The many faces of Thamel in Kathmandu in Nepal

I set out from Gorkha for Chitwan National Park on a rainy morning – only to realize jungle safaris may not be possible in such weather. I decided to turn towards Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal, a place I have been waiting 24 years to go back to. My previous trip was a family visit during school days.

And my destination was Thamel, the backpacker’s hub with its famed eateries, shopping and nightlife. It is/was known as the most ‘happening’ part of Nepal. Of course, I had been warned that things are no longer the same like they were in the 1990s. Here are some impressions I came back with:

* Not what I had heard, but the hub nonetheless: Thamel had all the markings of what must have a 24×7 bustling place, and could easily get that status back as soon as confidence amongst travellers is back. I was told the place would be rocking till late into the night in the 1990s. But most outlets would down shutters by 8 p.m. The power cuts add to the dark, dull look. But some outlets did put up a brave face and kept the music blaring till past midnight. My take? Thamel will be back.
* Real and fake adventure gear all over: Kathmandu is great for shopping for outdoor gear. Including sleeping bags, clothing, shoes, tents, accessories and more. You get the real stuff (North Face, Mountain Hard Wear and Sherpa) and even more counterfeit. All in the same market. Often it is difficult to distinguish between the real and otherwise till you start talking prices. Pokhara had all this stuff too, only counterfeit, not the real one. And it did offer better quality of counterfeits than that in Kathmandu.
* You can feast here: The best food and coffee in the country, only matched by Pokhara. I would not recommend Indian dishes here though. Go for Italian and coffees more than anything else. The best and cheap.
* Goes to sleep quite early: Like I mentioned above, the downturn means Thamel goes to bed early. And takes its time waking up. Business is slow.
* Parking is a pain, and expensive: I drove, so had to find a parking spot. Some hotels have space but I did not check into any of those. Day parking is still fine (even though expensive at Rs. 25 an hour) – and night I had to convince the guards at an office complex to let me park. They did – at Rs. 200 a night – with the condition I take the car out by 7 am daily before the bosses came in.
* Laundry: If your clothes are all dirty by the time you reach Kathmandu, have no worries. You can see signs all over offering to machine wash and dry your clothes for Rs. 50 a kg. That’s a lot of clothes. Doesn’t get cheaper and more efficient.
* A labyrinth of streets: Thamel can take anyone a while to figure out the way. And with most of the streets one way, you cannot retrace your steps if you are driving. Not tough to get lost.
* Hotels of every kind: Thamel has a hotel to suit every budget and taste. Take your time looking for one you like. Avoid the best known Kathmandu Guest House – rooms are bad and overpriced.
* Not as dirty as one thought: I was told Thamel – and Kathmandu – is the dirtiest city in the world. Wrong. By some standards it may not be clean, but the Indian subcontinent is full of towns that will make Kathmandu look like Four Seasons. In other words, have no fear.

The map below is the best depiction of foods of India that I have ever seen; check it out for a mouth watering journey. Click on the map for a larger view.

Full Disclosure: The map has not been created by me, or anyone I know for that matter. It came to me as an email forward, and it seems it has been going around in cyberspace for a while. There is no attribution, and I am assuming it is copyright free – or at least the creator will not mind it being shown like this. Would be more than happy to attribute the original source if I know it.

Who came first: the chicken or the egg? What happened first: Jodhpur’s Omelette Shop becoming famous or the coverage in Lonely Planet making it so?

The shop, opened in 1974 by Ram Kishen, is one busy shop. Selling a thousand eggs a day, half of them as omelletes and the rest boiled. Spiced to taste, with our without slices of bread, these cost as little as Rs. 10-15 (20-30 cents) a portion. It opens at 10 am, and closes just before midnight. Go at peak hours and Ram Kishen will have no time to talk to you. The clientele are mostly travellers in the day, and locals in the evening.

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There are signboards flaunting it being a place recommended not only by Lonely Planet, but by Rough Guides as well as some Korean and Thai guide book series. It gives its address in the Sardar Market as ‘just through the gate behind the clock tower on the northern side of the square by the inner arch.’ A warning is added: ‘Don’t be fooled by imitations.’

Ram Kishen admits business has never been as good as following an inclusion in Lonely Planet in 1999. He has even been able to save enough to buy his elder son a shop of his own. And extended his offering to include cigarettes, camera films, soft drinks and mineral water besides running a telephone booth. All is a space of a few square feet on a roadside where customers stand and eat.

The place, still marked so, was earlier called Garib Hotel (or poor man’s hotel) where bread, chicken, rice and vegetables were sold very cheap mostly for the labour class. But Ram Kishen, a Sindhi Khatri, says he became a changed man after a visit to the Golden Temple in Amritsar in 1980. He was heavily into drinking and was a non-vegetarian before that; he gave it all up after the trip and is now a strict vegetarian.

