82 SEPTEMBER 2019 / TRAVELANDLEISUREASIA.COM
a small country to deal with. A devastating
earthquake in 2015 only piled on the pain.
I’d half-feared that I would encounter
a destination suffering from prolonged
heartache. Instead, I find that the valley is well
on the road to recovery. “It was devastating
of course,” says Sunita Gurung, International
Marketing and Communications Manager at
the Dwarika’s Group of the earthquake, as we
stroll through the persimmon and grapefruit
trees that dot the gorgeous courtyard at the
hotel. “It was heartbreaking for me as a Nepali
to go to Durbar Square in Kathmandu and to
see it turned into a bombsite. This country
may be small, but its people are strong. The
rebuilding work is taking some time, but
our pride in our heritage and our sense of
hospitality remains intact. And that’s why
tourists keep returning.”
I find it simple enough to gravitate towards
familiar highlights without encountering too
many unpleasant surprises along the way.
In fact, the presence of my companions—all
Nepal newbies—often serves to heighten the
sense of wonder. At Pashupatinath, the mass
of humanity crowding Nepal’s most famous
Hindu temple complex is as visceral as ever.
In alcoves corniced by ornate carvings of
fierce nagas and angry deities, ascetics—their
faces powdered as brightly as saffron robes—
meditate in silence. Elsewhere, devotees
disappear into ancient-looking temples where
entry is barred to non-Hindus and family
members set up funeral pyres by the banks
of the Bagmati. While such scenes would
never strike me as “normal,” numerous trips
to South Asia have cocooned me from their
impact. Nana, however, is less inured. “It’s
mind-blowing,” she gasps as we retreat up the
stairs leading away from the temple on the
opposite side of the river for a breather.
Further spiritual revelations are provided
later that same afternoon at Boudhanath:
the Buddhist yin to Pashupatinath’s Shaivite
yang. The largest stupa in the valley and one
of the main focal points for its sizeable Tibetan
community, the giant white dome and its
surrounding monasteries buzz with energy
while at the same time exuding a sense of
calm. We find a rooftop perch nearby from
which to observe devotees spin prayer wheels,
light butter lamps and complete their koras
(circumambulations) as we sup Tibetan po cha
(butter tea).
I enjoy the input my companions are
providing. While planning, I had thought my
previous experience with the country would
see me take a lead. I’d stroll down memory
lane and they would follow. As it turns
out, these seasoned, grown-up travelers have their own
priorities. Far from being a disadvantage, their thirst for
new experiences and perspective on things I had overlooked
previously prevents me from becoming a tourist in my own
memory and gives fresh impetus to the trip. In 2001, I was
too busy scaling trails, chasing mammals and ticking off
shrines to give much thought to the patchwork of ethnicities
that give Nepal much of its flavor. With a little help from
my friends, I form a better understanding of the way the
Newars—esteemed for their talents as architects, artists and
artisans—have shaped the culture of the valley.
At the stalls at Asan Market and Indra Chowk and the
specialty shops at Babar Mahal Revisited—a complex of
boutiques and restaurants in a recreation of a former royal
palace—the presence of the girls, both champion shoppers,
forces me to linger for a while and appreciate the intricacies
of Newari jewelry and textile design. And, although I’ve
never been averse to a spot of solo drinking or dining, it
never hurts to have company when you are dissecting the
highlights of a day over a meal washed down with a few icy
Sherpa beers.
These evening soirees are an undoubted highlight, and
another window to the lifestyle of the Newar. For many
Nepalis—especially those in the countryside—the daily
diet consists of little more than dal bhat tarkari (lentil soup,
boiled rice and mixed seasonal vegetables). But there’s
far more to Nepali food; the Newari kitchen, for instance,
encompasses more than 200 dishes. Krishnarparn, the
signature restaurant at Dwarika’s Hotel, is one of the best
places in Kathmandu to gain an appreciation of the subtle
intricacies of this rich culinary subset. Favorites include
kukhura ko masu (Nepalese chicken curry) and juju dhau (a
buffalo milk dessert with cinnamon translated from Newari
as “king of yogurts”).
The inclination to laze by the hotel’s pool is another way
I’ve changed since my early 20s, but we’ve still got some
catching up to do. We make our way to Thamel, the place
where I pitched up all those years ago. The area has acted
as a portal between east and west ever since hippies made
Kathmandu an integral stop on the Asian travel trail.
Westerners would seek enlightenment at ashrams or head
off into the mountains comfortable in the knowledge that
they’d be able to get a fried breakfast or a steak dinner in
Thamel when they emerged. The enclave has existed in this
form since the 1960s. Therefore, I’m not shocked to find that
it is like a turbocharged version of its former self.
Familiar landmarks such as Tibet Book Store and
Chikusa Café are still present and correct. But I discover that
Thamel has upped its game since my last visit. Back then I
took immense pleasure in its lively dive bars and shopworn
steakhouses and momo joints. Nowadays, the area is awash
with upscale coffee shops specializing in artisanal local
roasts, while the restaurant scene has broadened its palette
to encompass global flavors like freshly flown-in sushi and
fusion nibbles.
By the time we end our day in Thamel with a Scottish IPA
at the Yeti Tap Room and Beer Garden and a wood-fired thin-
crust marinara pie at long-serving pizzeria Fire and Ice, all
followed by some hip-hop inflected beats at Jazz Upstairs,