I heart Bandipur (but Google Maps most certainly does not)

If someone told you that you would be traveling a little under 100 miles between cities, how long would you expect that bus ride to be? Factor in a stop or two, perhaps some traffic and 2 hours seems like a fair guess. How does 6 hours sound? Because yes, that is how long the soul-jostling ride between Bhaktapur and Bandipur actually took. The reason, which I had been warned about but one has to live it to fully appreciate it, is the main "road" connecting the two. It is, and I can not stress this enough, not an actual road. It is a dirt path, full of potholes and mounds of dirt that rival Everest herself. It is beset by construction crews, detours, traffic and roughly one million motorcycles . You want to know how rough the ride is? Just sitting on the bus, minding my own business, I was getting tossed around so much that my watch thought I was working out. We weren't halfway through the journey and I had already closed out all my rings.

The contrast with my next destination couldn't have been starker. Bandipur is what would happen if Epcot were to open up a Nepalese pavillion. This pristine little town manages to hit all the highlights. Stunning views of the Himalayas? Check. Charming town square with beautifully restored Newari architecture. Check. Nightly bands and dancers doing traditional dances in the square. Check (at least on the 2 nights I was there, I may have just lucked out). Accessible day trek with marvelous scenery. Let me get back to you on that one. 

Getting off the hell bus and into the lovely Aagaman Hotel was like walking into a warm hug. The family owned and run hotel makes every person walking through the doors feel family. While her husband carried my bags to the room, Sashi set about pointing out all the towns highlights and offering her recommendations. 

First and foremost was the aforementioned square. It is closed off to traffic, making it an ideal place to stroll and take in the general chill vibe of the city. 

With its multitude of hotels and restaurants, it would be easy to dismiss Bandipur as touristy- which it totally is- but it is also very much a living city, as evidenced by the women coming back from harvest, baskets full of the day's crop on their backs. 

It was here that I had my first taste of the country's favorite dish, Dal Bhat. It is said that a Nepalese diet consists of this dish twice a day, every day. All the souvenirs stores carry t-shirts proudly declaring "Dal Bhat power, 24 hour". They love them some Dal Bhat. Simply put, it consists of steamed rice, lentil soup, curried vegetables and some greens. In many places, it is a cheap all you can eat entree, allowing you to keep requesting refills until you are fully sated. It is also a perfect vegetarian dish that I ordered, maybe not every day, but at least every other day. 

Between the bitch of a bus ride and the filling, sating powers of the Dal Bhat, I was ready for a nap. The plan was simple. I would wake up in time to hike up to Thani Mai temple to take in the sunset, another Sashi recommendation. She was quick to point out that from there, you could see the "good mountains", meaning the snow capped ones. Coming from a state where our highest point is a trash dump, (seriously, it's called Mt Trashmore) the fact that she was dismissing the still grand yet smaller mountains was hilarious to me. 

The bus must have taken more out of me than I thought because I woke up mere minutes before sunset. No way was I going to make it up to the temple. Thankfully, there was a viewpoint just a couple of blocks from the hotel. It was glorious. Watching the setting sun cast a golden glow over those very good mountains is something that no camera, no matter how powerful, can accurately capture. 

Once darkness had set in, it was time to return to the square for some drinks, dinner (not Dal Bhat) and free entertainment. I was there at the tail end of a festival, which meant there were young people randomly breaking into song and dance wherever you turned. 

I've been to many places where I'm not entirely wandering at night by myself. Bandipur is not one of those places. I felt completely at ease, even on the darkest of streets. This was good thing because the next morning, I was up before the sun, determined to make it to Thani Mai for the sunrise. Sashi's husband had offered to take me to the start of the trail but a miscommunication occurred and he was not at the lobby at the appointed time so I figured I could manage this on my own. I started by following a Chinese couple I encountered on the street, who must surely be going up there. They kept turning around nervously and with no common language, I could not accurately convey that I meant no harm.I just had no sense of direction. They turned towards the square, in what I thought was an attempt to lose me, so I veered off and tried relying on Google Maps instead. Sadly, Google Maps hosed me by sending me in the direction of the hill itself but not the trail leading to the top. With time running out, I ran back to the viewpoint for yet another stunning display by Mother Nature.

                                                 

Sashi's husband found me in the park, told me he had seen me following the Chinese couple and appeared a little confounded that I had managed to get lost. Rattled by the morning's outing, I asked him about getting a guide to take me on the hike to Ramkot, a traditional village a couple of hours away. He insisted that it was an easy straight shot and that I could do this unaccompanied.

I'm not sure why I believed him, which is not to say he was being dishonest, just that he still wasn't grasping how poor my sense of direction actually is. I, on the other hand, should have known better.

At first, it was ok. The trail seemed straightforward and the views simply spectacular.

