a little extra to the driver, who himself did not have the correct change.

At Kapan Monastery, I was welcomed at the gate by a security guard who was delighted to learn that I was from Bangalore. He had worked there previously and spoke fondly of some of the neighbourhoods he knew well.

Inside, the monastery was peaceful and serene. I was particularly impressed by the thangka paintings. As I was leaving, the security guard suggested that I walk behind the monastery to see a stupa. I followed his advice and spent some time strolling through the gardens. Before leaving, I thanked him for his kindness.

Along the way, I saw local artists creating thangka paintings. It looked like work that demanded immense patience and precision. The lines were delicate and meticulous, and the colours were applied in thin, controlled layers. Watching them, I felt a strong desire to learn the art form myself.

The weather was pleasant, so I decided to walk to Boudhanath Stupa, around 4 km away. I wandered through residential streets, observing daily life unfold around me. My flâneur mode was fully on.

The stupa itself was impressive enough, but what fascinated me even more were the monasteries and shops surrounding it. I visited several galleries displaying thangka paintings and enquired about lessons. Most required at least a week's commitment to learn the basics. Perhaps another time. I also learned that traditional thangka paintings use natural pigments derived from rocks and minerals.

I entered a monastery where monks were chanting prayers. The atmosphere was captivating, though many of the surrounding shops felt repetitive, selling nearly identical items.

From there, I walked to the Guhyeshwari Shaktipeeth. Several weddings were taking place there. Some of the couples looked remarkably young. One groom, in particular, seemed barely seventeen. His expression was completely blank, as though he had not yet grasped the magnitude of the commitment he was making.

From there, a flight of stairs leads to the summit of a small hill dotted with shrines dedicated to various Hindu deities. The hill was crowded with locals who had gathered with friends and family. Spread across the hillside, people sat chatting, relaxing, and enjoying the afternoon.

Descending the other side of the hill, I arrived at Pashupatinath Temple. After leaving my sandals at the counter, I entered the complex. I was fortunate to receive darshan quite quickly. The doors of the main shrine opened, and devotees were allowed to enter from all four sides. We circumambulated the sanctum while observing the four priests perform rituals around the Shiva linga in a carefully choreographed manner. It almost felt theatrical.

Interestingly, the temple priests traditionally come from Udupi, not far from my hometown. This custom dates back centuries and was maintained by Nepal's royal family. Back in the 1990s, my aunt's sister married the son of the head priest who served at Pashupatinath. I still remember attending the wedding and the celebration at their home afterwards. As a child, I was fascinated by the grand house and the lavish feast.

Behind the temple, above the ghat, a group of devotees were singing bhajans. I sat there for a while, listening. Below, at the ghat, the body of an elderly man was being prepared for cremation. I watched as it was carefully placed so that the feet touched the holy waters of the Bagmati River.

One may interpret such scenes according to one's age, experience, and beliefs. In the rituals, in the bhajans, and in the foreign tourists capturing the moment through their cameras, I saw only humanity's inability to fully understand life. These were all ways of confronting life and death—the great mystery that continues to elude our comprehension.

By this point, I was very hungry and found a good restaurant nearby serving a Nepali thali. Nepali thalis typically do not include chapati, so I ordered one separately. I also tried a banana lassi, something new to me.

At the next table, a group of elderly Nepali men were discussing Indian politics. People here seemed surprisingly interested in political developments across the border. Their conversation reminded me of the election results that had recently been announced in some Indian states. I checked the news and caught up on the results.

By the time I finished eating, it had started to drizzle. I booked a bike ride back to the hostel. Later, I spent some time sketching in my journal on the terrace before heading out for an evening walk around Thamel. I enjoy wandering through its shops and observing the steady flow of travellers and locals. I eventually settled into a pleasant café called Himalayan Arabica Coffee, where I enjoyed a cappuccino and relaxed.

The next morning, I was scheduled to visit the office of our trekking company for a briefing and to meet the rest of the group. I was feeling slightly nervous about the trek, mainly because of the altitude and the cold. The route would take me nearly 2,000 feet higher than I had ever been before.

5 May 2026

I woke up early and headed out for tea. On my way, I spoke with Raju at the reception. He told me that his cousin had been diagnosed with cancer and was undergoing treatment at a government hospital. He looked tired and worried.

I returned to my regular tea shop. The couple who ran the place rarely smiled and always seemed rather serious. Deciding to try somewhere different, I went to another dhaba run by an elderly couple who were much friendlier and more cheerful. Unfortunately, the paratha there was disappointing, and the hygiene standards seemed questionable. I began to think that perhaps the unsmiling couple's establishment was the better option after all—the food was good and cleanliness was never a concern.

After breakfast, I got ready and walked to the Magical Nepal office. I met our guide there, who initially assumed I was Nepali and simply asked me to sit down. Only when one of the office staff approached me did he realise I was actually a trekker. It was an amusing misunderstanding.

I was quite impressed by the new office space the organisation had recently moved into. The interiors resembled those of a modern IT company in Bangalore, complete with employee cubicles and conference rooms equipped with the latest digital presentation technology.

I met Flavie from Quebec, and we chatted briefly in French. Ward and Gilou joined us later; they are Flemish and from Belgium. Antonio arrived shortly afterwards. He is from Italy. I was the oldest member of the group, while Flavie was the youngest.

A member of the office staff walked us through the route and provided all the necessary information. We had the option of borrowing sleeping bags and jackets from the company, but I decided to use my own gear which were much lighter. I did, however, rent a pair of micro spikes, which would prove useful on some sections of the trail, particularly during the high-pass crossing.

After the briefing, I headed into Thamel's shopping district and was fortunate to find a good store called Welcome trekking store. The lady running it quoted fair prices, and because I spoke Hindi, negotiating a small discount was relatively easy, although bargaining is not one of my strengths. I later checked prices elsewhere and confirmed that her rates were reasonable, so I returned and purchased everything I needed: a sleeping bag liner and a pair of gaiters, which, as it turned out, I never used. Since she didn't stock headlamps, I bought one from a nearby shop.

At a local supermarket, I picked up water purification tablets, and from a pharmacy I bought blister tape. Both would prove extremely useful during the trek.

For lunch, I visited a vegan restaurant called Always Happy Food, located near my hostel. It quickly became my favourite place in Kathmandu. Their falafel hummus wrap was absolutely delicious.

I also bought some apples from a street vendor. He was originally from Bihar and had been living in Nepal for eighteen years. He was happy to accept Indian rupees. During my stay in Kathmandu, I ran into him several more times, as he always seemed to be selling fruit on the same streets.

Back at the hostel, I spent the afternoon packing. I met a French-speaking Belgian traveller who was in Nepal for a meditation retreat followed by some trekking. Another guest, a Chinese trekker, had just completed the Annapurna Circuit and eagerly showed me photos from her trip. She warned me that it was currently raining and snowing on the Manaslu Circuit and suggested that it might not be the best time to go. There was little I could do at that stage, so I decided to leave it to fate.

The traveller from the Philippines had returned after finding another hostel unclean and overcrowded. I wasn't surprised. That was precisely why I had chosen this hostel, even though it cost perhaps 200 NPR more than some of the cheaper options.

That evening, I walked to Durbar Square and sat there quietly, like a local, absorbing the chaos unfolding around me. Afterwards, I wandered back through the streets of Thamel, stopped for a coffee at my favourite café, and returned to the hostel for an early night.

Tomorrow, I would set out on an adventure.

To Be Continued...