Bhaktapur, Tuesday the 2nd of August

degrubenc Wyświetlono: 101 razy 2005-12-09 17:59:17

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Today, I take a taxi and head for Bhaktapur.
<br/><br/>
It is 16 kms from Kathmandu and supposed to be the most beautiful city of the valley of Kathmandu.
<br/><br/>
As we arrive there, I am met with the unpleasant and unfortunately recurrent feeling: tourist rip-off.<br/>
In Kathmandu and other cities, the kind tourists must pay a tax to have the privilege of entering the old city and the Durbar square. In Kathmandu, it was 200Rps - which were easily avoided by going round the side streets. Here they asked for 1000Rps, about 20USD, a fortune here, an average monthly salary.
<br/><br/>
Today, I take a taxi and head for Bhaktapur.



It is 16 kms from Kathmandu and supposed to be the most beautiful city of the valley of Kathmandu.



As we arrive there, I am met with the unpleasant and unfortunately recurrent feeling: tourist rip-off.

In Kathmandu and other cities, the kind tourists must pay a tax to have the privilege of entering the old city and the Durbar square. In Kathmandu, it was 200Rps - which were easily avoided by going round the side streets. Here they asked for 1000Rps, about 20USD, a fortune here, an average monthly salary.



I refused on principle (and because I was short of cash) to pay such a ridiculous sum. I wandered, hands in my pockets, in the opposite direction and soon found out that, to my greatest delight, the city was a labyrinth. It seems to have changed little since the middle ages, no tarmac, no cars, just small streets, connecting courtyards, little squares with fountains. I took a childs' pleasure turning every which way, taking tiny tunnels, ending up disturbing or witnessing (depending on the point of view) the local life.



Fairly soon, I had a mob of kids following me everywhere and hanging on to my rucksack. I had the rare pleasure in Nepal to spend a few hours without hearing a single car horn. The city was a delight, the narrow streets made it fresh, every house was full of history and dignity, every window was made of finely carved wood, every door looked liked it was guarding a temple of great beauty. Kids were washing themselves in puddles, daughters knitting in groups and no doubt talking about the husband their parents chose for them. After a long walk around, constantly being miss-guided by 20 kids pointing in every direction and trying to be helpful, I arrived at one of the main squares and was faced by what my guide book describes as the highest temple in Nepal. It stood 5 floors high with a majestic staircase leading up to the first floor. Great animals and stone soldiers guard the approach to the temple.



It is there that I found my guesthouse. (I asked 5 people where the guesthouse was, each answered that it was his brother that kept it and he would gladly take me, this in the hope of getting his share of the commission).



The hotel (Sammy's guesthouse) was small and comfortable, with a magnificent roof terrace overlooking the square. I drunk my welcome drink there (Nepalese tea of course) while pondering how I would get about seeing Durbar square and evade the questions of the guards selling tickets.



Having not seen any other tourists about, it is plausible to assume that if they saw me in the old town and did not recognise me from the entrance, they had every reason to ask for the ticket.


I opted for a cunning disguise.

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