This spectacularly mustached room normally costs about twenty dollars a night, but Matt's friend in Bhaktapur knows the owner and was able to get us the room for eight dollars a night.
Which is much more Aimee budget friendly.
My Kiwi and I left Sauraha at around eight o'clock yesterday morning, catching a small bus to Bharatpur and then a larger bus to Kathmandu. Traffic was dense and roadwork was frequent, so the jostling journey lasted an excruciating nine hours.
"We need to get to Ratna Park," Matt approached one of the last people on the bus. "How much should we pay for a taxi?"
"From the final stop, pay 150, 200 rupees."
"Okay. So no more than 200."
We tumbled out into chaotic Kathmandu and were immediately swarmed by enthusiastic taxi drivers.
"Taxi? Taxi?"
"No," I irritably shoved my way through the crowd, leaving it to my diplomatic friend to do the bargaining.
I think I get too annoyed at people who try to charge me absurd prices to be any good at bargaining. Once I realize someone's trying to rip me off, it's just over.
"How much to Ratna Park?" Matt began the process.
"500 rupees," a driver responded.
"No, that's too much," we began to walk away, followed closely by the desperate driver.
"350."
"No, 200," Matt said firmly.
"350," the driver insisted.
"200 is a good price."
"250," the driver conceded.
Matt looked at me and nodded. I nodded back.
"Okay, 250."
We were dropped off by our defeated taxi driver at Ratna Park, and then leaped into a moving, crowded bus bound for Bhaktapur. Matt and I managed to wriggle into the two remaining seats, but Ellie remained in the aisle, a cumbersome obstacle for everyone to crawl over. I sat in my seat, blushing with shame and doing everything I possibly could to make my behemoth bag less of a bother.
And failing.
When we finally reached Bhaktapur an hour later, Matt and I bounded out of the bus and made our way towards one of the many gates leading to Old Town.
I don't even need google maps. Woohoo! I have a Kiwi who speaks Nepali and can ask for directions. This is the best.
After paying our 1500 rupees entrance fee to Old Town, we easily found Khwopa Guesthouse (thanks to my Kiwi). We dropped our bags off in our mustached room, and then set off to explore Bhaktapur and hunt down some dinner.
This city.
This city is pure magic.
Why would anyone willingly put up with the pandemonium and pollution of Kathmandu when freaking Bhaktapur is RIGHT HERE?
Matt and I discovered a rooftop restaurant and ordered some traditional Newari food.
Bliss. This entire week has been bursting with unforgettables. Jeep rides to hospitals whilst tripping balls on Bhang Lassi and thinking I was probably, definitely gonna die. Randomly stumbling into a rhino in the courtyard. And now... sitting on a rooftop in this place. In this unbelievably beautiful place. Drinking hot lemon, eating bitten rice and getting to share this experience with a close friend I didn't even know just over a month ago.
Holy bananas.
Eager to see the city by day, we set off early this morning. Wandered to Nyatapola temple and spent a few minutes photographing people praying, selling produce and just going about their daily lives.
We took a quick break from photographing the locals to grab a hot lemon at a cafe in the middle of the square.
"You want honey?" the owner asked when we placed our order.
"Sure, honey's good."
But when we received our bill, we discovered that the fellow had charged us an extra 100 rupees each for the honey he'd added to our drinks.
Sneaky, sneaky.
"Usually it's good to tell people in advance if you're going to charge them more," Matt tried to reason with the owner.
I seethed inwardly at all the sneaky, but dished out my extra 100 rupees.
I mean. It's only a dollar. And for a view like that... I'd be happy to pay a dollar. I just don't like being charged surreptitious dollars.
Matt and I found a much more reasonable place for breakfast proper.
Notice that the hot lemon with honey should only cost 35 rupees.
We paid about 180 rupees each at the sneaky place with a view. Sheesh.
Also, please notice the Greel Cheese, Has Brown, Lemon Craps and Scamber Egg.
I love reading menus in foreign countries where people don't bother to get a native English speaker to proofread.
We spent the rest of the morning meandering through small streets, finding photographs and laughing at chickens (I did the majority of the latter...).
Bhaktapur was heavily damaged during the 2015 earthquake, but people are busily reconstructing famous squares like Durbar.
It's such a different kind of sadness. Visiting towns like Mostar that were devastated by war. And cities like Bhaktapur, in ruins because of an earthquake. I feel so much more anger... resentment... bewilderment with the former. But this?
This is just tragedy.
We met up with Matt's friends in the afternoon, and they took us for a tour around the Old Town.
Our first stop was at Siddha Pokhari, a popular lake for people to go on dates and throw puffs at the fish.
After Matt had unsuccessfully dumped his puffs in the lake (the fish disdained his puffs), we continued our tour.
"There was a sorcerer who dug this lake in one day. If he'd been able to finish the whole thing in one night, it would have always been full. But he couldn't finish the middle piece," Matt's friend told us.
So now the would be magical lake is a field used to play cricket. And not a lake for romantic couples to throw puffs at fish.
Walking through the streets of Bhaktapur is thrilling.
Kathmandu is overwhelming and headache inducing.
Lakeside is lollygaggy. It's tranquil and lazy.
In Bhaktapur, you randomly happen upon giant trees that have been turned into temples --
-- and families riding in piles of straw in the back of trucks.
As we wound our way through the narrow alleys, I chatted with Matt's friend about life in Bhaktapur.
"I want to go to the United States or Australia to continue my studies. In Nepal, the income is so low. I'm studying medicine, and in my field, I can make a maximum of 150 dollars per month. This is enough to support one person, but I also need to support my parents. They are relying on me and my brother to support them. And my friend? He works full time in finances and makes 40 dollars a month."
Forty dollars a MONTH? That's as much as I spent on a walking safari in Chitwan. It's three hours of work for me.
Jesus.
The beautiful, painful part of the afternoon came when Matt's friends introduced us to some traditional Newari food. A dish made of lentils, eggs and buffalo. Matt stood up to pay the bill, but his friend beat him to it.
His friend who only makes forty dollars a month paid the entirety of our six dollar bill.
After eating some King Curd at our guesthouse (which beats even Bulgarian yogurt in deliciousness. Sorry, Misho...), we parted ways with Matt's friends.
What a spectacular city full of spectacular people. I'm glad I was able to spend nearly a month in Pokhara... the peace was good for me. But next time I visit Nepal?
My base will be in Bhaktapur.
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