Gray clouds swiftly drifted athwart the celestial blue sky. As we strolled our way from Planet Bhaktapur Hotel to Durbar Square, I silently prayed to the universe not to let them hang around. Why we were traveling Nepal during the monsoon season, well, it was the most practical home-bound route stopover (from Caucasus to Southeast Asia) we found at the time.
It was our first of only a few mornings in Nepal. We had to hit the ground running.
The entrance that we used to access the square does not encounter a lot of tourists. Its ticket booth wasn’t even manned when we arrived. We waited for about a quarter of an hour until someone came to collect our payment and issue a ticket (Bhaktapur Durbar Square admission fee $15).
A screenshot of a map, saved in our point-and-shoot, guided us through deserted back alleys. The scenery was a stark contrast from the highly urbanized setting of Yerevan, Armenia where we flew from the day prior. It’s a backdrop that an overwhelm. That can overjoy.
We traipsed by ourselves for a while, up till a local offered to show us around for a reasonable rate. Hubby and I let go of skepticism and entrusted the wheel to a stranger. It was to be a day of exploration of the old Bhaktapur Kingdom — or whatever’s left of it after the 1934 quake. It was to be a day of chasing our two year-old in and around a living museum.