Breathing Again
The air felt different in Kathmandu’s old town. The Square opened up before us like a breath we hadn’t realized we were holding. Stepping into this more serene part of the city felt like coming up for air.
“Nepal faces many adversities in life, but Nepal… always bounces back!” – Avijeet Das
The air felt different in Kathmandu’s old town—lighter, quieter, almost like a sigh. Bhaktapur Durbar Square opened up before us like a breath we hadn’t realized we were holding. After the overwhelming chaos and tension of the day before, stepping into this more serene part of the city felt like coming up for air.
We arrived by taxi, a journey that took about half an hour. Taxis in Nepal aren’t built for comfort, at least not for taller foreigners like me. Every time I folded myself into the tiny backseat, my knees pressed against the front, and I’d inevitably hit my head getting in or out. The car rattled through the maze of alleyways, dodging pedestrians, motorcycles, and cows with practiced ease.
When we arrived at Durbar Square, we paid the entrance fee and stepped into a vibrant, yet unhurried world—so unlike the suffocating, anxiety-laced streets we had been swept through the day before. I could feel the tension still lingering in my shoulders, but it began to loosen. A low hum of local conversation, distant bells ringing from temples, and the rhythmic tapping of chisels in nearby workshops filled the air.









Locals and Nepali tourists roamed the open square, many with families, children in bright clothes, women with woven shawls, and men chatting on the temple steps. The old town was alive, but it didn’t swallow us like Thamel had. We could move, observe, breathe.
The narrow, winding streets around the square were lined with tiny shops—carved wooden window frames, shelves of yak wool knitwear, stacks of postcards with printed Kamasutra illustrations—a mix of the sacred and the cheeky, clearly aimed at the curious tourist. But in between the trinkets were true treasures: offering spaces shaded by prayer flags, small shrines with fresh marigolds, brass bells, and incense curling into the air like memory.






We climbed the stairs of a cozy café overlooking one of the smaller squares. Inside, the light was golden and warm, casting soft shadows across the hand-painted walls. We ordered honey lemon tea, sweet and tangy. We sat watching the world below go by, reading in a book we had purchased a while earlier about Nepal, which we found fascinating, especially the Nepali culture and history. Locals walked in calm rhythms, unhurried, stopping to chat or sit by a temple. It felt like the city was remembering its own pace, and for once, we were matching it.
When hunger returned, we ordered some Nepali dishes—spiced potatoes, lentils, curried vegetables—and savored every bite. The meal grounded us, warmed us. A reminder that not all things rushed are better.



As we wandered through the site afterward, we spotted a temple open only to Hindus, its steps lined with shoes and the scent of burning ghee drifting outward. Though we couldn’t go inside, just standing near the threshold and watching devotees offer prayers felt meaningful in itself. The square was steeped in history—you could feel it in the stone beneath your feet, in the leaning wooden struts of centuries-old buildings, in the quiet presence of the gods.
We walked through every alley we could find, past shopkeepers and artisans, occasionally exchanging a few friendly words with locals—though always with a little more caution now. Our experience from the day before was still fresh, a whisper in the back of our minds. But there was also curiosity again. And a growing sense of trust in our instincts.

Eventually, we made our way back to Thamel, returning to the clamor of tourism and neon signs. This time, we stayed on the main roads, weaving through trekkers buying gear and local vendors selling knockoff North Face jackets and hand-sewn sleeping bags.
Seeing all the trekking equipment lining the shops and stalls sparked a flicker of excitement deep inside me. The kind of excitement that tightens in your chest and makes you want to move. These past three days have been a whirlwind of new impressions, cautious steps, and vibrant chaos. I learned a lot about Nepal and Kathmandu. I faced numerous cultural shocks, which was unexpected given our extended stay in Asia. Although Kathmandu was an adventure, I was eager to explore further.
Not more city.
Not more noise.
More Nepal.
The mountains.
The silence.
The connection.
I was ready to begin the real journey.