Kathmandu is a pearl nestled in the green valleys of Nepal.
Its power of attraction to foreign visitors has always been huge, be it for the cultural aspect of its art and culture, the easy going fashion of the locals, the stunning views and outdoor expeditionary potential or even just for the hippie in search of a cool place, yeah man.
I find it to be a bit of an odd town: its history is apparent everywhere, there has been development and a beginning of modernity but, at the moment, it seems to stand still, not really knowing in which direction to head. It gives the impression that it is uncertain as to what is coming next. It is little bigger than a large village, yet it gives out the impression of a larger town. It has an incredible force of character: the mix of old and new, the chaos, the cows and the sounds of it make it a powerful and long lasting impression.
When I go around it, I always find myself looking for a financial district, for skyscrapers, anything, which justifies its huge population (of 1.5 million) and its name of capital. Instead of skyscrapers, I find little temples, pedestrian quarters, a lot of cows and the odd embassy or royal palace proving that I am indeed in a capital.
I spent the better part of the day walking about, lost in a dreamy state. It seems that this is the better thing to do in Kathmandu: walk and discover for yourself, make your own experiences and impressions of this city. It seems like there is something for everyone here.
The traffic is madness, rarely have I seen such anarchy. There is no order whatsoever, not even an impression of order, not the slightest glimmer. The rule of the jungle applies in force, the biggest, strongest and fastest survives, pedestrians are fair game but a bit common, motorbikes and cycles are seen in the same light as mosquitoes, a nuisance one can’t get rid off and large trucks are the masters of the road.
Regardless of this state of affair, it is surprising to see the number of policemen on the streets. Every street corner is littered with them. During normal times, they hide in their pillboxes, decorated with heavy duty barbed wire and antique rifles pointing out. Every so often, there is a flurry of activity as they set up roadblocks left, right and centre, shut down streets and search everyone in it.
The army is also very present. They proudly defend all public buildings and drive around town in big convoys, with their General Purpose Machine Guns pointing at the crowds. The army is a source of dissapointement to me: I was expecting proud, strong and fierce soliders, such as the Gurkhas I had met in the UK, soldiers with impeccable discipline and who strike fear in the heart of anyone. The present Nepali army seems to be little more than a school outing. They resemble a bunch of delinquant juveniles freshly let out of their rehab centres. It seems that no two soldiers have the same uniform or weaponry, the regional commanders are the masters and each has his private army. There is little cohesion. I suspect that the Maoists must have an easy time of it, or are the elites of this army on the front?
The army and police are omnipresent, there is tension in the air, the suburbs of the city are filled with protests, manifestations and conflicts. The newspapers are filled with stories of buses set on fire by the Maoists, of police posts coming under attack. I do not yet feel as if I was in a country suffering from a civil war but I feel rather that one may erupt at any mention of one.
I ate in small stalls around Durbar Square, the food is fairly typical of Indian cuisine, rice, daal and some sort of curry with curd. Rather good, really.
In the evening, as I returned to my hotel, I spotted a huge crowd on Durbar Square.
Curious as a cat, I made my way to the front. To my greatest delight, they were shooting an Indian Bollywood film and were doing a dance sequence. I grabbed some food and sat down on the steps.
It was magnificent: about 30 pretty girls dancing along in saris with fake smiles and cheesy music, they even had plastic rose petals falling from the skies. The crowds were pleased and cheering and so was I.
Before going to bed, I enjoyed a Martini vodka with two olives on the roof of my terrace, watching the night life erupting around me.
