Everest and Bhaktapur
The morning after arriving in Kathmandu, we had one final activity planned with most of our G Adventures group tour. We were going on a scenic flight to see Mount Everest and the mighty Himalayas. And we’d spend another couple of hours with the last two of our group, wandering Thamel and riding out to see Bhaktapur.
Mount Everest and the Kathmandu Airport
Along the trip, our G Adventures guide, Khush, talked about the majestic Himalayas and Mount Everest. “Everest is growing. If you want to climb, you must go now,” he said.
Currently at 29,029 feet–nearly five-and-a-half miles above sea level–Everest grows about a half-inch taller each year as the Indian and Asian tectonic plates continue to collide, squeezing and pushing the Himalayas up. At the summit of Everest, there is no step higher in the world. I will never climb Everest. But I was thrilled to have the opportunity to see it. We got up pre-dawn and arrived at the busy airport before coffee.
There was some confusion at the ticket counter. Mistakenly, our group had been split onto two different flights. As we sorted it out, we heard screaming from above–a family of monkeys yelled at each other in the rafters of the airport. Finally, with tickets in hand, we wandered in a sleepy gaggle over to a shop for coffee and snacks. We had about an hour to wait for our flight.
Go Time!
As we sat with our coffees and cookies, Bryan headed to the bathroom. Suddenly, after only about 15 minutes, we were called to board. I ran through the airport towards the men’s bathroom. Thankfully, I saw him exiting on the other side of the big room, screamed his name, and he came running.
We showed our tickets, boarded a bus, and were transported out across the tarmac at dawn. It was foggy, hazy, pink. We stopped at a small, pointy-nosed, green and white, two-propellor plane, and began exiting, only to be turned back to the bus. The plane was not ready? The airport wasn’t ready? The fog? It was unclear. But we sat for only five minutes, and then were signaled to exit the bus and board the Yeti plane.
Without further ado, we belted ourselves in–window seats for all!–and the plane began taxiing. The Yeti stewardesses walked the aisle with baskets, offering us cotton balls and hard candy before take-off.
Hello Himalayas!
Within minutes, we were high above Kathmandu, and rising above the fog. We could see snow-capped mountains in the distance. Soon, mountains were all around, oh-so-close to the plane windows. The stewardesses began pointing out the windows on the port side of the plane. We would each be signaled to go for our turn in the cockpit!
In the cockpit, I was blinded by the field of mountains ahead, glistening in the morning sun. The Himalayas! Majestic. Massive. Mysterious. Mind-blowing. Snow-covered peaks, broken by sheer rock sides, dark crevices, deep valleys, and ridges as sharp as knives. I was mesmerized. Already, the stewardess was tapping me on the back, my cockpit time was nearly up. Oh no! I hadn’t even taken a photograph yet! I leaned down between the pilots. “There are many mountains! Which one is Everest?!” I wanted to be sure. The pilot made a V, pointed to the left finger, and said in English, “On right, with trail.” Of course! Instantly I saw Everest, toying with the jet stream like a kid sticking a finger in a water hose. A trail of blowing snow smokes off the top almost continuously. I took three shots from the cockpit before my turn was over.
The 75-minute flight included a champagne toast as we headed back to Kathmandu. We were on top of the world!
Walk in Kathmandu’s Durbar Square
Rachel, Marion, and Khush had left early that day for home (without going to see Everest). The remaining ten of us ate brunch together at Gaia and walked into Durbar Square in the late morning.
This is another thing I enjoy with a good group of travelers, wandering together, but separate. We followed one another in a long strand through the crowded Kathmandu streets. The instigator led us, following a map to Durbar Square. Naturally, the photographers brought up the rear. But we were in visual contact with each other, smiling, nodding, indicating things to see, turns to make. I love this. This independent but shared experience, the camaraderie.
The Living Goddess
We found the Royal Palace of the Living Goddess, and entered the small courtyard. The Living Goddess, or Kumari, is a young girl picked from obscurity to be worshipped until she reaches puberty.
Eligible girls are from a select caste. She must be in excellent health and must not have lost any teeth. Next, she must exhibit the 32 perfections of a goddess, including “Eyelashes like a cow, very black hair and eyes, a voice clear like a duck’s, and tiny feet and hands.” Her horoscope is considered. Next, her fearlessness and serenity is tested by placing her alone overnight in a room with the severed heads of sacrificed animals. Once a girl meets the criteria and passes the tests, they deem her the embodiment of the goddess and she walks into the palace. It is the last time her feet will touch the ground until she reaches puberty and leaves the palace. During the time the girl represents the goddess, she is carried everywhere.
It is considered very good luck to even glimpse the Kumari looking from the palace windows. At meetings with her, it is auspicious if she is “silent and impassive”. Once the girl reaches puberty, she is retired and the process begins to find a new Kumari. The current Living Goddess was only three-years-old when she was installed in 2017.
A singing bowl
I’ve always loved the singing bowls used in yoga and meditation classes. And I decided to find one while in Nepal.
I stepped into a shop looking for the perfect bowl–a deep tone, not shiny, and a hearty size. The shopkeeper demonstrated how to get sound with a pestle pressed against the outside rim of the bowl, and brought bowl after bowl to sing for me. At last, a rather plain and dark one resonated low and smooth. The sound vibration continued for more than two minutes as we stood silent, listening, smiling.
This bowl was made from nine metals, copper and tin (the bell metals), plus gold, silver, mercury, iron, nickel, zinc, and lead. It had been hand-hammered for its distinct sound, said to be the echoed chants of the monk who made the bowl. The shopkeeper placed the bowl on my palm and handed me the wooden pestle. He demonstrated a flat palm (like safely offering an apple to a horse), pushed my jacket sleeve up my wrist, and motioned for me to give it sound. With his patient instruction, on the third try the bowl came to life. A powerful vibration began on my palm; I felt it before I heard the deep, clear sound growing stronger.
The plane crash
In the afternoon, the remaining four of us returned to the hotel to find out that a plane had crashed at Kathmandu’s airport. Forty-nine people were dead. BS-211 had been approaching from Bangladesh and turned the wrong way. Air traffic cleared the runways as the pilot seemed disoriented, nearly flying into the Nepal Airlines hanger and the air traffic control tower. But in a few moments, the plane crashed on open land near the runways, immediately catching on fire from spilled fuel. Miraculously 22 of the 71 passengers survived.
Six of our group were at the airport at the time, waiting for flights home. Thankfully, no one on the ground was injured. Our group only had to deal with was the long delay to reopen the runways, and the small airport ran out of food.
Bhaktapur and the Earthquake Damage
One more of our group left for home, and the final three of us took a taxi to Bhaktapur, a World Heritage Site with a Golden Gate and the 55-Window Palace. The site was badly damaged in an April 2015 7.9 earthquake.
The town of Bhaktapur sits on what once was the main caravan trade route between Tibet and India. In ancient times it was a rich and prosperous town. Known for the palaces, intricate wood windows and carvings, yogurt, and pottery, the town is a fascinating place to wander.
The Golden Gate opens to the Royal Palace’s inner courtyard, a once vast compound until a 1934 earthquake leveled all but a few of its 99 courtyards. Even more walls fell in the 2015 quake. We walked around the complex, admiring the intricate buildings and the diligent re-construction going on. The alleyways and plazas offer many things to see. I think I could have sat around all day, just watching the world go by.
And then, there were two
The next day, it was back to just us two. We had a final few days in Kathmandu, before continuing on an around-the-world trip of a lifetime.
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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.