Yoghurt overdose in Bhaktapur

Many people rave about Bhaktapur, home of beautiful buildings and cheese cake flavoured yoghurt. We heard millions of great things about this place, so our expectations were about to jump through the ceiling. Like the cheap travelers we are, we found a way to ditch the 15 dollar entrance fee by taking a back road. Because Bhaktapur is like a big open air museum with all its old tempels and squares, there are pay booths on every corner. But we were glad we got in for free, as it's not worth the money at all. Hoping for peace and quiet like in Bandipur, we found ourselves in just another kind of Kathmandu. Very busy and noisy. Countless tourists go crazy with their camera and binge drink expensive coffees in trendy cafes, because there is nothing else to do. Well, there probably is, but we just couldn't seem to find it. There was one thing that stole our hearts though, it's what made us hop on a bus there in the first place. The yoghurt. 

Sweet, creamy yoghurt made in terracotta pots and sold for a couple of rupees each were our only snacks for a whole day. And then there were the dodgy chilly buff momos. I don't know whether to blame the insane amounts of yoghurt or the old buffalo we ate, but the next day we were both running to the toilet. It was like a race. First one who reaches the bathroom wins. If it was only half as much fun as it sounds, I probably wouldn't mind staying in Bhaktapur for another day. Just to find the gem that attracts so many people to this village. But my body wasn't capable of being surrounded by more yoghurt shops and the smell of momos made me feel sick. I had to get out of there. 

We caught another bumpy bus to Nagarkot, a small mountain village that seemed perfect for a sick day. Watching movies, reading books and doing absolutely nothing but running to the bathroom and back is what my memory of Nagarkot looks like. Good times!