Weekly Travel Feature

Over the Himalayas into Kathmandu

Prepared by Harold Stephens
Travel Correspondent for Thai Airways International

Kathmandu, Himalayan capital at the top of the world, the city of mystery and magic, of stone gods and goddesses, of past kings and princesses--it was dark the first time I saw it, and I wasn't too impressed. I had come overland by Jeep, a most arduous journey via the Tribhuwan Rajpath, the highest highway in Asia, and as darkness was falling we dropped down into the Valley of Kathmandu. No lights, and gloom. The only accommodation we could find was the Snow View Hotel, another disappointment. I had driven all the way for this, I thought. But the next morning, when I threw open my windows, I changed my mind completely, irrevocably, forever. I had awakened in a land of fairytales. I had found Shangri--La. It was that powerful.

That was more than 40 years ago, and I wrote about that first trip in detail in my book Who Needs A Road? Since then I have returned to Kathmandu time and time again, at every chance that came my way. Most memorable was after I became travel correspondent for Thai Airways, and management sent me ahead to be on hand when THAI inaugurated the first international jet service to Nepal. That was in 1968.

Nepal grew to become a prime destination for visitors from around the world. With its popularity, however, came criticism. Everyone now said Nepal had let tourism grow too rapidly, without considering the environment. It was true; the country was not ready for mass tourism. Most damaging was the battalions of mountain climbers who appeared on the scene, all wanting to "the youngest," "the oldest," "the first women" "the fastest," and even a blind man, to climb the highest mountain in the world. Many succeeded, and made names for themselves. But they also left behind another legacy, a less favorable one: tons of garbage and discarded mountain climbing gear.

"But that has changed," admits Lisa Choegyal, a leading travel authority on Nepal. "The government now requires that everything that goes up must come down." It has made a big difference.

But let's get back to Kathmandu. Why Kathmandu? First, the beauty of Kathmandu is unsurpassed; it belongs to another world. Most of Nepal's art and architecture are indigenous, and what impresses me most about the city is that these treasures are all in use. The people are using buildings that in other countries would have been chained off, with guards selling tickets to tourists for a hurried view. In ancient temples, built centuries before when Europe was still in the Dark Ages, bells ring as they always have; and massive doors with heavy iron hinges, constructed when the armies of Genghis Khan marched across Asia, still swing closed each night and open with the first light of dawn.

Perhaps the unique nature of Nepal, like Thailand, is the result of never having been colonized or exploited by foreign powers. It was the Rana family--the ruling aristocracy who had usurped the powers of the kings, and turned Nepal into their private estate--who forbade visitors to enter the country.

The mountainous terrain made it easy to enforce the ban. Only when India achieved her independence after World War II were the king's supporters able to secure aid from the sympathetic Indian government. When the King's revolution succeeded, the Rana prime minister resigned, and the country began to emerge from obscurity. In 1956 the first road connecting Nepal with the outside world was completed. And in 1968 Thai Airways made travel to Nepal possible.

The old section of Kathmandu, a city within a city, is encircled by a wall with narrow openings for gates, where the streets are cobbled and narrow and overhung by carved wooden balconies. In dimly lighted shops, craftsmen sit cross--legged and practice their ancient arts and sell their wares. By midmorning the streets are crowded. From the highlands come men and women in colorful costumes. The men wear strips of cloth wrapped around their waists, from which hangs the kukri, the Nepalese scimitar. The women wear ankle--length robes, and adorn themselves with bangles around the wrists and heavy jewelry about their necks. Since there are no beasts of burden in Nepal, the task of transporting supplies is left to porters. They hurry through the streets in never--ending streams, jogging along in single file, carrying their heavy loads in baskets held in place by straps around their heads. And since the Kathmandu Valley is predominately Hindu, the sacred cows wander freely through the streets. In fact, in Nepal it is a capital offense to kill a cow.

Years ago, the main tourist area in Kathmandu was centered around Dubar Square. In the late 1960's and early 70's, during the so--called heyday of hippy overland travel, the most popular place in Kathmandu was centered around the square. Its main street, where all the back--packers gathered, was Jhochhen Tote, a narrow congested thoroughfare that runs south from the square. But they didn't call it by that name then. It was better known as Freak Street. And, in deed, that's just what it was, a street for freaks, the place for cheap hotels, cheap restaurants, and, undoubtedly the major attraction, the many hashish shops.

But times change. Freak Street today is but a shadow of its former self, and, while there are still cheap hotels and restaurants, it's now the Thamel area in the north of the town that has become the main gathering place, for pack packers and affluent travelers as well. The big change came in 1975. Freak Street lost its luster when Kathmandu began a major a citywide clean up in preparation for King Birendra's coronation. Number One was to ban hashish and marijuana, and next was to ride the town of it impoverished visitors. Trucks drove through the streets and the authorities loaded aboard those whose visas had expired or who couldn't support themselves. They were then trucked down to the Indian border and unloaded.

Some shoestring travelers still stay around Freak Street, and with its historical connections, it's still an interesting place right in the heart of old Kathmandu. It's one place in town where a taxi or trishaw will do you no good. The only way to get around is by foot. A stroll will lead the casual wanderer to many intriguing sights, especially in the crowded maze of streets, courtyards and alleys in the market area north of Durbar Square. There are temples, shrines and many individual statues and sculptures hidden away in the most unlikely places.

The area is like a museum, but one that's open to the public. And what makes it interesting, other than a few freaks who still gather, are the people who push through the streets--Buddhist monks, Hindu sadhus, Sherpa's with huge loads on their backs, Tibet porters in long black robes and fur caps, school girls in western dress and housewives in saris and jewels doing their daily shopping. Trishaw's push their way through the crowd, cows look for refuge to eat in the gutters, hawkers call out for passersby to buy their wares and carpet salesmen look for potential customers. All the walks lead to markets, temples and chowks, the center of Nepalese life. Everywhere are courtyards, some quite large and dotted with chaityas and shrines.

Thamel is now the place, especially in the evening when you can feel its pulse beat. It has atmosphere. It's crammed with shops and stores bulging at the seams, restaurants and bars, book shops and pizza parlors, hawkers and trishaw drivers calling out to strollers, and all the weird and strange sounds--but its the people who make it interesting, tourists included. Occasionally there's the passing freak, but the majority of visitors these days are serious--minded tourists--hikers, trekkers, climbers and determined sightseers. They come with climbing boots and rosy cheeks, with bright woolen sweaters and sweat pants, some walking, others riding bicycles. They come to come to gather in the restaurant in the evenings, lingering over their tables, drinking coffee and hot toddies in front of warming fireplaces.

But Nepal is more than Kathmandu. We hear so much about the high Himalayas and mountain climbing and trekking. There is also an area called Terai, which represents one of the world’s most spectacular successes in the development of wild life national parks and the conservation of their species. There are seven such national parks in Nepal representing 16% of the total land area of the country.

At this writing I am in the Terai and over the next few weeks I will be taking readers of Weekly Travel Feature into two of these game reserves, the Chitwan and the Bardia reserves. Let it not be said that elephants and tigers no longer exist in the wild. The Terai proves that this is not so.