Bhaktapur is also known as "City of the Devotees." Bhaktapur is located in the Kathmandu Valley and has three major squares full of towering temples which has some of the finest examples of religious architecture in all of Nepal. The narrow cobblestone streets wind…Read More

Bhaktapur is also known as "City of the Devotees." Bhaktapur is located in the Kathmandu Valley and has three major squares full of towering temples which has some of the finest examples of religious architecture in all of Nepal. The narrow cobblestone streets wind their way between courtyards filled with statues, cisterns and wells, connecting the huge squares. The city almost has an ancient midevil feel to it.

The buildings and temples are intricately engraved in the stone and in the wood. Potters are mixing clay to make pots by hand and many artists have their things for sale. Outside in a pile of ash with a roof over it a dog has found a warm place to sleep where the potters harden their clay into pots. There are many festivals celebrated in Bhaktapur throughout the year. One is them is Tihar which is celebrated in Nov. for 5 days. Crows are celebrated the 1st day, dogs the 2nd, bulls the 3rd, cows the 4th and brothers and sisters the on the last day. On the day of the dog, they are given garlands of flowers to wear and fed as much food as they want.

The main square is adjacent to many buildings made of brick and ornate carved wood. One of the most famous is the Pujari Math, which was a home to a Hindu priest. It has an ornate Peacock Window that is viewable from the narrow street.

Bhaktapur is on the old trade route between India and Tibet. Many of the buildings and temples were constructed in the early 1400s under King Yaksha Malla. The streets were paved and many buildings restored in the 1970s by the Bhaktapur Development Project funded by Germany.

There are no rickshaws, tuk-tuks, or taxis allowed inside the city so it is much quieter and the air less polluted than that of the temples and squares in Kathmandu.    Close

'The Nepali Army and the Ice-Lolly' We travelled into Bakhtapur today by electric tram for a short visit and to learn a valuable lesson. Bakhtapur is a World Heritage Site resplendent with Pagoda buildings, medieval palaces, and temples. The art gallery was well provided for, including…Read More

'The Nepali Army and the Ice-Lolly'

We travelled into Bakhtapur today by electric tram for a short visit and to learn a valuable lesson.

Bakhtapur is a World Heritage Site resplendent with Pagoda buildings, medieval palaces, and temples. The art gallery was well provided for, including tapestries, paintings, books and statuettes. Ranging in date from the fifteenth century to the present day. Their subject matter was religious and quite repetitive, typically including fiery Gods of Wrath, fierce wild animals, and much sexual-phallic imagery. But once you've seen one angry god with a pack of tigers and an oversize penis you have seen them all really!

Potters Square was unsurprisingly filled with a large pottery market. Amongst the thousands of clay pots for sale, a sacred cow lazily nudged one from its shelf, landing on the floor with a thump before being blessed by the wrinkled old Nepali woman who ran the stall.

We successfully dodged the many youthful guides until a wily Nepalese army officer (or so he claimed) attached himself to our small group. Conversation ensued, and he seemed a friendly soul, and bought us suspicious ice-lollies that tasted of barley sugar and grit. Quickly gaining our good faith he offered to bring us some genuine Nepalese army hats (no cost mentioned). We gave him our hotel details so that he could deliver them later in the week. Quickly our new friend made his excuses and left us sitting in the top of a Pagoda palace overlooking the square, sucking our lollies and pondering with sticky fingers.

During lunch, having disposed of our dubious lollies in the street, suspicions arose when Mark pointed out the awful possibilities of giving our address to an armed officer in a strange land. Search and confiscation was a particular concern, having heard tales of corrupt police in Goa planting dope on tourists, and fleecing them for their travellers’ cheques. Anxiety rising we cut short our visit, and beat a hasty retreat to the hotel. The journey took forever, or seemed to, the electric tram jumped the rails, prolonging our journey and our anguish.

We arrived at Hotel Utsei, and whilst Mark and myself were at the booking-in desk enquiring after potential shady characters, Stuart went upstairs to check the room. Upon entering our bedroom, my stomach lurched: all of our backpacks were missing.

Stuart was sitting on his bed, his head buried in his hands. A moment passed, before he revealed our sleeping bags and packs hidden on the small balcony. Stuart laughed so hard at the look of horror on my face that I thought he might burst! Phew….

However we are still half expecting a chap selling hats to arrive shortly.