Breathtakingly draped along the Himalayas, Nepal has to be one of the most amazing countries I have ever been to. Nothing prepares you for the majestic, albeit scary, descent into its capital Kathmandu.

The mountain peaks were by now aglow, the scenes before me making me gasp in total amazement and wonder- Moyra Sammut

The aircraft glides gracefully between rice paddy terraces high up in the mountains, its wing tips seem to almost touch the mountain peaks as it descends precariously towards the landing strip.

The aircraft – I am informed by a regular visitor to Nepal – does not use radar to land as the mountains obstruct its use; nevertheless the pilot expertly lands the plane without a hitch.

It is exhilarating to step off the plane – the sights, sounds and smells result in a sensory overload. The Nepalese are colourful and smiley people, poor but with a happy disposition. Bibek is an enthusiastic young man of around 25.

As I step out of the airport he is the first to approach me, gently persuading me to allow him to take me to my accommodation before I can contemplate any other mode of transport. I can’t help but concede because he is so helpful and, of course, in need of his daily wage.

He grabs my backpack, stows it in the back of the taxi and opens the door for me. Before long we are weaving in and out of thick traffic to the Annapurna Guest House in the neighbourhood of Thamel, where I will spend the next few days.

Bibek enthusiastically bids me goodbye but not before letting me know that he is a great guide and would be happy to show me around. With an amused smile on my face I ask him to collect me the next day at 9 a.m.

I settle myself into my small but clean accommodation (very adequate for €6 per night). The Anapurna is a family-run guesthouse situated in the northern part of Thamel (main tourist area) in a quiet location, but within two minutes walking distance of all the attractions and the action.

I explored the guesthouse, which offers the Annapurna Café and beautiful gardens with the Himalayas as a backdrop – and I felt a sense of peace mixed with wonderment.

Good as his word, Bibeck was there at 9 a.m. sharp and I, sated from a breakfast of aloo sabzi and parathas (potato and flatbreads), excitedly let him drive me to Durbar Square.

He drops me off and waits around smoking a bidee. I peruse my guidebook on local history. Listed as one of Nepal’s eight Cultural World Heritage site by Unesco, Durbar Square is a cluster of ancient temples, palaces, courtyards and streets that date back to the 12th and 18th centuries. The square is the social, religious and urban focal point of the capital.

The palace complex was the royal Nepalese residence until the 19th century and is the site of important ceremonies, such as the coronation of the Nepalese monarch. The palace is decorated with elaborately-carved wooden windows and panels. It houses the King Tribhuwan Memorial Museum and the Mahendra Museum.

It’s impossible to see all the emples so I settle for the Trail-okya Mohan Narayan Temple, a three-storeyed building which has the figure of Garuda placed at its front and incarnations of Lord Vishnu within the temple. It was built by Prithvi Bendra Malla in 1680 and it’s magnificent; I am in awe of the intricate architecture.

I wander the narrow streets completely enthralled with Kathmandu’s culture and cottage industries. There are embroidered pachminas, jackets and trousers, mandala paintings, wood carvings, kukris (Ghurkha knives), prayer wheels, intricate handmade bracelets and rings, plus, of course, fake brands of clothing.

I have had my fill of Durbar Square and get Bibeck to take me 20 kilometres away to Bhaktapur, also known as Bhadgaon (pronounced bud-gown and meaning ‘City of Rice’) in Nepali, or Khwopa (City of Devotees) in Newari. It is the third major town of the valley.

Virtually traffic free, this traditional town is also in many ways the most timeless. The cobblestone streets link a string of temples, courtyards and monumental squares, and the side streets are peppered with shrines, wells and water tanks – a breath of fresh air from the densely populated area of Durbar.

The streets are quiet and the soul absorbs the quiescence. Buildings are mostly made of terracotta and carved wood columns. The palaces and temples are elaborate with carvings, gilded roofs and open courtyards.

I quietly observe Hindu prayers in a temple with tantric carved windows and colourful prayer wheels lined side by side.

Further down I spot a small restaurant – the Nyatapola. Bibeck says it is one of the best in the area. As I make a beeline for it, the place is oozing mouth-watering smells.

I climb the stairs to the roof so I can get a view of everything around me. The restaurant is a little gem serving typical Newari food.

I have no idea what to order so I leave it in the capable hands of the waiter who shortly returns with momo (dumplings filled with mincemeat) sekuwa (grilled duck and lamb), aloo tama (potato with bamboo shoots) and masu (curried chicken).

I am enthralled with the feast and eat with gusto, not realising just how hungry I am. As I come to the end of my meal I am planning the next day in Nagarkot.

There are various places around the edges of the Kathmandu Valley that offer great mountain views, but the resort village of Nagarkot, 32 kilometres from Kathmandu, is generally held to be the best.

I made my way up to the village, staying overnight at the Niva Niwa Lodge. I rose just before dawn; the air was cool and as I climbed to the top a blanket of cloud shrouded the village below. I shivered, unsure if it was from the cool air or the sense of expectancy, but at that moment a sliver of bright orange sunlight bathed the Himalayan mountain peaks.

The clouds below parted almost biblically, showing the tiny village for a few minutes before the cloud resettled. The mountain peaks were by now aglow, the scenes before me making me gasp in total amazement and wonder.

Could there possibly be anything more wondrous than this to take my breath away? Nothing has to this day.

With Nagarkot firmly imprinted on my mind I quietly descend-ed, leaving the grand spectacle behind.

My next destination was Pashupatinat. Nepal’s most important Hindu temple stands on the banks of the holy Bagmati River on the eastern peripheries of Kathmandu, drawing devotees and sahdus from all over India. These wandering holy men live their life totally devoted to Shiva.

Along the Bagmati it’s not unusual to see a dead body being readied for cremation, which is done out in the open on a pyre next to the river.

Pokhara too has its magic. Imagine a perfect triangular mountain, capped by snow and pummelled by the icy winds of the Himalayas. Imagine a calm lake, perfectly reflecting the snowy peaks.

Now imagine a village on the lakeshore, thronged by travellers and reverberating to the sounds of 100 shops selling prayer flags, carpets, masks, singing bowls and CDs of Buddhist mantras.

That’s Pokhara; it’s also the end point for the famous Anapurna circuit trek. It’s here that you will find the best deals for trekking which will include your Sherpas for the duration of your trek.

You can’t leave Nepal without spending a few days in the splendid Royal Chitwan National Park, Nepal’s third biggest attraction after trekking and the Kathmandu Valley. This beautiful nature reserve protects 932 square kilometres of Salforest, water marshes and rippling grassland. The park is one of the last refuges of the endangered one-horned Indian rhino and there are sizeable populations of tigers, leo-pards and rare Gangetic dolphins.

The best part of the journey into Chitwan is the elephant ride through elephant grass which undulates like the sea as the breeze sweeps its surface.

I arrive at the lodge where I spend the next few days exploring jungle in search of the elusive leopard and the one horned rhino.

During my treks I encounter huge spiders which seem to just drop on me from nowhere – though harmless their size still makes me nervous. I spend time with the elephants, learning to mount them and get used to their prickly hair and their swinging trunks searching for titbits.

I listen to the exotic birds and spot a daphne, a pheasant-like bird with iridescent plumage.

I also feel heaviness in my heart because I know that my time in Nepal has come to an end and I must leave this land of such diversity.

Ms Sammut is travel manager at Sullivan&Sullivan.