Handpicked experience · Kathmandu
Kathmandu, Nepal
A day in two planned Newar villages south of Kathmandu: one is home to a rain god who spends half the year in the city and travels there by chariot, the other still presses its mustard oil under a wooden beam.
Two settlements built to a plan rather than grown at random
A temple square that still functions as working communal ground
The village home of a deity carried to the city by chariot
Oil pressed by beam and weight, in the open
Craft workshops and woodcarving in the surrounding lanes
A close look at what reconstruction actually involves
A day in Bungamati and Khokana, two Newar villages on the southern edge of the Kathmandu valley, twenty minutes from the city and several centuries from it. Neither is a museum village. They are working settlements that happen to have been laid out with more deliberation than most towns.
These are not places that grew outward from a crossroads. Each was set out around a central square with houses in tight rows, brick faces on the street and fields beginning immediately where the houses stop. Walk to the edge and the village simply ends, with no scatter of outbuildings.
That plan is the reason the squares still work as squares. Grain is dried on them, festivals are staged on them, and the space in front of the temple is public in a way that is difficult to arrange after the fact.
Bungamati is the home village of a deity associated with rain, and he does not stay in one place. He spends part of the year in this village and part in the city of Patan, and the move between the two is made in a tall wheeled chariot dragged by teams of men through the streets.
The full journey between the two homes is only made in its longest form once every twelve years, which is one of those rare festivals people plan their lives around. In ordinary years the shorter version still shuts the streets. Ask when the next long procession falls; if your visit lands near it, the villages are a different place entirely.
The neighbouring village is known for mustard oil, pressed the old way in a heavy wooden lever press rather than by machine. Seed is toasted first, then crushed slowly, and the smell of it carries down the lane from a fair distance.
It is also one of the first villages in the country to have received electric light, supplied from an early hydro plant in the hills nearby, which is a strange distinction for a settlement that still presses oil by beam and weight.
The 2015 earthquake hit both villages hard, and the principal temple in Bungamati came down completely. Rebuilding has been slow and is still visible: new brick beside old, empty plinths, carved timbers stacked and waiting. The current state of the square is part of the story rather than a distraction from it.
Short distances, unpaved lanes and a good deal of standing about watching things being made. These are inhabited villages, so courtyards and doorways are private space and photographs of people are asked for rather than taken. Dust in the dry months, mud in the wet ones, and very little shade in either.
Open it to pick a date and work out the price.
What the fare covers, and what to budget for separately.
The practical detail, and the answers people actually ask for.
On the southern rim of the Kathmandu valley, close enough to the city for a short drive but agricultural in character.
Both were deliberately planned around a central square with houses in tight rows, so the village stops abruptly where the fields begin.
He is understood to reside part of the year in the village and part in the city, and the transfer is made publicly by chariot.
The longest form of the procession is staged, drawing the chariot the full distance between the two homes — an event people plan around.
Mustard oil, still pressed in a wooden lever press with the seed toasted first, which is a slow process done in the open.
It received electric light unusually early, from one of the country's first hydro plants in the hills nearby.
A good deal. The main temple in Bungamati was destroyed in 2015 and rebuilding continues, with new brick, bare plinths and stacked timbers in plain sight.
As a guest. Courtyards are private, and it is normal to ask before photographing anyone rather than shooting first.