Bhaktapur, Nepal

I Continue From Here: Manaslu Circuit Trek - Day 11: Gowa to Tilche

On May 18, I reached Kathmandu at around 2:30 PM. After collecting my extra luggage and freshening up, I decided to head out for a walk to Durbar Square. I went to my favourite vegan restaurant, Always Happy. I ordered my favourite dish—the hummus wrap—and sat there sketching.

That was when Sangam and Manisha walked in. It happened to be their favourite place as well, and they knew I would probably be there because we had spoken before about how much we liked it.

We spent a long time talking about our experiences. It was a wonderful evening. Later, I took them to Durbar Square. They had never been there before, and the place was lively and full of energy.

The next morning, May 19, I woke up early and had my morning tea at my usual spot. I planned to check out and leave for Bhaktapur by 10 AM. Around that time, Sangam called and asked if they could join me in exploring Bhaktapur. I was more than happy to have their company, so we agreed to meet near my hostel.

After checking out, I stopped at a juice shop and enjoyed a mango lassi. The shop was run by a Bihari family. The owner spoke to me at length about life in Nepal and his village back in India. He also mentioned that he could exchange Nepali rupees for me if I transferred Indian rupees through UPI. This turned out to be useful later when Sangam needed some local currency.

Soon, Sangam and Manisha arrived and had juice there as well. After exchanging money, we left and walked towards the Ratna Park area to look for a local bus. Along the way, we stopped at a small shop so Sangam could buy a T-shirt.

We reached the Bag Bazaar bus stand and found a local bus heading to Bhaktapur. The journey took about an hour. After getting off the bus, we walked towards Durbar Square. To enter the ancient town, we had to purchase an entry ticket costing 500 NPR.

I first went to my hostel to leave my bags. Hostel Swastik, located at the far end of the old town, was the only hostel in Bhaktapur. My first impression of the place was not particularly positive, but the hosts were genuinely warm and welcoming.

After settling in, I headed back to town and met Sangam and Manisha near the square. We then searched for a good restaurant serving traditional Newari food. We eventually found Newa Lahana, a beautiful restaurant tucked away in a residential neighbourhood. Everything about the place impressed us—the interiors, the cleanliness, and the attention to detail. The staff patiently explained the dishes and even taught us the proper way to eat them. We also tried some rice beer, which was surprisingly delicious. Along with bara, we sampled several other Newari dishes.

After lunch, I stopped at the famous Madhikarmi Juju Dhau Centre to try the renowned juju dhau ("king curd"), which reminded me a lot of Bengali mishti doi.

We then walked to a shop (Bham Khulfi) selling Bhaktapur's famous kulfi before continuing to Pottery Square, where Manisha tried her hand at pottery. There was also a lovely ceramics shop displaying beautiful handmade mugs. I was tempted to buy one, but I worried it might break during the journey home, so I resisted.

Soon after, Sangam and Manisha decided to leave, as their trekking organiser had arranged a farewell dinner for them. It had been wonderful spending time with them.

I took a walk around the town. Local men were busy playing some games. 

I returned to Durbar Square to sketch. While I was drawing, I met a man named Yukesh, who was curious about my sketches. He turned out to be an architect, and we spent a long time talking about Nepali culture, Bhaktapur, Newari architecture, and local life. He was also an artist, and I was impressed by some of the work he showed me.

As our conversation deepened, he shared some details about his personal life. He was married to a Japanese woman who had come to Nepal as a volunteer several years earlier. They had a daughter together, but in order to raise their child, it had been decided that his wife would move back to Japan. Yukesh continued living in Nepal because of his responsibilities towards his parents. They visited each other whenever possible.

One thing I noticed about Bhaktapur was how alive its traditions remained. Every evening, groups of villagers gathered in temple courtyards and public squares to sing bhajans together.

Later, I went to the Himalayan Java Coffee outlet overlooking Nyatapola Temple. It was a peaceful place to sit and watch life unfold in the square below.

The next morning, May 20, I walked to a small tea shop near the hostel. It was run by a husband-and-wife team. Local men gathered there every morning to discuss politics and current affairs. I sat quietly among them, behaving as naturally as possible, and for a while they assumed I was a local. A cup of tea cost just 30 NPR, and a fried snack only 5 NPR.

When it was time to pay, however, they realised I could not speak Nepali. The woman running the shop burst into laughter when I replied in Hindi. She was amused that I was Indian and yet had managed to blend in so well until then.

After breakfast, I walked to Dattatreya Square. Most temples in Bhaktapur share a similar architectural style, making it difficult at times to distinguish one from another. Yet each had its own charm and details waiting to be discovered. I was surprised that there were not many trees inside the town. 

Later, I returned to the Nyatapola Temple area and had brunch at Himalayan Java Coffee. I also stopped to try a local delicacy called yomari. Before leaving the square, I visited the famous Madhikarmi Juju Dhau Centre once again, where a small cup of juju dhau was sold for 50 NPR—the fair local price. Many other places charged considerably more.

After a short afternoon nap, I headed back to Durbar Square. It had been raining continuously since midday. I found a sheltered spot and continued sketching, but the rain showed no signs of stopping. Eventually, I wandered through a few of the narrow lanes around the square before returning to Himalayan Java Coffee for dinner.

That night, I walked back to the hostel through rain-soaked streets. That night there was no electricity. 

To Be Continued...