I eventually made it to Ramkot and once there, realized I had no real plan. I had read about the friendly locals who were happy to show visitors around, only on this day, perhaps those people had chosen to sleep in. The people that I encountered were clearly over having tourists drop in unannounced and weren't really having it. 

 

This was friendly as it got. 

I tried to make conversation to no avail.  I asked if I could take photos and got grunts of approval but not much else. 

I had come this far and was determined to get something for my troubles so I set about hiring someone to briefly show me around. I eventually hit upon the owner of a guesthouse who was willing to point out the highlights.

He took great pride in showing me ancient tools that had been used in harvesting and explaining their traditional agricultural ways. Only problem is I had just seen the stacks of empty Gorkha beer bottles, mobile phones and knockoff Chanel slides. If you are so about traditional ways, why is that kid eating Oreo cookies? What wooden implement did you make those with? Is there a nearby Elf village you are trading with? Perhaps at some point, this had been a self sustaining village but the fact that there was a massive supply truck off-loading fruits, vegetables and giant burlap sacks of rice indicated that this was no longer the case. 

My guide tried to get me a peek into a home, only to get rebuffed. Some teenage kid hit me up for candy and then didn't even say thank you when he grabbed the pack of crackers I offered him. One woman made a comment, clearly about me, that made the others laugh, which my guide refused to translate. While it was very pretty, it didn't take long for me to decide "Fuck Ramkot". I get that having all these visitors can get annoying but you are a place that happens to be close to an actual place of interest. If you were 10 miles further on, trust me, no one would bother to drop in. Either monetize it and charge a cultural development fee or close off the residential area to visitors because this midway point is not doing anyone any favors. Better they take that big "Thank you for visiting" archway down and use the wood to make more oreos.

 Caveat: Every village, no matter how big or small, has its assholes. It is very possible that I just happened to encounter them all in one afternoon and the rest of the people are indeed lovely. If given the opportunity to go back, with someone who knows the way, I would 100% return and most likely have a totally different experience.

But as it stood, the day was getting hotter and I was hungry. I cut my tour short and asked about the possibility of getting a ride back to Bandipur, only to be told the supply trucks that make up most of the traffic, were all going the other way. The guide tried to give me directions but they were so convoluted I struggled to just make it out of the village. Google maps betrayed me once again by insisting I return on a road that I swear does not exist.  

It was looking bad. The straightforward road towards Ramkot consisted of an alarming number of forked intersections on the return journey. I took the wrong fork every single time. I started approaching every supply truck I encountered and asking if at any point they were going to Bandipur. They were not. I saw myself lost on these mountain trails, mumbling "Bandipur?" for the rest of eternity. 

Eventually, over an hour into this boondoggle, a driver who had given me directions earlier only to find me way off course, took pity. He responded to my pleading "Bandipur??" with "Ok, ok, ok". He saw the folly of trying to redirect me and pointed towards his truck. I know the saying is that not all heroes wear capes but sometimes they do have big rigs full of rice and Nepalese beer. 

My savior

Sashi was outside when we pulled up. Odds are good that she'd never had a guest dropped off in a supply truck and appeared justifiably confused. After I shared my story, she commented that she had never even heard of anyone getting lost in Bandipur, much less twice in one day. Yeah, I'm Special. So Special.

Most people would leave well enough alone but after a well-earned lunch- Dal Bhatt power!!- and a leisurely day wandering around the square (aka in civilization), I made one last push towards getting to Thani Mai for the sunset. This time, Sashi went into great detail as to how to get on the trail- basically down the hill and to the left, only it had seemed much harder in the dark- and this time, huzzah,  I succeeded. 

It was totally worth the effort!! I mean look at this view:

I even managed to return to the square without getting lost, which is actually stupid easy, it is a essentially a set of stairs that lead directly to one end of the square. When it comes to Thani Mai temple, I probably really am the first person to ever get lost. 

Once again, the square was filled with music. This time it was a nearby town that was trying to raise funds for a tourism project. They went from cafe to cafe, dancing and asking for donations. I encountered them at least three times that evening. One young girl quickly caught on to the fact that I quite happy with playing the doofy tourist and recruited me into the dance circle every time. It was so Epcot!!

                                           

The following afternoon, I had to leave all this peace and perfection behind and get back on the "road", destination, Pokhara. My bus wasn't until 10am, giving me a chance to return to the park for one last visit to the viewpoint. It was the best one yet, with the fog seeming to cascade over the villages below. 

My time in Bandipur had come and gone too quickly. I was trying to soak it all in, while capturing some thoughts in my journal. For some reason, this drew the attention of some Asian gentlemen, who gathered around to take pics of me just sitting and writing. Either that or they just needed to document the lady who had followed their friends through town and still managed to get lost. Twice.