He is not worried who came first, as long as his vendors send him a thousand fresh eggs daily.

Bikaner can get anorexics to start questioning their own resolve. The city is full of food, all in your face, being prepared afresh and looking so sumptuous that you may have little choice but to try it all.

Take your pick from kachoris, samosas, jalebis and ghevar straight from the frying wok. Or choose from all kinds of Indian sweets and savouries from menus that read more like encyclopedic compilations rather than offering of a single eatery. Go a level below and join the crowds ordering hot dogs and tikkis simmering in oil.

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Of peculiar note are the rows of stalls selling dried fruits, groundnuts, chickpeas or chanas and other munchies. Each competing to be the best you will ever have had. Not to be missed are the many varieties of bhujiyas, a spicy crisp snack made of gramflour fried in different shapes. Shops selling them go by names like Bhikaram Chandmal, Shri Ganesh, Jai Ganesh etc. After all, Bikaner is the home of bhujiya; I wonder if anyone has applied for geographical indicator for bhujiya just like for Champagne, Darjeeling tea and basmati rice? You can even buy 100 per cent pure cooking oil.

What was surprisingly difficult to find were traditional Rajasthani dishes like daal, baati, choorma etc. But there was a shop selling all kinds of local medicines made from herbs, roots and other ayurvedic formulae. To cure you of virtually everything including obesity, gas, asthma, heart ailments, piles, blood pressure and any orthopedic problems. And the shop claimed to have received awards from the President of India for their work.

If you get sick of eating all the sumptuous Bikaneri food, you know where to head to.

Any celebration in India has to be accompanied with food. Period. Everything else is incidental.

Take the Dussehra celebrations in Subhash Park, also known as Parade Ground, located across the road from Red Fort in Old Delhi. Venue of the biggest Ramlila, stage performances based on Ramayana depicting the life of Hindu Lord Rama, you will find food stalls galore. Most selling street food of the area. This includes chaats of all kinds, differently flavoured home made ice creams, chilas, chole kulchas, tikkis, all kinds of sweets, fresh juices, lollies made from freshly crushed ice and lots more. All prepared fresh as you wait.

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How much do they sell? Just one stall had fruits stacked going at least 20 feet high. Good to make 10,000 portions of fruit chaat. How long does it sell out in? One night. That’s what the vendor told me. And this is just one of the stalls. Multiply this by a modest 10 stalls, and you are looking at 100,000 portions sold in one night at one venue. Maybe not on the same scale, but you can easily say the sales volumes across the city would be 10 times of this at the 750 small and big Ramlilas taking place. Over 10 days of Navratra, the holy period for Hindus, and Dussehra. Even at an average pricing of Rs. 30 per dish, do you want to hazard the math?

All this sale picks up after 9 pm, and goes on till at least two in the morning if not longer. Cuisines are not limited to from Delhi; you can get Gujarati, Rajasthani, south Indian, Chinese and kebabs of all kinds. Vendors need to keep their nerves together with everyone jostling to place orders. No wonder they perch themselves on platforms a few feet higher than others to avoid being trampled over.

To build up an appetite, you can always go for joyrides on carnival rides set up at many locations including the Red Fort. Burp!

One of the surprises in Ladakh was the sight of workers at road building projects all the way from the states of Bihar and Jharkhand in the northern plains of India. Workers from these two states are known to be migratory in nature, going across to all parts of the country in search of employment. But coming to the cold, high altitude desert region is another thing.

All across the Indian Himalayas, it is common to see road construction activity going on; these include new roads, repair and expansion of existing ones and building of tunnels. Often contracted to private companies, they tend to get the cheapest labour to work for them to keep costs down. Hence the reliance on these migratory workers.

One must give credit to these workers. Coming from the plains, where the climate is mostly hot, to put in hard labour in these oxygen deprived altitudes takes some bravado. It also speaks of their enterprising spirit.

Of course, helping their cause in the fact that contractors also find it hard to get locals to work for them. A low population region, there are not many who are inclined to pursue such professions as better opportunities are available to them.

Did I interact with these workers? Yes I did – when groups of them waved to me to stop asking for food and water. I came across them all the way from Sarchu to the More (pronounced mo-ray) plains on the way to Leh; they had apparently run out of the same for the day. In the middle of nowhere with not even a blade of grass for miles, the scorching sun does not help their cause either. I shared whatever extra I had with four such groups, but felt bad when I could not help more.

This did lead me to think about their working conditions, with no kind thoughts going for their employers. It was only later in Leh that I was told that proper arrangements for the workers are made; the workers are clearly advised which streams and springs to stock up on water for the day, and contractors ensure food is delivered to the construction sites. But many of these workers know they can rely on the kindness of travellers and save the effort of filling up on the water. Of course, this is unconfirmed as I could not get to cross-check with the workers or the contractors later.