I have a friend who is unbelievably good at shopping. Not because he spends a lot but because he always knows exactly where to buy something.
Need electrical or lighting fixtures? He’ll tell you to go to Bhotebahal. Looking for dry fruits? Asan. Clothes? Khichapokhari. Herbals? Mangalbazar. Sweets? Tichhugalli.
Every item has its own favourite marketplace and if you ask him where to shop, he’ll happily point you in the right direction.
What I find interesting is that almost all of his favourite places are in the city’s old markets. These aren’t fancy shopping locations. They’re places that have been around for generations. I’m pretty sure those markets have thrived for centuries simply because they never compromised on quality.
Watching him shop, I can’t help but think he’s living life fully. He knows the value of every rupee he earns and he knows exactly how to make it count.
I’m pretty much his opposite.
I grab the best option I find on my way home or to the office, prioritizing convenience over everything else. I can’t remember the last time I crossed town just to buy one particular item. Half the time, my choice of store comes down to something as stupid as whether they take credit cards.
Kathmandu has changed a lot over the years. The city has grown and these days you can find almost everything in your own neighbourhood. It doesn’t feel necessary anymore to visit one particular store just to buy one particular item.
And yet, I envy him.
There’s something beautifully intentional about the way he shops. He doesn’t just buy things, he honours the old markets, trusts their legacy and values the quality that only time-tested places can offer.
Maybe that’s the real art of living well.