It was a hot, sunny day in the
city, like many days here, making a short walk feel like an hour in the sauna.
Stephen had read about this mystical garden escape in the center of Kathmandu
called “the Garden of Dreams” in a guidebook and we were determined to find it.
He had also heard of a restaurant nearby the garden that had dal bhat for only
something like 60 rupees, practically unheard of in Thamel. We decided we
needed an escape from the city and its crowded streets and went on a mission to
find this fanciful dreamland. We set off down the streets of Thamel, guided
towards our destination by the directions of rickshaw drivers and street
peddlers. Upon finding it we decided to go get lunch then come back, diving
head first into the crowded tourist shopping district of Thamel.
We
eventually found the restaurant, nestled in above the shops, only a few of its
many tables inhabited by foreign tourists. We were disappointed to find the
supposed cheap dal bhat was a bit more expensive than rumored, but still cheap
for the all-you-can-eat service they provide, refilling your rice, dal, and
assorted sides as you finish them. I decided to go with some fried veg momos,
which are Nepali dumplings and one of my favorites next to popart and samosas.
After eating our fill we decided it was time to return to the garden, standing
once more at its front gates. High cement walls, wrapping around the entire
expanse, keep in the garden’s serenity the sound of the outside busy street
bouncing back and transporting you away from the city inside its safe barriers.
The one main entrance was guarded by a ticket counter and a beautiful fountain
and after paying the small fee of 200 rupees we wandered in.
The narrow walkway opened up to a
large estate, similar to that of a palace, beautiful sculpted bushes framing
clean white stone gazebos. On one side a terraced field was laid out, foam
mattresses scattered here and there, all covered in the draped forms of
relaxing Nepalis and tourists alike. The other side held a large fountain,
beautiful lotuses and cattails sprouting up out of the water, koi swimming
lazily in its depths. A large open restaurant stood just behind the fountain,
its large white pillars supporting a rounded stone roof, palms casting shade on
its outer-set tables. Lively stone elephants stood playfully on the steps
leading up to the restaurant, perfect for a posed snap of Stephen.
Wandering along the stone paths, we
realized the true intent of the garden, what it had been repurposed into by the
new generation. It was basically the established PDA spot for all of Kathmandu.
A place where all of the couples came to be together, masses of them hidden in
every alcove of the garden, behind every tree, on every bench, in every
crevice. It is strange here, but in Nepali custom there is no public display of
affection at all. Rarely do a man and a woman hold hands, and I’ve never seen
anyone kiss in public before. It made sense though, its beauty and serenity was
the perfect place for a date, making me miss Jake even more than normal.
One building in the garden held a
gallery, showing pictures of what the garden looked like in the early 1900s,
before its renovations. The difference was astounding. The buildings and
statues crumbling and overgrown weeds running rampant. When they redid it they
rearranged some things, expanding the terrace in one part, adding more secret
love cubbies, repairing statues, one in particular from a Greek goddess to the
Hindu goddess Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and fortune. We relaxed in the
garden for quite a while, talking in the shade of a great willow about the
lives we would return to, and the trips we dream of taking in the future, and
our time here. I left feeling revived and at peace, knowing that I would return
to this place someday with someone I love, finding a cool corner to relax and
unwind in.
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