The noise in Kathmandu is a mixture of people trying to sell their scarves, t-shirts, tigerbalm and other things they assume are what every tourist wants. On top of that there are the rickshaws offering rides to Durbar Square, the taxis with rides to Boudha and Patan and the drug dealers with trips beyond this realm.
At the start of the rain season the lack of electricity is apparent in the background humming of the generator; some are small to power the fridge in a small shop, some are big enough to power a hotel (minus the lift).
And closer to the stūpas you hear CDs of chanting “om mani padme hum” played on loop and the trumpets and drums of the Tibetan monasteries. All this may sound horrible and annoying, but instead the sounds belong to the city and the sense of belonging feels nice.