Kathmandu

Kathmandu holds more sacred art per square kilometer than almost anywhere on Earth: seven UNESCO ensembles in one valley, pagodas that taught China's their silhouette, a living goddess who blesses the city from a carved window, and over it all the painted eyes of Boudhanath — half-closed, all-seeing, patient. The 2015 earthquake brought temples down; the valley raised them again, beam by numbered beam, because here restoration is worship.

The sensible traveller walks Durbar Square early, when the gods in the woodwork get their first marigolds; circles Boudhanath at dusk with the pilgrims, clockwise, prayer wheels humming; climbs Swayambhunath's steps among monkeys with tenure; crosses to Patan for the finest courtyard of artisans; and treats Thamel as what it is — the world's most storied basecamp, where every conversation ends in a trail map.

The Guide's honesty: the valley's dust is real — a folding mask is comfort, not caution —; at Pashupatinath the fires by the river are funerals: keep distance, keep silence, and let the camera rest; trekking begins with permits and insurance that covers altitude, and the Guide does not negotiate on either; and the flight 'to see Everest' delivers exactly what it promises — book the left side going, right side returning, and a clear morning.