Approaching the fabled city for the first time is an awakening. The plane approaches from the south, having crossed a decent chunk of India. From the window seat, the long, wide green valley opens up under you, Katmandu nestled in the center. Behind it, to the north, are a series of what at first seem like green rolling hills, but are in fact mountains by Australian standards. As your eyes adjust and perspective starts to balance out, you realize that the wall of majestic white clouds behind those mini mountains are the snowy tips of the Himalayas.
It feels like only a few months ago that the airport was full of leviathan cargo planes gorging out tones of aid for a earthquake ravaged capital. These days, you could be forgiven for thinking it was a regional Australian airport. The only clue to it's role in the rescue effort being the large number of large heavy lift helicopters sitting dormant on the tarmac edge. The terminal itself, feels like a time capsule of the sort of airports built in developing nations in the 60's, modernist architecture with an exotic twist. Once you descend the gangway and walk across the tarmac, it's organized chaos. An hour later I was out of the airport and in a taxi travelling across town to the Thamel district, home of cheap hotels and eating joints.
Ignoring the swarm of touts, sunglass hawkers and the like, I wandered down a lane and found a very non-discript guest house for 600 per night, that's around $8 for a double!
Finished the day at a nearby open-air jazz bar and restaurant called, believe it or not, The New Orleans Bar and Blue Note Jazz Club, great local food.
Thamel street life from my hotel.
A bustling Thamel street
Gorkha Beer, yum!
Cozy Corner Hotel. My cozy corner is the white door on the left, next to the communal toilet and bathroom, very cozy.
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