Kathmandu is a crazy riot. People and traffic everywhere. Refugee camps for those displaced by the earthquake share prime real estate next to 5 star hotels. Buses belch black smoke, girls in perfectly white school uniforms wear face masks that cover their smiles, their black plaits swinging as they walk in large groups down the road. It’s a city in a bowl between mountains and the pollution is awful. Cars, busses and trucks are all old, held together with tape and luck it seems. Serene women in pristine saris weave their way through the crowds and traditional Tibetans share the lane-ways with beggars and thieves. On Juliette’s advice we grabbed a taxi that we had to share with another fellow traveller and all our baggage and his too and we headed for the heritage listed Dwarikas Hotel. See more about Dwarikas here. Like Raffles in Singapore and The Strand in Yangon this is one of those places that epitomizes refinement and beauty. A big festival to celebrate one of the Hindu Gods (Arjuna, I think) was …