Lost In Kathmandu
How a rash decision left me lost in a city I didn’t know
I landed in Kathmandu, Nepal in April 2016. I was going to participate in a group hiking trip with a company called G-Adventures and complete part of the Annapurna mountain range circuit. I wanted to hike in beautiful mountains and have an adventure, but I didn’t want to be entirely alone for it and I felt safer being part of a group.
I landed a few days before the group trip was due to start, however, without planning, what was I going to do for that time? I was 24, and whilst I’d traveled a fair amount previously, it had usually been with more experienced friends who took charge of our trips.
So I was a bit nervous. I didn’t really know what to expect from Nepal. I knew that there had been an earthquake the year before that had had devastating consequences, but I stupidly thought that a year had passed since then and that things would probably be “back to normal” by now — not that I knew what normal really was. I did very little research about the country, its people and its culture beforehand due to sheer naivety. I was more focused on the hiking part of the trip and it was only due to flight schedules that I was arriving a bit sooner.
The journey from the airport to the hostel wasn’t long, but it was a shock. Kathmandu was far poorer than I had realised, and was clearly still in a process of rebuilding after the earthquake. Dust hung like a thick cloud in the air and there was rubble from destroyed buildings everywhere. Most people wore face masks or scarves wrapped around their faces to try and avoid the dust.
There was traffic everywhere and it seemed to be coming from all directions — cars, trucks, mopeds, motorbikes and lorries all weaved their own paths. There were adults, animals, children, bikes and mud lining the sides of the streets. It was bustling which was both exciting and intimidating.
When I left my hostel to explore a little that afternoon, I quickly felt trapped — I couldn’t find a way to cross the road that didn’t involve running headfirst through the streams of perpetual traffic, so I walked as far as I could on the side where my hostel was before the pavement disappeared.
Along the way, I came across a small tourist agency where I changed some dollars for rupees. The man inside seemed a little surprised to find a young woman on her own, but he was friendly enough. I asked him if they ran any tours around the city, and he arranged something for me the next day. I was relieved to have a plan.
The next morning I made my way back to the agency and sat waiting for the tour bus. The traffic was so bad and the time ticked by slowly — I didn’t mind — but the man seemed very frustrated on my behalf and was constantly calling the guide and opening the door to look into the traffic to try and see where they were. Finally, the bus arrived and I was on my way.
The guide was a Nepalese young woman who was extremely chatty and curious to find out what I was doing on my own. The rest of the group was either Nepalese or Indian and so she had to translate everything for me. I felt very conspicuous. But I was soon distracted by the incredible sights we saw — the Boudhanath Stupa with its white dome, gold bricks, red eyes and thousands of multicoloured square flags flapping in the breeze, the intricate and stunning Pashupatinath Temple, the golden Namo Buddha. I felt like I was in a different world that was full of colour, piety and tradition.
That evening, on the way back from our sightseeing, we were once again stuck in an infinite traffic jam. The guide, trying to be helpful, told me that if I got off the bus here and followed this road, it would take me straight back to my hostel. By this point, I was exhausted and overwhelmed by how much we’d seen in the day, so without thinking, I agreed and got off the bus. Dusk was just beginning to fall, and the hot day was turning cool.
I walked along repeating the mantra in my head that all I needed to do was follow this road back to the hostel. And all was going to plan until I reached a huge fork in the road. The road literally split into two directions and I had no idea which road to take. The guide had made it seem like it was just in a straight line, she hadn’t mentioned anything about turning.
I tried taking out a tourist map I had, but I couldn’t work out where I was, let alone where my hostel was. The street signs were in a script I couldn’t decipher. I didn’t recognise the area, and I had no idea whether to turn right or left. For several full minutes, I just stood looking at this huge decision in front of me, trying to hold back the panic.
I looked to my right to see a group of men standing by some cars. Some of them looked like taxis and I thought I’d found my solution — I would just take a taxi. Problem solved.
But when I plucked up the courage to approach them, they quickly clocked that I was a white tourist and suggested that the price would be around $300 US dollars. This was an outrageous amount. Even if I had had that amount of money on me, I wouldn’t have paid it. So I walked back to my previous spot and once again contemplated the decision in front of me. It was starting to get dark now and I was nervous about the idea of trying to walk on my own, only to get more lost.
As I stood there, still not sure what to do, one of the men came and approached me. He said he would take me for $30 US dollars — still a lot of money, but I really wanted to get back to the safety of my hostel.
I got into his taxi, showed him the name and address of my hostel (luckily I had it printed on a little business card that the owner had given me) and breathed a huge sigh of relief.
It was at that moment that he asked me in broken English, “Which way then?”
In shock, I tried to explain that I didn’t know the way, hence why I was taking a taxi. He shrugged, wound down the window and tried to ask some of the other men who were still standing by the other cars. They were having none of it, annoyed that this man had offered me a lower price.
So my driver turned left, drove for a while, and stopped every five minutes or so to ask directions from someone on the street. Each time they seemed to differ and we would veer in a different direction. I was growing more panicked thinking that now I was beholden to this man and his willingness to find the hostel. He could just give up and ask me to get out and I would be even more lost than before.
I realised that the hostel business card also had a phone number on it and I asked the driver to call that to see if he could get directions from the owner. This seemed to help a little as the owner gave some landmarks that the hostel was nearby that the driver seemed to know.
Finally, after a few more false turns, and a lot of angst on my part, we made it back to the hostel. I paid up, felt a bit shaky, and decided not to leave again until it was time for me to join the hiking group. Fortunately, that was the following morning, so I didn’t have too long to wait (and the hiking was absolutely spectacular).
What did I learn from this experience? I’m not very good at reading maps and I’m not very good at traveling on my own. You should always, always, research the place that you’re going to so that you can be prepared. Maybe things are easier now with google maps and the internet, but I recommend having a paper map just in case, and the ability to read it. Make sure you have the address of your accommodation and a contact number too and let the reception know if you’re leaving for the whole day.
And if your guide suggests you get off the bus early — only do it if you know where you’re going!
Do you have other travel tips? Let me know in the comments!
