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Krishna was waiting outside the old city walls of Bhaktapur. A small boy, all smiles and curiosity, he could have passed for twelve but was probably a lot older. As I waited at the gate to pay the entry fee to the city he approached me. “Can I show you around?” “Err, no it’s okay
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A living museum. That’s how the guide books describe Bhaktapur, Nepal’s “cultural gem”. Such accolades seem two a penny these days and hearing a place described this way can make you sceptical, because all too often the praise turns out to be unfounded, the compliments little more than marketing exaggeration, deception at worst, wishful thinking
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There’s something about arriving in this city that has got me on edge. Not nervous or frightened, just curious and a little perplexed. It’s the contradictions. The way my expectations have been fulfilled and challenged almost immediately upon my arrival. As we flew in, the plane dropped into a vast green valley, a lush and
