The Tharu are a people of the forest. They have lived for centuries in the lowlands of southern Nepal and northern India. Often persecuted, they have now been recognised by the Nepali government as an official nationality. But their lives are still not easy.
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I can never resist the opportunity to ride in a cable car. So when our tour company suggested that we break the long drive from Chitwan to Bandipur with a ride up to the temple at Manakamana, I agreed immediately. It would be a chance to see a different side of Nepal, I thought. And it was, but not quite in the way I had imagined.
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If public art can be defined as creative, decorative works that can be viewed by anyone at no cost, then the lorries of Nepal should rank as one of that country’s significant contributions to the genre!
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Bhaktapur lies a little to the east of Kathmandu. At its heart is a series of lanes and squares that seem little changed for centuries. Here more than anywhere in the country I felt immersed in the ageless atmosphere of Nepal.
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In the heart of Kathmandu is a cluster of ancient temples, places and open spaces, known as Durbar (meaning royal palace) Square. This UNESCO World Heritage site was badly hit by the earthquake that struck Nepal in April 2015, but no amount of damage could destroy its unique atmosphere. And today much has already been done to restore it to its former glories.
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Everyone will tell you that Thamel isn’t the REAL Kathmandu. It was once backpackers central, and today is home not only to hostels but to increasingly smart hotels. But between the tourist-focused delights is enough local colour to demonstrate that you are indeed ‘a long way from home’.
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A statue of Shiva, the second largest in Nepal, was unveiled near Pokhara last year. A lady was selling souvenirs next to the steep path up to the statue.
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We rode a cable car to the top of a mountain to find a Hindu temple that draws thousands of believers. The small town that has sprung up to serve their needs is full of shops selling garlands, offerings and even chickens and goats for sacrifices.
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Sadhus are holy men who have left behind all material attachments. We came across a number of them in the Pashupatinath temple in Kathmandu.
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Our visit to Indochina was only just over two years ago, yet in some ways it feels like a world away. A world barely touched by Covid, in which we didn’t question our ability to travel. Took it for granted, perhaps? Looking back at my photos I wonder why we didn’t realise that the disease already causing deaths and chaos in China would spread to engulf the whole world. Were we like ostriches, our heads in the sand? Or was it such an alien concept that we couldn’t envisage it?
