A friendly man on a motorcycle asks me where to go. “Bhaktapur”, I reply.
“I can bring you, doesn’t cost anything, I must go there anyhow”, he replies.
It seemed to me more attractive to take the bus: it’s probably safer and if I am in Bhaktapur it’s easier I find my bus back for the return journey . I thank him kindly and some time I again step into such a great diesel-roaring, smoking and pounding bus.
Bhaktapur is bigger than I remember from long ago and I had no clue where I should hop out, so I ask the steward.
He nods to me confidentially, so I think he has understood me, but I think that even if I ask him nothing, he’ll tell me where I should step out: every tourist goes after all to “the old Town” .
Arrived at my destination I step out less than ten meters from an entrance of the old town, where a small cabine stands to buy the entrance-licence.
Gerard and Jeanette had already “warned” me about the entrance fee, a little more than 10 euro, which is a lot of money, especially for nepalese concepts.
Anyway, I buy my ticket and hope that the amount is worth it.
The old town is really a big museum. I am slightly surprised by the state of the city: it’s all very clean and all the monuments are in very good condition, the entry fee is certainly very well spent..
regarding the traffic it is almost a relief to stroll here if I Compare it with Kathmandu and Patan: little or no annoying, honking, literally deafening scooters. Of course there are countless people walking around that would like to guide you around for some money and it keeps me somewhat busy by thanking them for all the offers I get, also because my map, which I got at the entrance, shows me seamlessly where I should go and provides the necessary information about the highlights.
Not everyone is very pleased as I make a picture: while I aime my camera toughs a man who’s modeling clay for his pots, is slightly irritated about that and is almost demanding me to give him some money. Well oke, I think I would do the same if I were in his shoes. but it feels a bit stupid to pay on such a way, so the next pictures I try to take it from some distance.
Actually, Iit’s all beautifull here, but I’ve seen it all fairly quickly, thanks to my good info-folder and map, and so I decide to take the bus back, back to Patan, feels as if I go home….
The next day we, Elise, Sara, Benjamin, Fabien en me, went to Thamel, not that I wanted to go there again so badly, but with a bunch of friends it is cozy. In Thamel I have left a lot of footsteps from a couple of months back and I feel even a little melancholic when I think of my friends when I was here at that time, about what we did, where we went, how we entertained ourselves. Well, that’s life if you travel: you meet and make friends easily, and you quickly lose sight on the way to another destination. In a few days I will lost sight of my new current friends again, but for now it’s all oke!
The best part about pictures is that even when the people in the photo change, the memory it contains never will.