It’s a forty-minute walk to Thamel.
On the trip over I pass by police boxes, small shrines dedicated to various deities, and the Garden of Dreams. I pass old women sitting on roadsides, charring corn over open fires, and I pass dogs sleeping in gutters.
Nepal has a dog problem the way New York has a rat problem.
Thamel is a maze-like shopping area dotted with cafés and momo stands. I know I have finally arrived when the streets start to narrow in on themselves, the shop fronts darken to wood, and the goods in the windows brighten to bold yellows, oranges, and reds. The roads here are busy, like most roads in Kathmandu, with motorcycles darting around unfazed pedestrians and no sidewalks to speak of.
But Thamel is also known for its appeal to tourists, and so here the vendors are more vocal than in the residential district of Dillibazar, where my hostel is located.
I have learned not to linger too long at windows unless I want to spend the next ten minutes explaining why I’m not buying, just looking. I have also learned not to respond when people shout to me, asking where I’m from, unless I don’t mind being followed down the street until I can find some larger store to duck into.
But I am still getting the hang of haggling over prices, a skill which does not come easily to me. I know enough not to accept the first offer, but I don’t possess the willpower to drive a price down, the knowledge about what the price should be to begin with, nor the nonchalance to walk away (or pretend to) if all else fails. The whole process makes me uncomfortable, and shy, and wherever possible I try to enlist a companion to do it for me.
It took one time with Laxmi as my guide, and one time with Google Maps, and now I can walk there by heart.
The first time I went I bought an apricot scarf for my mom. Then Shanti and Laxmi showed me where they used to go rock climbing as they trained to become trekking guides. With three walls of varying difficulty, the place is located right off the side of the road, across the street from a store selling North Face jackets and hiking poles.
The second time I visited I sat at a café and bought a mango smoothie with a tiny scoop of vanilla ice cream and cinnamon on top. On the way home that day I felt proud of my solo trip and taxi haggling until I got out of said taxi, immediately became lost on the dark streets, and had to call Laxmi for help. Apparently it’s a work in progress.
The last time I went I was with Usha, Cindy, and Suzyana. We wound through the maze along a new path, and as we seem to do with each succeeding visit, came upon a few more discoveries. My favorite of these was one we almost missed.
We were trying to find our way out to New Road. The streets in Kathmandu are generally a minefield of loosened stone, uneven ground, and garbage, and Thamel is no exception. As such, I often find it necessary to keep my eyes down in order to avoid falling all over myself.
Suddenly I heard the distinct shout of someone coming up on a bike behind us, and I looked up to get out of the way. That was when my eye caught a tiny offshoot, a path, across the street. It actually appeared to me as more of a tunnel since it was completely overhung with prayer flags. The sun, illuminating them just right, created colorful patterns on the ground like stained glass. At the end I could just make out the peak of a small temple.
Going through to explore, we discovered a courtyard containing a stupa in miniature form. Wood carvings of different gods, dyed with gold and red powder. Willow-the-wisp children splashing in a stone basin of water. More pigeons in one place than I have ever seen; swooping low, perched atop the surrounding roofs, on the ground enjoying a buffet of seeds and crumbs. Feed the birds, (tuppence a bag).
As we investigated the courtyard, the sunlight began to fall, and we decided that it was time to head home. On our way back we passed down New Road and through the jeweler’s district where one would go to buy beads and gold. We stopped for ice cream, and I got a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of blueberry. Blueberry always goes on top.
Every visit to Thamel, with its singing bells, and turquoise jewelry, and bakeries, only makes me want to return sooner. It makes me wonder what is hiding around the corner, just waiting to be discovered.
