Nagarkot, Nepal

I Continue From Here: Bakthapur, Nepal

May 21

I woke up and headed to the tea stall. The couple there recognised me and smiled. They informed the other customers that I was Indian. That day, they were discussing education and politics in Nepal. Meanwhile, they were busy frying everything in a maida batter—potatoes, bread, and even papads—while carrying on lively conversations with their customers.

On my way back, I stopped at a local shop to buy fresh Nepali donuts. Many locals eat them for breakfast.

After getting ready and checking out, I headed to the bus stand and boarded a bus to Nagarkot. Nagarkot is about an hour's drive uphill from Bhaktapur.

The views along the way were amazing, and by the time I arrived, the clouds had covered the hills. I had booked a hotel near the town square. The hotel was quite old, but the owner was very sweet. Mr. Ram showed me to my room, and I ordered lunch there. At that time, I was the only guest.

Later, I decided to take a long walk to the viewing tower, about 4 km away. I borrowed an umbrella and set off along the paved road. Much of the surrounding land is owned by the military.

There were a few viewpoints along the route, and several locals were busy making reels. The mist had covered the entire landscape. This trip reminded me of my scooter rides and walks around Kampot, Cambodia.

There were young boys and couples at the tower. On a clear day, one can see the snow-capped Himalayas in the distance. A group of Indian tourists from Delhi arrived and began commenting, “There is nothing to see here in Nagarkot.” Well, there are hills, clouds, nature, and peace. Some tourists seem to want a man-made attraction everywhere—a temple, a theme park, or a sculpture. The idea of traveling simply to appreciate nature and beautiful views does not seem sufficient for them. There was also a Nepali couple there, and the man was particularly entertaining. He spoke to everyone and was constantly making funny reels.

On my way back, I stopped at a beautiful resort called Cooee Himalaya and had coffee and some food there. A German Shepherd, a small boy, and a cat kept me company while I spent nearly an hour soaking in the views.

The sight of villages nestled in the valley below reminded me of Ohiya in Sri Lanka. I was happy to be in such a secluded place. This is what I enjoy most when I travel—to be unknown. Travel allows me to be a nobody.

The next morning, I woke to a lot of noise outside. In the town square below, villagers had gathered to sell their produce at the weekly Friday market. I went down and spent some time observing the lively scene.

I had breakfast at the hotel and then set off on a long trek to a nearby waterfall. I passed through villages before reaching the main road and then took a forest trail to the falls. 

There were two young boys there trying to learn how to swim. They asked whether I could swim and invited me to join them in the pool where they were practicing. Soon, a few others joined as well. It was refreshing to take a dip and then relax under the warm sun. I also climbed a little higher to get a better view of the waterfall. It was refreshing to stand under the waterfall and let the cascading water massage your head.

From there, I walked to Rani Jhula, a beautiful suspension bridge overlooking a deep forest and the valley below. Young boys were offering drone photography and videography services to the tourists gathered there.

I walked back to Nagarkot—a journey of nearly 10 km in total. That evening, I had an early dinner at a restaurant opposite my hotel and later stopped by Himalayan Java coffee for some cappuccino. When I returned to the hotel, a group of young men and a woman had checked in and were gathered around a campfire. They invited me to join them.

Two of the men were around thirty years old. Both had studied abroad, and one was now working in the United States. The woman was dating one of them, while the fourth member of the group was a young man who had just completed his engineering degree. They were all neighbours. Through them, I got a glimpse into the perspective of Nepal’s urban upper-middle class. We discussed Indian and Nepali politics, life in general, and the Western world.

They ordered beer and barbecue, and Mr.Ram joined us as well. He entertained the youngsters with stories from his youth—how he had met his wife and pursued her.

Mr.Ram also introduced me to a 19-year-old boy from Bangladesh who was traveling outside his country for the first time. There are many Bangladeshi travellers in Nepal because obtaining a visa is relatively easy, though most travel on a limited budget. I spoke with him for a while and learned that he had received several offers to study abroad. He was considering moving to Italy for higher education. I was impressed to see such a young South Asian traveling alone. Many Westerners do this at that age, but it is still relatively uncommon in South Asia.

The next morning, 23 May, I woke up and stepped out for tea. When I returned, Mr.Ram asked whether I would like to accompany him to another hotel he owned in partnership with a wealthy friend. He needed to deliver milk there and meet a friend who was staying at the property.

The view from the terrace was magnificent. As we sipped tea, we spoke about Nepali politics and the challenges of setting up and sustaining a business. He spoke about Balen Shah as though he were advising one of his own sons, saying that he needed to focus more on the poor, who formed the largest voting bloc.

Mr.Ram had bought land around Nagarkot and owned three properties, two of which were managed by his sons. He said that his wealthy friends often invited him to travel the world with them, but he preferred to stay back and focus on his businesses.

Mr. Ram also told me that the design of this property was his idea. He wanted something unique, which led the architect to come up with an octagon-shaped building. “Nobody in Nagarkot has a design like this,” he declared proudly.

Later, his friend arrived—a retired gentleman who had worked for Save the Children. His wife and he have known Mr.Ram for many years. I chatted briefly with the couple. Their son and daughter had settled abroad, and they were spending their retirement traveling the world. They told me that India was their dream destination. Although they had traveled extensively in North India, exploring South India remained high on their list.

Since Mr.Ram had much to discuss with them, I decided to walk back to the hotel. I had breakfast at a local eatery—chana and egg—then packed my bags and prepared to leave. Before departing, I thanked Mr.Ram for his warm hospitality and tipped the lady who had been cooking for me.

A local bus was waiting to fill up, and I boarded it to Bhaktapur. From there, I took another bus back to Kathmandu.

CONTINUED HERE: Return to Kathmandu