A city of five senses

And so the journey begins. My travel buddy select, Orla, a fellow nurse, and I set off for our holiday at a bleary eyed six-o'clock, in grizzly-grey mid-March. The destination? We were headed to Nepal; Himalaya strewn, Everest hosting, earthquake shaken hub of bustle that we knew little more about, but had both 'just always wanted to go'.

I had had a variety of reactions to this choice of two-week-break-from-work holiday destination. It seems the idea of Nepal is a bit marmite; one outspoken friend said 'You've out-randomed me with that one'; mum the cliché warned 'be careful Corkie, earthquakes'; and pretty much anyone who's ever been? 'Best time ever'. So, alas, with 24 hrs and a stop in a-bit-too-shiny Mumbai airport (where the garden, by the way, is not a garden) under our belts, we arrived in a temperate 25degree Kathmandu; a city of five senses.


Sight: Colour, just pure unadulterated colour everywhere. Fluorescent red, zingy pink, azure blue,

Traffic and colour - Kathmandu

paradise green, vibrant yellow, sunburnt orange, deep purple. Despite expecting to see the tougher side of a natural disaster hit and reputationally poor country, the main streets were pretty clean and the dirt roads that wind through the Thamel district, where we were staying, were adorned with beautifully dressed men and women. Stalls and shops line the streets selling a rainbow of yak wool scarves, knock-off North Face equipment for the trekkers and Hareem pants and hash for the hippies. Venturing off the main roads does show a slightly murkier side to the capital, with piles of unused resources scattered around, waiting to be put to use for repairs on buildings that got the unlucky hand in the quake. But even these squares have Stupas (Buddhist temples, the ones often seen in photos with the colourful prayer flags) or Hindu shrines the size of small houses, which are kept spotless and often touched with gold. We had a lovely moment in one such backstreet square, where two boys were playing with drums amongst the rubble, under the watchful Buddah eyes of the square's magnificent white and gold stupa.



Smell: I would probably describe Kathmandu as 'sweet and sour'.  The sweet drifting from the multiple Hindu shrines that appear on even the most backstreets of street, wafting incense to create a temporary mask for the other, less attractive scents. The sour coming from the roads struggling to rid themselves of recent rain, which pools and cooks under the hot sun. A cocktail which, in the not infrequent rain, is bearable verging on nice, and in the sun becomes less enjoyable.

Touch: One word. Don't.

Taste: Curry and Thalis (as seen all over India) are the staple of the Nepali diet. As in much of south/Central Asia, spices are easy to come by and thus tasty food is a guarantee. Rice, Roti, naan and buttery parathas line the dishes making for happy customers if you are a curry lover. These meals are eaten by locals and clued-up travellers with the right hand, because, traditionally, the left hand has other business (!) to attend to. Mixing the two is looked down on forcefully by some Nepalis.

Momos

Nepal also boasts its own specialty, the momo. Yes, momo. We enjoyed saying this word over and over, particularly when filled with buffalo, making it what they call a buff momo (cows are very holy, so no beef). Momos are little steamed or fried packets of flavour, similar in appearance to dumplings but less stodgy. Filled with aromatic veg, or meat, you can get a plate of 10 for £1, making for a fantastic snack. We overdid the momo in our first few days, so are on a momentary momo break at the mo(mo).

Sound: By far Kathmandu's most aggressive sense. Mopeds and taxis fill almost every road to the brim. As I'm sure is seen over much of Asia, the traffic structure is painfully illogical by Western standards. A free for all. The two sides of the road, if there are two, are confidently used by traffic in both directions. I mean, it sort of works, sort of. You can get from A to B at a stressful stretch. Who loses out with this structure? Pedestrians. The infuriating trio of constantly being bumped into the gutters, the heavy diesel laden smog and incessant honking (which in Nepalmeans 'I'm here' not 'You bastard' as it does in the UK), is probably the main thing to chase tourists out of the capital city into the welcoming arms of the fresh surrounding hills. Oh, that and the Himalayas.

After the sacrifice (lamb sacrifice)

Nepal has a sixth sense too. Religion. The sense of a 'bigger presence' is almost everywhere, from streets to mountain tops to rural farms. With the majority of the population being Hindu, ornate Hindu shrines dot every street, with remnants of incense and scattering of flowers or other offerings testifying for their constant use. Orla and I had the questionable luck of stumbling across the annual Hindu Ghode Jadra festival in Kathmandu on our first day. Questionable because it made the already busting streets of Thamel even fuller. Little Orla and I stood no chance; after an hour of pushing our way around the streets, still unaware of the festival may I add, we stumbled upon a particularly densely packed square. Looking up, kids and eager parents gladly filled every watchpoint in the square - windows, roofs, balconies. On the ground it was carnage, the heaving throngs leaving us powerless to direction. All eyes were trained on the centre of the square, we had no idea what was happening, but thankfully a friendly nameless Nepali with good English informed us that the 'puja' or ceremony was starting. Drums started and an old lady was supported into the square, wearing a mask - representing the God. A small sheep could be spotted amongst the legs of men in white wraps. Our friend told us that the sacrifice would start soon, I looked at Orla (the vegetarian)'s face, a little apprehensive. Atmosphere charged, the Goddess looked to us like she was trembling, shifting from foot to foot, the drums grew louder, the crowds pushed harder...and suddenly they stopped. The men supporting the Goddess moved forwards out of sight, and after a moment she was carted off. A stretch to tiptoes showed me a smattering of blood. 'Right we're off' I said, and we thrusted our way out of the crowd to safer territory. It had, somewhat thankfully, been the poor sheep that had been offered to the Gods, not the lady as first imagined. Even so, we moved on.

Bouddanath's world famous Buddhist stupa

The other religion that colours Nepal is Buddhism. Although reports are that it only covers 10% of the population, its presence feels equal to that of Hinduism. Buddhist prayer flags hang colourfully in every street and Stupas in many courtyards. We payed an obligatory visit to Boudanath - the town of the widely photographed stupa (pictured) that fronts many a Nepal guidebook. It is Nepal's largest and most sacred Buddhist site, with thousands of visitors daily circling (clockwise, most definitely not anti-clockwise, we learned the hard way) round and round, cupping prayer beads in holy hands. Hundreds of maroon robed monks sit in lines, rhythmically turning turquoise drums in uniform, chanting something that I was singing for a good while afterwards. All of this overlooked by the towering gold Buddha eyes at the apex of the stupa; actually quite ominous. There was a calmness to it, which contrasted the expensive 'tourist' entry fee and Korean (!) restaurant which we accidentally stumbled into for lunch. I particularly like the Buddhist mantra, 'every life is equal', which was clear from the way ladies would go round with pots of grain for the pigeons. No life forgotten. More pigeon shit though, I must say.

Prayer time at Bouddanath

After our bustling few days in Kathmandu we were ready for a new, fresher environment, so we headed up into the hills to Pokhara, to begin our next step. The Himalayas.